Hello!
Could we please have more of the "masked monster" husband? (The one with the antlers and skull mask)
How has the reader coped with suddenly being his bride? What is their domestic life like? And how does their...nightlife look like?
This is one of my personal favorite OC's so we absolutely can. This boy takes up too much space in my mind. I genuinely really love this dude. This also absolutely got away from me, I am so sorry (sort of) MDNI M!Beast x F!Reader, Hunting (blood): Mentioned, This is a lot of exposition honestly, in my mind this is a slow burn romance, kind of... Oral sex f! receiving Cont of : This
It took a week for you to come to terms with the fact that he wasn't going to leave your home without a fight, another week after that you finally learned his name, or at least what he told you to call him. You were feeling especially brave you walked up to him watching as he sat slumped on the living room floor inspecting a bookshelf as if it held the secrets to the universe itself.
"You're staying aren't you?" You ask, stopping at the doorway, leaving plenty of room between the two of you. His head twisted around, the red glow of his eyes meeting yours too quickly as the jaw of his fox skull face snapped shut with a definitive click making a shiver run down your spine as you felt his full attention on you. This was the first time you'd initiated the conversation, or even said more than one word responses to him. His attention sent a chill through you yet at the same time you knew you weren't in danger. Even as he shifted fully to face you.
"I am." He states simply, the skull tilting slightly to the right, as if showing animal like curiosity at the question you've posed. Slowly, cautiously even, you take a step forward.
"What do I call you?" You ask carefully, your eyes shifting to the stark white of his fangs unable to hold the eye contact of his red orbs anymore.
"You may call me Oak, morsel. Use the name often, for I will always answer." His deep bass voice rolled over you, wrapping around you like a warm blanket that could stave off any chill.
It took a month for you to be comfortable in the same room as him for long periods and to stop jumping when he seemed to appear behind you with little to no warning or sound despite his massive size and the way his antlers seemed to scrape at the ceiling if he unhunched for even a moment.
Another to be okay with the gifts he continued to leave you when he did rarely leave the quiet of your home.
"Oak..." You started carefully, stepping into the kitchen to find yet another... something... sitting on your island. It looked like this time it was the hind leg of a deer.
"Yes my morsel?" He asked, appearing closely behind you, so closely that if you took half a step back you'd be pressed against his broad frame. You'd be able to feel the thick fur on his arms and legs, the bark like texture of his exposed skin. Sometimes you found yourself wandering how well you might fit there, tucked into him like the treasure he seemed to think you were.
"I appreciate that you want to hunt for me." Your words are careful as your eyes never leave the still bleeding stump. "But please... at the very least, bleed them outside."
"Of course my love." You weren't really sure how you were ever going to get that stain out of your butchers block but... at least you rarely had to buy meat now.
It took winter coming, your old home's poor insulation doing little to keep the draft of cold air from seeping deep into your bones for you to give in and curl on the floor next to him. Tentatively at first, still keeping space between the two of you, the heat emanating off of him doing more to heat you than the fire blazing in the fire place in front of both of you.
"Can I sit with you and read?" The question is out of your mouth before you can think, the warm blanket you had over your shoulders clutched tightly in one hand as you held up a book to show him as you sat two spaces away from him. His head did that little tilt again, the red of his eyes seeming to brighten as you watched him almost physically restrain himself from moving closer to you.
"Of course Morsel... Will you read it to me?" He asks, his voice wrapping around you, soothing your cold bones with its warm bass. For a moment you're silent, looking down at the old book in your hand before nodding softly, pulling your bottom lip into your teeth to worry at it slightly.
"Yes... But it will be more comfortable if I can sit closer..." Before you can even finish your thought, two large hands wrap around your middle in a gentle but firm grip, lifting your from your spot on the floor and carefully transferring you to sitting directly in his folded legs, your back pressed against his abdomen. One arm wrapped around your waist, holding you snuggly, warmly against him.
"This will be how we read then." He declares, you know there's no point in arguing against it, and if you're being honest you don't want to. He was warm, almost hot in the way his body seemed to give off wave after wave of comforting heat that sunk into your chilled bones. You curl into his lap, ignoring the way you felt heat flooding to your cheeks as you slowly open your book and read to him in a soothing calm voice. Yawning occasionally, relaxing into him, he holds you even after you fall into a quiet steady sleep in his arms. He doesn't move all night but to reach one long arm over to stoke the slowly dying embers of the fire that once burned brightly. He holds you that night, afraid to move, afraid to wake you, afraid you might move away from him again.
You don't. This becomes part of the routine the two of you have found yourselves in. Every night you sit in his lap in front of the warmth of the fire, protected from the chill as he holds you in a loose but filling embrace as you read to him softly until you fall asleep in his arms. Each night you try to argue with your own mind, try to convince yourself you don't like the way his claws feel as they run through your hair. But you love the feeling. You try to argue that you don't snuggle into his hold, but you do. You even try to say the way you play with his fur and touch his skin is simply idly moving your hands, but it's not. Part of you wants to touch him, wants him to touch you more, every night you find that part gets bigger and bigger. Until you find yourself crawling into his lap of your own accord, curling into him as if the shape of him was meant to hold the shape of you.