hey ms. bee, I hope you’re well but I just got to ask
how would the creature collective react to reader being on their period? im asking because i myself is on my period and its FUCKIMG me up 💔
also completely disregard my last ask if you want yoo, i was the anon asking about more freaky cowboy creature
I did my best as I haven't suffered the agony of periods in years now and don’t fully remember how it was 😳
Even though it always sucked.
But the Creatures are a bunch of weirdos. I wouldn’t even want to be on my period around them 😭
I also decided to add freaky Cowboy to this one anyway >:)
Enjoy though!
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How the creatures would handle reader on their period
● The Creatures don't need to see the strain and fatigue surrounding your eyes. They don't need to notice the sluggishness to your movements or the way you are hiding discomfort. They can smell it already. The hormonal changes, yes, but the blood too.
● The Creatures most acquainted with you know exactly when you're nearing that time of the month where you're more vulnerable. Even before you do it yourself.
● They're aware you're more fragile during that period. Your immune system will be less strong, your emotions may be all over the place and then there is the pain.
● They can't help feeling a little excited everytime. It's a natural instinct when smelling blood and seeing pain or vulnerability. And if you're less able to reel emotions in, that gives them an advantage over you as well. They are not above using that against you if they want to derail, contain or capture you.
● In the end though, their reaction depends on which Creature and the severity of your discomfort.
A select few might distance themselves a little if you live with them.
● Like the Nurse or the Milkman. Neither wants to hurt you exactly. Has no true motivation in making you bleed. The Milkman is more inclined to leaving bruises and nicks however, unlike the Nurse.
● But that scent mixed with heady hormones... They know they are still predators at heart. And when it comes to your scent specifically, self-control can be quite difficult.
● So the Milkman shows care through bringing comfort foods instead. He knows certain teas might help with sleep and will attempt to gather ingredients for it. He isn’t too big on teabags some humans bring into the Township. He’d much rather bring fresh ingredients.
● The Nurse would occasionally check in, smothering you in soft touches and will adjust your blanket and pillow if you're lying down. She’s tempted to curl up around you if you’re in a lot of pain. And she will if she’s too distracted by your pain to feel anything regarding your blood.
● But they usually keep their distance. They silently implore you to heed the unspoken warning, because they are more vulnerable to giving in to baser urges now. Even if that's what you want, it's not what they want. Intimacy is fine to a certain extent. As long as you don’t push for more violence.
● Pushing their boundaries so they’ll lose control anyway can lead to quiet punishments afterwards. Stone walling and absence being the biggest. Their anger at your disrespect leads to them withholding things. Never necessities, but don’t expect your favorites or much affection for a while.
Other Creatures will overdramatize sympathy.
● Jasmine and the Handbag lady will quietly listen to anything you have to say. They'll agree with your grumbling complaints, giving words of understanding despite no longer remembering what it was like for them.
● At the same time, Jasmine can be unsympathetic. Or at least, she simply shows it whereas the Handbag lady doesn’t. This is how your body functions, you can only accept it.
● But she'll still offer her companionship, keeping a hand on your head as you lay down in her lap. She’ll still listen and silently guard over you if you’re bedridden. She tends to withhold from touching you too much. Though, soft kisses to your temple or cheek become more common. But full on intimacy needs to be initiated by you.
● On particularly bad days, she’ll try to find you something to cheer you up or distract you with. With a book most likely. Or tales she’s heard. Spooky rumors or stories with foolish protagonists who’ll reap what they sow.
● The Handbag lady is secretly pretty content when you’re vulnerable. She likes hoarding you in whatever den you’re at. Whether that be your bedroom or somewhere in the caves. The idea of you being in a spot she can reach, but no one else really can, thrills her. She lingers near it, always close enough to hear you if you decide to roam around yourself.
● Then she’ll basically stalk you from a distance, keep you in sight. Your blood lures her in. She knows she’s hunting you. Perhaps you do too and try to play along. If you allow it, she will hunt you properly. And if she wins, you’ll be on your back underneath her very quickly, bottom half bare before her. Exactly where you belong.
And some others still, a very rare selection, will feel awkward.
● The Tough guy is a little lost on what to do when you curl up around yourself, cramps weighing you down heavily. He'll stick to your side. Watch over you. Snapping up anything he deems a threat. But when you require things, that's where he freezes.
● Blankets or something like a plush? No problem. Food or water? Check. Though he isn’t the best at preparing anything, he’ll do his best for you.
But affection...? His brain stops.
● It's not like he doesn't know how to be gentle. But you seem so small all of a sudden. So fragilely human with this normal bodily function. Even as you push yourself to go through your day normally, a being like him can see right through your facade.
● Any affection will be stiff. Too careful where you may desire a solid embrace. He needs a lot of time, but your periods still overwhelm him every so often. He'll smell your hormonal changes, knows that time is nearing and prepares the best he can.
● Smiley is initially pretty unsure as well. Not for the same reasons, but because he thrives on banter with you. He enjoys teasing and prodding. Likes seeing how far he can go before you snap back at him.
● He’ll lie beside you. Keeping a large palm over your belly, and acting like a living hot water bottle while you suffer from cramps. He doesn't really know what you need in these moments, but tries anyway. If that means becoming your teddy bear for the time being, then so be it.
● He finds he doesn't quite like your tears when he pushes you too far while your hormones run amok. And fatigue and pain makes them only run faster.
● He's never seen you cry before. It's such a messy, human thing that he enjoys in his victims. But you aren't that.
● He likes your irritation. Frustration. Anger. All your excitement and wariness. Not this. Tears are only necessary for when he stimulates you past your limit by other means.
● It freezes his smile in place while he tries to figure out what to do now. Until it slowly drops, hands hovering by his sides. Only now does he begin to understand these monthly changes aren't fun. They're risky. Make you more unpredictable—and, like the others realised far sooner; more vulnerable in a way.
● He believed treating you the same as usual was respectful. A sign he didn’t treat you as a porcelain doll like some of his brethren. Now he sees he may have to adjust a little anyway.
● So he learns the limit. Studies your mood thoroughly. Only then is he confident of how far he can push. If he can at all. When you’re genuinely in pain or your mood is already bad, he'll be quieter, his voice softer, movements slower. All to appear less threatening.
He never wants to see you cry like that again.
And the Cowboy?
● Sorry to say it, but he sees a five-star course and hopes you’re serving, because he’s starved.
● That you’re more sluggish and potentially slightly weaker physically excites him a lot. Keeping you down is already so easy, but now you’re both softer and harder around the edges. Snippish, yet your arm sits curled where your body aches. Grumbling and snarling, but craving softness and warmth. Such contradictions draw him in.
● He wants to provide. Wants to take. And if you’re willing, he’ll be between your legs multiple times a day, licking up what you serve and serving as a distraction to your pain himself.
● Afterwards, he’ll lazily massage your thighs, your back and belly. He doesn’t even need to be inside you right now. Fully content to have tasted you at your most vulnerable.
● But sometimes his fingers linger over where your womb lays hidden beneath skin and muscle. You're asleep in his arms, resting after he’s finally finished with you. In that quiet, broken only by your breathing, he ruminates. Feeling your warmth beneath his palm, he can’t help but wonder what you’d look and smell like swollen with his child.
● but just as quickly as the thought came, he moves on. Forgets ever thinking about something so foolish.
Imagine getting pregnant with the baby of Cowboy or Smiley 😭
Oh God...
There is not a single way I can imagine that going well. Not for the child 💀
Cowboy's weird ass breeding fetish that is not a breeding fetish might make an appearance when your hormones change and your belly grows. But that child is not safe.
Smiley is just generally weirded out 😭
Like, this isn't supposed to happen. They are pretty sure they can't knock you up. They might suspect you've been with a fellow human if you're not living in the cave with them. And that would absolutely piss them off to the point they could get violent. Even with you. Fortunately for you, they are good at reading people and telling lies from truth. They'll know it's theirs.
That's not better per se, but better than you being disloyal. Now they have to figure out what to do with the child. And somewhere in their twisted minds they might think this is a gift. A way to grant you your immortality too. That is, if the child isn't an active threat to your health, half monster as it is. Then out the window it goes :)
Also, do people in Fromville even get pregnant?? You'd think so because there can't be proper birth control around, but there's no talk at all of pregnant people. Maybe the place is just freaky enough to mess with people's fertility (Fatima's experience is an unique one, but that wasn't an actual baby)
Sorry for the ramblings, this thought just suddenly popped up.
Anywayyy, I don't think I'll answer an ask like this fully, cause writing actual harm to a baby is not something I'm comfortable with.
Mayhaps I request for man in yellow headcannons where he looks at us and basically goes “hmmm… granrdaughterr”/ref
And also, like, maybe featuring the creatures ofc 🫣
Yesss, I am pretty convinced the Creatures and the MIY are not exactly buddies, so I got to talk a little about it here.
Thanks for the ask! Hope you enjoy :))
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The Man in Yellow perceiving reader as his granddaughter and the creatures response
● The man in the yellow suit was a bit strange. Friendly, but strange. He said you were the same. Strange, but friendly.
● You didn’t exactly avoid the older man. But you certainly didn’t seek him out either. He often found his way into the same hiding spots. Found his way to the diner at the same time as you, or strolled along the same paths you did. The conversations that sparked up weren’t unpleasant in any way, though, often dug up old insecurities.
● The concern he showed made you feel warmer, knowing someone would miss you when you’d be gone.
● And strangely, whenever you talked, he seemed… lonely. He had come alone, made friendly connections, but no true friends it seemed. He often retired to his room during the day and kept to himself when it was time to hide. Private and outgoing at once. It made you search him out too, feeling sympathy for such a kind, elderly man.
● But then one day… he stumbled across you while you arranged gifts for the monsters.
● Terror had gripped your lungs, keeping oxygen there until it grew too thin to sustain you. However, instead of fearful accusations and anger, he had been curious. Accepting even.
● He beheld the pile of things that you knew would be appreciated. Shiny objects, watches, jewelry. Carved wooden things and books and random apparatus with an explanation on what they were.
● “Why would you leave them this?” he asked. So you told them the tales. Stories you heard about appeasing spirits or supernatural beings after trespassing on their land by leaving them gifts. It hadn’t always been as easy to find out what these creatures wanted beyond suffering and death. They took what they wanted and left the things they didn’t.
● For some reason he appeared almost amused by all this.
● And when he asked if it had helped? You could only let that knife in your heart be twisted harder. Because it hadn’t. Not for others. There were too many bodies and too little graves to hold them. But for you… it had.
● They had found you. You had been all alone. The one who got you had been a tall, ginger man. People had told you about their appearance, everyone repeating the few who’d truly seen them and survived to tell the tale. Human, smiling, capable of transforming into something monstrous.
● It had cornered you, promptly smiled wider and proceeded to ask about the gifts. He wanted to leave you a gift too. The scars on your collar ached. A sign of the life he hadn’t snuffed out that day.
● But now that your friend knew about it… you could finally show someone those scars. Let someone touch the fear to your unknown fate and comfort it with a gentle hand on your shoulder.
● Your friend who sought you out more compared to others. Who encouraged you to perhaps lessen these gifts and focus on better things. He began to tell you his own tales. Tales you could follow instead. Filled with magic, joy, and people escaping death.
Everyone needed a successor after all. Even if he himself wouldn’t die, but remain your guide for ages to come.
● But fond as he had become, the Creatures weren’t fond of this new twist in any way. They knew that time was coming. Had been preparing long before it got anywhere close.
● The stories you followed already spun the fate of foolish human protagonists who courted the supernatural. They would take you. Whisk you away to their home and never return you. And if they miraculously did, or you managed to flee, you’d be changed forever. Those were the stories you believed in. They didn’t mind making it reality.
● Then he came along and decided to try and lay claim on you as well. Truly, you needed to stop drawing so much attention from dangerous beings. The things he taught you without your knowledge were of magical nature. Grooming you to become something they wouldn’t allow you to become.
● You were theirs first. Marked by one of theirs even. If that man decided to ever remove that scar… Well, they can make a new one, yes, but this claim had been their gift to you. A sign to show you were different.
● He knew of the claim. But they knew he’d never fully respect it. Fortunately, you were very taken by the other gifts they left you. Very interested in the notes they’d leave for you in places he wouldn’t be able to find. Time was running out, but they were confident the hook had found its target.
Now they just had to wait. Inside the cave, he’d leave you be. So that’s where you’ll be soon.
Still going to say there's spoilers for season 4 just to be sure.
Creatures x Female! Reader
But mostly Smiley and some Cowboy and Handbag lady
Warnings: Some plot. NSFW. Extremely dubious consent. Reader is more or less hit with a super aphrodisiac. Monsters being monsters. Mild objectification. Mild blood and decription of wounds.
Word Count: 3.801
The door wasn’t left open. The shamble thing thudded within its frame as the wind tugged on it. She had left everything, the whole structure, wide open, without any chance for you to protect yourself.
The talisman was gone. The nail it hung on sat empty. It hadn’t fallen, hadn’t been displaced.
It had been taken.
You leaned harder against the wall, pushing yourself up, knees knocking against one another, your thighs sliding sickeningly smoothly because of how wet you were.
That thing had to have known that you'd go here first and waste precious time.
By now, the moon touched the town, dimly lighting the thin hallway, beams shining past the smallest gaps in the blinds. It signalled the end. The beginning.
You spun, shuffling to the kitchen area as fast as you could. The quake in your body slowing your pace to a snail's. It spared not even your teeth, tooth and molar shattering together. Heat licked along your nerves. It burned. Your lower body ached to the point you wanted to shove a hand where the fire scalded the fiercest, mind zoning in and out, something more beastly crying within.
But you couldn't even do that. Your hands still sat bound behind your back.
The cramped kitchen had knives. Shoved inside the lone drawer. You could cut the rope through. Your clattering teeth pressed together, pain snapping along your jaw. You could do it. Had wasted enough time already. Soon they’d infiltrate town. Then they’d eventually come looking, realise they could get inside and—
Legs froze beneath you, toes curling. Heat pulsing so vividly, they gave out, body slumping over like wet paper. A sound stuck to your throat, forehead pressing to the cool floor. You squirmed, trying to stand again. Shame shot the ache all the deeper as you tried, your body nearly presenting itself with how your hips lifted up, chest pressed into the ground.
To no one. To anyone. Anything.
As long as it cooled your body down, and, settled the pain in your loins, why would it matter who fucked—
A screech permeated from the forest pressed to your house, pouring ice alongside the heat.
As if they could sense someone was in distress.
God—
You needed—needed to hide. It would go away. Even as it stripped your sanity off one sliver at a time, the heat would stop. That thing’s power couldn't just remain. You only had to hang on. The binds could wait. Your safety could not.
With difficulty, you shuffled your knees beneath you. And when you finally rose—
Something thudded outside. Quiet. Rhythmic.
The old, splintered wood creaked under the weight of footsteps. They roamed, then paused. Long enough that dread left its growing taint. It knew.
It knew, it knew, it knew—
You pushed yourself forward as boards shattered somewhere in your unwanted home—the living room, or the small study attached to it. Clattering to the ground as they were shredded from the already broken window.
With a sway in your steps, you stumbled forward. Back to the bedroom. The room furthest from the sound. Your mind spun, tried to grasp beyond the keening need. For a place to hide. A plan. A way to remove the binds.
Whichever monster it was, it kept quiet after the violent entry. Shoes slowly tapping around, muffled by the walls. As if it knew you were even slower. Compromised.
Maybe it did. They could smell disturbingly well. Smelled the dried blood from a scraped knee from beyond the door once.
Stealth would be your only ally. Not speed or strength. What you were fleeing from, you couldn’t acknowledge—Sophia’s words, their words, their stares—they implied anything but death.
Your body rushed the remaining distance on its own, panic stringing you forward.
The steps neared the door that led to the hallway. Your eyes darted over the bedroom, the closet which could fit a person, the bed with enough space beneath, the window—
The window.
Before you could think, you stumbled to the lamp on your bedside table. An ugly, sturdy thing with peonies on its body. It would serve a better goal now. Twisting to grab it, your fingers managed to clamp on in time with that door slowly creaking open.
Without thinking you ripped it loose, momentum on your side when sweat slick fingers slipped off.
The thing flew and crashed into the window, thin glass shattering, nicking wallpaper and curtains as they clinked to the ground like raindrops.
Your breath had stopped somewhere along the way. Quiet fell over the house. Then the steps thundered, whispered, thundered down the hall.
To the bedroom.
Your body flew after the lamp, uncaring for the shards still within the frame. The world spun, stars spanning over your vision in stripes until your face hit grass, pain shooting up your cheekbone.
A whimper crawled itself up your throat—pained, wanton—spilling like condemnation into the cool night. The breeze tugged at your dress, still miraculously clinging to your chest. It brushed over your feverish skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Getting up was even harder this time. Even though—
You tugged on the binds, a small shock pulsing through your heart. The rope gave away with fresh blood streaming over your wrists. Planting them to the ground, you began to straighten, looked up and—
Locked in place.
Eyes peered down at you from the window. Bored into yours. But that was impossible.
He—
The shirt was different, white where it used to be flannel. Everything else was near identical. The red hair. The too wide grin.
—was supposed to be dead.
The body had been burned.
His hands planted themselves on the frame, fingers so human pressing into broken glass carelessly.
It snapped something within.
Adrenaline poured along the fire. Your head felt like it would roll off, fog creeping in to replace your brain.
The chuckle of the creature was left behind as legs kicked off. Your arms flailed beside your body, trying to keep balance. You pushed forward one step at a time. The roar in your head didn't hide the thud somewhere behind you. The glass crunching undershoe.
Your palm met the side of your home, heart racing, lungs aching for breath.
But what felt like seconds were actually minutes. Your brain deluded itself that you moved quickly, and when you peered behind—
An arm already snared around your waist. Your body gave out the instant weight settled against you. Your starved skin cried out, latching onto the warmth. The limbs settling over your falling form. Your jaws clashed together, tongue stuck between snapping teeth. Iron spilled over your tongue.
You tried to struggle, something inside purring when warm hands stroked over your shoulders and your bare upper back. Appreciatively. You screamed internally. Tried to remember the blood that coated those very same hands. Tried to stop the wetness between your legs. Keeping them closed despite instinct begging to spread them.
“How unique.”
The soft spoken creature lifted you up, moving you until you sat splayed in his lap, back to his chest. Your dress rode too low down your thighs, making you pull it straight. Shock shot up your spine when he shifted beneath you. You knew what sat pressed against you. Couldn’t fully comprehend it.
“I think I understand now—who did this to you.”
The polite tone left you guessing as to his intentions. Words tried to form in your head, twisting into desires you didn't dare risk uttering. You clamped your teeth together in the hope it would still the need, pressing your stinging tongue to the roof of your mouth.
“You must be in so much pain.” His cheek pressed against yours, arms curling fully around you to keep you close. He reached to cradle a wrist, turning it to see the rope burns and the one sharp cut at the side. His thumb rubbed at the blood below the slits, smearing it. “You should’ve waited. I might’ve kept you to myself. But you always liked to complicate things,” he whispered, a hint of hunger beneath.
“But I can still have you to myself for a little longer.” A smile curled into the words. "It's only fair.”
That’s when it registered. More footsteps. Distantly shuffling along the road behind you, below the howling wind. Multiple sets.
Smiley, who should be dead, should be ashes, stood abruptly. A gasp escaping you when he dragged you up with him. Your feet hardly grazed the ground as he pulled you along, further past the house. The force jostled your body, gravity melding you firmer into his. Fresh warmth trickled down your thighs.
A cry for help tried to leave you. Only for it to come out as a wordless gasp. No one would've heard you anyway. The house was too far from others. Too deeply pressed against the forest. And the ones who would hear had no intentions of helping you.
The light of town started to fade as he entered the forest. The pace he set was brisk. Quicker than usual. A little faster and it could be called a jog. Fear twisted at your gut, sensing his excitement. Even as heat gnawed eagerly at your loins.
His tight grip pressed uncomfortably on your ribs. “Please,” you managed between the breaths squished from your lungs. His chest reverberated against you with a low chuckle.
“Almost.”
A shape neared, forming into the cabin you sometimes retreated to. A spare mattress sat in it. Pretense telling you it was possible to hide from the creatures by swapping sleeping places every now and then.
And now it would be used for—
You pressed your eyes shut, a whimper falling from your mouth. The rapid gait slowed to a stop before the cabin. You had expected him to rip the door open, but he gently set you down on unstable feet before it. His grip moved to your shoulders, thumb too close to your pulsing artery.
“Open the door.”
Your brows furrowed. You tentatively craned your head, met the intensity of his gaze.
“Can’t you?”
The grin twisted darkly. “I want you to do it.”
The heat whispered to listen. The cold of the wind escalated the fear not to. Your wrist ached when you reached, cuts pulsing, numbed by the worser agony coiling in your core.
And you needed—
Wanted that strength. That wildness. The promise in his eyes that said he’d leave you a mess.
The door fell open with nary a pull, wind ripping the work from your hands as it soared. A hand snapped around the frame before it could slam into the cabin’s side. As if he truly meant to keep you to himself. More heat boiled inside you at that, a part of you longing for that quiet claim.
He pressed forward immediately, crowding you inside. The door shut behind him. Quietly. Sending shivers down your spine. There would be no escaping now. You found you didn't entirely want to anymore.
There was scarcely any light. You twisted to face him. Enough to see the shape of a hand closing in. Soft pads trailed along your cheeks.
“What do you want?”
You froze. They brushed lower, down the side of your neck, your shoulder, clasping you there, thumb rubbing gentle circles in soft flesh.
“I—” Your voice shook. That part that screamed and raged and pleaded for this to stop formed into desperation. Your fingers curled, twitching to shove them inside yourself. But why would you when he could be—
“Want you i-inside,” you slurred, tongue thick, words shaped by quiet agony.
The moon kept his face in the shadows, his tall frame avoiding the dim shine from low windows.
The grip softened. Tightened. Then—
You gasped as you tipped over for all but a second. Then fell on the mattress, weight settling atop you immediately after. Instinct had you fight, hands pushing at the chest above you, the pain that would surely come—
His quiet chuckle broke over your skin in boiling heat, legs closing, rubbing against his thighs.
“I like seeing you this way.”
Lips pressed to yours. Firm. Too hard. As if this was foreign to him. New. You tried to twist away, only for him to crane your face back, angling you the way he wanted. He moved against you, unhurried, slow. Like the way he hunted. He licked at you, entering your mouth too easily for you to say it was unwanted.
And like a dam, the heat spilled over. You arched into him, tugging on his clothes. Sliding down his chest to reach for his zipper. Only to meet his belt. Your fingers slid over it, trying to unclasp the thing without success. You whined against him, bucking up like an animal.
He chuckled, parting from you to make quick work of the buckle, poised unnaturally over you while doing so. The lack of strain should be a turn off. It only made you clench.
The second you could, you pulled his pants down. Enough to free his length. He let you, dipping his head to lick a long stripe along the column of your throat. You bit at your lower lip, flesh rippling beside you to form jagged blades for teeth that snagged on your skin. You couldn't care less right now. Needed that ache to go away. Your fingers found him, hard, long, and took him in your hand.
“Inside,” you whined, slipping your soaked underwear aside. Trying to guide him to your heat.
The tip barely grazed you. The creature retreated a little, likely studying you as usual. You almost didn't notice, too focussed on wriggling yourself against him. A frustrated groan, edging close to a sob, left you when he hovered just shy from where you needed him.
You didn’t even get a chance to prepare before his hips suddenly snapped forward. Spearing you in one smooth motion. The deep, horrible ache spreading around him, tightening, muscles jerking. Your breath stuttered, mouth falling open. Almost cried in relief, the intrusion anything but painful. You were too wet for that.
Fabric beside your head ripped to shreds, claws tearing into the mattress. His hips pulled back—
“They’ll be here soon,” he said hoarsely.
—and roughly pistoned forward. He set a brutal pace, wet skin slapping against skin, sound after sound pushing from your body. Panting, keening, quietly sobbing. He leaned over you, his face nuzzling against your throat where blood trickled down in slow beads. A strange cross between a purr and a growl rumbling against you.
You couldn't care less. Didn't care how inhuman that was. The cock inside you wasn't.
Sliding deep, dragging over spots that had never been this sensitive before. The pace was perfectly smooth. Perfect to get lost in, your brain taking a backseat after all the stress. It forgot about the moldy scent, the creaking panels above. Only focussed on the jerk of your body, the bounce of your chest, the way you were filled so good. So hard.
He wrapped an arm under you, lifting your hips higher. You held onto him, nails embedding at his neck. The new angle let him pound even deeper, something so sensitive being hit, it had stars burst behind your eyelids.
“Oh God, yes.”
He didn’t grin. Didn’t show smugness for once. His teeth were bared against you in a snarl instead. Nails dug into your back. He snatched your wrist up, something long and wet lapping against it. Curling and twisting around open flesh. You cried out as sharp pain snapped along your limb.
“Yes, cry for me,” he murmured, something inhuman echoing through his voice.
Then he grabbed both your wrists, shoved them to the mattress and slammed into you, pushing air from your lungs. Impossibly faster, giving you no moment to breathe as every spot within lit up, snaring the coil tight.
“I missed you.”
There was not a single sign of strain in his quiet admission. No sign of being out of breath. It shouldn't make you clamp down the way it did. Shouldn’t have tears prick at your eyes as heat swallowed you whole, thighs trembling around his sides.
Shouldn't have a scream tear from your body as the whole of the heat soared into a searing high.
Teetered.
And didn’t drop.
You choked, head twisting side to side wildly. The rapid pulse of his hips left you in ecstasy and agony both, the tension pulling you taut. Cries tumbled from your lips. You tried to push against his grip, the slick of blood coating your wrists and his hands wholly.
Smiley lowered to whisper in your ear. “You’ll be ruined before they’ll have you.”
His hips stuttered as he twitched within you. Startling clarity hit you when warmth filled you in pulsing shots.
“W-wait—”
The growl that left him made you snap your teeth together. His face was no longer human. Sharp teeth snarled down at you, pressing close to your chest as he bowed forward.
Only to watch his face turn back after the pulsing stopped. Calmly. After he… After—
“You won't bear child. Not from us.”
Your eyes snapped to his, releasing the sight of where your bodies joined. Even in the dark, you saw the lack of a smile. The uncanny seriousness.
Then he pulled back, wet squelching filling the cabin. And slowly pushed back in, forcing a gasp from you. He thrusted shallowly, still hard inside you.
Footsteps neared, louder than usual. As if to announce themselves.
“Be happy with that. Some would like you pregnant more than the child that would come from it.”
“And y-you?” The question came out quietly, as if it shouldn't be spoken aloud at all.
This time, a smile did grow on his features. Twisted and fond all at once.
“I would kill it.”
Something within you recoiled. Remembered what he was. Then a pad rolled over your clit, arching your back as pleasure zapped even to your toes, curling them as heels dug in his back.
The door opened, a gust of wind snapping through the cabin, raking cold shivers over heated skin. Your head twisted, not coherent enough to recognise the two shadowy shapes in the doorway. The weight of their attention burned into you, making your hips buck into Smiley's touch.
They stepped inside, calmly, as if they hadn't stumbled upon something private.
“You kept her all to yourself,” a feminine voice spoke, a light reprimand there. Light hair, long dress. No. It had buttons. A swing coat.
The other was easier to recognize. The shape of his hat, the posture, unmistakable.
Your heart shivered behind your ribs. Stuttering as fingers pinched your clit, rolling it between them. Your eyes fell shut, head falling back. Breaths ragged.
So close.
Muscles in your belly clenched in preparation, a low keen falling from an open mouth as it overwhelmed you. Nails bit in his shoulders, fabric bunching between. Smiley’s slow push and pull your undoing—the only thing grounding you as your mind blanked, thoughts fizzling out.
Then you floated. Drifted as a distant, sobbing scream howled together with the storm raging beyond the cabin. You slumped, mind blacking out.
Sensation returned slowly, your limbs splayed around you, sweat coating your skin. The heat was still there. Bearable now.
You limbs splayed around you, cushioned by the mattress. Panting softly as your heart calmed down a little, momentarily forgetting where you were. And with whom.
A hand carded through your hair. Uncaring of the sweat.
“That was beautiful, dear.” It was the feminine voice from before. Your eyes rolled to her, only now noting you were empty, the door had shut, bodies had shuffled and two were awfully close. Her teeth glinted at you, surrounded by painted lips.
“We’d like to see it again.”
Your gaze just barely met the cowboy’s at your feet, before you were twisted, belly flat on the mattress, air stilling inside you. A slow touch wrapped around your hips, rubbing soothingly. Then pulled you up on your knees. You yelped, tried to lift yourself on all fours, but a gentle hand—a third, feminine—pressed between your shoulder blades.
“Sshh, let us do the work, yes?”
The quiet command zapped straight to your core, setting off a low quake in your legs.
The lady creature set her handbag aside. You gulped as she reached beneath the coat, flushing when she dragged her underwear down. Simultaneously, the cowboy removed your own panties, the fabric sticking stubbornly, but releasing you near eagerly.
She settled in front of you, unbuttoning the coat enough to—
A shuddering breath escaped you as their plan for you revealed itself, hot shame and excitement nearly flooring you. Her legs spread wider, the cowboy’s belt clinking too loud in the creaking cabin.
“Please,” you whispered, eyes closing, nails pushing into the fabric underneath you. “T-too much. I can’t—”
“You can,” the cowboy said, so softly it numbed you like poison. “Your little pussy’s going to be all nice and sore once we're finished with you.”
It had you clench, more wetness dripping down. Despising the thrill at being promised more.
“So sweet for us,” he purred, spreading you with his thumbs. You bit your lips trembling anew. “It’s almost a shame to unwrap such a pretty gift.”
Something wet pressed against you, paving a stripe up to your hole. Dragging a shuddering breath from you as you bucked backwards, seeking the sparks he left behind. He licked again. And again, the tip of his tongue teasing at your clit.
“You only need to be a pretty, wet thing for us now,” the lady creature murmured, unbuttoning her coat fully.
And that was the truth of it, wasn't it? Your fate in these monsters' claws was this, and this only. You told yourself it was purely fear that had you relent.
Fear that kept you pliant as he eventually grabbed your hair to steer your mouth to the lady before you. Terror that froze you when he entered from behind while your tongue lapped too enthusiastically. Goaded on and slowed by the eyes watching from the side. The nails scratching along your scalp. The hot coil of being called a good girl, sweet thing, pretty little human—
Because the truth—
The truth was impossible to accept.
To the side, with his pants back in order, Smiley stood. His words came back, spilling through a nearly gone mind. How he’d have kept you to himself.
And you believed him. He’d have let you go. Continued playing games.
These two—
Your breasts were released with a tug on the dress, body drawn up to expose them. They cupped you, felt as your chest bounced and heaved with your breath and his thrusts.
A small one-shot with a soulmate premise again to warm up :)
Creatures x gender neutral! reader
But mostly just Smiley.
Word count: 1.654
No actual warnings this time.
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When the talisman proved to work, you assumed things would get better.
The mattress was softer than any of the makeshift beds used in the larger hiding spots. With a proper pillow and blanket and warmth that belonged in a home instead of chilly outside air. Sleep during the night was a luxury no one could truly afford back then. What little sleep one could get was interrupted by the rotations to top it all off. Someone always had to be awake in case… the monsters…
There was a shift outside.
Your ears strained. The lightest steps moved past your wall. To the window opposite the bed. You watched, awaiting the silhouette soon to be there.
The whispers would start again. Attempts to lure you out. Your wrist ached sickeningly, the nauseating pull eating through your veins to reach every nook.
The talismans… You had helped testing them. The reason why sat inked into your skin. Lifting your arm, you traced the ‘signature’ there, pressed over the span of your wrist, wrapping like scars around the bone. In the dim room you couldn’t make it out in full. Your fingers followed the precise path drawn on your skin regardless. As a child you always wondered if the person on the other side would feel it like everyone said.
They should’ve. Your parents felt each other so soon, but they were born less than a year apart.
Yours might not have been born yet, was the consolation.
As you hit your teenage years, hope dwindled. When you stumbled awkwardly over into adulthood and felt no different than before… you gave up.
Even if there was someone for you—someone twenty years younger was not in the question.
But it was worse. So much worse.
The first rap of knuckles met that sheet of glass standing stubbornly between humans and the things pretending to be.
Your name fell from its lips. Uncomfortably familiar with the syllables, said with the same softness bred by months of longing. Dripping with honey—sweet but always leaves a residue of stickiness behind you’d want to wash off.
“Hello?”
There was a pause that let you count the loud, hard thumps within your chest. Eyelids pressing stubbornly shut when that sickening sensation traveled further along your wrist.
“Was there something you needed, my dear?”
A shudder worked its way through your spine, arms lowering quietly to the bed.
“You called.”
Words busied themselves, forming into rivers of all the things you wanted to say or scream. Your voice would only come out a whisper.
“It’s alright to talk with us. None of us wish to harm you.”
The words fell away into images. The day you arrived, lost, tired and hungry. In need of help with a rapidly flattening tire after shrapnel tore into the rubber.
Help arrived. Help that smiled oddly and had overly blown eyes. Ignoring anything you said. Then paused, almost in sync, after you grabbed your wrist nervously, a tick you couldn't seem to shake off even as you reached your twenties.
And something there in that moment—maybe the staring, maybe the stillness—filled you with so much dread, you ran.
And ran.
Ran as a screech so inhuman came from the group left with your car. Ran when other people, or not-people, spawned on your path. Fatigue forgotten, hunger turning into nausea that pushed your legs on.
They hadn't been serious in catching you. That became clear in the future after witnessing all the dead.
See, you did get cornered.
A man dressed as a milkman crouched a distance away from where you had backed against a thick tree, roots digging into your palms from where they pressed to the ground. As if you were nothing but a hissing animal. As if the small church you had passed, with its many fresh graves, hadn't spurred your fear to new heights beyond mere fight or flight.
He tapped his wrist. The side you had touched. And—
You had felt it. Startled when alien sensations licked up your own wrist.
His smile stretched wider, curling at his eyes. Mischievous and—and cruel. “Thank you,” he’d said politely, accompanied by a nod. Straightening and leaving after watching you for an uncomfortably long moment. None of them got anywhere near you after.
Because they liked games. Enjoyed the hunt.
And you were all that they wanted braided into one. The hunger you saw during any other near misses wasn’t for bloodshed and death. It was for what sat on your wrist. Every new encounter had the same start—a tap at their wrist, their eyes locked onto you as if to see how your dread would mount with every addition to your—
Your heart clenched.
That thought you couldn’t finish.
Naturally, knowing you wouldn’t be in threat of dying, you offered to test the talismans. Had a chance to meet them face to face and truly study them. Shaking, stuttering, stumbling over every word you managed to get out. There was no sense of victory as they studied you right back.
They should've been unimpressed. Someone so obviously cowardly should’ve turned them off.
It didn’t.
Because you had braved meeting them. Had braved the unknown consequences despite such fear. Those smiling veneers, seemingly unbothered by this new development as they remained outside.
How much more will you brave once we have you, sweet mate?
A second rap snapped you back to the now, eyes drawn to the window and the creature beyond. “We would be gentle with you.”
The same lie said by many faces. Each time spoken so politely. But you’d seen their eyes as they did. Each and every time their pupils nearly swallowed all color from their irises.
“Don’t you want that?”
Your throat was thick with too many emotions. Clogged up together with your voice. It’s been a little over two weeks since the talismans were found. People still had been lost, accidentally finding the requirements for the talismans to work. Doors had to be closed. Windows had to be closed. Even if they were open at a mere crack, whatever barrier kept them out would vanish.
But…
“To belong?”
Now you could hear them every night. Not as the creatures that roamed the nights less than a month ago, their muffled screams digging through dirt and wood to bunkers beneath. No. They were more intelligent than people understood. And that intelligence focussed on you. With others they barely appeared to try… As if they were sure it didn’t matter in the long run. They’d get everyone eventually.
The bed creaked as you dragged your feet off to the side, sitting up with a swallow. The creature’s head tilted.
You rose, hating the shake already settling in your bones. Padded over to the window. Part of you screamed as you reached for the curtain, fighting with your muscles to lock them down at your side. It lost. The curtain slid away with a grating sound. Inch by inch peeling away from a tall frame, a wide, static smile, eyes that could not be called human. Clad in a cardigan and flannel shirt. Coiffed, red hair. A gaze that froze you in place, dropping your stomach as something fluttered inside you.
“Hello,” he repeated quietly. “It’s nice to finally see you again. Have you changed your mind?”
The words were there, hanging onto your tongue. Your throat tried to work them out.
Seconds passed, the creature’s smile dropping into something closer to polite. Another passing behind him down the street. You lifted your left arm, showing him the covered wrist. Out of sight, out of mind… If only it worked that way.
“C-can I see?”
“Of course you can.”
If you come outside, you expected to follow in the wake of his answer. Instead… he shrugged his sleeve up. Unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve without looking away once. Your heart leaped into your chest, gaze dropping to follow as he slowly rolled it up.
Pale skin bared itself. On it—
Scar-like patterns that crossed over flesh similar to overlapping feathers. Close to being like yours. But almost… fresher. As if it didn’t belong there. Could be reopened and stitched up to form a different pattern altogether.
The sleeve fell back down, buttons popped back in place. But it still sat there. Real. Cold sweat trickled along your hairline.
“Can I see yours too?”
Your attention snapped back to him. The raised brows, the lips pulled into a friendly facade. And part of you agreed instantly, deeming it only fair. Another, louder side whispered about the wrongness of it all.
Something moved beyond him. A second creature stopping in the distance, turned your way. Male as well. Head craned curiously. You couldn't make out much else before a curl of pain had your fingers twitch, face twisting down.
Your wrist itched. As if it recognised the being before you now. Forgoing caution, you grabbed hold of the make-shift sleeve. Pulled it off under his intense focus. The fabric let go of your hand, flopping down as gravity pulled at it.
The creature leaned in as much as he could, marveling at your wrist. At the mark there. Then returned to your face. Tracing your features as if he saw you anew.
“Come outside,” he whispered, leaning slightly closer still, “and you won’t have to worry anymore.”
You stepped back, eyes flickering to the other lingering creature. To the curtain. “I don’t believe you.”
“You can’t deny this connection, my dear.”
“It means nothing,” you whispered, grasping blindly for the curtain. “I can still choose.”
He chuckled lightly, eyes boring into you, all until you pulled the curtain back in place. And you felt more than saw him tap the mark, sensations bursting under your skin. Spinning a coil of ice in your gut.
Hello hello helllo!!!! If I could put in an ask, I would like to request some things that reader (unintentionally) does that genuinely flusters the monsters or that they think are adorable? I would like to request specifically Smiley, but all the other creatures can be up to you!!! Thank you soooo much for the delicious content 🤤🤤🤤🤤
I took a mini break from writing so this took me quite some time. This was also pretty neat practise on how to write Smiley with more glimpses of his canonical self.
Thank you for the ask and patience!
I kept it mostly at Smiley with a little bit of the collective, because he deserves to be in the spotlight sometimes :)
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Things reader does that fluster the Creatures or they think is adorable
● It’s the little things. Those small moments where it becomes clear you are human and they are not. Softer, more fragile, easier influenced by bodily needs.
● Do you not understand with whom you sit? How many of your kind they slaughtered and will continue slaughtering?
● Perhaps that’s what gets to them. Because you are aware and still remain close. They do hurt you. If you get out of line or were to ever snap out of this comfort they will hurt you only more to keep you close. Are you aware of that too? How thin the line between lover and prey is to them?
● You aren’t like them. You are more free in a way and they can’t risk you using that privilege against them. Can’t risk you abandoning them. Loyalty is what they crave and from each other they know to expect it. But you… Oh, how different you are.
● They watch you. Check your emotional state. Some might not admit it, but they need to be chosen. Force would be easy, yes, but not anywhere as satisfying. And every sign of comfort, of ease and satisfaction is met by a stillness in their chest. No human hums or sings to themselves when tense. No human sleeps so soundly when afraid.
● Seeing these things is enough, eats through that gnawing need to control and claim. It softens them. But simultaneously makes them hunger in different manners…
● Smiley knows you are more prone to clumsiness. It’s different each day. Sometimes you have ‘one of those days’ as you explain it. Things slip from your grasp, you stumble over things, bump into corners and walls. And typically, you wind up cussing a little or become otherwise frustrated.
● He finds it adorable. He is quite sure it’s akin to the sensation humans gain from watching little, furry animals.
● On some of ‘those days’, you can be genuinely prickly. One final mishap and you either explode or get really close to doing so.
● And, even if he wasn’t wiser, he wouldn’t have been able to torment you over this regardless. Watching you practically shake apart over these little mistakes is precious. Fills him with desire to press near you and squeeze you. You called it cuddle aggression. He supposes it could be called such.
● He feels similar when you get ‘hangry’. How easily worked up you get all because you are low on energy. Oppositely, how you may instead become quieter and more agreeable.
● But then… there are moments for him too. You truly are unaware how much you can influence him with very little. He brings you food, of course he does. You are his. …But do you have to eat like that?
● The taste must be exquisite, because you nearly moaned at it. Face contorting in ways he can't, nor won't, look away from. Perhaps there was some truth in his brethren’s philosophy. Getting you foods beyond necessity had its plusses. The way you slide the fork or spoon over your tongue, delight flashing in your eyes at the taste… Yes. He’ll be trying to get you better things than he already did.
● And, oh, when you fidget, he has that same surge in his chest. You do it with your clothes to see how they fit. When you’re nervous. When you’re bored.
● If angered by one thing or the other? You sometimes tremble, glaring as if it would be frightening for anyone to behold. Not to him. Not to them.
● The one thing that truly makes him melt are those little moments where you show honesty. Be it instinctive, or simply because. Latching onto his arm when frightened. Complementing him, especially on things he does and not merely regarding his appearance. Sleeping in his presence. Turning your back to him despite the clear danger he presents.
● You make him go quiet. Make him question how such a fragile being has wormed itself into his heart. He isn’t safety, isn’t comfort. But he is present—complicit in these soft moments—and that has him twisting so painfully gently inside, he’s sure he’ll crack ever so slightly.
● When he does, he isn’t certain whether to ruin you or press close and listen to your stubborn human heart. The line between lover and predator is thin after all...
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“You know, there’s games where you can’t sleep if enemies are nearby,” you said, spilled half over his lap. His fingers traced along your spine, up and down the lightest protrusions of vertebrae.
“What strange games take so long you need to sleep inbetween?”
"Videogames.” He heard you yawn, your head turned too far away for him to see. Already that ache started within him. It hurt. It was alien and still so known to him. Warped over the years. Revitalized now that they have you.
“Will you explain?”
You mumbled something, nestling more comfortably over his lap. For you, it had been a long day filled with the smallest mishaps that touched you most deep. He’ll keep his curiosity in check, stilling himself impossibly more as your breath evened out.
Within seconds, you were asleep. Comfortable in his lap. A privilege not many of his kind had. He was quite unique in this and he couldn’t fully contain the pride entwining with that soft sensation.
His hand flattened over your ribs, moving with the expansion and deflation of your lungs. The lightest tremble sat in his fingers. His instincts were confused on what to do with this trust…
He allowed it to form ideas. From ripping into flesh, marking you for life as he wished to do, to burying himself within you until your blunt nails tore into him instead.
But the image he settled on... was this. This moment. The touch on your ribs counting your slow breaths. The arms curled close to your face, one palm, filled with blood, pressed against his thigh.
And the quiet took a different tint. Calmer. Shutting down the need for violence.
In that, he could rest, knowing you weren’t going anywhere if you rested your head on him. No human that feared and desired to run would do this. That was more than enough for now.
Spacey, may I ask something/offer a suggestion? I was wondering how you felt about doing weekly list updates, that way we know what’s on the roster, but only if that’s something you’re interested in and willing to do!!!
I mean, I already keep a list for myself, because that's easier compared to constantly looking here on tumblr. So sharing is no problem! I'm not sure whether I'd do weekly updates though. It also kinda depends on how much new content is added to the list. But otherwise I can try and give an update every sunday maybe 🤔
For now I have this on the list with the newest asks and such:
Asks:
● How the Creature collective would react to monsterfucker! reader (combined with reader being flirty and whether they can outfreak the creatures)
● Which Creatures are the biggest eaters ;)
(plus whether they have long tongues in their monster form. Plus, plus their favorite positions, times and ways to go down)
● Smiley (and other creatures) with a generally cuddly reader. Especially after any form of intimacy
● What has the Creatures feeling needy (and horny) for their human?
● How the Creatures would react to someone with OCD
● What unintentional things does reader do that has the creatures genuinely flustered or think is adorable (Smiley is asked for specifically)
● Headcanons about the Man in Yellow perceiving reader as a granddaughter (plus creature content)
● Randall with a ball of sunshine reader
● Creatures with a Stalker! reader capable of sneaking up to them
● The Creatures with a Virgin! reader in their mid to late twenties
● More bratty Smiley content
● The Creatures preferences regarding sharing reader
Some things somewhere in between:
General and romantic headcanons about the Handbag lady
General and romantic headcanons about the Tough guy
Reader escaping Fromville and the Creatures following
