Summary: forced to take refuge in an empty barn until the town gates reopen, your dreams are visited by a lovely stranger…
Tags: mdni, dub-con that crosses heavily into non-con territory, somnophilia, dark!adam/creature x fem!reader, no use of y/n, humping, masturbation, reader doesn't get to cum unfortunately (perhaps in pt. 2?), mainly the creature’s pov, period accurate clothing
Author's note: tbh this really is a mix of shelly’s creature and gdt’s, so he’s a lot more vindictive and bitter than how he’s depicted in the 2025 retelling. The plot is basically just what would happen if we swapped out justine, so this takes place after the cabin but before he meets with Victor. I apologize for massacring the source material; this piece is pure self-indulgence because I fell in love with gdt’s creature design. My grammar also sucks, and I use dashes and semicolons like they're sprinkles.
read part two here
“awake, fairest, thy lover is near—he who would give his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes; my beloved, awake!”
The words were a soft, coaxing sweetness upon your senses. Your subconscious stirred, slowly unfurling from the heavy cloak of sleep like a flower's petals at dawn– unhurried as you drifted between sleep and awareness. Instead, you basked in the warmth pressed against your form. You felt safe, swaddled in a heat that felt like solace against skin that had shivered throughout most of the night, and so you reached out and held fast to it.
The last thing you remembered was being locked out of town, forced to take refuge in a barn lest you froze to death waiting for sunrise by the locked gates. It was surely morning now–you felt so well rested, aware of your body even as your eyes refused to open.
Then you felt feather-soft kisses dot your neck, your jaw, before tenderly enticing your lips into a trembling, then languid dance. Phantom hands grasped your hips, your back arching as you felt something hot and heavy settle between your parted thighs. Your skirts had been bunched at your waist at some point, allowing that heady warmth to settle closer. Joy burst in your bosom, bright and lovely as you murmured a thanks to whatever deity of sleep that had sent you such a pleasant illusion to wake up with.
Surely, it was the incessant demands of fate that had led him to the barn in which you slumbered. He had traversed the rocky mountain terrain for hours before descending into the valley to forage for berries and roots, but his findings were sparse, and his bones ached from the cold. The barn was dry and inviting, but he had no sooner slipped through the splintered door when his eyes landed on your form. You looked so lovely, like an angel bundled in straw.
He stood, transfixed, while his pulse roared in his ears and his mind split into two about how he should proceed. In the end, he slumped clumsily on the other side of the barn, his glittering eyes sparking with wonder and his head tilted with curiosity.
He couldn't stop staring at you all night, slowly gathering his courage as the stars and moon trekked their course upon the dark sky overhead. It wasn't until the first hints of dawn lightened the sky that he had decided to be selfish; to indulge his racing thoughts as he hovered above you. Just to fix your hair, he reasoned, but then he found himself adjusting your skirts, smoothing your stockings, his scarred fingers ghosting over cool flesh and marveling at how you sighed and shivered beneath his touch. He wanted more. He debated whether to rouse you from your sleep, to see the color of your eyes at last and have them gaze upon him…
“awake, fairest, thy lover is near—he who would give his life but to obtain one look of affection from thine eyes; my beloved, awake!”
But no sooner had those honeyed words spilled from his lips when those thoughts came—dark and unbidden. If you should wake, his form would petrify you, he realized. You would scream, and the farmer in the home beyond would arise from bed with flame and pitchfork. Hate swirled in his gut, slick and choking as tar. His hand reached out of its own accord, enveloping his slumbering beauty’s slender throat. Why should such enthralling loveliness exist in this world if he, alone, was barred from ever possessing it? What had he done to deserve such bleak cruelty? Your parted lips, fluttering lashes, and even the way your chest rose and fell with every soft breath were nothing but torture to him now.
However, something unexpected happened that made him pause. Even with your eyes closed, your hands reached out and held fast to his shoulders. He was… being embraced—or at least the closest thing to an embrace he had ever experienced. At once, his hand flew away from your throat, and with a plaintive groan, he let his lips trail upon your form. He sipped the sweetness of your flesh in both indulgence and as if to apologize. Shame flared in his gut for the dark deed he had considered carrying out, followed only by a consuming wave of lust. Even in sleep, your form opened and accepted him, it seemed, and you even murmured a thanks. How could he harm the only being he may ever feel love's embrace with, however stolen?
“Sleep, little one. Let this remain but a pleasant dream…” he beseeched your sleeping form, a trembling hand pushing away some hair from your brow before kissing you there, too.
And all the while he was pressing closer, slotting his hips against yours. A soft growl reverberated through his chest as he began to rock instinctively, his cock swelling in response to the sweet warmth and pressure your beautiful form granted him. He knew not exactly what he was doing–his rhythm a crude imitation of what he had ascertained from books and long, heated, jealous stares at entwined couples in the dark alleyways he traversed–but it felt oh so right.
He quickly deduced what a bother your skirts were, and pulled back enough to gently glide the fabric up towards your hips.
He hummed, curious at the sight that lay beneath. Long cotton bloomers reached down to your calves, starch white, frilled, and held shut by a neatly tied bow at your waist. Gentle fingers traced the inside of your thighs, trailing along the seam of the bloomers, only to snap back as if burned when his fingers reached the apex of your sex, only to find that the fabric ended there. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the open seam, and with trembling fingers, he parted the fabric properly.
A soft, strangled sound left him. His cock pulsed in his trousers at the sight, so different from his own anatomy and yet so wondrous. He felt like Adam, properly beholding Eve’s naked form in all of its sensuous sin after consuming the forbidden fruit. But it was not shame that overtook him, but a raw, primal hunger for more.
He stroked the glistening folds with the tips of his fingers, his touch becoming ever bolder as you began to twitch and soft sighs left your lips from his curious exploration. Touching you there must have been pleasing to you, he figured, especially the soft, swollen bud nestled near the top that made your hips press into his palm, seeking more friction and pleasure from his scarred hand.
He was breathing heavily now, panting as he kneeled, transfixed, between your parted legs as the sound of soft squelches began to mix with your deepening sighs. You had grown warmer, wetter, and before long, his curiosity had overtaken him, and he pulled his fingers from your sex to observe the slick that coated his digits. They glistened in the dark light of the barn, illuminated only by the weak glow of the rising sun that made it through the rafters above. His nostrils flared, the intoxicating sweetness spurring him to tentatively lick at the syrupy substance.
He groaned, his lashes fluttering as he shut his eyes to savor the taste. He knew then, deep in his bones, that he had coaxed this nectar from your body. Just like when his fingers delved for honey in the hollows of trees, this was his reward for the gentle caresses he had bestowed upon your delicate form, and he relished in the knowledge that he had been the cause of it.
Blood rushed in his ears, overwhelming if not for how strongly it pulsed between his legs, too. He needed release; his curiosity about your form would have to wait. Slowly, he reached down and began to unlace his trousers, the worn fabric falling away with ease to reveal his cock. Pale, with the faintest tint of blue that matched the rest of him, it bobbed to attention under his heated gaze, twitching as if it had a mind of its own. With agonizing slowness, he wrapped his fingers about his length, hissing as he spread his beauty’s release with some of his own pre that had begun to pool at his tip.
He was painfully hard, and yet desperate in a way he had never felt before. With great restraint, he began to pump himself slowly, his teeth nashing in between intervals of ragged pants as the familiar knot of pleasure began to wind itself ever more tightly at the base of his stomach.
His hips eased into a rhythm, all the while his eyes alternated between your face to your slick entrance. How he wished he could abandon everything and simply plunge into your warmth, and yet he used every shred of sanity to keep himself in check. Anything to not ruin this perfect moment with you there, spread before him.
Instead, he found himself imagining how he'd like to fuck you. You were so small compared to him, so innocent looking. He thrust into his hand slowly, carefully. He would love you properly, he convinced himself, if given the proper chance. But this is all he was–a beast taking what he could in the shadow of your sleep and dawn's darkness.
And that is when he began to thrust harder, a spark of bitter resentment flaring in his chest and adding a punishing edge to his movements. He growled then, low and quiet, cursing his creator once more for condemning him to such a debased existence. When his attention snapped back to you–a sweet, forbidden creature–his desire fanned higher.
One, two, three more harsh pumps were all he needed to unravel completely in an explosion of maddening pleasure. Thick, steady ropes of cum spilled across his palm, splattering against your cotton bloomers and the soft flesh of your thighs and slit that were exposed.
He shivered at the sight, his burning gaze tracking his seed as it dripped between your thighs. A small, yet triumphant smile graced his scarred lips. In some small way, he had claimed something beautiful from this world that sought to deny him of everything. You were his now, he decided, as he gingerly tucked himself away into his trousers. Sunlight had begun to stream through the cracks of the barn, illuminating the space in a golden glow that matched the hay that filled it. Afar, a rooster screeched, proud and piercing, announcing the commencement of another day.
He reached over then to lower your skirts and set you to rights when your eyes began to flutter. Your body writhed, your brow furrowing and your lips downturned.
He froze, feeling as though a bucket of cold water had splashed over him and sobered his thoughts. He had to flee. Immediately. Lest what pleasure he experienced tonight transform into horror as it always did. A scream, a farmer with fire and a weapon at hand. The bloody massacre that he was sure to wreck.
In a rapid flourish, he tugged your skirts down and slipped into what shadows still clung to the lid of dawn.
You bolted awake, the morning sun stinging your eyes as you sat upright, your breath uneven and every inch of you positively buzzing. A soft, disgruntled groan escaped your lips, sleep still clouding your mind as you tried to rationalize what exactly it was you were feeling.
You were covered in a cold sweat, your dress wrinkled and otherwise clinging to your form. When you tried to move, you whimpered, immediately sensing how wet you were, your bloomers soaked through. It was then that memories from the previous night flashed in your mind–the warm weight, the kisses, the gentle caresses between your thighs. You rubbed your legs, hoping to ease the incessant need pulsing between them, but it only made you moan. Blood flushed your cheeks in embarrassment, shame bubbling in your gut, and yet it was somehow still dwarfed by how desperate you were to cum. You thought briefly about lifting your skirts, quickly and quietly addressing your needs as you oft did at night, but you didn't dare risk it. Not when farmhands were surely on their way to work at this time in the morning.
Instead, you forced yourself to clamber upright, shaking straw from your hair and dress. Then you gave yourself a moment to compose yourself before opening the splintered door of the barn and descending towards the village.
꙰ 2,867 words, Blackfem!reader, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), riding, doggy, throat fucking, exhibition (the mime watches while the other freak shaboings you), masterbation, creampies, size kink, multiple rounds, jealousy, degradation, name calling, ect ꙰
You weren’t supposed to be here.
Midnight had long settled over the tents like a heavy veil, trapping the scent of buttered popcorn, sour sawdust, and animal dung in the air. The crew was lost to a collective, drunken stupor, leaving the lot to the sound of chirping bugs and the low, rhythmic thrum of the generator. The ringmaster—your father—was passed out in his private railcar, whiskey on his breath and the keys to the main attraction locked in his coat.
But you’d stolen the spare weeks ago.
You stood before the main attraction, the spare key a cold, jagged weight against your palm. The gilded cage loomed thirty feet high, its gold-painted bars peeling to reveal the rusted iron beneath. Above it, the hand-painted sign groaned in the wind. It read: BEHOLD THE BEAST THAT EATS SIN AND BLEEDS DESIRE!
Your father called it showmanship. He called the thing inside a "composite"—part man, part experiment, a monster they found in the dirt somewhere far off, drugged up and dressed in chains for the crowd in a bording town. But you’d seen what it did to the others. The way it tore through steel. The way it only ever looked at you.
It was looking now.
Two spheres of molten gold stared from the shadows of the cage.
“You came,” he rasped. The voice wasn't human; it was a resonate bass, gravelly and wrecked with a hunger that sounded like it had been decades in the making. “You smelled like you would.”
Your hand trembled, the key scraping against the lock with a sharp, lonely click of metal.
“You’re not supposed to talk,” you whispered.
“I do for you.”
You swallowed hard. His presence was a physical weight in the shadows—all heat and silent want. You were pinned by the sheer, dark intensity of him.
“I-I shouldn’t—”
“But you will.”
The lock surrendered with a heavy thunk.
Your breath hitched.
Chains clanked.
As you stepped inside, the atmosphere changed. The air near him was hot—unholy and thick with the scent of musk, old blood, and a strange, metallic sweetness. He didn’t lunge. Didn’t snarl or growl. He just rose with a terrifying, fluid motion.
He's a mountain of stitched muscle and dark, marble-slick skin. Veins like black rivers branched across his chest, pulsing with every heave. His dick—god, that thing hung heavy between his thighs, a thick ridge of thing that looked far too large for any human anatomy already half-hard from scenting you, already weeping pre-cum.
“You smell incredible ” His nostrils flared. “Come closer.”
You walked closer.
His hand closed around your wrist—massive, calloused, and shockingly careful. You expected the bite of claws, but his touch was… reverent, almost desperate. He caught your waist, his fingers digging into the meat of your hips as he lifted you. You felt like a doll, light and fragile against his strength.
“Let me taste you,” he said, voice shaking. “Let me worship what I’ve only been allowed to watch."
You straddled his lap, and the contact was an electric shock. He was a furnace. You felt the thick, heavy length of him against your folds, a hot weight that made your breath hitch, and when he dragged his split tongue up your throat, you shuddered.
He growled at the sound.
“You’re so soft,” he whispered against your skin. “So breakable.”
“You won’t break me,” you challenged, your fingers tangling in the thick, dark hair at his nape.
“I want to. I want to see if I can fit."
Your hips rolled slick against his cock and his head dropped back. His hands gripped your thighs, then your ass, then your ribs like he didn’t know what to touch first.
“Use me,” he begged. “Ride me. Fuck me. Come on, make me yours.”
You sank down slowly—agonizingly—the friction of him stretching you until your vision blurred. Your body protested the invasion, your muscles tight and weeping as they tried to accommodate the sheer scale of him, like your body wasn’t built for it. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe no human should take him this deep, but you did. You pushed through the burn, bottoming out until your pelvis slammed against his with a wet, heavy thud.
The Beast moaned, his head snapping back as his clawed hands gripped your ass, kneading the flesh like he was trying to memorize your shape through his palms.
“You feel good,” he choked. “S-so good.”
You rode him slow, grinding deep, your nails drawing red lines across his massive, scarred shoulders. Every thrust was jarring. A rhythmic, heavy rutting that filled the cage with the sound of slick skin and your own jagged moans.
“I dreamed of this,” he panted, his hips bucking upward to meet you. “Every night. You... on top of me. Calling me yours.”
“Say it again,” you gasped, your mind a white-hot haze of lust and adrenaline. “Say whose you are.”
“I’m yours,” he groaned softly, his voice a broken prayer. “Yours to ruin. Yours to fuck. Yours to cage.”
The orgasm hit you like a physical blow, a violent convulsion that left you sobbing into his neck. The sensation broke him. He thrust one last time, deep and brutal, his whole body turning to stone as he came. You felt the hot, thick ropes of his release flooding you, an endless, scorching stream that made you feel permanently claimed.
He didn't pull out. He stayed buried in you, his heavy breathing the only thing breaking the silence. His hands, still shaking, stroked your back with a strange tenderness.
“I’ll stay in the cage,” he whispered, kissing your throat. “I’ll be good. I’ll behave. Just… come back. Let me have you again.”
You kissed him—a deep, filthy claim that tasted of salt and greasepaint—and left him in the dark.
⋆ ˚｡
One Week Later...
It had been a week since you last saw him.
Seven days since you unlocked the cage and let him split you open like you were made just for him.
You hadn’t gone back. Not because you didn’t want to—but because you couldn’t. Your father had tightened security after he’d noticed the silence. The Beast hadn't roared; he hadn't fought his chains. He had simply waited, and that stillness terrified the crew more than any rage.
But tonight, you walked the grounds with a different monster.
“Nice arms,” the knife thrower murmured, leaning into your personal space. His grin was boyish, practiced—all charm and calculated mischief. “You ever think about joining my act? I could teach you how to handle sharp things.”
You laughed, a light, flirty sound that felt hollow in your chest. You let him stand too close. You let his hand brush your elbow.You didn't notice the golden eyes watching from the cracks in the canvas. You didn't see the way the shadows in the tent seemed to thicken and coil as he watched the knife thrower touch what he'd been missing.
But the Beast remembered... and he was done being good.
⋆ ˚｡
You visited him again later, just before midnight, but the guards were gone, replaced by a silence so heavy it made your ears ring.
The cage was already open.
You froze. He stepped out of the shadows before you could run—barefoot, bare-chested, wild hair sticking to his temples. His golden eyes burned, they tracked you with a terrifying, possessive focus.
“You smell like him,” he said.
“Who?”
“The one with the blades." He closed the distance in a single stride. “You let him touch you. I smelled his steel on your skin before you even reached the lot.”
You straightened your spine, though your heart was hammering against your ribs. “So what if I did?”
His reaction was instantaneous.
He moved faster than a man should—slamming you into the bars with one hand around your throat. He didn't squeeze, but the weight of his palm was a promise. He held you there, his thumb resting over your pulse, feeling the frantic skip of your heart.
“You’re supposed to be for me,” he growled, his face inches from yours.
“You didn’t come find me,” you gasped, the metal of the bars cold against your back.
“I didn’t need to. I thought you’d remember where you belong.” His mouth dragged over your jawline, his breath a scorching, unhinged heat against your skin. “Let me remind you.”
He spun you around with effortless strength, bending you over a weathered equipment crate. The wood was rough, smelling of old pine and dust. Your skirt was hiked up in an instant. No panties. You were bare and weeping for him, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the temperament of his body pressing into your back.
He let out a low, vibrating growl that hummed through your spine. “Still wet for me. Even after touching him.”
His dick pressed thick and hard against your slit, already leaking, already twitching. You could feel how angry he was in the way he grabbed your hips—like they were handles made for his hands.
“You want me to ruin you again?” he rasped. “Stretch this filthy little cunt until it remembers my shape?”
You pushed back against him, your voice a wrecked plea. “Do it.”
He slammed in.
The air left your lungs in a ragged scream. Your fingers clawed at the splintered wood of the crate, your whole body jerking forward as he bottomed out in a single, brutal thrust. “Fuucck,” he moaned, his forehead dropping against the nape of your neck. “Tight little hole forgot how to take me.”
He didn't give you time to adjust. He began to fuck you with a deep, ragged rhythm. The silence of the night was shattered by the obscene, wet sounds of flesh clapping against flesh and your own high, jagged moans. His hands were everywhere—bruising your hips, gripping your ribs, claiming every inch of you as his territory.
“Bet you let him look at you like this,” he snarled, his thrusts turning erratic and violent. “But you didn’t let him have it, did you?”
“No,” you sobbed, your head lolling back.
“Didn’t let him stretch you out. Didn’t let him spill inside. That’s mine.”
He leaned down and bit your shoulder—hard enough to draw a sharp, iron-tasting bead of blood. You cried out, your thighs trembling as he licked the wound clean.
“Mine."
He was relentless—a heavy, driving weight that learned your internal limits only to force its way past them. The friction was a white-hot burn, turning your mind into a hazy fog where only the weight of him existed.
“Ughn... I should—mmghn—finish inside of you,” he grunted, his pace reaching a frantic, feral peak. “Breed you full. Stuff you so deep you never even think about another man. Your internal muscles clenched around him, a desperate, rhythmic pulse of approval.
“Oh, you like that?” He let out a dark, breathless laugh. “Want me to fill this sweet little body until it’s dripping? Want me to fuck a baby into you?”
“Yes—yes—ahn—!”
He let go of your hair, his hands anchoring deep into the crate as he roared. He slammed in one last time—deeper than you thought possible—and came. It was a monstrous, messy release, hot ropes of cum gushing into you until you felt heavy and overfilled, the excess running in a thick, white stream down your inner thighs.
He didn't pull out. He stayed buried, his body twitching with the aftershocks of his climax, his heavy chest heaving against your back.
“I’ll kill him,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. “If he touches you again, I’ll snap his neck.”
You looked back at him over your shoulder, your lips swollen and your eyes heavy with a dark, satisfied exhaustion. “You really think anyone else could take me now?”
His grin was wild, his golden eyes obsessional.
“Try me again, girl,” he murmured, dragging his length back—slow, agonizingly thick, and still rock-hard. “See how many rounds I can go before you break.”
He hauled you up, his fingers like iron clamps around your bicep. The air inside the bars was a familiar, suffocating cocktail of rust, old adrenaline, and the drying musk of his previous release. This was the dirt where he first unmade you, and the shadows here felt heavier, more permanent.
He threw you onto the floorboards with a jarring thud that rattled your teeth. His grin was a feral line in the moonlight. "On your knees," he commanded. "Hands behind your back. Mouth open."
You obeyed without blinking, the splintered wood scraping your knees.
He loomed over you, his cock a heavy, veiny column, still glistening with the slick evidence of your last encounter. He didn't wait for your approval. He gripped your jaw—the pressure of his thumb nearly bruising—and forced himself in. Slow and tentive.
"Look at me while I fuck your throat, and don’t you dare hide from it."
Your eyes watered, the back of your throat protesting the sheer volume of him, but you held his stare. And then, you saw the shift in his focus.
His eyes didn't leave yours, but they sharpened, tracking something over your shoulder.
A silhouette detached itself from the midnight gloom outside the bars. A face of cracked porcelain greasepaint. A nightmare in black and white with four limbs that unfolded like a slow-motion prayer.
The Mime.
The oldest freak in the crew.
He stood there, silent as the grave, the red-painted tear marks under his eyes catching the faint moonlight.
You tried to pull back, a spike of cold panic hitting your chest, but the Beast’s hand tangled in your hair, anchoring you. "No," he hissed, each movement stealing your breath. "Let him watch. I want him to witness every bit of this… You want him too. Isn’t that right?"
The Mime tilted his head, all four arms draped over the bars with an effortless, liquid grace. He was a statue of regal fixation.
"Show him," the Beast urged, slapping his pelvis against your lips with a heavy, wet thud. "Show him how well you choke on me."
He pulled out, the sound of it loud and wet in the quiet lot, and spat into your mouth before hauling you up by your waist. "Get on your hands and knees. Face him."
You trembled, your body a map of his touch. You turned, presenting yourself to the bars—to the silent, four-armed freak watching in the dark. The Mime’s eyes widened, a dark, glittering hunger reflecting the scene. Those ink-black pits for eyes traced the rhythmic shudder of your breath and the glistening trails of salt on your skin, never once blinking. Two of his hands gripped the bars; another slid down his own striped trousers in a slow, repetitive motion that needed no explanation.
"See that?" the Beast whispered, lining himself up behind you. "He’s enjoying the show. Just like me."
He slammed back inside, the impact wrenching a high, jagged yelp from your throat as you clawed at the floorboards for purchase. He began to fuck you with a renewed speed, his weight crushing you forward against the bars.
You were pinned in the heat of him, forced so close to the cage that the cloyingly scent of the Mime’s face powder filled your lungs, blurring the line between the body behind you and the silent observer in front.
"Louder," the Beast ordered, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder. "I want the whole lot to hear you."
You wailed his name, the sound bleeding into the humid night. He bucked with commanding, heavy strikes, his hands tightening on you. "You want them to hear? To know I'm breaking you in like a bitch in heat?"
"Yes—yes—fill me—make him see—"
The Mime’s black tongue snaked out, licking his painted red lips. His hidden hand moved faster now, a silent, frantic mirror to the Beast’s brutality. He seemed to savor the way you trembled, drinking in the frantic dance of your gaze as you struggled to keep both of them in sight.
The Beast flipped you onto your back, pulling your knees to your chest so you were completely open to the moonlight and the Mime's unblinking stare. He plunged into you over and over, his golden eyes blown wide, infatuated with your wreckage.
"You like him seeing you like this?"
"Yes—"
He silenced you with a kiss that tasted of iron and salt. His tongue claimed your mouth as his length claimed your body. "Good little freak toy," he murmured against your lips. "Cum for the show."
You shattered, the orgasm crashing you in long, violent waves that stole the air from your lungs. The Beast was right there with you. A low, guttural roar tore from his throat as his muscles locked into living stone, anchoring you in place. He came deep inside, a scorching, endless stream of heat that flooded your core and left you both trembling in the aftermath.
You layed there, a wrecked heap of sweat and arousal.
The Mime stood slowly, his extra arms moving with sickening, bird-like grace. He pressed one palm to the bars, then raised his hands in a silent, mocking applause. He wiped his mouth, tucked himself away, and vanished back into the shadows without making a single sound.
The Beast remained buried in you, his heart hammering against your spine like a drum. He kissed your temple, his voice a low, dark caress that promised no escape.
"You liked that? Being our little show?"
You nodded, unable to find your voice in the heavy air.
He smiled. "Next time, we’ll let the whole crew watch."
Summary: A one-shot headcannon smut on how your Goblin Boyfriend Kroh won the heart of his pretty Bimbo Girlfriend.
She’s just his sweet, pretty, ditzy girlfriend.
It’s obvious to everyone she’s in love with her goblin boyfriend Kroh
Monsters don’t know how the goblin managed to win a humans heart
He’s just a short common goblin coming up to her shoulder. There isn’t anything particularly special about Kroh
Other monsters would watch on in jealously whenever his cute, ditzy girlfriend would stumble after him
Always holding his hand, or the bottom of his sleeve
Always stealing kisses from his lips without a care of any on lookers
All eyes in the local Tavern would be on the pretty human woman
But her eyes were only ever set on Kroh
Never straying once to look at others the way she stares in infatuation with Kroh
Monsters would beg Kroh to spill his secret. Wanting a pretty human woman of their own.
Was it magic?
It wasn’t.
And Kroh would never share- he’s a gentleman after all
Kroh knew all too well that his darling girlfriend is a lusty little thing
All he did was share one heated passion filled night with copious puddles of sweat and cum for his girlfriend to become hooked
Never straying from their shared bed
Kroh’s sweet human worshipped his cock and mouth
It was the way his mouth riled up her sizzling nerves along her neck. His sharp teeth nipping along her skin to coax out those delicate moans.
It was the way he lips would wrap around her fleshy mounds as his finger pinches the other allowing want to pool between her legs.
It was the way his tongue would lap up her wet slit until her thighs quiver and squeeze around his head in ecstasy.
It was the way he would plunge his fingers into her core whilst she shutter and moans in unadulterated pleasure sending her over the edge
It was the way he would sink his surprising large cock between her sensitive folds until there is nothing left to sink in.
It’s the way he thrusts his hips hypnotically into her own until her eyes roll back into her head.
It’s the way Kroh would push, pull and tug her into new positions that send her mind spinning in a river of endorphins with his deceptively strong arms and legs holding her in any position the mind could conjure
It was the way Kroh wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied with the mess she leaves behind despite her embarrassed protests
Yes it was all that and the way he would hold her after a passionate fuckfest. Stroking her hair and pressing delicate kisses to her exposed skin
And the way Kroh would wake her up every morning to a delicious and nutritious breakfast to replace all of the fluids and energy lost in their endeavours
Well the monsters will just have to keep speculating
Because Kroh didn’t feel the need to explain how to be a decent lover
Ok I have to say if your a monster and your gonna kill me at least with enough decency make my insides explode like if your a 6ft fish creature with scales and sharp ass teeth and idk muscles or something you could at least slide whatever the hell your packing down there into me or if your like a some humanoid monster peice of shit you could at least drag me into the woods and like make me start mouth open drooling all over myself eye in the back of my head and just like that's so rude of you not to like I'm not saying you couldn't kill me after just let me go down in pleasure and hot steamy monster sex
Can I request pictures either 3 or 4 with either Andy or Ari. Writer’s choice for what it could be about (smut if possible).
There was no barrier between you. There was nothing to keep your body from being entangled in his, nothing to stop his tongue from claiming yours as his fingers ripped fabric free from the seams binding it together.
As scraps had become confetti, your back had arched with immense pleasure that was unyielding. The electrifying clutch of his hands upon your hips, his tongue battling yours and the thickening headiness of desire washing over you.
He was hovering above you, holding you between his body and the wall behind you, objects scattered and thrown around. Your clothes were no more held together than your ability to control yourself. And you were quickly devoured by the reality that you could inevitably become entirely consumed by him.
“I want to hear you.” His voice was a growl, something animalistic and aggressive as he thrust his hips, spearing you again with his thick cock. “I’m not fucking asking.”
Your neck craned and your head lolled back, nails scratching and clawing at the suit that hid most of his massive frame. His broad shoulders were a blanket obscuring your from view of anyone who could have spied you like this, and his hands had kept you incapable of running from him.
“You are mine.” His possessive claim etched against your neck was verbal while his need to fuck you to oblivion was entirely physical.
You were unable to stop yourself from grinding down on his cock, from whimpering his name. The walls of your pussy were stretched as you were filled completely by his shaft and as his balls smacked against your ass cheeks, you had been reminded exactly of the primal being fucking you.
You were not meant to be here. This was a circumstantial event that had started when your desk-mate had asked you to take her place since she had double booked herself in a meeting with HR. All you had to do was get a single form signed and you should have been in and out, it should’ve taken less than five minutes.
And now you were being fucked against the wall of his office.
“You think you’re going to leave me? You think I’m going to let you walk back out without staining you with my seed?” In a moment you are turned, your chest pressed against the hard wall as he continues to rip and pull at your clothes before settling his mouth directly on your cunt.
“You are mine. You will always be mine.” His tongue plunges into your pussy, another pleasured scream falling from your lips as you lose your balance, knowing full well that he is the only reason why you’re standing.
Just as you know this is permanent, you also know that it all started when he spoke the one word that changed the trajectory of your life: Mate.
Anyway because tumblr won't let @fleetofshippyships be kinky in my askbox...
I feel like I'm constantly tumbling and struggling when I write smut, but if/when I get better at it? UMM, you can bet I would 😂
Actually, does vampire count as creature?? Because I haven't exactly written vampire!Harry smut, but I just remembered I've written pre-smut twice 👀 and I most definitely want to come back to this idea. I may also be very a bit obsessed with that convo we had about merman Draco smut... 👀
A creature fic prompt for @iguessifinallygotone. This is a sort of a continuation of the drunk drabble I did for @dekujin here: Creature from the dark lagoon.(Not needed to understand this, but the picture Dekujin did is so amazing!)
Summery: Belle and the creature enjoys the sunny day.
Creature smut
The young ichthyologist was wandering down to the waters of the lagoon. She had moved to this place in order to do studies on the interesting biotope that this lagoon inhabited… or at least that was the explanation that she had given to her university when she put in her application to study this area. This was however not the only reason.
The major reason was the creature that she had discovered living in the darkness of these deep waters.
She had gotten close to him, and she was almost certain that he saw her sort of like himself. He had come to the call of her flute which she had made from the mold of what she had thought was an extinct creature.
He was also clearly male, showing his golden glowing scales and flaring his gills in a colorful display each time she saw her. At first she had thought it was a display of aggression, much like in the betta fish, yet she learned that this was actually more a display of affection. She had named him Gold because of his beautiful coloring.
Belle found him incredible dear, and when they were relaxing on the bank of the river she would constantly lift the fin on his back and then watch it fall back down. He did not mind this even if he let out a slight huff like laugh at her antics.
He was still clearly annoyed at her leaving each evening… and spending so much time on land. It was clear to Belle that he thought that she was a really silly for doing that.
However, now it was a really warm day, so swimming in the lagoon would be really nice spending the day swimming. Leaving her towels and her things at the bank she waded into the water and started to swim.
It did not take long until she felt his shape brush against her body. Belle smiled as she dived under the water, able to see his golden colors shimmer even through it was rather hard for her to see under water.
He reached out his arms, wrapping his arms around her, she feeling those webbed fingers against her skin, resting against her. Luckily he had learned quickly that she needed a lot of air, so he brought her to the surface and allowed her to breathe.
She slowly ran her fingers across his scaled cheeks as she looked towards him.
“Hi Gold,” she smiled happily towards him before she proceeded to lean her forehead against his. Gold let out a pleased sound as he nudged gently towards her.
“Missed you too,” she said softly, running her hand down his neck on his back.
“I am happy to see you again,” she said, looking into those large golden eyes which stared back at her.
She had so many times wondered what he was… he was so… human, yet not. The thing was that she did not really dare to do tests on him… not unless she was able to analyze the results herself.
If he was discovered…
Belle shuddered at the though. If he was discovered they would surely take him to some lab and experiment on him and make him live in a tank. Belle was certain that he would die if that were to happen.
And the last thing she wanted was for him to… die… trapped and alone in some cold sterile environment. Not only that… she would be the cause of it. She would be the reason for his suffering.
Belle closed her eyes. That was something that she could never allow to come to pass. It would cause her far too much pain and heartache.
Gently she felt him nudge her cheek gently and looked at her with a question in those soulful eyes. Belle simply smiled softly, before she shook her head.
“Don’t worry… just bad thoughts…” she assured him, petting him softly and felt how he was leaning against her hand, letting out soft pleased sounds at her attention.
Looking like that… Belle wondered, wondered how he would react. If he would think it one of her silly actions which she always did, or something more…
Slowly she moved her hand further around her neck before she brought him close to her, she noting a slightly confused look upon his eyes, her lips now only inches from his, before she placed a gentle kiss upon those scaled lips.
She could feel him kick his webbed feet slightly lifting both of them higher in the water for a moment.
Belle moved her head back, looking at him, daring to give him a shy smile, even as he was looking at her with an utterly confused expression on his face.
“I am sorry…” Belle attempted to excuse herself, yet before she could continue her apology he leaned closer towards her again, cocking his head slightly before his lips brushed against her.
It was clear that he was confused by the action, yet he desired more.
His gills were splayed out even further, catching the sun’s rays in their golden sheen, pulling her body even closer to him, his scales sliding across her bare skin. Her small bikini only covered a very small part of her, so she was able to feel all of his body against her own as she let out a gentle gasp in pleasure.
She had in truth never thought of him like this… having simply seen him as… beautiful. Yet… there had always been a connection there that she could not deny.
In truth… perhaps she had always desired him… but just did not know.
Belle swallowed her hands slipping down, feeling against his sides and his large interlocking scales, tracing gently the top of his hip, down between his legs. Moving her hand she heard a gasp press its way out from his sharp teeth.
Looking down she saw his cock move out, hard and erect and the same golden color as his gills. Belle could not keep from letting out a slight gasp as she saw it.
He was quite big…
Their eyes met and he leaned his head closer, Belle feeling his graying hair brushing against her cheek.
Those webbed hands continued to move over her body, feeling her smooth skin which was so different from his own. He would never want to change that… he adored everything about her. She was so wonderful…
He wanted her to stay forever…
Her soft hands on his member was… the creature moaned heatedly in her ear. Slowly he moved her further up on his body, Belle’s arms wrapping around his neck to steady herself. His forehead rested against her chest and licked her skin gently, tickling her breasts gently as he held her. Belle was clinging to him, caressing his hair, willing him on.
She could feel that member rub against her pussy making her pound even faster.
Could she… could she really with such a creature…?
However passion soon took over for rational thoughts, as she grinded against him, feeling how the water became heated with the two creature’s passion.
Curling his fingers, caused his claws to scrape her skin, making her hiss softly from the pain that she felt… but she simply to moved against him, caressing him along his length as her hips rolled softly.
In the water she felt weightless… almost as if she was dreaming.
She desired him more… her lips once again pressing against his as that large golden member pressed itself against her body, making her gasp with pleasure.
It filled her with desire as she gently rubbed against him, moaning her desires as she glanced at him. He gasped, the gills flaring as he was inside her.
Never had the creature felt such pleasure.
Belle had to gasp slightly, feeling a slight strain due to his size before she got used to the feeling of having him inside. But after a slight gritting of her teeth she felt her body adjust, and she let out a slight moan at feeling him inside.
Her nail started to scrape against his scales as she felt how he rolled his hips, pulling slightly out of her before moving back in.
His movements were slow, deliberate, taking his time as he moved within her, moaning softly. The desire for her simply grew… he needed her more… wanted to feel her more.
The waves were moving steadily against the two warm bodies.
“Mmm… Gold…” she moaned softly, the creature letting out a rough purr in her ear. He was the one that kept them up in the water as her legs had wrapped around his body.
She felt his teeth run across her skin, making her let out a slight laugh as it tickled slightly, mingling with the pleasure.
Gold continued to caress her smooth body… her skin was so soft… so delicate. His claws could rip through her skin, her neck so exposed to his sharp teeth. He adored her. She was his mate. Though she was different and odd… he would not change anything about her.
Belle felt herself reach blissful ecstasy as he came within her. The young ichthyologist rested her head against his shoulder as he gently swam them to shore where they rested upon a smooth rock with the light still glowing down upon the two lovers.
“This feels good…” she murmured as she looked up at the blue sky and felt the sun warm up her wet skin.
The creature gazed upon his mate, letting out happy purrs as he watched her. Then it noticed something odd.
Along her neck were… wounds…? He hadn’t hurt her had he? No… they weren’t wounds… no bleeding.
If anything there were more like… gills.
But his mate did not have gills. The creature worried slightly, but she hugged him close, resting her head upon his chest, delighting in the warm sun.
Gold looked at her, she seemed alright… his mate was the same as ever. But…
He could not help but to feel… uneasy as a long forgotten memory was clawing at the back of his mind.
He did not want to think of unpleasant things, instead bringing her even closer as the water of the lagoon was moving steadily against the rocks.
summary: two weeks have passed since that fateful night in the barn, but the dream that had consumed your senses that night continues to haunt you. Little did you know that it would do so in more ways than one.
tags/cws: 18+ content, dubious consent, oral fem!receiving, p in v, size difference, very slight choking, mutual masturbation, praise, stalking, victor is also there? But unconscious so cucking??, hopefully that's right, slightly needy! creature, dark!creature but this ended up being a lot more tender as it went on.
author's note: once again, i apologize for how long it took for this to come out. 3-4 months is an insane wait time and I genuinely deserve to be whooped. But thank you to everyone who kept in touch because they wanted another part. I love you all!! thank you so much for your patience!
read part one here, but this can also be read as a standalone
Large, steady hands at your waist, the scorching warmth of another body pressed to yours… Though it had been more than a fortnight since you had left the sanctuary of the barn, the memory of the dream still clung to you, its tendrils rooted deep into your very being. But what had once seemed like a sweet illusion soon turned sickly and cloying to your senses, the intensity of your reaction that morning spurring flutterings of heat that eventually dampened into nauseating shame.
The light of day was of little solace, even as you plunged yourself into your work as a lady's maid to Elizabeth Lavenza. Labor that had once felt so monotonous–even vexing–now served as a lifeline as you ironed, sewed, and polished buttons until your eyes strained themselves in the low light of dying embers. And when your own work was done, you sought even more from the rest of the household staff, who were more than willing to parcel out their chores. There was always something extra to do on the expansive grounds of the Frankenstein estate, even if it meant staying up late to sweep the fireplaces of their cinders.
And yet, no matter how hard you worked your body, your bones aching every night when you finally allowed yourself the reprieve of sleep, the dream would return, and so would a more persistent ache between your legs. You were no stranger to pleasure, to be sure, but what had transpired in the barn had felt too real, and the reaction your body had to it made you feel as though you had no real control of it.
It was more than maddening–it frightened you. Night after torturous night, you tossed and turned, your body tangling in your sheets and your limbs shivering as a cold sweat blanketed the gooseflesh that would erupt all over your body. You would wake with a start, your rabbiting heart refusing to slow until you had extracted yourself from bed and soaked your face at the metal basin tucked in the corner of your room. Only then would your breath return to you, your mind regaining enough control to drive away the dream and ignore your pulsing core begging for something, anything, to ease its ache.
It had affected your sleep so much that one night, as you went through the familiar motions of unpinning Elizabeth's glorious red hair, your hand twitched rather abruptly, and you pricked your mistress's scalp. You both jumped and gasped–Elizabeth from the sudden jolt of pain, and you from the utter shock that your body had convulsed so and hurt your lady. You immediately dropped the pin on the vanity and stepped to stand beside her, your eyes frantic as you searched Elizabeth's delicate features to see if she was in much pain.
“I am so sorry, my lady! I do not know what came over me. I assure you, it was not intentional,” you exclaimed, your hands wringing together frantically.
Elizabeth rubbed the sore spot on her head, her face momentarily scrunched, but the pinprick of discomfort quickly ebbed away. Then she thankfully, graciously, laughed. She shook her head at your reaction, her eyes kind. “At ease, y/n. I shall survive this, I think.”
But that did not stop your fretting. Noting this, Elizabeth reached out to clasp your hand and, in a more gentle tone, continued. “I hope I am not prying,” she started slowly, “but I have noted how you have grown rather anxious as of late… It worries me. Is there something troubling you?”
You held her gaze for a moment, but you swivelled your eyes to the ground as the truth as to why you have been so ill-rested resurfaced in your mind. “It is nothing, my lady. Just some nightmares,” you assured her, your voice barely audible as the lie clawed up your throat.
A half-truth. You thought, hoping it'd be explanation enough. You should have known better.
Elizabeth, clever and astute as ever, did not look convinced. She studied your shifting gaze, the tension deeply set in your shoulders, and her brow furrowed with apprehension. She squeezed your hand, “I can tell that you are weary, at the very least. Promise me you will take the following day off.”
That made you look up. You had just begun to shake your head, an excuse at the tip of your tongue, when Elizabeth patted your hand and said, with finality, that she insisted upon the matter.
Your only recourse left was to nod. To beg for more work simply to escape dreams would have marked you as a madwoman. And while Elizabeth was kind, you had less faith in the men of the household she would soon join. Especially the elder Frankenstein with his fascination with anatomy.
Suppressing a shiver at the thought, you replied. “Thank you, my lady,” you said softly, dipping into a shallow courtesy in deference before moving back into place and unravelling the rest of her locks with greater care.
Victor…
The name was like the lash of a whip, scorching and punishing, and yet it was the one thing that had sustained the Wretch in the months it had taken to track down his creator. The name kindled his rage, his sole companion as he braced himself against the harsh elements of the mountains and untamed forests he traveled through. Nature was harsh, but it was not offended by his monstrous form, which was more than what could be said of his attempts to travel freely on the well-worn paths carved out by humans.
He had learned long ago not to expect decency from them. He had received nothing from humanity save the bitter coldness of abandonment and the sharp stings of their beatings. No, he had devised a better plan: He would find his creator and compel him to make him an equal, a companion. And then they would shun mankind together.
It was a decent plan. A logical one, even, in a certain light–but things had changed. That night in the barn had disrupted his purpose in the course of a few hours. He knew now that an equal would not satisfy him any longer; he sought only her. To taste. To hold. To have.
He was beyond all reason on this matter. He did not care if she found him repulsive, if she screamed or beat at him as everyone else had. He would have her, properly, even if he had to abscond with her into the wilderness beyond the grasp of humanity. She would have no choice but to accept his company then. The image of it swam sweetly in his mind, a comforting token he tucked close to his accursed heart.
It took him four days to track her down, his progress stunted as he could only roam freely when night could cloak his movements. There were moments when he had believed he had lost her trail entirely, and fear would seize his senses, but fate seemed to have entwined you closer than he had originally thought. Desperation forced him to continue his search discreetly during the day, and it was in the brightness of a spring afternoon that he properly beheld her for the second time.
He had begun to skirt the edges of the forests that nestled around the great country estates, keeping to the shadows cast by the dappled light of leaves when, of all things, a laugh interrupted the usual cacophony of birds and insects. He paused, mid shamble, his breath stilling and his ears straining. A muffled voice mingled in the air, then two, and then three. All bright and bubbling like the stream running to his side. Careful not to make a sound, he shuffled as close to the treeline as he dared, and was rewarded by the sight of her face.
She looked different, more severe than the slumbering beauty that had carelessly tossed herself in a pile of hay. She was dressed in black from her throat to her feet, her hair pinned down neatly, and her hands folded before her. And she was not alone. He had to stifle a snarl as he processed the scene before his eyes: you, standing by sweet Elizabeth's side, and none other than Viktor Frankenstein lounging in a whicker chair on the other. Food was served on a pristine tablecloth; a basket of scones, berries, and clotted cream was arranged in a neat formation. And yet his beauty remained standing, to the side, a hovering figure blending into the foreground. It was strange to see another be so blatantly excluded, but he recognized the dynamic all the same: Viktor was your master as well.
As if on cue, the grating voice of his creator cut through the din of the soft clinks of silverware with a request. It was enough for you to step from the foreground into action, your movements stiff but practiced as you turned to another table to retrieve a bottle of milk to pour into Viktor's waiting glass.
He learned your name then.
“Thank you, y/n.” came from Viktor's lips, careless words tossed in an uninterested tone. He had not even glanced at her, and yet she had nodded with an air of demureness before returning the bottle to its ice-chilled bath.
Y/n… the name soothed the burning jealousy in his chest. His breathing slowed and came easier.
Y/n…. he spoke it out loud, savoring the sound and the way it felt on his lips.
Y/n… he repeated it, not like a prayer—he had convinced himself long ago that he was too monstrous to pray—but as though he could possess the very name. And he intended to.
He spent ten nights thereafter watching, observing. Learning your routines and following your movements as best he could through silhouettes. It was only at night when he dared to come closer, pressing to the glass to simply watch. His eyes caressing you, his heart aching. He was stalling; he had taken so freely before, but now he was biding his time.
Let the night hold the secret of my desires a little while longer, he thought.
Rain had begun to pelt against the glass windows as you slowly wandered through the halls of the Frankenstein estate. Elizabeth had long tucked herself into bed, signaling that your own duties for the day were concluded, and yet your feet did not make the familiar trek to the servants' quarters. You didn't go upstairs, where the lot of you were tucked into neat little rooms in the attic. No, your feet moved to the bottom floor instead, to the sitting room where your employers had spent their evening.
It was not an inviting room, contrary to its intended nature. It was decorated in heavy blacks and reds, casting sinister shadows when the fire burned low, as it did when you stepped inside. Books and cards lay scattered about, the faint odor of spilled liquor mingling with the smell of smoke from the marble chimney. You had come with the intention to tidy the room, but your attention was immediately seized by the cold sweep of air blowing in from a glass door that had been left ajar. You inhaled sharply and rushed forward, praying that nothing had gotten soaked, and shut the door with a sharp snap. For a moment–a brief, sweet moment–the world was quiet again. The sounds of rain were muted, the crackle of the fire your only companion. And then-
A grunt, followed by a grugle.
You had refrained from gasping before, but now you did. Your body seized up, your nerves bound tight as though someone had dumped a bucket of frigid water onto your back. When you swiveled around, you were shocked by the sight before you: Victor, slumped across a chaise, his clothes disheveled and a crystal glass sloshing in his hand with the remnants of some amber liquor. His eyes were bloodshot, his movements jerky and unnatural as he pushed himself upright. “I was hoping to get some air,” he complained, his speech–usually so cold and precise–slurred.
You pressed a hand to your heaving chest, a soothing gesture as you battled for your wits to return in between choking breaths and nervous laughter. “I apologize, sir. I did not realize that I was intruding.” You said quickly, dropping into an ungraceful curtsey. “I will leave you at present. The tidying will be done in the morning.”
“No, no. It doesn't matter now,” he said, wincing as he stood, a hand going to his brow where a nerve jumped. “Where are my manners? Please, sit,” he said, waving to a chair beside you.
Your brow furrowed with confusion, but you did not question your employer. Awkwardly, as though the chair was made of spikes, you sat on its edge, your back straight as you watched Viktor lurch to the cellarette. He refilled his own cup and then sloshed some more in a second, which he offered to you. His gaze was intense, expectant despite the cloudy glaze that kept it from being perfectly fixed. You took the cup, your cheeks flushing with discomfort as Viktor polished off his own whilst standing right in front of you. His throat bobbed greedily, a droplet skirting down his neck. A nagging voice told you to set aside your glass and leave, immediately, and you were just about to heed it when a warm hand pressed down on your shoulder with considerable weight. You looked up, eyes wide, only to be face-to-face with Viktor. You had found him handsome before, but tonight he looked anything but. He looked cruel, the swipe of his tongue over his lips like a wolf that had caught an easy meal.
“I… I should go. Lady Elizabeth is expecting me…” You began, your voice soft to control how it threatened to waver. He noticed that, even in his inebriated state, his pupils constricting as he caught the lie.
“I insist you stay. Elizabeth will understand.” He said, playing along with your lame excuse. “You know, you really are quite pretty,” he observed. It is a shame I never noticed before… so much time wasted on Elizabeth…”
He leaned in as he spoke, the potent alcohol on his breath making your eyes water even as you leaned back. You reached up and grasped the hand on your shoulder, firmer this time as you tried to stand. “I must go.”
But he only returned with more of his own weight, the sudden struggle knocking him off balance and forcing his drunken weight to collapse above you. What happened next was a blur–a glass shattered by your ear, your breath knocked from your chest as you tumbled to the floor, the crushing weight of Victor above you, then a sudden bang, and the roar of wind filling the room.
And then there was freedom, the weight on you lifting in one fell swoop that allowed you to swallow down sweet, cold air. The sounds of your gasping were only interrupted by a sickening smack from somewhere afar in the darkness. You scrambled up despite the burning in your lungs, palms sweaty and limbs trembling as the adrenaline continued to spike in your bloodstream. You whipped around, trying to make sense of what had happened, but what you saw made you question your sanity: a dark, looming shape, standing over Victor's now limp form on the ground. Thick layers of fur draped its form, soaked and dripping rainwater onto the carpet where it stood.
It took a moment for your mind to catch up with your senses, slowly putting together the scene; the door to the grounds that you had closed only moments before was now swinging on its hinges, the thick black curtains whipping wildly as the storm blew in. You took a swift step backwards, wincing as your feet crunched shattered glass.
The figure reacted to the sound, swiveling sharply, but its features remained obscured in the shadow cast by its hood. Who or what stood eerily still, save the way its chest heaved as a low and penetrating rumble emanated from its throat. You felt pinned, afraid that any movement would set the shadow upon you, the same way predators were only goaded by a chase. But after a petrifying beat, it simply turned and picked up your employer as though he were but a wee child in its arms.
Your voice came to you then, cracked and raw: “good lord, is he dead??”
You weren't expecting the figure to respond, but it did, its voice a low grumble, gentler than anything you could have ever imagined. “No, just sleeping… did… did he harm you?”
You blinked, then glanced down to assess yourself. You shifted your weight, flexed your fingers, but there was no pain other than the dull ache in your chest from having your wind forced from you and the trembling of your hands. You shook your head, your fingers fisting into the fabric of your skirts to ease their jittering. “I am alright.”
You could not see the person's features, but you felt his gaze as he looked you over himself—saw his shadow shift when he nodded and readjusted Victor in his grasp. “Show me to his rooms; it will seem as though he drank himself into exhaustion.”
The plan took a while to register; you felt as though your mind and body were split in two. With any luck, Victor would forget, and the aching in his skull could be easily explained away due to his drinking. It made sense. Perfect sense. A logical way to escape the repercussions that could come of this. “T-this way,” you stuttered, your feet carrying you forwards as if on autopilot.
You moved through the long halls in near-darkness, your fear of being discovered keeping you from lighting the way. You knew the place well enough not to need a candle to guide you, and your dark companion seemed to do fine without it as well. You paused before every turn, straining your ears for any noise first before trusting your feet to go forward. Victor's bedroom was only two flights up in the manor, but the journey took longer than it normally would have for the sake of caution. Sweat streaked your brow, and a chill had seeped into your bones by the time you reached the room. You counted your blessings when you did, a quiet sigh of relief escaping you when you locked it with a ‘click.’ When you turned, your companion had already unceremoniously dumped your employer into his bed, his limp frame landing in an uncomfortable position amongst rumpled sheets of red satin.
Your solace quickly evaporated as you noticed how still the figure hovered over Victor, the air thick with a tension you couldn't quite understand. Hoping to ease it, you inched forward and grasped you savors hand. An animal-like growl emanated from its bundled throat, its body flinching from your sudden actions.
“Please, sir, what is your name?” you asked, trembling fingers tracing over the scarred hand in your grasp. The wounds and his sounds shocked you, but you refused to flinch, though you feared you had offended your towering companion regardless when no ready response came.
Eventually, he spoke, his voice tentative, almost shy. “I am a wretch without a name.”
Your brow furrowed slightly before you could mask your expression, your smile becoming tight upon your lips as you sought a glimpse of his face. You were on the verge of saying something clever, something like, ‘what do you mean?’ when the figure turned to face you in the light of the fire, his hand withdrawing from yours to peel back the hood.
Your heart simply halted, your pounding blood skittering to a stop and turning to ice water in your veins.
It was not the face streaked with grooves, its skin bruised and pale, that terrified you. It was his eye, yellow and glowing from within, and the way the pair of them traced your form in a similar way that Victors had. But the towering creature before you was not drunk; he was alert, his desire burning with a suffocating vehemence that you felt as though it pressed against your chest and sought to steal your breath once more.
You backed away–he let you.
“What are you???” you gasped. Whatever you could have said, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. The creature's breathing stilled, his hands flexing at his sides, his face scrunching.
“Not a what, but who.” He corrected, “and I have already answered that question… I am a wrech, a creature…” and then, as if he had debated to say it at all, he added: “I have come to claim what is my own.” As he spoke, he stalked forward, quiet and steady for his size.
“You … you are not familiar to me. You have no claim here,” you belatedly stuttered. You should have run, at the very least moved, but your feet felt as though they had been replaced by lead. You stood, helpless, as you watched the creature… the wretch… prowl ever closer.
“But you are wrong…” he refuted easily, his expression cool. A calloused palm, warm to the touch, reached out and traced the curve of your cheek in a way that felt adoring.
You inhaled sharply, but you did not push back, not even when the pad of his thumb swept across your lower lip as if it could ease the way it trembled.
“I have a claim on thee,” he explained. He pressed close then, his body warm, comforting… familiar.
Realization choked you, slamming just as violently as Victor had surely struck the wall. “It is you. The one from my dream…and the barn… I am sure of it.”
A low, pleased hum left the creature, his lips tugging into a gentle smile because you had remembered. Your body had remembered. “Are you frightened, little one?” He bent low, the tip of his nose trailing down what little of your neck was exposed, and inhaled. “I will not harm thee. Your body knows this. It knew it even then, when it opened for me that night.”
Shock slammed through you, your knees buckling from the force. His hands surged forward to prop you up, to steady you, for another excuse to pull you even closer so you basically rested on his thigh. He immediately sought your eyes again, to see how you were processing his words.
The blood had left you, your face pale and clammy. “Is this a dream?” you asked, your voice thick as though your throat had been stuffed with cotton. “Surely, this is a dream…” You tried again, speaking into the air for no reason other than to soothe yourself.
“Would you be comforted if I said it was?” The creature asked gently after a while, his furrowed brows betraying an inkling of hurt and disappointment.
He urged you up, drawing to his full height. He dipped down and kissed you then—soft, wet little things, his tongue sweeping over your lips as if to taste, to coax. It was sickeningly tender, given the context.
You were trembling already when he paused, your hands reaching out unsteadily to grasp at his fur coat. It was cold, wet from the rain that had soaked through, but when you trailed your hand to the exposed skin at his collar, solid warmth greeted your palm. Alive. Real. For a moment, you were mesmerized–here walked the man who had haunted your dreams, your desires given flesh–and yet a part of you pushed you away, still frightened, your fingers wiping at your mouth as if you could erase the temptation he stirred.
Once again, he made no attempt to keep you still, his eyes simply tracking you as you went to go lean against the cool wood of the bedpost. Your fingers dug into the intricate carvings there, your forehead seeking the coolness. Eventually, you sat down, giving your wobbly knees a reprieve as you took deep, calming breaths.
A hand on your knee broke you from the rushing thoughts clouding your mind, everything coming to a halt as the touch grew firmer, more intent. When you glanced up, he was there, his face cool but intense. With your eyes locked, he lowered himself to his knees, now eye level with you. His hand on your knee traveled up to rest on your hip, his second following suit, both of them bunching up your skirts slightly as they moved into place.
You shuddered, your own hands reflexively coming to rest above his, tugging away but lacking the conviction you had before when it was Victor. “Please…,” you croaked, though you were unsure of what exactly it was you were pleading with him for.
“Please,” he parroted, his pronunciation slow and yet penetrating, his brows furrowed with need and determination all in one. Your skirts, which had been at your knees, were now properly hiked to your hips. He slotted himself there, forcing your knees to open to accommodate his size. He nuzzled close between your thighs, his nose brushing against your sex through the cotton of your bloomers. It tickled at the same time it made sparks of want dance across your body, a sudden gasp forced from you as you squirmed. But his hands were firm now, locking you in place as he parted the seam in your bloomers, the hot, broad pad of his tongue dipping low to lick a stripe up your pussy. He hummed, the reverberations going straight to your core, the vibrations only deepening when your fingers flew to his unkept hair and tried to push him away. But he was shifting, moving, hooking your legs over his shoulders and making you fall onto your back against the red silk sheets. Your thighs parted more readily at this angle, granting him better access, especially once he grasped your hips and tugged you forcefully to the edge of the bed, and towards the onslaught of his lapping tongue.
You cried out, the back of your free hand pressing to your lips to muffle all of your subsequent whimpers. Your gaze became fixed on the ceiling, your eyes watering as you felt the tip of his tongue circle your core, prodding your entrance teasingly before swiping up to caress your clit only to take it in his mouth to suckle gently. Your hips jerked up into his mouth, a muffled, pitiful groan falling from you as your brows furrowed in desperation.
You were still unsure if this was a dream or not, but at some point you had thrown caution to the wind because your fingers were in his hair, tugging him closer. Your hips began to roll, your body using his thick, warm tongue to get off. Every scrap of shame, every modicum of composure, instantly vanished under his relentless hold that urged you to surrender—to submit to the pleasure. He wanted this, he wanted you, his large hands squeezing and massaging your thighs as if you threatened to slip away.
Your hand covering your lips now flew and tangled itself in the sheets, your breathy moans becoming sharp and loud as you felt a delicious warmth pool low in your belly, your thighs squeezing around the creature's head.
You were close, frustratingly so, when a loud groan caused the wretch to pause abruptly, his dark, glittering eyes blown wide as he leaned back to drink in your flushed cheeks and trembling lips. You audibly whined as you sat up, confused and trembling.
“Why’d you stop?” You wish you hadn't been so straightforward or sounded so needy, but he was simply staring and the tension was making you squirm. That’s when he stood, and the next thing you processed was a flurry of movement as he hauled you upright by the arms, his eyes dark with intent as he spun you around, forcing you to seek purchase on the mattress.
“I wish to see this off of you,” he explained, his voice gruff in your ear as he grasped a handful of fabric.
A soft little ‘oh” of realization was the best you could muster, your core pulsing wantonly as you felt the heat of him against your thighs and the curve of your ass, his strong hands all but forcing open the ribbons at your back. The sound of a rip and the sight of Viktor still knocked unconscious on the other side of the bed snapped you out of your daze of lust, your blood running cold as you felt the fabric slip down your arms. You attempted to stand, but his hands at your hips stilled you and kept you pressed to his chest. “W-wait, my uniform….and he is still…” you stuttered, cupping the spilling fabric at your front.
The creature's eyes flicked over your shoulder to look at Victor, a soft huff of amusement tickling the back of your neck before he began to kiss the newly exposed flesh.
“This dress doesn't matter, he doesn't matter…” he whispered, his hands tugging at the fabric and making it fall to your hips before wrapping you closer, his kisses dotting your jaw.
As if to emphasize this point, he turned you to face him once more, a gentle hand cupping your jaw and tilting your face just so to pull you into a fierce kiss, deep with meaning. You kissed back, though your brow furrowed with confusion, not only about his words, but by your own complacency. Why were you allowing this stranger, this creature, to do this? You were surely rushing into ruin, but your thoughts were swiftly distracted when he bent low to tug your corset down, not even bothering to undo the lace. His lips caught your nipple in his mouth as it spilled free, suckling just as he had done before between your legs. You felt that familiar tug reaching all the way down to your core, your stomach flipping with anticipation.
A string of breathy “ah’s” spilled from you, your back arching and your fingers tangling in his hair. If he wasn't holding you up by your waist, your knees would have surely failed you entirely.
He pulled back with a soft pop, his broad tongue swirling around your pebbled peak before he pulled back to help you wriggle out in what fabric remained. When you stood in just your stockings, he rumbled appreciatively, a broad hand trailing from your lower belly and up the valley for your breasts, before settling gently on your throat. Your breath hitched, your eyes widening, but he didn’t tighten his hold; he just guided you back against the bedpost, his thumb moving from your throat to stroke the underside of your jaw.
“Soft, so, so smooth… so… different, from me…” His eyes grew dark, his face contorting with visible pain you were sure stemmed from something beyond what was physical, and yet probably interconnected. Your heart twinged, enough to be felt beyond the daze this creature had plunged you into.
“Come,” you said softly, reaching out for him. You tugged at the fur coat at his shoulders, your eyes fixed on his dampened expression. His eyes, which were staring off into the darkness, softened when they landed back on you.
Slowly, he stripped himself of his wet fur coat, then his tattered rags of a shirt. He unveiled himself to your kind gaze, his own tracking for any hint of disgust, only to find none in yours. And yet he stood stiffly, his movements suddenly jerky — a complete departure from the gruff authority that had commanded and stripped you. He stopped when only his trousers remained, his hands loose at his sides. He was waiting, no, he wanted you to move first.
The fire cast a soft, warm hue to his skin, and yet you could still see how the lines that traversed his form varied in tone–bruised in one section and his veins stretching like cobwebs over the other. Your throat had gone dry, but you kept your gaze soft. You knew not what to make of the being before you; he frightened in the same capacity as he stoked your curiosity. When your eyes followed the lines down his chest, dipping below to where his trousers slung low, you accepted that he stoked something else, something darker, needier, even after he had revealed his full form to you.
You reached out then, your eyes cast demurely downward as your hand trailed his abdomen. You circled him, slowly, taking in the scars at his back, the power in his shoulders. Only when you stood before him once more did you let your fingers toy with the knot at his waist. A low, penetrating growl snapped your eyes up to his face, that intensity once again overtaking his features, his eye catching the light just right, flashing yellow as the fabric slipped away. You should have stopped, should have run while you still had your wits about you, but the fabric had already fallen to his feet, and you both stood bare before the other.
Your attention was only diverted by the press of his bobbing length against your stomach, half hard and streaking pre against your skin. A needy little groan fell from you, your teeth sinking into your kiss-swollen lips as you caught his cock in your hands. The weight of him in your palms shocked you, and even then, he was still swelling under the heat of your attention. Your cheeks flushed, your weeping core clenching down on nothing, already anticipating the burn he’d create as he stretched your fluttering walls. Rubbing your thighs together only made your imagination run wilder. You wanted him buried deep inside, and yet you doubted you could take it.
You were still thinking about the practicalities of everything when his hand gently brushed yours away, his own wrapping securely around his member while his other guided you by the shoulder to sit back on the bed. At this angle, it bobbed at eye level, his practiced fingers dragging down before flicking up to the tip, showing you exactly how he pleased himself.
You watched with a watering mouth as pearls of cum glittered on his pale blue tip, before his fingers caught them and spread them out across his cock.
You couldn’t help it. You really couldn't. You scooted backwards and leaned back onto your elbows, your feet perched at the edge of the bed, thighs parting. Your own fingers slipped between your folds, invoking a purr of delight from the creature's throat, his eyes fixed on your delicate touches and the glistening slick already soaking your digits. You moaned as your fingers gently circled your clit, the tight bundle of nerves pulsing and sending out wild sparks of pleasure that you felt all over–from your pebbled breasts to the tip of your toes. Soft pants and grunts filled the air, sweet music intermingled with the muted pelts of rain against glass and the lewd squelches coming from his hand around his cock and your fingers in your pussy. Eventually, you slipped one finger inside of you, then two, and then three, your eyes fixed on his girth as you mimicked the rhythm of his strokes, mewling as you stretched yourself and imagined the sweet ache the creature would leave you with once he had his way.
You cupped a breast with your free hand, your eyes sliding shut momentarily as you pinched and rolled its peak and thought of how his tongue had suckled the other. When you glanced up, the sight of him alone almost tipped you over the edge. The glow of the fire accentuated his toned chest and abdomen, every clench of his stomach, every roll of his hips as he loomed over you with his hair wild and dangling, his free hand grasping the bedpost for balance.
You could feel your climax building, every pump of your digits and brush against your clit gently coaxing more warmth to pool between your legs, the pressure low in your belly building with every second. You eventually come with a choking wail, your fingers curled and still as your walls squeezed around them, your back arching from the sheets as pulsating waves of bliss crashed over your senses. You fall back with a soft groan, your body limp as the last throbs of pleasure eke out of you.
That’s when you notice that the creature had halted his own ministrations, his shoulders tense and his cock still stiff and leaking in his palm, his dark eyes fixed on you with simmering intent. You flush, harder than before, your fingers slipping free with an obscene squelching sound. “S-sorry…” you mumbled, though you were unsure why you were apologizing.
You were about to wipe the slick from your fingers when the creature shot out and caught your hand, making you inhale sharply. Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, his knees making the bed dip as he caged you in and brought your trembling fingers to his lips. His hot breath tickled their tips before the pad of his tongue lapped them clean, his low growl of satisfaction vibrating straight through you and down to your core when he brought them into his mouth to suck. The sight was so indecent it made your whole body flush, your brow furrowing, and your lips parting as you began to pant. Subconsciously, you wrapped your thighs about the creature's waist, urging him lower, to settle properly between your thighs.
That made him grunt abruptly, your fingers falling from his mouth to tangle in his hair instead, the other about his shoulders. It was you who reached up to kiss him this time, fervent and fast and needy, the pair of you moaning into each other's mouths. He began a pace of shallow thrusts, his cock nestled sweetly between your warm folds, his weeping tip rubbing gloriously against your clit and making you slicker. And yet, when his cock caught your entrance, the stretch was still enough to make you gasp loudly and halt, your fingers digging into his lined back and scalp. He stilled instantly, the look in his dark eyes so tender for a being come to claim you.
“Are… are you alright? Does it hurt?”
You noted, wide-eyed, that his body was shaking, his need palpable in the thick air surrounding you both. You knew nothing of how sweetly your warm pussy squeezed down on his tip, of how desperate he was to see you fully stuffed with him. You breathed in deeply before nodding, your mind willing your body to calm, to adjust. He sank in an inch more, another grunt dropping from his lips. He kept still for a moment longer before he began to push, his eyes flicking from your expression and to where your pretty pussy swallowed him in, his mouth falling open with pleasure and wonder. Tears sprang in your eyes when he was fully sheathed, your back arching and your toes curling as you felt his girth split you open, the intensity of it all making you keen. You held on tight to him, refusing to let him move an inch until your muscles softened and your breathing steadied. In the meantime, he peppered you with soft, reverent kisses between every panting breath, utterances of “so sweet, so perfect” falling into your ear and warming your heart.
The sting ebbed away after a moment, only to be replaced with a pleasant ache that dipped and weaved with a heat that flared every time his cock rubbed against that spongey, sweet spot deep inside of you. You thrust up slowly, testing your comfort, only to find sweet, sweet pleasure when your clit rubbed deliciously against his navel. Instantly, his hands caught your hips as he rested back on his knees, a needy moan catching in his throat. He held your hips aloft but made no move to use you; he only eased your movements, carrying your weight so you could roll your hips and fuck him as you wished, your hands drifting to his arms for even more leverage. He grunted with every one of your thrusts, his mouth watering as your breasts bounced and your lovely face eased with bliss.
It was only when you grew weary, your thighs trembling, that you let yourself fall back to the bed, your arms pulling him atop you once more. “Please,” you all but whined, burying him deeper. “Move… fuck me, please.”
“Yes…” he whispered, his eyes glittering in the dark. You had caught him in a daze–so mesmerized and awash with bliss that it took him a while to realize what you were asking for, but it didn't last for long. He grasped your smaller frame and repositioned you with ease, laying your head to rest properly on a pillow, which also meant you were now side by side with Victor. You shot the young master a look, your stomach clenching from apprehension, but your attention immediately snapped back to the creature when you felt him pull out quickly. You gasped, your eyes shooting up at him, any words you wished to say dying in your throat when you saw how quickly his demeanor had shifted. His grip on your hips tightened, his eyes dark with a simmering jealousy. He positioned his dribbling tip against your pulsing core, your body buzzing and disjointed from the sudden change.
“Look at me…” he commanded, a pale blue hand coming up to your face to hold your chin.
And obeyed you did, watching as he pressed back inside, making you feel how he filled you, inch by inch, once more. Except he did not pause this time, he pulled back, then sank back down. His pace was soft, slow, like waves lapping on the shore of a lake–gentle and loving. The hand on your chin drifted down to the swell of a bouncing breast, dwarfing it in his large, calloused palm. You were moaning, writhing, your body stilled only when he pressed down and settled some of his weight on your soft body. He groaned in your ear before enticing you into a kiss, his hips never once missing a beat.
You grasped at his wide shoulders, your fingers clutching his rolling muscles as he undulated above you, your cunt greedily sucking him in. But you wanted more, and so you let your tongue swipe across his lips, making his hips stutter and his pupils dilate as he tried to decipher your intentions. You suckled and bit at his lips, your thighs squeezing in time with his thrusts and making them go faster, harder. He got the message instantly, his tempo hastening with a wicked little grin. Your pulse jumped as that first hard, rough thrust rocked through you, your cries swallowed by his lips. And he did it again, and again, and again–the culmination of fourteen nights of dreams being fulfilled with every thrust of his cock and slap of his heavy balls against your pert ass. You fell apart around cock this time, his tip buried in your quivering depths as your cunt clamped down, your fingers pressing crescent marks on his back as your release rolled through you.
But it wasn't over, not yet. He continued to pump into you, the thrusts riding you through your orgasm until he became sloppy, his movements no longer just determined, but frantic.
“y/n…” he grunted, “y/n, y/n, y/n.” Your name became his mantra as he thrust, the sweetness like honey on his tongue as he fucked you thoroughly. One, two, three more pumps were all he needed for him to unravel, his cock jumping before he stuffed you full with proof of his claim, the warmth trickling from where you two remained joined.
You could feel his length softening within you, a comforting weight between your legs, keeping you full and content. Even though he was surely sensitive, he kept himself buried, his lips just as frantic as when you began, his kisses following the curve of your cheeks, jaw, and neck. Your hands, which had been securely bound in his hair and shoulders, slowly relaxed and fell onto the pillow above your head, limp and spent as you gasped for sweet air. Eyes that had been fixed ot the ceiling now flicked to your lover, your cheeks flushing as he pulled back enough to meet your gaze. A possessive rumble left his dark lips, and he thrust forward–just once–to pin himself closer to you and press his forehead to yours. You squealed, squirming in his grasp as the movement made more of his copious seed slip from you. That earned you a soft twitch of his lips, a small smile sliding into place as his dark eyes glimmered with what you recognized as quiet pride.
He dipped closer, his lips caressing yours as he spoke: “Mine…”
He sealed the word with another kiss, all-consuming and leaving no room for refusal. But a part of you recognized the truth of his words immediately, the knot of shame still nestled deep in the pits of your stomach unfurling.
“Yes,” you breathed when he let you up for air, nodding. “yours…”
an: and then he shoves off Victor from the bed and you guys cuddle till you fall asleep, lol. THANK YOU MY LOVES FOR READING MY WORK AND BEING SO SO PATIENT WITH ME. I’m a new fic writer and I learned sm from this experience!! Especially about pacing even though I failed tremendously in that respect for this fic 😭
