So, apparently I'm not the only one who is offended by the lack of Melon fics, especially Melon x reader ones, and I had a sudden desire to change that. If we don't have something, we should create it, right? Hope it's not too bad though, haha.
Minors, go away right now!
THE TRUTH. pt. 1
TW: explicite, reader is a female, kidnapping, sensory deprivation, handcuffs, toys, nipple clamps, overstimulation, dirty talk and cursing, mention of murder, thoughts of death (guess that's it, also English isn't my first language, I used a translator, so I hope there isn't many mistakes)
You canât even begin to imagine how much time has passed. Since the toys shut off, itâs been about two hours, but how long ago did that happen?
It was a relief when they finally died. He left you, your hands and feet tied to the iron bars of the bedframe, blindfolded, with a tape on your mouth. And you wouldnât have been in such horror if he hadnât taped one vibrator to your clit and shoved another inside you to the very base, sealing the entrance securely so it wouldnât fall out.
Before leaving, he chided himself for being forgetful. What had he forgotten? To attach clamps to your nipples and crank them to the maximum, of course. You felt his satisfied exhale on the top of your head as you shrieked from the steel biting into your tender buds. And then he turned both toys on at the highest setting simultaneously⊠His loud, manic laughter still echoed in your ears. If you could have screamed at full volume, theyâd have heard you across the entire country, and if it werenât for the restraints, youâd have arched your back so hard youâd break your spine. But you thought that would be better than being unable to let your body fully react to this assault.
âHow amusingâŠâ he whispered thoughtfully. âYouâre screaming exactly like that young lamb I was slitting the throat of last week. Tell me, whatâs it like? Does it feel good? Does it hurt? Are you scared? Oh, right, sorry, you canât say anything.â
Your desperate attempts to break free and cry out to him triggered another wave of laughter, but a moment later, he suddenly grabbed you by the throat and spoke with just his lips against your ear:
âSo lie still and learn, like a good, diligent girl. When I get back, Iâll examine you thoroughly and ask the most difficult questions. Youâd better be perfectly prepared.â
Throughout all the time spent in this torment, a confusing mixture of pain and pleasure, you seemed to have completely forgotten how to think. Youâd scratched your wrists and ankles raw and lost your voice. What the hell would he do when he returned? And when exactly would he come back? You didnât really care anymore, because you had no strength left for anything except sleep, but you couldnât even do that â your arms were numb, your nipples ached, your whole body begged for mercy, and you were desperately thirsty. Your throat was so dry it hurt to swallow.
But you heard him. Melon was already here. Cheerfully, almost skipping, he walked down the corridor, whistling some tune. Your eyes flew open in terror and anticipation, but all you saw was the darkness of the tear-soaked blindfold.
When the door creaked, it was as if an electric current shot through your body; it came alive again, and you could now feel every inch, every note of pain, every tiny wound or stiff muscle.
âHuuuhâŠâ His growl suddenly seemed deafening after such a long period of silence and semi-consciousness. âThose fucking idiots.â
The mattress sagged under his weight as he plopped down on the bed by your feet, and your body bounced a little. You heard a rustling sound, like something being stretched. Taking off his tie, you thought. Then came the click of a lighter. You heard Melon take a drag, and a couple of seconds later, exhale slowly. The smell of tobacco reached your nostrils, and you coughed slightly, which seemed to get his attention.
Without warning, he ripped the tape off your lips. You opened your mouth to scream, but he clamped it shut with his large, clawed hand, so only a pathetic, tearful moan escaped you.
âDonât you dare,â Melon hissed. âMy head is already splitting from those goddamn students who canât sit still and shut up. Is it really that hard to keep quiet when the teacher is talking? Hmm? Show some respect?â
Hearing the threat in his voice, you were glad your own voice had given out. You could only barely grunt and breathe tiredly, and that seemed to please him. At least for now.
âYou, on the other hand⊠You always stayed quiet and listened, took detailed notes, turned everything in on time. Is that because youâre such a âgood girl,â or because no one wanted to talk to you?â
His question was followed by another drag and exhale. Drag, exhale. And your silence. With a growl, Melon yanked the clamp on your nipple, and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through you so intensely you feared you might lose it entirely.
âI asked you a question. Be so kind as to answer it.â
âIâŠâ You were shocked by your own hoarse, barely recognizable voice as you tried to push something coherent out. âI donât know. Probably both.â
âHah, hilarious. So, teachersâ pet⊠was it worth it?â
âW-worth what?â
âBeing perfect all the time just to please those old, grumpy bitches? You donât give a single shit about it, do you? The truth is, youâre just desperate for someone to praise you.â
âIâve never thought about it like thatâŠâ
Melon clicked his tongue. This time, he tore the blindfold from your eyes, catching your ear â not drawing blood, but scratching it. You immediately squeezed your eyes shut, then blinked rapidly, trying to get used to the world being accessible to you again, in all its beauty or horror. Your world was now confined to a single person, and he was sitting in front of you in his blue university shirt, staring at you with a dead-eyed gaze. In his amber irises, the flickering lights of sunset danced, and maybe something else you couldnât decipher. Perhaps he wasnât even sure what emotions he was feeling himself.
âAlright. Have you thought about what I asked you this morning, then?â
The memory of his questions about pain and pleasure immediately surfaced. Despite the inappropriate circumstances, you felt your cheeks burn.
âWhat do you want me to say?â
âThe truth.â
His gaze, still fixed on your face, confirmed his words. Melon wanted the truth, and as quickly as possible. You didnât want to know how things would end if you said nothing. You only knew you had absolutely no desire to actually end up in the place of that lamb heâd slaughtered. Or did you?
Now, having lost hope of escape or being rescued, you werenât so sure. How many others had Melon kidnapped and done what he was doing to you? You had heard of him, but had no idea what he looked like. You only knew the rumors from the Black Market about a hybrid who kept the lions (who thought themselves kings) in fear, about how cowardly they tucked their tails and lowered their gazes, how they lined up to meet him and receive their dose of humiliation.
All those whispered conversations among the campus carnivore guys only added fuel to the fire of desire burning in your belly at the thought of this maniac. Melon certainly wasnât interested in romantic affairs. You were sure youâd overheard something about carnivore-herbivore hybrids: not only do they have issues with taste perception and psychological problems related to rejecting their own bodies and not understanding who they are (exacerbated by social pressure), but their libido is also at zero or below average. It seemed nature itself disapproved of such interbreeding, thus placing a ban on the further reproduction of these individuals.
Therefore, the likelihood that the terror of the Black Market kidnapped and raped girls like some common brute wasnât just close to zero â it was in the negative. So it wasnât shameful at all to imagine such things before sleep, wrapped in a blanket with a dildo between your legs, right? They were just fantasies that helped you come harder; there was nothing wrong with that, and it would never go further.
But fate had other plans. Who would have thought that Melon â Melon himself â would turn out to be the history professor at your university? You sensed something was off right away, from the very first class. That mask, that voice, that empty gaze, that predatory walk contrasting with his lanky figure⊠But how many weird professors are there? Theyâre usually just like that â well, weird. And rarely attractive. But this hot? Damn, youâd never encountered someone like this in your life.
It was shameful, but you wanted his attention so badly. Not yet knowing who he really was, you were sure this young professor fucked like a true carnivore, so you did everything to get him to notice you. You sat closer, wrote down every word he said, watched him intently, nodded. Your hand was always the first raised when he asked a question, and you never scored below an A on homework and tests.
âHah, hilarious. So, teachersâ pet⊠was it worth it? Being perfect all the time just to please those old, grumpy bitches? You donât give a single shit about it, do you? The truth is, youâre just desperate for someone to praise you,â Melonâs words echoed in your head.
It seemed it was time for you to open your mouth, because he was already beginning to narrow his eyes disapprovingly.












