➹▪︎3,589 words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), Monster x Hunter!Reader, dubcon/noncon, size kink, choking, biting, blood, non-human anatomy, predator/prey dynamics, fear arousal, missionary->matting press->doggy, degradation & praise, possessiveness, sex dream, horror erotica, etc▪︎➹
A note before you read: Not my regular dubcon. This is noncon so I added the tag. Please proceed with caution. If this isn’t something you’re comfortable with, I encourage you to skip it—I’d never want my writing to cause anyone harm. If you think any additional tags or warnings are needed, please let me know. Take care, lovelies 💌
You were trained not to run.
Not when the woods go quiet. Not when you smell the copper tang of blood but find no body. Not even when you sense something circling, its breath a hot, sulfurous weight in the air. That’s when you’re supposed to wait. Steel in your hands. Steady breath. Trigger finger loose. Trust in the training.
But right now, your lungs are a furnace. Your boots are slick with mud and the dark plum of your own blood. Your heartbeat is too loud, a frantic drum that drowns out the forest’s warning. And you’re running—not just from the monster, but from the truth of why you’re here.
The branches claw at your face like skeletal hands, whipping your cheeks raw. The forest is too quiet. No birds, no wind... just the suffocating sense of something wrong following you. It feels like the ground is carrying him toward you, the trees parting to let the nightmare pass.
You stumble into a shallow ravine and fall hard. You drag yourself up with a hiss, your thigh burning where he clawed you—just a single, casual swipe, like a predator marking its territory. You hadn't even seen him then. Just a blur of black oil and moonlight.You reached the tree line and shoved through the underbrush, only to trip and fall flat in the dirt. You turned, hand scrabbling for a weapon that was ripped away miles ago.
That’s when he emerged.
He didn't rush. He stepped out of the shadows as if they birthed him—seven feet of solid, shifting nightmare. His shoulders were broad, dripping with forest grime, and horns curled from his skull like ancient, weathered bone. His skin wasn't fur or scales; it was something in between, a gleaming, oily black that seemed to drink the light. "Done running?” His voice slithered over your skin like smoke, rough and knowing. “Or should I chase you more, little killer?”
You lunged for a broken branch, swinging with a scream of pure desperation. He caught your wrist mid-swing. Effortless. The branch clattered to the dirt as he stepped forward, his shadow swallowing you whole.
He laughed—a low, throaty, cruel sound. “You are fun.”
He shoved you flat to the ground. The weight of him followed instantly, a massive, unnatural heat that made the air shimmer. His claws bracketed your throat, firm enough to hurt you, but not enough to kill.
“You smell like sweat,” he murmured, dragging his nose along your jaw. “And fear. And... want.”
“I’ll kill you,” you whispered, your throat dry as ash. “I've seen what you do. I’ve spoken to you in the dark when nobody was listening. You’re going to pay for every body you left rotting in these woods.”
His grin widened, revealing rows of jagged, needle-sharp teeth. “You’ve been dreaming of me, haven't you? That’s how you found me. You followed the voice from your sleep. You felt this skin against yours in the safety of your bed, and you couldn't stay away.”
“You’re fucking insane,” you spat, though the horror of it was the truth. The dreams were what led you here. You’d felt the phantom brush of that oily skin for months. You’d asked him who he was in the static of your sleep, and he’d answered with a hunger that now sat heavy on top of you.
“No,” he purred, his eyes shimmering with a predatory light. “Just starving. And you brought yourself right to me.”
He dragged his claws down your ribs, slicing the front of your shirt like it was wet paper. The cool night air kissed your skin, making your nipples harden in the chill. You were exposed, trembling under the gaze of a creature who ate hunters for sport.
“Filthy little thing,” he rasped, cupping your jaw in one massive, clawed hand. “You hunt monsters, but your body begs for one. Look at you... so wet for a thing you claim to hate.”
You spat in his face. It hit his cheek and sizzled, a faint wisp of steam rising from his skin.
He went still.
For a second, the forest went dead-silent, and you thought he might actually tear your throat out.
Instead, he growled—a deep, vibrating sound that shook your very bones—and forced your thighs wider with a snarl. He didn't rush the entry; he gave you a heartbeat to realize the sheer scale of what was happening. His cock dragged against your entrance, thick, pulsing, and inhumanly hot. The blunt head smeared wet heat over your folds, lining up with a terrifying precision.
“No,” you gasped, your body already arching in a treacherous, instinctive welcome.
“Yes,” he purred, and shoved in.
You screamed. It wasn't just fear—it was the stretch. The agonizing burn of him splitting you open. He was too big, his girth forcing your muscles to yield or break. The blunt head of his cock drove into you, stretching your walls until they felt thin as parchment.
“Be still.” He grabbed your wrists in one hand, slamming them above your head. “Take it. Greedy little hunter—you want to be split open, don’t you? You want to feel exactly how much of a monster I am.”
“F-fuck you,” you sobbed, your voice shredded raw.
“I am,” he snarled, his breath hot against your neck as he sank another inch deeper, his weight pinning you into the dirt. “And I’m not stopping until I’m buried in the hilt of this cunt. You're going to remember the taste of this dirt and the feel of my skin every time you close your eyes for the rest of your life.”
He slammed the rest of the way in, bottoming out with a force that made your vision go white. You scream—high, hoarse, and shattered—your back arching violently off the damp forest floor. Your chest heaves as you feel him hit the very end of you, a blunt, heavy pressure that blooms deep in your gut.
It’s a sickeningly perfect fit, a mix of agony and a dark, rhythmic pleasure sharp enough to sting your spine. Your walls clench down hard, a primal reflex not to force him out, but to anchor him in—and the way it makes him groan, a low, savage vibration that rattles your ribs, leaves you trembling with a terrifying realization.
“Fuck—so tight,” he grits out, his voice a gravelly rasp against the shell of your ear. “Like your body’s trying to swallow me whole. You don’t even know how perfect you are, little killer. All that training just made you a better vessel for a monster.”
You whine, writhing beneath him, but it only makes him clamp his massive, clawed hands onto your hips, anchoring you to the dirt. Then he starts to move. It’s slow at first—obscene and deliberate—dragging his thick length out until you’re empty and aching, before ramming it back in so hard you swear your lungs skip a beat. The sound is filthy—the wet, messy slap of skin and the squelch of your own slickness mixing with the heavy drag of him.
“M'fuck. You were made for this,” he grunts, his eyes glowing with a delightful, predatory hatred. He fucks into you with a crude, mechanical rhythm, his weight pinning you into the moss. “All those silver blades. All that talk about making me pay for the deaths I caused. And now look at you.”
“Hnnn—ahh—mmnh—!” You can’t stop the sounds. They’re animalistic, torn from a throat that’s forgotten how to speak.
He lowers his face, his nose brushing yours, his breath smelling of the cold night and ancient earth. “Shaking. Crying. Dripping around a monster. You didn’t just hunt me, girl. You chased the dreams of this. You felt my skin in your sleep and you came running to find the real thing.”
He shifts your legs, shoving them up until your knees are pinned to your chest, and slams in even deeper. The breath whooshes out of you. He’s in your stomach. You can see it—the terrifying, unmistakable bulge of his cock distending your soft skin.
“Ohh… look at that,” he moans, a sound of pure, cruel satisfaction. He drags a claw down your belly, pressing right where the outline of him stretches you from the inside. “You’re stuffed. You’re so full of me you can’t even hold your own breath.”
You’re crying now—hot, salt-heavy tears spilling freely. It’s too much. The stretch is too wide, the heat too intense, and the pleasure is a white-hot storm building at the base of your spine.
“You’re gonna cum for me,” he growls, his voice near-unhinged. “You’ll cum with this cock breaking you open.”
“Uh-uhn,” you mutter, shaking your head, but your body is already screaming its betrayal. The pressure builds—impossible to fight. Your clit grinds against his pulsing skin with every punishing thrust. Every nerve is raw, every bruised edge of you buzzing with a dark, forbidden electricity.
You cry out, your hips jolting in violent spasms. Your eyes go wide as your pussy clenches down in a crushing, milked-dry orgasm that crashes through you like a landslide. You scream through it—sob through it—but he doesn't slow. He fucks you harder through the peak, his movements turning savage.
“Yes,” he snarls. “That’s it. That’s how a hunter cums. Wrung out and ruined.”
You’re twitching, too sensitive to be touched, but he won't let you go. He grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his glowing, inhuman gaze. His cock still pistons inside you, heavy and merciless, slamming deeper until your thoughts blur into grey.
“Gonna fill you up now,” he pants. “Gonna breed this pretty little hole. Mark you inside so you never forget who owns your breath.”
Your eyes go wide. “Please—wait—slow dow—mhn—ahhm!”
He groans—a deep, filthy roar—slamming in to the hilt as he cums. It’s violent. His whole body locks up, shaking with the force of it, his dick twitching deep inside as thick, scorching jets of him fill you to the absolute brim. You feel the heat of him flooding your womb, a heavy, internal baptism.
The world went dark. You don’t remember when you passed out—maybe it was when he sank his teeth into your shoulder, claiming the flesh as he claimed the rest of you.
But now you're waking up.
You’re flat on your back in the cold dirt, your thighs slick with a drying, heavy mess. The inside of your body is still fluttering, still throbbing around the ghost of him. You’re raw. Your limbs ache like you’ve been through a war. You try to crawl, your fingers digging into the soil, but you barely manage to get to your elbows before claws hook around your knees.
He yanks you backward—hard. Your body flops uselessly to the forest floor.
“No,” he growls, the sound like gravel and smoke. “I’m not done with you.”
You whine—a high, broken whimper. “Please—wait, I—I c-can’t—”
He’s already spreading you, his rough palms dragging your thighs wide with the easy entitlement of a king. Your legs twitch helplessly. You try to push at his arms, but he just growls and pushes deeper, the motion grinding his leaking, still-hard length against your sensitive skin.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, dragging his dick through your folds, smearing the drying cum and your own slick into a fresh, lubricated mess. “You're still open for me. It’s pouting. Begging for another round.”
“Mnngh, please—” You babble through fresh tears. “Wait, I—too much—”
“Shhh.” He presses a clawed hand to your chest, pinning you like a trophy. “You can. You’re mine now. That means you take every drop I have to give.”
He plunges back inside.
You scream—a shattered, stuttering sound that cracks your voice. Your nails claw at his chest, but he doesn't flinch. He just pushes deeper, hitting that aching, bruised place in your gut. The wet slap of skin is loud in the silent woods.
“Still so fucking tight,” he snarls, his pace turning frantic. “You came on me. Passed out while you were milking me—and now you’re tighter than when we started?”
You’re shaking, your head tossing from side to side. Every thrust brings a babbling, incoherent moan from your lips.
He slams into you with everything he has, lifting your hips and bending your legs back until your knees press against your chest. He fucks down into you, his jaw set, his breath coming in jagged hitches.
“Wanna run again?” he pants, his lips brushing your damp temple. “Try it. I’ll chase you all night. I’ll drag you back and breed you against every tree in this forest until you forget your own name. You’re not a hunter anymore. You gave that up when you decided to come here.”
Your fingers curl weakly against his shoulders, your nails scraping his hide as another orgasm begins to tear through you—violent, raw, and utterly breaking. Your body clutches him greedily, spasming around him as if trying to pull him even deeper into your soul.
“That’s it. Cum on it. Milk my cock, you ruined little thing,” he moans, his voice a deep, filthy growl. “Show me what a monster’s bitch sounds like.”
He slams in again. And again. And again. Overflowing you until the forest is nothing but the sound of your screams and his heavy, rhythmic conquest.
You twitch beneath him, your hips jerking in violent, uncoordinated spasms with every bruising thrust. Your arms flop uselessly beside your head, fingers digging into the cold, damp earth until your nails are packed with grit. You’re babbling again, a high-pitched, senseless sound that borders on a scream. “Nnh—p-please, I—too deep—fuck—please—s-stretching me—gonna break, gonna break—”
“You’ll take every inch,” he snarls, his voice a low vibration that rattles your teeth. He presses a massive, cooling palm low over your belly, and you gasp as you feel the hard, thick bulge of him pushing against your internal organs, distending your soft skin from the inside. “You need this. You’ve been hunting the ghost of this feeling since the first time you stepped into my woods.”
He doesn’t stop until you go silent, your voice finally failing you. You’re too wrecked to cry, too full to plead, your body a shattered vessel for his hunger. He delivers a final, brutal thrust that pins you into the dirt, and a guttural snarl tears from his throat as he cums. His dick pulses inside you, a hot and endless torrent, thick spurts of his seed flooding your womb until you’re overflowing.
You feel the scorching heat of him spill out around the edges of your stretched-open slit, dripping down your trembling thighs and pooling in the dark moss. You whimper—a soft, cracked little sound that is half-sob and half-surrender.
His massive arms wrap around you this time, tight and possessive, his claws pricking your skin as he curls over you like a beast shielding its prize. His breath is ragged and sulfurous against your throat. “Now you really smell like mine,” he murmurs into the silence of the trees.
You don’t know how long you lie there, your face turned to the side and pressed into the dirt, your mouth slack as drool slips into the earth. Your body isn’t yours anymore; it belongs to the forest and the thing that just claimed you. Everything between your thighs burns with a raw, pulsing fire. Your skin is scraped bloody from the stones beneath you, and your limbs refuse to move. But you're awake. Barely.
A soft, broken noise escapes your throat. You shift just enough to feel the slick, viscous mess between your legs, the slow, rhythmic drip of warmth down your inner thighs. His cum. It feels heavy, a brand left inside you. You flinch at the reminder and try to crawl away again, your fingers clawing at the dirt for just a few inches of distance. It doesn't matter. He was watching. Massive, clawed hands wrap around your waist and lift you as if you weigh nothing—prey that is still twitching in denial.
He drags you down the incline of the forest floor, over damp moss and crushed leaves that smell of rot, until he has you face-down. He shoves you into a deep arch, bent at the hips with your ass shoved up into the moonlight. The position is humiliating, exposed and raw, and the cool air hitting your wet, gaping hole makes you shudder.
“I—I thought y-you… you were done…” you moan, your voice cracking.
His voice comes low and terrifyingly close behind you. It’s different now—still dark, but laced with a cruel affection. “I told you,” he murmurs, dragging sharp claws down the length of your spine, leaving thin white lines that sting in the night air. “I’m never done with something that belongs to me.”
His weight presses down over you again, and the sheer scale of him is suffocating. His skin is rough like weathered stone, but beneath the surface, you see those faint, glowing veins of molten gold—lava trapped in a shell of muscle. His chest is impossibly wide, blotting out the stars as he leans over you. His long, coarse hair brushes your back, damp with sweat and the blood of the hunt.
You hear the wet rasp of his breath behind fanged teeth. His dick grinds between your thighs, and you let out a broken whimper when the thick, pulsing head brushes your oversensitive, cream-slicked slit.
“What are you?” you whisper, your fingers clutching the moss.There is a pause, the forest holding its breath.
And then, so softly it sounds like a death sentence: “I’m yours.”
He thrusts in without warning. Your body jerks forward with a high, wrecked scream that is choked off by the forest floor. He’s deeper like this, hitting you with a blunt, devastating force that feels like it’s reaching your ribs. Each inch is a battle against the resistance of your stretched, aching walls, but your body yields. It has no choice.
You sob into the ground, your legs shaking as you babble, “O-oh—f-feels so—full—oh god, yes, f-fuck—”
“That’s right,” he growls, his fingers digging into your hip bones hard enough to leave purple bruises. “Say it. Say who’s making you feel like this. Say who’s breaking you.”
“You,” you whimper, your mind fracturing. “Y-you are—can’t stop—please, please—don’t stop—feels s-so good—”
He snarls with approval, the sound vibrating through your chest. “You learn quick, killer.” His claws rake up your sides, a mockery of tenderness that makes you flinch and arch higher into him.
He bends over your back, his massive body covering yours completely, and begins to slam into you with a punishing, rhythmic force. Each thrust rocks you forward, your belly scraping the dirt, your breasts bouncing and slick with sweat as he drives deeper into your soaked, ruined cunt.
You moan louder now, a helpless, wild sound that echoes through the trees. Every time he fills you, it feels like he’s going to split your body in two, the sheer girth of him forcing you open past your limit. But you can’t stop praising him. “Y-you’re so big—s-so fucking good, fuck—I c-can’t think—can’t—”
“You don’t need to think,” he growls into your ear, his tongue flicking against the shell of it. “Just feel. Just take it all.”
You scream when his hand wraps around your throat, not cutting off your air, but pinning your head down into the moss, reminding you of his absolute strength. His hips slam into you faster now, the wet, violent slap of flesh on flesh constant and echoing. The sounds you’re making aren't even words anymore—just soft, cracked sobs of broken pleasure and terror.
And still, he talks to you in that monster’s lullaby. “You asked what I am. I’m the thing that waits for the brave. I’m the price you pay for entering a cursed place with a blade in your hand. I’m the one who heard your blood call out the very first time you stepped into my woods.”
Your body shakes with a fresh wave of tremors. Tears mix with the dirt on your face. Your walls pulse around him again, tight and fluttering, and you’re close—so close, even though it hurts, even though you’re already ruined. He keeps going, his thrusts slower but harder, grinding deep as your climax finally crashes through you. You scream, your body arching into a bow, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you come so hard your vision goes white.
He groans, a feral, possessive sound, and slams in one last time, staying buried to the hilt as he cums again. You feel him throb deep inside you, hot and heavy, pumping his release into your spasming cunt. The molten heat spreads through your gut, and you finally collapse, twitching and sobbing beneath his massive weight.
You feel marked. Bound. Kept.
His voice wraps around your shuddering body like a curse. “Sleep, little hunter. The forest will keep you safe until you wake up back home."
-
You bolt upright, your eyes snapping open to the suffocating stillness of your bedroom. A sharp, jagged gasp tears from your throat as you claw at the air, your fingers tangling in the damp sheets instead of the forest floor. You’re drenched in a cold, sickly sweat that makes your skin itch, and your heart is hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.
For a long minute, you can’t breathe. You’re waiting for the trees to close in, for the smell of damp earth and musk to return. But as the frantic rhythm of your pulse slows, the shadows in the corner resolve into your dresser and your desk. The terror begins to recede, leaving behind a hollow, trembling ache.
It was just a dream.
You lean back against the headboard, dragging a hand down your face. This one was different. It wasn't just the chase or the fear of the kill; it was the way he had caught you. The memory of the sex—primal, invasive, and overwhelming—clings to your skin more than the sweat does. He hadn't just hunted you; he had ravished you, turning your own body into a landscape of heat and pain.
You glance at the bedside clock. The red numbers burn into the dark: 3:33 AM.
A heavy, bitter sigh escapes you. You don’t get the luxury of falling back asleep to forget. For you, these nightmares are a nightly ritual—a twisted training ground where you are broken down just to see if you can put yourself back together. Every night is a different horror, a different way to die or be used.
You stare at the ceiling, the phantom sensation of his hands still ghosting over your hips.
You have to get up.
You have to arm yourself because the monster that just spent hours terrorizing your mind is waiting for you out there in the real world, and you’re the only one hunter enough to finish him.
even more design busts. I’ve been experimenting with face styles… First one I may sell as an adoptable in the future (…because I don’t like them very much🥀)
