Paring: Orc, Naga, Sea Witch, Vampire, werewolf, Ghost, Witch monster wives x Female human reader
Warning: Smut, pussy eating, witch is older than the reader (she’s a granny), pussy portal, rough, tentacles, chasing, possession, jealousy, toxicity, blood, biting
A/N: I just finished my college semester so I wanted to post a draft in the meantime. So sorry to everyone who sent requests, I’ve been so stressed out with my classes and my depression, I felt unmotivated. Ill post them soon since my semester is over ^^ — pink
How your monster wife eats you out.
ORC
Nothing makes you feel more full than the feeling of your wife’s large green fingers splitting you open. She’s massive, of course she is. The clan leader needs to be a personification show of strength to ward off any enemy. Too bad you’re also one of her victims when she decides to spread you apart on your shared bed after a rough day training.
She’s always grumpy after, sweat glistening on her muscular arms before she hoists you over her strong shoulder to the bed. She’s quick to rip apart your underwear, she always makes up for it and buys you a new pair anyway. She just can’t help herself from stuffing her face between your legs so she can lap at your pretty pussy. Her large tongue rolling around your twitching pearl as you sling in her arms begging for mercy. Her tusks have probably left an indent on your inner thighs from how much they poke at you when she slurps at you. At first it was painful…then uncomfortable, and now you barely feel them at all. She begs you to pull on her black curly hair, the tug alone makes her wet with a groan.
NAGA
She has always been overly clingy. Her favorite pastime was always cuddling up behind you underneath the trees and snuggling you to death til the both of you fall asleep. Her tail is massive, and surprisingly warm. She likes to bask it in the sun just so you can warm up against it whenever you come back home. She cries when you leave for work, trying her best to make you stay with her. If you can’t she can always try convincing you otherwise. Your wife was strong, a tall woman with a massive tail that overpowered you completely, she lifted you up easily, flipping you upside down in your pajamas before you could get ready. She removes your underwear easily, tossing it aside before rubbing the end of her long tail over your slit as it slowly eases inside you.
She fucks you good, so good that you forget you even need to go to work. Her tail isn’t rough or anything, it’s surprisingly smooth at the end, the perfect size to plug up your pussy when you think about leaving her. Once you’re too overstimulated to move she’ll flip you around again so you’re hovering over her face, letting you ride her tail before she wraps her large mouth around your entire pussy. Her tongue is long, twisting and twirling as it stretches you out along with her tail. She’ll make you beg for her to stop…and since you’re too tired now, it’d be best you stayed home.
SEA WITCH
When you go to the beach you always try to wear cute clothes for your wife. You buy countless little sun dresses, shorts, bathing suits and skirts that only end up drifting carelessly away at sea. You were sure you could have filled half a mile of point Nemo from how much stuff you’ve lost over the past couple of years. Maybe there will be a chance for society to embark on all your ripped up bikinis and dresses. Your wife always managed to mess up your clothing. She didn’t hate it, far from it, you looked beautiful, and she can never help that itch she gets to just drag you by the ankle with one of her tentacles to your knees before slipping you into the ocean.
You were tired of her fucking up your shit, so you finally decided one day to wear an outfit she can’t rip. A cute lingerie set with your pussy exposed under your old sun dress, you were lucky enough to live on a semi deserted island, the nearest village was half an hour away for anyone to see you getting fucked silly on the sand. You twirl around for her, a cheeky smile on your face when you feel the familiar slimy grip of her tentacles dragging you straight toward her. She flips you over, your elbows landing harshly on the sand with your ass under water . She rips your dress apart to shreds, you’re happy you wore a dress you didn’t quite like anymore. Not that she cared. Clothes were a foreign concept in Merfolk culture, she seemed more irritated each time you even bothered putting something on. Once she sees your body she lights up immediately, tentacles wrapping over your breast and thighs as she pulls you onto her lips. She can go at you for hours like this.
VAMPIRE
A fresh smelling human woman with blood as divine as aged wine. It’d be surprising if the countess didn’t fall head over heels in love. She was old, much older than you, but she was stunning. She took you as her bride as soon as she smelled you quivering alone in the woods, how could she resist such beauty from this cute pathetic woman? She’s overly gentle with you, using an amulet to keep you young for her forever. She doesn't fancy anyone else’s company after meeting you. She’s tall, strong, but surprisingly overly gentle with you, her sweet wife. When she took you to bed the first time it hurt..bad. What else did you expect from a vampire as old as her? A vampire who hasn’t had a meal this delectable in a long, long time. No, she needed to savor your taste.
Eating you out isn’t always a simple game when she’s angry or stressed. Your thighs are etched with bite marks as scars to prove it. She tries to be gentle as she can, but fangs as long as hers can’t help but hurt as they sink into your thighs. You squirm, tears bubbling up over your waterline as you bite those cute plump lips of yours. She is always apologetic, promising you euphoria as soon as she has her fill of your blood, and she always comes through. In seconds her bloody red lips wrap around your clit, tongue fast and powerful enough to make you arch your back. She keeps at you for hours to the point you can’t even feel the earlier puncture.
WEREWOLF
Your wife has always loved it when you run from her..just like how you two met years ago. It’s become a tradition at this point. Sometimes when she’s away you sneak off to the nearest lake to go take a bath, but oh no, she’s not as stupid as you take her for, she’s almost always waiting, watching, anticipating for you to step your soaking nude body out the water so she can pounce you back onto the dirty ground when you’re done. How dare you think you can take a bath without her? You always seem so content when you bathe, so cute and vulnerable, she tried warning you about keeping up with your surroundings. I suppose you never learn, do you? Or, maybe you actually liked the idea of her watching you.
She waits until you get out the water, neatly wrapping a towel over your perfect body before you make your way back to the village. She’s behind you in an instant, crawling in bushes, stalking your every step. She only pounces when you notice her..she loves the chase. You always let out the sweetest gasp when you spot her, fumbling around with your towel as you start to dash away. But your human legs can only get you so far. She lets you create distance..she wants you to feel safe and secure before tackling you. She pins you in the ground, fluffy body heaving as she lifts up your squirming legs as you curse her out for ruining your bath. Her tongue is long and swift, curling over and under your clit as she messily eats you up. You can get back at her later, for now she wants to taste you.
GHOST
Living with a ghost as a wife seemed scary at first, especially when she took your soul at the start of your marriage in exchange for her love. At first she only did it as a joke, but now that she’s taken the time to get to know you she’s been obsessed with you ever since. You haven’t known peace. She’s clinging to you the second you get home, pulling off your shoes and coat before showering you with icy kisses. She loves staying wrapped around you at night even if it makes you uncomfortably cold. She can’t seem to get her hands off you. She knows you work hard to maintain and take care of the house, so why shouldn’t she show her appreciation?
She died years ago when she was still living here, all alone, but now that she has you she has no interest in letting you leave her. Ever. Sometimes when the two of you get into a fight and you try leaving the house she gets nervous..she knows your marriage isn’t legitimate by legal means, but for crying out loud she has your soul. You were hers. She completely flips out, rushing to you before you can reach the handle to possess your body. She quickly apologizes each time, she promises to make it up to you, she knows you can feel every single move she makes in your body, so she’ll finger your pussy while she begs you to stay with her. And when you do eventually calm down, she’ll happily give your body back so she can suck on your tiny clit with her cold tongue.
WITCH
Your wife was far too old to participate in such “lewd behaviors”, or so she’d say. She was decades older than you, an older woman with a low libido. She wasn’t as active as she used to be in her youth, but she knows how needy humans can be, especially her sweet little wife. Bending down to eat you out wasn’t exactly her forte, too tasteless for an advanced witch such as herself. No, no— she liked to use the element of surprise.
Your wife’s most treasured gift other than yourself was a giant spell book she got when she was younger. She uses it for everything, each page filled to the brim with sticky notes, annotations and cute little scribbles. She keeps a special page in the back of the book just for you, a portal only she can open whenever she feels like you deserve a sweet treat. She slowly mumbles in a foreign language, twirling her fingertips around white glowing mist, her ruby lips curling into a cruel grin when the outline of your pretty pussy appears. She’s quick to give a small kiss to your clit, a small nice gesture to warn you she’s about to ruin you before sticking her tongue inside your gaping hole.
a/n: Patreon and kofi got to read this nearly 2 months early! This was a commission ^^
warnings: somno, pet play, pussy eating, fingering, panty stealing
WC: 5k+
In the dead of winter, the outside world looked more and more like a blank canvas ready to be painted upon each day that passed.
You have always enjoyed this time of year. Although the cold may bring unpleasant feelings and sickness, it could bring community and so much warmth as well.
People banded together when snow began to fall, offering shelter and food to those in need.
You were no different.
It had been a normal day, with the usual drama at work and a busy ride home. All you wanted was some peace and quiet in the sanctity of your cozy apartment… unfortunately, many things would happen that changed your life forever.
If only you had people to spend such a lonely and isolating winter with.
You spent most days alone. No significant other, no hobbies that made life worth living. If you were being honest with yourself, you were just living day to day, hoping to find something that gave you the strength to keep going.
For now, though, you would work, eat, sleep, and do the same thing the next day. No friends, no close friends…
Just you.
The sun was finally setting, and you stared out at the orange and red hues as they danced across the sky. Never before had you seen such a beautiful sunset.
It wasn’t like you to linger by the steps of your apartment for very long after you returned home. Usually, you were quick to get inside so you could take off your heavy winter coat and relax by the fire.
However you stopped to stare at that beautiful sunset, just long enough for some strange events to be set into motion.
While staring out into the sky, you heard something from the woods nearby. It sounded like someone, or well, something crying out to any nearby people for help.
Your first thought was an animal had fallen into the pond out in the woods and gotten itself hurt. It wasn’t uncommon, but something made you doubt that theory.
“Could be a wounded animal… or someone in need of help.”
Either way, you weren’t going to wait around while the owner of that voice was in the freezing cold, possibly hurt and scared.
You could remember what that was like. There had been times in the past when you were left all alone, abandoned in your time of need.
It wasn’t right to stand by while others suffered.
The path into the woods was slick with ice and snow, and you had to hold onto a nearby tree when you slipped and almost fell on your ass. You really weren’t wearing the correct shoes to be trudging through the slurry of icy mud and snow but there wasn’t time for a change of clothes and foot apparel,
The cries grew louder the further you trekked. As you passed the undisturbed pond, you were relieved to know no one had fallen into it. You weren’t sure if you would have been able to help someone if they had.
By the time you reached what was making the noise, the volume of its cries had risen so high that you could hardly heat anything else.
What seemed to be a medium sized dog was laying on the ground on its side, howling and barking before letting out those familiar heart wrenching cries.
Its fur was dark brown, almost black, but with the little light that remained you could see its true color.
“Hey…”
The dog went quiet when you spoke. With its ears perked up, you could tell it was on high alert.
“Are you hurt, little one?”
You crouched down, examining its pelt. There seemed to be no obvious injuries besides its leg being a bit… off looking. “Must of sprained your ankle… with how slippery these paths are, I can understand how.”
Usually, a stray or wild dog wouldn’t let you touch it, but this one didn’t seem to mind when you hoisted it up and walked on your way home. “You’re a big and fluffy thing, aren’t you?”
It was bigger than usual, and you made sure to walk slow and steady through the icy woods. Tripping and falling onto this already scared and injured animal wouldn’t turn out well for either of you.
The first thing you did when you got home was try off their fur. Placing it in front of a heater, you rubbed the towel over its pelt, watching as it closed its eyes in contentment while warm air flowed towards its face.
“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”
The more this dog relaxed in your presence, the more you figured it was someone’s pet. Why else would it be so calm while injured?
After it was warm and dry, you ran your fingers through its fur, thoroughly examining each part of its body to make sure there were no other wounds.
There were a few scratches and cuts, but each one was either old or already healing up. The sprained ankle was what you were most worried about.
As you began examining the bruised and swollen ankle, the fog sniffed at your shoulder and neck, giving your cheek a lick. You smiled down at it, scratching behind its ear. “I bet you have an owner, hmm? You’re a sweet pup.”
Its tail wagged at your words, that seemed to make it happy.
“Isn’t that better?” you cooed, looking down at its bandaged foot. The dog stood and took a few cautious steps. When it realized it could walk slowly without much pain, it barked and wagged its tail before sniffing you again.
“I’ll have to take you to the shelter tomorrow… your owner is probably worried sick.”
You would have done so that night, but carrying a heavy dog home and working a full day had you exhausted. Besides, what animal shelter would be open past 8 pm?
You got to work making yourself some dinner, feeding the dog some of the food from your plate. Pets weren’t really allowed in your complex and any strays were chased off by your landlord, so you didn’t keep any dog food on you.
It gobbled up anything you gave it, sitting by your side as you ate at the kitchen table. A slobbery pink tongue lapped at your hand, licking up any leftover bits of food.
“Hey, ew!” you giggled out, wiping your hand on your jeans. “Sorry, I know you must be hungry. I have some ham in the fridge…”
As it ate some leftover ham, you went to shower.
~
Walking around with only a towel, you lifted an eyebrow when you noticed the dog was gone. Hoping it hadn’t run to some corner of your apartment to take a piss and ruin your deposit, you began to look for it.
“C’mere, pup…” you called out, glancing behind your couch. “I got some more ham, c’mon. I gotta take you outside to use the bathroom before I go to bed.”
When you couldn’t find it in the living room, bathroom, or even the storage closet, you turned towards your room. The door was cracked open, when you remembered closing it that morning.
For some reason, you felt… uneasy. There was this primal fear that there were predatory eyes on you, and the hair on your beck was standing on end.
“Hello..?”
You flicked on the light to your bedroom, immediately spotting a lump in your plush comforter. Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.
“Ah, this is where you went… you have to get off of my bed. I haven’t given you a bath and you could have fleas or-“
The words died in your throat as you yanked off the comforter.
Instead of the ball of fluff you had been expecting to see, your eyes were met with a woman around your age, curled up in your bed.
She stared up at you with wild, yellow eyes, a pair of dog ears on top of her head perking up.
The woman was completely nude, blinking in shock before skittering back. Her back pressed against your headboard, and you stared back with your jaw agape.
It took you both a moment to process what was going on.
Should you scream? Was this a fight or flight situation?
Surprisingly, you were way calmer than you thought you would have been in a situation like this. For god’s sake, there was a naked woman in your bed and you sure as hell hadn’t scheduled a booty call!
“Don’t… be upset.”
The woman’s voice was deep, almost soothing. Her yellow eyes flicked up to meet yours, and she slowly pulled her leg out from under the blanket.
Bandages covered her ankle… this was-
“Oh my god.”
The dog ears, they weren’t some kind of accessory. No… they were real, and so was that tail you could see wagging nervously.
“I’m not human… that’s obvious. I will explain, I swear…” the woman sighed, the dark bags under her eyes crinkling slightly. “But I’m so tired, and the winter this year is harsh. Please… could I stay the night? I’ll tell you all you want to know in the morning…”
You stood there, contemplating your choices. While you were still flabbergasted at the situation you had gotten yourself into, you were able to slowly steady your racing heart.
The situation has not truly changed all that much. There was a being that needed your help, and you had brought that dog home knowing it could bite you or spread disease.
Could you not give an at least partial human being the same courtesy you gave an animal? It would be… inhumane to kick her out into the cold while she was injured and naked, especially when it was pitch black outside.
“… go to the living room, I’ll bring you a change of clothes.”
The woman darted past you with a swiftness that wouldn’t come easy to a human being of a similar stature. She really wasn’t human, but you weren’t quite sure what “non-human” was.
As you gathered an oversized shirt and some pajama pants that would be bagger on her lean frame, you pondered what exactly your next step should be.
When morning would come, what would you do?
Your original plan had been to take the dog to the shelter. It wasn’t feasible for you to take care of an animal while you were living in a tiny apartment.
This was different, though. The shelter wouldn’t accept her, of course not, but you weren’t sure if a human shelter would accept her either.
“Thank you…” she said softly, looking up through her thick eyelashes. When you paid more attention, you noticed how pretty she was. Yellow eyes that shone in the dim light of your living room, soft looking black hair, and a nice figure…
“It’s no problem. We’ll talk in the morning, alright? Get some sleep.”
You locked your door that night. Despite being kind enough to let a stranger into your home, your big heart didn’t make you stupid.
After you were sound asleep, the woman stood, her cheeks flushed a dark pink. There was a smell that had her body trembling with need, and she had been struggling to contain her lust all night.
She snuck into the bathroom, searching around silently until she found the source of that smell that drove her crazy.
A pair of lacy panties, the crotch slightly damp. She could remember you emitting a smell of arousal earlier when you were on your phone, and she was incredibly curious.
What had gotten you this worked up?
She lifted the pair to her nose, taking an intense whiff before letting out a shuddering moan. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as the heavenly scent filled her nostrils.
It was a bit embarrassing, but she slowly poked out her tongue to lick the damp spot, immediately growing wet at your taste.
You had been so kind to her, for no reason at all. When most people and werewolves alike would have swiftly abandoned an injured pup like her, you instead let her into her home.
Not only did you care for her wounds, but you fed and even clothed her.
She was just smitten.
Her hand moved to her now clothed cunt. She felt a bit guilty getting the pajamas you gave her dirty, but she couldn’t help but touch herself through the fabric.
“Mmph…”
The sound of her tail wagging and thumping against the floor could be heard by the downstairs neighbors. She was too busy getting off to the thought of devouring your pretty pussy to notice…
~
In the morning, you called in sick to work. It just wouldn’t be possible for you to leave this… person in your house while you were gone.
“Alright, you promised you’d explain,” you said, placing a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her. “Get to talking.”
You waited patiently as she wolfed down the breakfast you had prepared for her. She seemed even hungrier than she had been the night before, if it was possible.
“So… I’m a werewolf.”
Well, that wasn’t a huge shock. The revelation made relative sense, she could turn into a dog-like creature after all.
“I thought werewolves were like… big, hairy monsters. You turn into a medium sized dog.”
The woman huffed at that, waving her fork. “Well sorry, but over time werewolves have bred with basic humans and our transformations have become weaker each generation. Only a selective few can muster a full transformation, and they’re usually from families that do… the whole inbreeding thing.”
You rubbed your temple. Learning about werewolves at all wasn’t something you were super interested in, and now she was giving you more info than you needed.
“Alright, alright. You’re a werewolf. What about your living situation?”
The mood changed, the woman’s eyes becoming a bit dark and distant as she looked away.
“… even for my generation, my transformation is weak. I was kicked out of my pack when I came of age, and I’ve been pretty much winging it ever since.”
It was quiet for a moment. The situation she was in reminded you of many stories you heard from other people. Fresh adults being kicked out for being different, it was a tale as old as time.
“I see…”
Something clicked in your mind as you watched the way she curled up on your couch, her knees pressing against her chest.
“You don’t have anywhere to stay?”
With a nod, she took another bite of the second you heaped onto her plate. “Nope…”
You hoped you wouldn’t regret what you were about to say.
“This winter has been pretty harsh so far… alright. At least until winter is over, you can stay here.”
Maybe with another person living with you, even for just a while, you’d be less lonely during the most depressing season of the year.
She perked up, her tail beginning to wag as her eyes brightened. “You mean it? I can-“
“You’ll be paying for your own rent and food, of course.”
This made her pout a little, which you found strangely cute. “Of course… I can hunt for my own food. We can discuss rent after a shower, I’m sure I don’t smell very pleasant.”
She wasn’t wrong.
~
You curled up in bed after a long day. After taking her to buy some clothes and essentials, she handed over a wad of cash to be used for rent. It seemed she had enough money to keep herself afloat…
Renting wasn’t easy though, and you could understand why. Hiding her nature proved difficult. She was kicked out of several places for having a pet she wasn’t supposed to… but the werewolf was the very dog they accused her of having.
You turned on your side, rubbing your tired eyes. Work was a must, and you refused to miss another day.
Once you drifted off and your breathing evened out, your door creaked open.
A pair of yellow eyes peeked into your room, the soft swishing sound of her tail wagging mixing with the soft hum of your heater.
Like a true predator of the night, she snuck closer. It was easy to climb into your bed without your noticing. You were a heavy sleeper, and she was stealthy.
Her eyes settled on your breasts, your pretty nipples poking your thin shirt. The air was a bit chilly, she had noticed that when she walked in.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up…’
You were her savior, and all she wanted to do was repay you!
And maybe she was a little horny too…
Her fingers toyed with your nipples through your shirt as her knee rubbed against your clothed cunt.
She gave your breasts a squeeze, her wolf ears twitching when you whined in your sleep. ‘Ahh, so cute…’
After she gave you a nuzzle with her nose, she peppered kisses along your neck and chest, licking your exposed skin.
Taking off your shirt without waking you wasn’t easy, but she was fast and good at reading your body language.
Her lips wrapped around one of your nipples, and she began lightly humping your leg as she suckled gently. Your panties were getting wet, and the way she was toying with your clit through the damp fabric wasn’t helping things.
That pretty pussy of yours was oozing with arousal, and she abandoned your breasts immediately. Her eyes locked onto your panties, and she pulled them back just enough to get a good look at you.
From your puffy lips to your cute, throbbing clit, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Already, drool fell down her chin and she couldn’t help but give you a little lick.
You tasted like Heaven, and she was addicted.
Soon her tongue was buried in your pussy, her hands keeping your thighs apart. You squirmed and whined in your sleep, and she had to pull away before you came.
Even with her skill, she was surprised you hadn’t woken up yet. Now she knew how much she could get away with before you were stirred from sleep…
After she dressed you again, the werewolf girl left your room, yearning for more.
How could she please you next?
~
For the next week or so, you became well acquainted with your new puppy.
Most of the time, she acted more like a dog than a human. When you got home from work, she’d jump up from wherever she’d been sitting and run to the door, sniffing and nuzzling against you.
You figured it was just a thing werewolves did, and didn’t question how quickly she had bonded with you.
More often than not you’d spot her making some sort of nest out of your blanket and clothes, all curled up and happy. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, per say, but you wished she wouldn’t get your blankets and clothes all filthy with dirt and some kind of sticky substance.
Was she eating something gooey while bundled up..? It smelled… musky…
You scratched her head, letting out a sigh as she carried around your hoodie. “It’s the middle of winter now. You don’t have any warm clothes, do you?”
She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, not really. It’s been hard finding work because I have nothing to wear.”
You rubbed your temple. “I have my day off tomorrow… I was going to pig out on snacks and sleep in, but I guess we’ll go shopping instead.”
She didn’t seem to sense your annoyance, and only gave your hand a happy lick before climbing into your lap.
That was normal, right? Her licking your face, curling up in your lap, and nibbling on your neck and ears was just… common werewolf behavior, wasn’t it?
In the morning, she bundled up in one of your coats and followed after you as the two of you walked along the icy sidewalks. Snow fell lazily, covering the hood of your jacket.
“I’ve never been shopping before.”
You glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. “Where did you get your clothes from, then?”
Her eyes hardened, and she opened the first shop door with a huff. “When I was in my pack, we stayed in our wolf forms. No need for clothes… and when I was kicked out, I stole and looked through dumpsters.”
Your heart clenched in your chest. It hurt knowing such a friendly girl had been thrown out for not meeting the pack’s standards.
“Well, shopping is pretty fun. C’mon.”
The two of you started off with some casual winter clothes. Long sleeved shirts, pants, and lots of layers. She favored earthy colors like green and brown, but you noticed a few pink and yellow items in her bag.
“Your shoes are worn out, let’s find you a better pair of boots.”
You helped her try on multiple pairs before she settled on some brown boots with fluffy pompoms. “Ahh, these are very warm and sturdy…”
“The pompoms are cute, too. You look good in them.”
Her cheeks flushed pink at your compliment, and her tail thumped around under her skirt. You had to be careful, someone would notice her tail moving.
Before leaving the house, you covered her ears and tail. If someone found out what she was, you’d both be in danger.
“… come on, let’s go to the next store.”
On your way to find her some underwear and bras, she turned towards a pet store. Her eyes were on a picture of a dog on the front window.
“This is a pet store..?” you whispered as she browsed the selection. Despite your words, the werewolf continued to look through the dog treats.
“Guess I’ll leave you to it.”
You walked around the store, only glancing at the shelves for a moment before moving on.
There were Christmas decorations covering the shelves, making you remember that it was only a few days before the holiday.
‘Guess I can get her a little something…’
You peaked into the aisle, watching as she stared at a frilly pink collar, with a bell and ribbon at the front. She picked it up, jingling the bell and letting out an interested “ooo”.
After getting home, you wrapped up the collar and leash with your cheeks warm with embarrassment.
Imagining her with that collar on… made you feel strange.
On Christmas morning, she yawned as you placed a plate of waffles in front of her. She didn’t seem to know about the holiday, so you petted her head before bringing her to the tree.
Over the past month, the two of you had become close and you had come to care for her. She made everything a lot less lonely, and you wanted to repay her.
“This is for you…”
She blinked as you set the present in her lap. Her tail began to wag, and she unwrapped it quickly.
When she pulled out the pink collar, her eyes widened. “You… got this for me?”
Her entire face was red, and her tail thumped against the floor so hard it looked like it hurt.
“I just wanted to thank you. It’s been nice having someone around for a change…”
You weren’t good at this. It had been several years since you last have someone a gift, and never before had you gifted a collar and leash.
She stared down at the collar for a moment before she pickled the clasp atound her neck, her yellow eyes looking up at you.
“I love it… but I didn’t get you anything…”
For a moment she seemed guilty, her wolf ears flattening against her head. This didn’t last for long.
Her eyes sparkled when she had an idea. Suddenly, her leash was in your hand, and she sat at your feet like an obedient puppy as she pawed at your pajama pants.
“W-what are you doing?” you stuttered out, yelping when she pulled down your pants and buried her face into your clothed cunt.
“This is your present…”
She licked you through your panties, letting out a happy yip when she tasted your arousal. It was her favorite!
“B-but..!”
You groaned, your hand grabbing a fistful of her hair. It felt too good, her tongue was long and a bit rough. You could feel it, even through your thick cotton panties.
“You always like it when I lick here…” she said with a sigh, looking up at you dreamily. “Nearly wakes you up sometimes…”
It took you a few seconds to process the implication behind her words. “You do this when I’m sleeping?!”
She nodded, nuzzling her nose against your panties. “Of course! I have to make my mate happy and relaxed!”
Her… mate?
It was clear that werewolves had a different idea of what was and wasn’t allowed. Still, you huffed and pulled her closer, pulling your panties to the side.
“If this is a gift, then do it right, pup.”
You tugged on her leash, and she complied immediately.
Her tongue lapped at your folds, as if testing the waters. When she wasn’t fast enough, you have her leash another tug. “C’mon, don’t act shy now. You’ve been eating my pussy for a month while I sleep, now get in there.”
She whined a bit, her cheeks red when she latched onto your clit. It throbbed in her mouth, and she suckled gently while her pants clutched your soft thighs.
She moved her mouth to your hole, lapping at it before pushing her tongue in. Your pussy was dripping, and she licked up every single drop.
“Use your fingers too, pup…”
Tentatively, she pushed a finger into you, moving it in and out. When you let out a satisfied moan, her tail began to pick up speed. “Like this?”
“Mhm… such a good girl…”
You cupped her cheek, watching her eat you out. Her cute, pink tongue moved out your clit as she inserted another finger, stretching you out a bit.
“Mmm… lay down for me, okay?”
Like the obedient puppy she was, she immediately laid on her back. Her fluffy tail was tucked between her legs, a sign of submission.
“Lemme see…”
You moved her tail out of the way, smirking at how wet she had gotten. “All this from tasting my pussy? Such a naughty girl…”
Your thumb brushed against her clit, and her back arched up. She was so desperate and sensitive, her tongue poking out as she panted heavily.
“Patience…”
You hooked her leash onto the couch, offering her your pussy as you moved to eat out hers. 69ing had being something you had only seen in porn, and you were excited to try.
Instantly she was drawn to your pushy, devouring it like a mindless beast. You moved your hips, riding her face a bit before you leaned down to get your first taste of her.
She almost tasted sweet, and you were quick to bury your tongue into her cunt. The little noises she made while you explored her with your tongue and fingers were adorable, and you held down her hips every time she tried to buck them into your mouth.
“Easy, pup. Keep doing that and I’ll stop.”
It was so hard to control herself, so she took out her frustration on your cunt. She sucked on your fat pussy lips, ignoring your engorged clit. It seemed like she was being a bit of a brat.
You’d have to fix that.
With a yank of her collar, you cooed and guided her mouth back to your clit. “Right there, puppy. Such a silly girl, don’t even know where to make me feel good do you? You wouldn’t do that on purpose, you’re supposed to be my sweet puppy.”
She blushed, and obediently went back to suckling on your clit. One hand stayed at your cunt, pumping her fingers in and out, while the other one held onto your plump ass.
“That’s my girl…”
To reward her good behavior, you added another finger, stretching out her hole. “See what good puppies get? They get their cunt stretched out.”
“I-I’m a good puppy! Promise!” she babbled around your clit, suckling harder. “I wanna make you feel good…”
You smiled, giving her clit another lick before latching on. You could feel her body trembling beneath you, and orgasm incoming. She was so close, and since she was being a good pup you decided to let her cum.
As she came, you started to ride her face clit brushing against her nose. She was in a daze, completely absorbed in your pussy and scent.
The only thing she could think about was how happy she was when you came in her mouth.
Once the two of you were thoroughly satisfied, you held her limp body in your lap. You squeezed her tits with one hand, the other rubbing circles into her overstimulated clit.
“Who’s my good puppy?”
She whimpered, keeping her legs open for you.
“Me…”
After this, the two of you decided it was best if she simply continued to live with you. After all, you were lonely and she had nowhere else to go. It was a win-win!
Every morning you woke up to her licking your cunt through your panties, ready to start the day by pleasing her mate. She was basically attached to your cunt, always wanting to be between your legs.
When you left, she missed you so much that she’d chew on your panties when you were gone, rubbing the clothing item between her legs and cumming all over them.
Of course, you didn’t mind at all. You had grown fond of her, and the two of you became a thing.
As she held your hand while walking to a restaurant for dinner, her pink collar jingled and you couldn’t help but tug a bit on her leash to hear that sweet sound again.
Your sweet pup was as happy as could be, and you were as well.
You escaped your backwoods church town years ago, trying to forget. But something’s calling you back. The woods are thicker than before. Hotter. Alive. And she’s there—Cassandra, who kissed you in the baptismal river when you were sixteen. She's older now, more alluring. Your reunion isn't sweet. You’re both different now, so you re-learn each other.
°⡴3,812 words, smut/explicit sexual content (18+), monster: half-plant hybrid x blackfem!reader, mentions of past abuse (not detailed), fingering, oral (you're receiving), against the tree-> missonary-> doggy-> upwards prone (idkw to call the position), overstimulation, degradation (if you squint), aftercare->domestic resolution, petnames/name-calling (e.g., sweetheart, sugar, and baby), dubcon, mentions or murder (she doesn't play about you), etc.⡴°
You swore you’d never come back.
Not to this heat.
Not to this town.
Not to her.
But the air is the same—it's a thick, wet weight that carries the scent of iron, crushed honeysuckle, and something spoiled deep in the soil. The forest feels like it’s rotting at a simmer, sweet and heavy, just waiting to swallow you.
You don’t see her at first. You just feel the wind change direction, turning hot against the back of your neck. Then, the cicadas go dead silent.
“Look what the Lord dragged home.”
Her voice hits you hard. You turn too fast, your boots slipping slightly in the humid dirt.
There she is. Cassandra. She’s standing barefoot in a tangle of weeds and creeping vines, her dress clinging to her damp skin as if the fabric were part of her anatomy. Her hair is longer, a dark, wild curtain of tight coils, and her skin has deepened to a rich, earthy tone. But it’s her eyes that stop your heart. They’re wrong. They don't blink in time with yours, and they catch the dim forest light in a way that looks more like a reflection on deep water than a human stare.
“Cassandra,” you say. The name feels like a stone in your throat.
She walks toward you with a slow, predatory grace, her toes digging into the cursed dirt. She looks like she owns every inch of this patch of woods and every lungful of air you’re struggling to take in.
“You were supposed to be gone,” she murmurs. She stops inches from you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off her. Her fingers trail down your arm—her touch is hot, almost feverish. "Far away. Safe.”
You tense, and her eyes sharpen. She notices.
“So why’d you come back, baby?”
You want to lie. You want to tell her it was just for the funeral, a quick stop, a momentary lapse in judgment. You open your mouth, but the humid air fills your lungs and nothing comes out.
She leans in, her nose brushing yours. You can feel her breath, smelling of cedar smoke and sugar, ghosting over your lips. It’s an unnatural scent, like something blooming way too late in the season. You know you should move, but your boots feel rooted to the ground.
“Still such a bad liar,” she whispers. “Still runnin’ from the same thing.” She tilts her head, her gaze dropping to your mouth. “Thought about me in your dreams, didn’t you?”
“I don’t dream about you,” you snap, the words coming out jagged.
Cassandra laughs, a low, dangerous sound that vibrates in your chest. Her fingers trail lower, past your hip, her nails barely grazing the waistband of your jeans.
“You think I need dreams to find you?” she hums. “You left, but you never let me out, did you?”
The heat of her hand makes your skin feel like it's blistered. “Back off,” you grit out.
“Oh, baby.” She leans in again, her voice dropping to a crawl. “I could break you in half with a whisper.”
You shove her. You put both hands on her shoulders and push with everything you have. She lets you do it, stumbling back just enough to let out another purr of a laugh.
“There it is,” she says, her eyes flashing. “Still got some fight in you.”
Before you can draw another breath, her hands are on your hips. They feel like iron. She drives you back, forcing you into the shadows of the trees. Your heels catch on moss-slick roots and sink into the heat-soaked mud, but she doesn't stop until your spine hits the rough, jagged bark of an old oak.
She pins you there, her thigh sliding between your legs and pressing hard against your center. The friction is immediate and white-hot.
"You shouldn’t be here," you breathe, but the protest is weak. Her thigh shifts, grinding upward, and a shudder wracks your entire body.
“And yet,” she whispers, her hand sliding up under your shirt. Her palm is burning against your stomach, her skin feeling polished and strange. “Here you are.”
She presses you tighter against the bark, her mouth moving to your ear. “You left me starvin’, sugar. Now I’m gonna eat.”
"No," you say, the word catching. "That's not what I came here for."
She chuckles, a dark, wet sound. "Right... you just came to these parts of the forest for the greenery, not me..." she drags the words out, a wide, unbelieving smile showing her teeth.
You try one last shove, a desperate push against her chest, but she’s as solid as the tree behind you.
“You’re still a parasite,” you say, trying to find that cold, distant voice you spent years perfecting. “Still clinging to things that don’t want you.”
Cassandra goes still.
The smile slips. For a fraction of a second, you see the monster underneath the girl you used to love—something ancient and hungry peering through the cracks of her pretty face.
She leans in close, her eyes dragging over your features with a heavy, possessive hunger, as if she’s counting every lash just to remind herself she owns them. Her breath is hot against your cheek as she speaks.
“I carried your dead weight outta that trailer myself,” she whispers, her voice scraping like a blade against a whetstone. “Don’t talk to me about want, girl ”
The air leaves your lungs in a rush. Her fingers dig into your sides, bruising and possessive, finding the softest parts of you with a terrifying familiarity. You stop fighting. The memory of the trailer, the screaming, the copper-slick heat of the blood on her hands—it pins you more effectively than her weight ever could.
Her eyes move slow and heavy over your face, hooded with a dark, honey-thick satisfaction that makes your skin crawl and heat up all at once.
“You really think I’d go and forget a mess like that, sugar?” she breathes against your skin, her voice a low, melodic rasp. “How you were wailin’ and bleedin’ all down my front? Bless your heart, baby... I saved you. You became mine the second you stopped breathin’ and started beggin’ me for the air.”
Your lip trembles. You blink fast, trying to keep the tears back. “Fuck you,” you whisper, but it has no bite. You’re shaking.Cassandra kisses you then.
It’s rough and claiming, a collision of years of rage and twisted grief. Her teeth catch your bottom lip, drawing a sharp sting of pain that tastes like copper. Her tongue forces its way in, tasting you with an aggressive hunger that says she’s earned every bit of this. You moan into her mouth, your hands coming up to grip her hair because your knees are finally giving out.
She pulls back just an inch, her lips wet and dark, stained the color of crushed mulberries. She studies the frantic flutter of your pulse against the vines, her eyes dark with a sort of maternal hunger. A slow, lazy smile spreads across her face as she watches a single bead of sweat roll down your collarbone.“That’s more like it. I let you go wanderin’ last time 'cause I had it in my head that’s what you needed... but look at you, all starved and shakin'. I ought to have brought you back home to me a long time ago.”
You’re panting, the humidity making every breath a struggle. Her hand slides down, smooth and hard, and you hear the sharp pop of your button. She unzips your jeans and slips her hand beneath the denim and the cotton, her palm hot and smooth against your skin.
You jolt, your hips bucking. “W-wait—”
Her hand claps over your mouth, the scent of damp earth and pine needles muffling your gasp. She doesn't stop. She works two sap-coated fingers inside you—slow, deep, and agonizingly filthy. Her palm grinds against your clit with a rhythmic, punishing pressure.
You cry out into her hand, your eyes wide and searching as your hips jerk against her, desperate to find the rhythm she’s dictating.
“Hush now, sugar,” she croons, pressing her forehead to yours so you got no choice but to drown in those dark, darling eyes of hers. “Be still, baby. Let me worship what I prayed for.”
Something shifts on the ground behind her.
You gasp as thin, pale green vines rise from the forest floor. They’re slick with dew and move with a life of their own, curling around your ankles and sliding up your thighs. They feel cool and firm, brushing against your skin until one delicate, leaf-tipped tendril curls beneath your bra and tugs sharply at your nipple.
You whimper into her palm. Another vine slithers higher, coiling around your breast and squeezing just enough to make you arch your back off the tree and into her hand. Cassandra watches your face go slack, her fingers working harder, curling upward to hit that spot that makes your whole body go numb.
“Look at you,” she breathes, her voice thick with something unholy. “Still so easy for me. Still mine.”
The tears are falling now, hot and silent. Her hand moves faster, the friction of her palm and the intrusive touch of the vines pushing you toward the edge. You grind back against her, your soaked center clenching around her fingers. You feel it then—the press of something thick and heavy between her legs. It’s not inside you yet, but it’s there, hot and pulsing against your thigh. You sob into her hand, your body tightening, vibrating at the same frequency as the humming forest.
She presses her mouth to your ear, her voice a low, vibrating scripture. “S'okay, sugar. Go ahead... cum all over my fingers.” With a jagged cry that is swallowed by her hand, you come undone. You writhe against the bark, your muscles clenching and trembling in waves as her vines hold you tight and her fingers claim everything you tried to keep for yourself.
You’re still crying when she pulls her fingers out—slick, shaking, and dripping with the heavy evidence of the orgasm she just forced out of you. A string of your own heat stretches from your center to her knuckles before snapping. She lets her hand drop from your mouth, but you don’t speak. You can’t.Your lips are swollen from her teeth. Your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely keep your footing. The rough bark of the oak is digging into your spine, but you only feel it as a distant, dull pressure through the thick fog behind your eyes.
Then she whispers, “Do you remember what he said to you that night?”
Your heart clenches, a sharp, cold jab in your chest. You shake your head, even though the memory is burned into your brain. You remember the door. The way the trailer smelled like stale beer. The slur he spit in your face right before he raised his hand to finish what he’d started.
“He said nobody would ever want you,” Cassandra breathes. She leans in, hooking a finger under your chin to force your eyes to hers. “Said you were dirty. Shameful.”
Your breath hitches, a broken sound in the quiet of the woods.Her forehead presses to yours, her skin fever-hot. “I killed him for that.”
Your eyes snap wide, searching her wrong, shining gaze. “W-what—?”
“I dragged him out into these woods,” she whispers, her voice a low, smooth sound that feels like it’s risin’ up from the very root-rot of the soil.
“I dragged him out into these woods,” she whispers, her voice a low vibration that feels like it’s coming from the ground itself. “Made the vines split his ribs open so he’d choke on the truth.”
There’s a terrifying, soft-edged pride in her gaze, a sensual satisfaction as she watches the realization settle into your bones. She leans in until her nose brushes yours, her breath smelling of crushed pine and ancient, damp earth.
“I took him way out past the creek,” she murmurs, her lips curling into a slow ghost of a smile. “I let those vines split his ribs wide open like a ripe melon—just so I could hear him finally choke on the truth.”
You sob, the sound raw and ugly, and she kisses you again. It’s a deep, possessive swallow of a kiss that tastes like salt and cedar.
Then, she shifts. She lets her own need press into you before you can even process what she just confessed. You feel it—hot, thick, and obscene—heavy between her legs. It isn't human. It’s a dark, living thing grown specifically for you. It’s slick with a clear, viscous sap and covered in firm, tiny bristles that run over each other like a stalk. It pulses with a hunger that matches the humming of the trees.
It slides up your soaked folds, teasing the sensitive skin, pulsing against your clit.
“You gon' tell me to stop again, baby?”
You whimper, your head falling back against the rough bark of the tree. She tilts her head, her gaze crawling over you with a slow, heavy heat that feels more like a touch than a look. Her eyes aren't just watching you; they’re devouring you, tracing the pulse in your throat and the way your skin breaks out where the bark scrapes.
The vines tighten with a wet, rhythmic creak, winding like emerald snakes around your waist, your thighs, and your chest—pinning you open and shivering for her appraisal. She leans in close enough for you to smell the cloyingly sweet scent of crushed jasmine and damp earth on her skin.
“Are you really gonna keep on lyin’ to me, or are you finally ready to let me fill you up the way you're meant to be?”
The words are barely a breath. “Please.”
She grins, showing her teeth. Then she pushes in.
Inch by inch, she forces that monstrous length into you. It’s too much. Too soon. Your body seizes around her, your internal muscles choking on the stretch as she expands you. Your hands scramble against the bark, fingers digging into the moss. Your breath leaves you in a sharp, pained punch.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” she coos, her hips beginning a slow, deep grind that makes the wet sounds of your joining echo through the clearing. Her gaze never leaving yours as she tracks every little twitch of your mouth. “Can’t take it?”
You moan, a broken, high-pitched sound. She reaches up and grabs your throat—not tight enough to stop your air, just enough to remind you that you belong to her. You sob as she pushes even deeper, the ridged texture of her internal stalk scraping against your walls.
You feel her everywhere. She’s thick, slick, and writhing like she’s alive inside you, splitting you open in ways no man ever could. Your lower stomach feels tight, a heavy pressure building as she hits your cervix. You cry out, your legs spasming against the vines that are the only things keeping you upright.
Cassandra watches you fall apart. “That’s it, cry for me. Let me ruin what’s left.”
She starts moving—rolling her hips in wide, brutal circles, grinding that length deeper and dragging your body up the bark with every thrust. You can barely breathe. You’re choking on whimpers and broken pleas. You arch and scream when a vine flicks your nipple again, and she moans like the sound of your agony is what she’s been starving for.
"Look at you. Stuffed full and still needin’ more.”
She fucks you harder, the pace turning dizzying and brutal. Her body pins you full-length to the tree, your sweat mixing with her sap. Her lips are at your ear, whispering that filthy scripture.
“You’re the altar, baby. Now you just be still and let me worship—I’m gonna go on and spill myself right inside you.”
You’re close again—too close. Your body spasms, clenching around her like a vice as she thrusts faster. Your eyes roll back into your head. And when you cum—sobbing, your voice going hoarse—she grinds in to the hilt. She moans against your neck as she finishes, too. You feel the heat of her flood inside you, a thick, hot rush that coats your insides. Her hips jerk as she empties herself, still moving, still trying to push deeper into your soul.
She holds you there, gasping and ruined, and kisses your wet cheek.
“There now,” she murmurs, her voice soft and wicked. “That’s what you came back for.”
You’re panting, the air humid and heavy. The second orgasm hasn’t even finished tearing through you when Cassandra lets your legs drop. Your knees give out, and you crumple into the dirt like something hollowed out.
Your cheek hits the cool moss. Your thighs twitch, coated in a mess of your release and her pale, shimmering sap. You try to breathe, but everything tastes like smoke and her. You’re crying again, not from pain, but because she’s just too much.
But she isn’t done.
She kneels beside you in the mud, cooing like she’s soothing a child. You don’t trust the sweetness. Not when she’s still hard, still slick, and pressing that weight against your opening like it belongs there.
“There, there, now” she purrs, her fingers lingering as she brushes a damp curl from your forehead. “You were made for this. Built to take it, baby.”
You whimper and push at her chest—a weak, shaking effort. Her eyes spark with that dark, predatory light, her gaze feasting on the way your hands tremble against her. You shove her harder, and her grin spreads, slow and jagged, until it’s truly terrifying.
“Oh, you wanna play with me, sugar?” she hums, her voice a low, melodic drawl that vibrates right through your ribs. “Well, you go on ahead then. But you better say please first.”
“No,” you croak, your voice a wreck. “Go to hell.”
She laughs, a full, pleased sound, and raises a hand.
Vines snap around your wrists like snakes. They yank your arms behind your back, binding them tight and stretching your spine as she pushes you face-down into the dirt. She rolls you back over, kneeling between your legs, and thrusts in again without warning.
You scream, the sound lost in the canopy. Cassandra moans deep in her throat, shoving deeper, grinding her hips until the slap of skin on skin is the only thing you can hear. She leans over you, pinning your knees to your chest so you’re completely open.
“The body is a temple,” she hisses, her thrusts turning long and brutal, the vines around your wrists tightening with every movement. “Let me take care of it.”
Your legs kick weakly. "Oh my—ahh—Cass, that's too mu—mghn." You’re overwhelmed, drowning in the sensation, and yet you find yourself arching into her, your body betraying your words.
After a while, she grabs your waist and flips you onto your stomach. She pushes back in from behind, her hips slamming into your ass. One hand stays on your back to keep you down while the other tugs your hair until your neck arches back.
“Look at you. Cryin’ and still clenchin’ like you’re scared to let it go. You’re a filthy little thing, sweetheart. Just perfect.”
She drives in harder. Her length curves deep, dragging moans out of you that sound like confessions.
And then—you reach back.
Your bound wrists are trembling, but your fingers stretch toward her. You need to touch her. She gasps—a high, sweet, surprised sound.
“Oh, baby... I know. This gettin’ to be a bit much for a delicate thing like you.”
Her vines vanish, retreating into the shadows of the ferns. But her smaller tendrils are still there, running over your skin, squeezing your waist, flicking your heat. Your arms drop limp. She grabs your hands, lacing her fingers with yours, and pulls you upright. You’re both on your knees now, your back flush to her chest, her length buried deep inside you.
Your body bounces on hers with every grind of her hips. Her arms wrap around you tight—one across your chest, the other still laced through your fingers.
You can’t stop moaning. Her internal bud grinds up into your g-spot, stretching you so wide you can feel the outline of her in your belly.
“I loved you,” she whispers against your neck, her voice thick with emotion. “Loved you when you were broken. Loved you through every sin. And now?”
She kisses your temple, her lips soft and lingering.
She pounds up into you, dragging you down onto her over and over. You sob, grinding back against her, your fingers clutching hers as if they’re the only thing keeping you from disappearing into the forest.
And as you fall apart one last time—crying, shaking, screaming her name into the trees—she wraps herself around you like she was grown specifically to carry your ruin.
“You aren’t forsaken,” she moans into your hair, her voice a low, honeyed rasp. “You’re just mine now. Okay?”
With one final, brutal thrust, you break. The forest goes still, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing in the dark.
.⡴°
The forest floor is quiet now, the only sound the distant, wet drip of condensation from the canopy. You’re trembling in her lap, soaked in a mess of sap and sweat, feeling completely broken open. Cassandra is curled around you, her body a shield that feels both divine and terribly wrong.
Her arms don't move. She holds you with a desperate, crushing strength, as if the moment she loosens her grip, you’ll dissolve into the humid air. She’s tethering you to the earth, anchoring your soul to this patch of cursed dirt so she never has to lose you again.
For a long time, neither of you speaks. There is only the shifting wind through the heavy leaves and the soft, repetitive ghost of her lips pressing against your temple.
Eventually, you find your voice. It’s a wrecked, thin thing. “…Thank you.”
Cassandra’s entire body goes still behind you. The humming in the trees seems to skip a beat.
“For what?” her voice is low, guarded.
You swallow hard, the iron-and-honeysuckle air thick in your throat. “For that night,” you say, the memory rising up like a bruise. “When I—I didn’t think anybody would ever look at me and not see… filth.”
Her arms tighten around your waist, her fingers digging slightly into your skin. You feel her heart thudding against your spine, steady and heavy as a drum.
Your voice breaks, but you force the words out. “I couldn’t even look in a mirror. Not after what they said. Not after what that preacher did. Told me if I didn’t repent, I’d be punished. Burned. Said I was cursed just for wanting what I wanted.”
You feel her breath go shallow against the nape of your neck, a dangerous heat radiating from her.
“They dragged me to that altar,” you whisper, the phantom smell of anointing oil clogging your nose. “Held me down until my joints ached. Poured that oil over me until I was blind with it. Told me to scream His name until the devil let go.” Your shoulders shake with a sob you’ve been holding for years. “I wanted to die. I prayed for it.”
You feel her shaking now, too—not with grief, but with a vibrating, monstrous rage. But she stays silent, letting you bleed out the words.
Slowly, painfully, you turn in her arms. Your muscles are sore, your skin tender from the bark and her touch, but you need to see her.
When you look at her, her eyes are a dark, glowing red. It isn't the red of crying; it’s the color of old embers, something ancient and righteous.
“You didn’t let me die,” you say, searching that terrifying, beautiful face.
“I should’ve killed them all,” she says, the words sounding like a vow. “Every last one who laid a hand on you.”
You offer her a smile—raw, ruined, and tired. “You did enough, Cass.”
She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. Her soft, large and fever-hot, cups the back of your neck, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin there.
“You’re not dirty,” she says, her voice echoing in the hollow of your chest. “You’re pure. Worthy.”
Your breath stutters. You’ve spent a lifetime hearing the opposite.
“To them, maybe I was a demon. Maybe I still am,” she says, and she kisses your cheek, a touch as soft and reverent as a prayer. “But you... you were a sacrifice. You bled for your want, sugar. And that ain’t sin. That’s scripture.”
The weight of it hits you all at once. You start crying again, but this time the jagged edges of the pain are gone. You fall forward, burying your face in the heat of her chest, letting the salt of your tears soak into her skin.
She rocks you back and forth, a slow, steady motion that matches the swaying of the trees. Her vines rise up again, brushing over your skin with a new tenderness. They don't tease or pull; they simply hold. One delicate tendril curls around your ankle, soft as moss, anchoring you to her.
“Stay with me,” she murmurs into your hair.
You nod against the pulse in her throat, your eyes closing. “You saved me, Cass.”
She tilts your chin up, forcing you to look into those glowing, unnatural eyes one last time.
“No,” she says, her voice thick with a dark, possessive pride. “You called me. Every time you cried after you left—every time you felt that hunger—I heard it.”
She presses her palm flat against your chest, right over your hammering heart. “And now you’re home.”
-.⡴°
The cabin doesn’t have windows. Not real ones. Just jagged cracks in the rotted cypress wood where the sun tries to peek through—only to get swallowed whole by the thick, grey maw of the fog.
You’re wrapped in a heavy quilt that smells of damp pine and a floral scent that’s gone off—like lilies left too long in stagnant water, blooming too late and far too red. You’re still throbbing between your legs, a deep ache that pulse-points every time you move. You’re still wet still twitching from the way she hollowed you out an hour ago.
Cass hums in the kitchen—if you can even call it that. It’s a graveyard of iron and porcelain, a battered stove that breathes soot, a crooked sink, and chipped dishes.
You sit on the warped floorboards, back pressed against the peeling wallpaper.
She looks back and smiles. It’s a sharp, knowing thing.
“Don’t fall asleep on me now, baby. You gotta eat.”
Your stomach flips at the sound of her voice. It’s too sweet, too thick.
She brings you a bowl. It’s heavy, chipped, and steaming. It smells of wild rabbit, iron, and rosemary. She kneels in front of you, the hem of her stained dress brushing your bare knees. She blows on the spoon before feeding it to you herself.
“There we go,” she coos, her eyes tracking the way your throat swallows. “Gotta keep your strength up, sugar. You’re gonna need it later. I ain't near done with you.”
You let the warmth settle in your gut, a small, dazed smile touching your lips before you look back down at the steam.
“…You cook now?” you murmur, your voice sounding thin and alien in the quiet.
She laughs, a low, melodic rasp. “I do everything now."
You believe her. You have to.
She strokes your cheek while you eat, her fingers lingering.
“You feel it, don’t you?” she whispers, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your face up. “That ache in your bones? That hollowed-out peace?”
You nod—slow, hypnotic.
“I feel like I don’t need to run anymore."
Her eyes flash, a possessive gold sparked by the dim light. “That’s right. You don’t."
She leans forward, pressing her cooling lips to the pulse point in your throat—not biting, not yet. Just a slow, wet claiming that makes your breath hitch.
“Ain’t no preacher, no town, no bloodline gonna touch you again. I’ll tear the throat out of anything that tries to take back what I’ve grown.”
You don’t ask what happens to the bodies of those who try. You just eat the food she made from the earth. You let her kiss the scars that the town gave you, and you let her create new marks.
When she beckons, you move to the lopsided bed in the corner, feeling limp and warm and finally grounded. And when the green, thorned vines begin to creep over the edge of the mattress, curling around your ankles, you don’t flinch.
You open your legs for her.
You close your eyes.
And for the first time in years, you sleep without the suffocating need to be forgiven. Because you were never a sinner for wanting to be consumed.
Request: female x female monster request where the female monster, maybe a gargoyle or ghost recognizes the reader voice from the nsfw audios she makes, and monster women teases reader and takes her somewhere private (whether that be her home or a bathroom is your choice lol)
A/N: I don’t know why, but I thought a café bathroom would be even hotter than a place like a bar or something, so there’s that. Enjoy!
The prettiest voice
Fem!gargoyle x fem!reader || dirty talk, semi-public sex
You’re out and about at the café with your friend when you feel someone tapping on your shoulder. You let out a very undignified yelp as you turn around to see the most beautiful butch gargoyle you’ve seen in your life. You might be drooling a little because she’s just… perfectly your type.
Good goddess, if you don’t just want her to completely ruin you right there.
“Excuse me,” she asks, her tone amused and flirty. “Are you whispers-of-desire?”
You let out a gasp, looking at her and feeling all the blood in your body rush to your face as you get increasingly flustered. Her smirk is enough to warm every cell in your body.
“What’s she talking about?” Your friend asks, arching a brow in your direction, completely confused.
“I’m- I’m not,” you stutter, your brain completely short-circuiting.
This can’t be happening, there’s no way the most gorgeous gargoyle just walked to you and asked if you’re someone making erotic audios of yourself masturbating. There’s just no way your life is like that.
Your face must be hotter than a hell fire as you stare back at the gargoyle, trying to make her understand with a look alone that your friend has no idea how filthy you are.
To her credit, she understands immediately, bowing her head and apologizing for her error before disappearing back into her own booth. Your friend comments how weird that was and changes topics easily.
But you? You can’t stop thinking about the gargoyle and the way your exhibitionist desires are bubbling to the surface. Your pussy soaks your panties as your eyes run up and down her back and wings from across the café.
A bit later, you’re at the counter waiting for the barista to pay you some attention when you feel a presence sit down next to you. You turn around in time to see the same gargoyle from before, smirking down at you and making you all kinds of hot and bothered.
Fuck, why does she have to be a muscle mommy? Your knees go weak the second she passively flexes her biceps in front of you.
“You are her, aren’t you?” She asks, the smirk on her mouth decadent, her body way too close to be proper. But who cares about proper when this hot as hell gargoyle is clearly into your erotic audios? “The second I heard your voice, I knew it.”
Your cheeks heat once more, and with the way she sniffs the air, she knows what kind of mess her words made of your panties. That only seems to amuse her further. “Yeah. But- But my friend doesn’t know I do that,” you confess.
“So you’re being a filthy little human in private but all proper in public?” She asks with an arched brow and a smirk so big you could spot her fangs. Fuck, that’s even hotter.
“You- You can say that,” you stutter. You curse all the gods for making you this shy in person.
Truth be told, even if you had a decent following online, you didn’t think anybody would recognize your voice. You never posted anything personal, just some audio of you whispering nonsense as you played with yourself, and they became really popular in some circles… Plus, you enjoyed the attention and how it fed right into your exhibitionistic streak.
“Where’s your friend? She left you all alone?” She asks, making you shiver with an edge of anticipation.
Shit, she’s flirting with you. Act normal, you try to remind yourself as you attempt to respond like a normal person. Unfortunately, your tone comes out all high and a bit panicky. “Yes- yes. She had to- She had to go pick up her kid.” You curse yourself for your complete stupidity.
She chuckles. “Is that so? Maybe you can show me, then.” Her tone is downright sinful, her hand touches your arm and makes your skin erupt in goosebumps.
Your heart is beating so fast you might be having a heart-attack soon. “Show you what?” You ask, your attempt at trying to sound nonchalant still ending up sounding way too eager.
She leans in close- so close to you that you can feel her hot breath against your mouth when she whispers: “You can show me how pretty you moan… for me.” Your whole brain stops working, and your clit starts throbbing in time with the beat as your heart.
“He- here?” You ask, confused.
Is she asking you to go home with her? Because you totally will if she asks you to.
She chuckles, her hand cupping your jaw as she stares into your eyes in a way that makes you feel like she’s scrying your whole soul. “Do you want to?” She questions back, a smile on her lips as she leans forward and gives you the most chaste kiss.
“Yes,” you whisper, craving more of her kisses, craving more of her.
She smiles so big you feel like you’ve won a prize. “Okay, baby,” the pet name makes your whole body shake. “Wait for me in the bathroom, I’ll be right there.” She pulls back and asks for the check, paying yours and hers as you walk backwards until you feel yourself enter the hallway leading to the bathroom.
You’re barely inside when someone closes the door behind you. She picks you up and spins you around so fast you almost get dizzy. The second her mouth is over yours and your legs are around her middle, it feels like a frenzy, like you can’t get enough of her.
She presses your back against the wall and starts kissing down your neck, whispering filth against your heated skin. “Are you going to moan for me like you do in your audios? Are you going to cum so prettily you let out those tiny whimpers of need that drive me fucking insane?” She lets out a tiny growl at the end and your blood boils.
Her hands are everywhere, cupping your boobs, groping your ass, touching every inch of your body over your clothes until you’re moaning and she’s smirking so big against your neck that you can feel the tip of her fangs brush against your jugular. Fuck, that only makes you run hotter.
“I’ve been listening to you frantically, you know?” She confesses, opening your pants and slipping a hand inside.
The angle is weird, but the second she finds your clit you’re groaning like you have in your filthiest audios. She’s encouraged by this, sucking a mark on your neck and going lower, until she can feel how wet you are for her already.
“I’ve been obsessed with your voice since the first time I heard you. Then I heard you here and, fuck, you’re even prettier than I imagined. You are just perfect. Such a pretty little human that moans beautifully enough to bring a gargoyle to her knees.” She slips two fingers inside of your sopping wet pussy and you let out an obscene sound. “Do you like that, baby? Do you like to know I’ve been touching myself to your audios for the longest time?”
“Ye- Yes. Fuck. I- I’m glad,” you let out in the most obscene voice you can muster, which comes out naturally because her fingers are better than any dildo you have.
“Curse for me more, baby, let me hear your pretty voice some more.” You whimper, your pussy clenching around her fingers, head thrown back as she kisses your neck and continues to get completely filthy with her words.
“I’m- I’m so close… Please,” you beg. Her fingers move faster, rubbing over your G-spot as she presses the heel of her palm against your clit. Your hips are moving frantically, seeking a release that you can feel at the edge of your consciousness already.
She groans at the same time as you do. “Fuck, I love when you beg like that.” She licks your open mouth, and you whimper. “Cum for me, pretty human. Let me hear how fucking filthy you sound when you cum so messily around my fingers.”
And instantly you do. Your body seizes as you clench around her fingers, head thrown back as you moan. You’re completely oblivious to your surroundings as she drives you completely wild.
She’s still kissing your neck when you come back to your senses, her fingers slipping out. She pulls them up until they’re in front of your face and you open your mouth dutifully. She slips them inside and you suck them clean as she groans like it pains her.
She pulls them back and kisses your open mouth, releasing your body slowly. “Wha- what about you?” You ask her, your legs weak under you to the point where she has to hold onto your waist so you don’t fall.
She just chuckles. “Oh, baby, the day isn’t over yet… I just need to take you to someplace where you can scream.”
As you try to fall asleep, you feel your lips go cold and you are elated that it’s happening again. Her lips press softly against yours. You feel the weight of her invisible body. You sink into your queen size mattress draped in silk sheets.
She starts slipping off your camisole and lace underwear. Your teeth shivering with the cold but it feels electric under her touch. Not being able to see her only heightens your senses. She smells like jasmine blossoms and old books.
Finger tips trace the frame of your body till she finds your dripping wet pussy. Her fingers enter you slowly…
A fallen angel is squished beneath a bunny girl getting railed by her dragon wife
All of these are original characters
Melissa the fallen angel
Sunflower the bunny girl
Pandora the dragon
Sapphic monster sex, dragon x bunny girl x fallen angel, threesome, futa dragon, female dragon
I lay draped, naked between Melissa's four pitch-black wings over her back, her ginger hair tickled my nose as I rested my chin on the top of her head. She sighed contentedly snuggling into the bed beneath her.
A deep rumble from behind us has me turning my eyes to Pandora as the teal scaled dragon woman walked into the room. Her lips parted in a feral grin that sent wicked thoughts sparking in my head and heat pooling between my legs.
"Yes my love?" I asked wiggling my fluffy bunny tail at her.
"Giving my naughty wife what she's been begging for" Pandora answered walking up to the edge of the bed and stroking a clawed hand over my ass.
"Yes please" I tried to make it teasing and giggly but it came out breathless and needy.
"Yes please what?" Pandora leaned over me, the firm warmth of her body against my back making me melt against Melissa's. Her hot breath against my ear had me whining and my face turning red as I answered.
"Please fuck your bunny's brains out, Owner"
She straightened running her hands over my back and ass before resting them on my hips. Her large dragon cock rested against my ass teasing me.
"Good girl" She rumbled as she pulled back, lined herself up and thrust inside me in one smooth motion. I moaned loudly arms wrapping tightly around the fallen angel I'd been cuddling on top of.
"Yes, that's what I've been needing"
Melissa's expression as she looked back at us shifted from pouting about her cuddles being disturbed to giggling as Pandora pulled back and slammed back inside of me making my eyes roll back and my mouth fall open on another moan.
"You missed your dragon" Pandora teased grinding deep before pulling back and slamming back in.
My hands found their way to Melissa's breasts and squeezed drawing moans and giggles from her.
"Of course" I moaned as Pandora thrust into me. "I missed" I panted and whined as she pulled back out. "My wife" I moaned as she thrust back in.
Pandora kept the pace of pulling almost completely out, slamming back in, and grinding into me before pulling back out, drawing more moans and cries out of me.
I nudged Melissa's hair away from the back of her neck with my nose and bit down hard as heat started to wind tight inside me. Melissa moaned relaxing under my bite.
"You're evil" She giggled.
Pandora bent over my back to whisper in my ear. "Good girl" as she continued thrusting inside me.
I sobbed into the back of Melissa's neck as my body clenched around Pandora and the tight hot feeling inside me snapped.
Pandora slammed deep inside one last time shuddering and pressing her weight onto my back and grinding deep as I came around her.
I yelped in pain and pleasure as her teeth sunk deep into my shoulder as she ground into again and her warm cum filled me.
Pandora pulled her teeth away from my shoulder and kissed the bite mark she left behind.
Characters: F!Selkie/F!Human
Content: SFW, F/F Romance, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Love Languages
Spice Level: Mild
Word Count: ~2500
Notes: As with all my stories now, this was posted on my Patreon well before it was posted here on Tumblr. Read all my stories sooner, as well as exclusive stories on Patreon.
Sometimes love means learning impossible things. Sometimes it means building an ocean in your backyard.
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The job offer came on a Tuesday, delivered via email with the kind of formal letterhead that made my hands shake as I read it. Director of Marine Research, Thornfield University. Everything I'd worked toward for the past eight years, wrapped up in a salary figure that made my studio apartment rent look like pocket change.
It was perfect. Exactly what I hoped for. And it was two hundred miles inland.
I stared at my laptop screen until the words blurred, then looked up at Kira. She was curled in the window seat of our cramped beachside studio, her dark hair still damp from her morning swim, watching the waves with that particular stillness that meant she was listening to something I couldn't hear.
"The Thornfield position came through," I said.
Her shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. "The one you interviewed for last month?"
"They want an answer by next Friday."
Kira turned from the window, and I caught the flash of something—fear? resignation?—before her expression smoothed into practiced calm. Three years together, and I was still learning to read the subtle currents of her emotions.
"It's perfect for you," she said. "You've wanted this since graduate school."
"It's inland, Kira. Really inland."
"I know." She stood, moving with the fluid grace that was so uniquely her. "We'll figure it out."
But I knew what "figure it out" meant for a selkie. I'd done enough research in the early days of our relationship to understand that saltwater wasn't optional for her. It was survival. The longest she'd ever gone without ocean immersion was three days, during a family emergency, and she'd grown physically ill by the end of it.
That night, while Kira slept, I fell down an internet rabbit hole of marine biology forums, pool installation companies, and increasingly specific searches about artificial ocean environments. By dawn, I had seventeen browser tabs open and a notepad filled with terms like "salinity controllers" and "wave generation systems."
Three days of research convinced me it was possible. A week of price quotes convinced me I was insane. Which is why I found myself sitting across from my brother Mike the following Saturday, trying to explain my plan without sounding completely unhinged.
"You want to build a what?" Mike stared at me over his coffee cup.
"A saltwater pool system. With tides."
"With tides," he repeated slowly. "Like, artificial tides. That you're programming."
"The technology exists. There are companies that specialize in—"
"Emma." Mike set down his cup. "Do you know how much something like that costs?"
I did know. I'd spent the past week getting quotes that made my new salary look suddenly very reasonable. "It's an investment."
"In what, exactly?"
I thought about trying to explain Kira's nature to my relentlessly practical brother, about the way she moved through water like it was another element entirely, about the quiet panic in her eyes when she was away from the ocean for too long. Instead, I said, "In our future."
Mike's skeptical expression told me everything I needed to know about his opinion on my investment strategy, but he didn't push further. By the time I left his apartment, I'd already made my decision. That day, I called Thornfield University to accept their offer, and immediately started looking for houses with very specific requirements.
House hunting with those requirements proved... interesting.
"The pool will need to be at least twelve feet deep," I told our realtor, a cheerful woman named Janet who'd stopped looking surprised by our requests. She clearly didn't understand them, but in the name of pleasing the client, she was rolling with them. I was going to leave her a stellar review.
"And we'll need excellent drainage," Kira added. "For overflow situations."
"Overflow?" Janet's pen paused over her notepad.
"Weather events," I said quickly. "Storm runoff. That sort of thing."
We looked at seventeen houses. Kira rejected most of them quietly—a shake of her head, a gentle "the feng shui is off" that I'd learned meant the place felt wrong for reasons she couldn't explain to humans. I rejected others for practical reasons: neighbors too close, pools too small, soil that wouldn't handle the drainage requirements.
The eighteenth house sat on two acres of rolling hills, with a neglected pool that was exactly the right size and an overgrown garden that hid it from neighboring properties. Kira walked the pool's perimeter twice, then looked up at me with something like hope in her eyes.
"This could work," she said.
We put in an offer that afternoon. While we waited for the paperwork to process, I started interviewing contractors, looking for someone who could handle what I was already thinking of as "Project Ocean."
The contractor, a weathered man named Bill who specialized in "custom aquatic installations," didn't bat an eye when I explained we needed a saltwater system with "tidal simulation capabilities."
"Rich folks and their hobbies," he muttered, but his quote was reasonable and his timeline realistic.
The renovation took six weeks. Six weeks of heavy machinery, daily deliveries of sand and specialized equipment, and increasingly curious neighbors who found reasons to walk their dogs past our house every morning.
"That's quite a project you've got going," said Mrs. Chen from next door, watching a truck deliver what was clearly marine-grade filtration equipment.
"My partner's really into swimming," I said, which was technically true.
The salt deliveries started during week three, before the pool was even finished. Industrial sea salt, delivered monthly in quantities that made the UPS driver do a double-take.
"You running a restaurant or something?" he asked, hefting the fourth fifty-pound box.
"We're just very serious about cooking," I replied.
But as I soon discovered, having salt was only the beginning of the challenge. Getting the water chemistry right proved to be far more complex than I'd anticipated.
Pool salt wasn't ocean salt; it lacked the complex mineral profile that Kira needed. I spent hours on the phone with fellow marine biologists, aquarium specialists, and one very patient woman from the Monterey Bay Aquarium who walked me through proper salinity testing without asking too many questions about why I needed ocean-quality water in a backyard pool.
The first batch was wrong. Too much magnesium, not enough trace minerals. Kira dipped her fingers in and immediately pulled back.
"It's close," she said diplomatically.
The second batch was better, but still artificial-tasting. The third batch made her smile, the first real smile I'd seen since we'd started this project.
"This," she said, "feels like home."
I smiled and nodded, but privately I knew there was still one more element missing. The water might feel right, but it was still motionless, artificial. Real ocean water moved with tides and currents, responding to forces larger than itself. That's when I started researching wave machines, not as part of the official plan, but as my own secret project.
While Kira was at work, I researched tidal patterns and current simulation, diving deep into oceanographic data for the specific coastal region where she'd grown up. I spent evenings programming the system, learning about lunar cycles and how they affected tide timing, about the subtle differences between winter and summer patterns. But the more I researched, the more I realized I needed something no oceanographic database could provide—the specific, intimate knowledge of how those tides had felt to a young selkie growing up in their rhythm.
That's when I decided to call her grandmother.
"You want to know about the tides from Kira's childhood?" Moira's voice carried the salt-and-sage accent of the old country. "That's an odd request, dear."
"It's for a surprise," I said. "Something to remind her of home."
There was a long pause. Then, quietly: "She told me about your pool. About what you're doing for her."
"She did?"
"The children always tell their grandmothers everything, eventually." Another pause. "High tide was always at sunset when she was small. She used to dance in the waves while I made dinner. The moon sets the rhythm, but the land shapes the song. You'll want the primary surge to peak just as the sun touches the horizon."
I spent the next two weeks fine-tuning the wave machine's programming, incorporating Moira's memories with the technical specifications. By the time Bill's crew returned for the final installation phase, I had something I hoped would be more than just artificial waves—I had a piece of Kira's childhood, translated into code and machinery.
The pool was finished on a sunny Thursday afternoon. Kira stood at the edge while Bill's crew made final adjustments to the filtration system, her hands clasped behind her back in a way that meant she was trying not to show how nervous she was.
"All set," Bill announced. "Give it a couple hours for the chemicals to settle, then she's all yours."
After the crew left, Kira and I sat on the deck chairs we'd bought for the occasion, watching the surface of our artificial ocean catch the afternoon light.
"You know," she said carefully, "if this doesn't work—if I can't adapt to it—"
"It'll work."
"But if it doesn't, I don't want you to—"
I reached for her hand. "Kira. It'll work."
She squeezed my fingers. "How can you be so sure?"
I thought about the weeks of research, the phone calls to colleagues, the careful calibration of mineral content and pH levels. About the artificial current, meant to make the pool feel more natural for her.
"I just am," I said, squeezing her hand back. "It will be good, you'll see."
Kira's first swim was tentative. She slipped into the water like she was testing a stranger's hospitality, moving carefully through the artificial currents. I watched from the deck, trying not to hold my breath, as she duck-dove beneath the surface.
She emerged near the pool's center, her seal-sleek skin gleaming in the late afternoon sun. For a moment, she floated motionless. Then she began to swim—long, powerful strokes that ate up the pool's length, turns so fluid they looked choreographed.
Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. I'd never seen her swim so long in one session, not even in the ocean. When she finally pulled herself out, she was breathing hard but smiling.
"It's good," she said, water dripping from her hair. "It's really good, Emma. The mineral content, the temperature—how did you know?"
"Research," I said. "Lots of research."
She kissed me, tasting of salt and satisfaction. "Thank you."
I watched her happiness over the following days, saw how she moved through our artificial ocean with growing confidence and comfort. But I found myself waiting for the perfect moment to reveal the final surprise: the hidden programming that would transform our pool from a mere saltwater swimming facility into something that might truly feel like home.
Two weeks later, I finished the final calibrations on the wave machine. The programming was complex—lunar cycles and seasonal variations, current patterns that mimicked the specific coastal region where Kira had grown up. I'd even factored in the way her grandmother had described the tides of her childhood, the daily rhythm of waves that surged highest just as the sun touched the horizon.
I waited for the right evening. Full moon, clear skies, Kira floating peacefully in the center of the pool as sunset approached. She was on her back, eyes closed, completely relaxed for the first time since we'd moved inland.
The wave machine activated silently, just as the sun began to paint the sky orange and pink. The first gentle surge lifted Kira slightly, a barely perceptible swell that could have been wind-driven.
But Kira's eyes snapped open.
The second wave was stronger, a rolling motion that carried her toward the pool's shallow end in exactly the rhythm of home. Her expression shifted from confusion to wonder to something deeper—recognition so profound it was almost painful to witness.
"Emma," she whispered, treading water as the artificial tide carried her back toward the deep end. "Emma, how—?"
The waves continued their programmed dance, and I watched three years of homesickness wash out of Kira's face. She moved with the artificial currents like she was remembering a song she'd known since childhood, her body responding to rhythms coded into her very DNA.
"I called your grandmother," I said. "Asked her about the tides from when you were little. High tide at sunset, primary surge as the sun touches the horizon."
Kira's eyes filled with tears that might have been saltwater, might have been emotion. "You programmed our pool to match my birthplace?"
"I programmed our pool to feel like home."
She swam to the pool's edge, pulled herself out, and kissed me with desperate gratitude. "Do you have any idea what this means to me?"
I thought about the months of research, the conversations with marine biologists, the careful attention to details that seemed impossibly specific. About the love that had driven me to recreate an ocean in our backyard, to build a home that honored both our natures.
"I'm starting to," I said.
The months that followed brought their own rhythm. Learning the maintenance schedules, adjusting for seasonal changes, troubleshooting the occasional technical glitch. Our artificial ocean became as much a part of our daily routine as morning coffee or evening news, and somehow more essential than both. I knew the sound of the filtration system cycling, the schedule of salt deliveries, the precise mineral balance to make Kira's eyes light up when she first touched the water each morning.
I learned to love the rhythm of it— the daily testing, the seasonal adjustments, the way the wave machine's cycles became the heartbeat of our home. I grew less self-conscious about explaining the particular requirements of our pool, or our "very serious" swimming hobby.
Kira swam every morning and evening, sometimes alone, sometimes with me paddling alongside her. She didn't laugh at my very human swimming style, though I sometimes caught her lips twisting in amusement.
On full moon nights, she slept floating in the pool's center. In warm weather I'd sleep on one of the lounge chairs on the patio, listening to the sound of artificial waves. In colder weather I'd retreat to our bedroom and watch over her through the large floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Any regrets?" She asked me one night, as we sat on the deck watching the sunset trigger the evening tide cycle.
I thought about the job that had started this whole adventure, about the research opportunities and the career I'd built studying the very creatures my partner belonged to. About the artificial ocean we'd created together, and the way it had become more real to us than any natural body of water.
"Only one," I said.
Her expression grew concerned. "What?"
"I should have installed a hot tub too."
Kira laughed, the sound carrying across our backyard sea like the call of something wild and free. "Soon," she promised.
"Soon," I agreed, and watched the waves carry her home.
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