Walking through the field is where you spotted it. To you it was nothing but a scarecrow. To local legend, it was the Hans Trapp. A man evil man who had a taste for the forbidden flesh.
A man who had made deals with the underworld lord himself. You didn't believe in all of the nonsense the locals preached as facts. That itself is what led you to walk around a field alone.
Plus, if the Hans Trapp was real, you'd be a victim by now. Right? The thrill of this scarecrow possibly killing you turned you on. Thinking about it possibly eating you sent your mind straight down to the gutters.
The Hans Trapp scarecrow was handsome after all. You started thinking of all the ways it could eat you. The thought of it eating your pussy turned you on more than you'd admit. You mindlessly start rubbing your hand up the scarecrow's leg.
Nobody was around so you decided to act on your impulses. Being alone in the field with just the scarecrow. You take him off of his stand and lay him down in the tall grass.
You're beyond turned on by the scarecrow you don't think twice when you straddle it. Rubbing your needy pussy on its body. The friction makes you moan. Wanting nothing but more and to feel more.
You slide your pants off and position yourself over his face. For a scarecrow his build is quite firm. Its nose hits your clit on the perfect spot as you slowly hump his face.
Grabbing its straw filled arms to hold on your waist as if it were a real person. Rubbing your hips in circles to reach your sweet climax. Feeling your climax building in your abdomen, you pick up your pace.
Just as you're about over the edge, you feel the scarecrow hold your waist inhumanly tight and you feel your pussy being eaten. You let out a scream of pleasure and terror.
Your reach your climax very fast. The thrill of the fear and the pleasure is just too much. Except now, you know the locals were not wrong about the Hans Trapp. He did eat you after all.
Twelve Days of Exomas - 70+k words of exclusive exophilia stories!
So, they’re all up now.
*wheezes and passes out*
For a long excerpt from Day Six (male were-yeti x reader) see below!
Twelve Days of Exomas (Christmas Special stories) 2019
Day One (male mummy x female reader - v. light nsfw)
Day Two (male djinn x male reader - NSFW)
Day Three (female were-hyena x female reader - NSFW)
Day Four (male sharkmer x reader - v. light NSFW/kiss)
Day Five (female orc x male reader - NSFW)
Day Six (male were-yeti x reader, Part One - SFW)
Day Seven (male were-yeti x reader, Part Two - v. light NSFW/kiss)
Day Eight (non-binary demon x reader - light NSFW)
Day Nine (male werewolf x male vampire x female character, Part One - NSFW)
Day Ten (male werewolf x male vampire x female character, Part Two - NSFW)
Day Eleven (female naga x reader - NSFW)
Day Twelve (male haunted mirror/Fae (x reader - NSFW)
Day Six - Male were-yeti x reader long excerpt (sfw)
“Come to Snowy Starfall Springs, they said. Live out the fairytale Winter Wonderland dream, they said,” you spat as you waded through knee-deep snow, way off the trail, lost, freezing your backside off, and with the daylight hours slowly burning out. “Fuck.”
The eerie stillness of the woods didn’t help either.
Short, stocky, slow-growing pines, their branches laden with snow, stood sentry against the approaching night, and the old, softened tracks of either a cervitaur or an actual deer were the only sign that anything else aside from you was even alive out here. You might not be for much longer unless you found that trail and headed back, but you couldn’t be that far from where you’d gone wrong. You had driven three hours out of Starfall Springs into the Starfall Mountains, parked up at the trail head, donned your awkward snow-shoes, and plunged eagerly into the wilderness that morning. You’d only intended for this to be a four hour hike, but instead you’d missed a turning somewhere, and had ended up somewhere off the usual trails, in the arse end of Winter Wonderland. “Happy Solstice, eh?” you chided yourself.
You’d just stopped and resigned yourself to digging around in your pack for your phone and compass - having been assured that the trail would be easy enough to follow in a nice loop from the car park - when up ahead, the stillness broke as something shifted between the trees, and you froze. These parts weren’t known for harbouring particularly dangerous wildlife, but there were packs of wolves, and even feral werewolves if the stories were true, and you were easy picking like this. Tiredness seeped into your muscles along with the cold, and you flexed your fingers, frozen on the point of sloughing off your backpack.
To your utter astonishment, a young child appeared between the snowy pines. Unlike you, he was not really dressed for the cold, wearing only a sweater and scruffy jeans. He stopped, stared straight at you, and then laughed. It wasn’t a particularly kind laugh either.
“Shit,” you hissed, watching your breath fog across your vision for a moment. Your eyelashes were frozen, creating a thick border of white around your vision because you’d neglected to bring your goggles too.
The child bent and swept their hand through the snow in a rapid arc, sending a wide spray of powder glittering through the air, and amid the flurry, they turned and ran.
“Wait!” you yelled after them. “Wait! Is there a shelter around here?” As if you had no more sense than a jackrabbit, you plunged through the trees after him, immediately tripping on the toe of your snow shoe and pitching into a deep bank of snow, face first.
His hair had been a white blond, and his skin a warm, rosy brown, and somehow he looked like he belonged here among the sleeping pines and wild, endless skies. You, meanwhile, were making more noise than a bear in a city trashcan.
Around your fresh mouthful of snow, you cursed and rolled upright. It wasn’t easy to do, but you’d fallen over enough times on your way out from the trail head to learn how to pick yourself up. Faceplant, roll onto your front, rock up onto your knees, windmill your arms a bit, stand up. Rinse and repeat.
As you straightened again, you heard the boy’s laughter and froze. “Hello?”
It seemed to come from one direction and then, a moment later, from another.
“Fuck’s sake,” you muttered bitterly to yourself. “Listen, I got turned around and I could use your help. I’m going to freeze my butt off if I stay out here tonight. Can you help me or not?”
Empty childish laughter was your only response.
Sucking in a deeper breath - cautiously because if you breathed too deeply and too quickly you’d start coughing with the cold - you headed in the direction you’d last seen the boy prancing through the snow like a Solstice reindeer. How did he move like that? Could he be a fae? At that point you were almost ready to sell your left kidney for a safe place to spend the night, but as the thought crossed your mind you realised that maybe you were more desperate than you should be. You still had perhaps an hour left of daylight, and you had a compass and a detailed map in your bag.
Out of nowhere, a deep, bellowing roar split the silence, crystalline fragments of winter peace shattering as your ears rang and you stumbled, catching the front of your snow-shoe again. You went down hard with a grunted ‘oof’ and felt your ankle go. It didn’t snap, thank all the gods, but you’d sprained it before and remembered the shock and the sudden rush of heat. You couldn’t have helped the yell that left your lips as you went down even if your soul (or your left kidney) had depended on it.
Defeated, frustrated, and in a fair bit of pain, you just lay there, face down in the snow for a minute. Perhaps the bear - if it had indeed been a bear - wouldn’t notice you if you just lay there.
Heavy footfalls reached you not long after, the snow squeaking slightly as it was compressed beneath large feet.
Shit.
Summoning the strength to turn your head, you looked and found two enormous, fluffy white hind paws, tipped with thick, four-inch long, jet black claws standing right beside you. You didn’t think that polar bears lived in these parts, but by this point, your exhaustion ran bone-deep, your muscles were shaky and cramping with the creeping cold, and your reserves of courage had just run completely dry. And with that, you went limp.
The creature knelt beside you and turned you over, chuffing softly like a tiger and gripping your backpack as if it were the scruff of your neck. Your stomach swooped, and when you opened your eyes, you saw that you were five feet off the ground, in the claws of a creature you’d thought only existed in ancient fairy tales.
A yeti had you in its claws.
Stars danced in your vision and you went limp before you could process much more than the dull, deep growl that reverberated around pronounced canines and black lips.
Warmth washed through you and you wriggled gently before a flash of sharp pain shot up your leg and you stopped moving immediately. At the sound of your shuffling, something sat up straight beside you and you blinked again, trying to clear your vision a bit.
Covered by a soft, woollen rug, you were lying on a sofa in a wooden cabin, with an iron, wood-burning stove blazing away at one end of the modest space, and with vibrantly coloured rugs and throws decorating the floor and couch. Everything had a handmade look to it, including the house itself right down to the cement used to seal the gaps between the rounded logs of the cabin walls and the rustic wooden handles on the doors.
In a chair near you sat possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen in your whole life, and the first words out of your mouth when you spotted him were, embarrassingly, “Am I dead?”
He laughed joyously, his ice-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His skin was a warm, rich tanned brown, his eyebrows steel grey, and his long, thick, wiry white hair tied back off his ruggedly chiselled face in a half-ponytail. He looked to be at some intangible age between thirty and forty, with laughter lines around his eyes and one or two between his brows. His lips were full and looked infinitely kissable, slightly chapped, and he had a thick, pale scar on his chin that stretched up his neck, over his jawline to his lower lip that just invited you to press your fingers to it and draw him closer for a kiss. Naturally, you did none of that, and just stared at him like a thunderstruck imbecile.
“You’re not dead,” he chuckled, and you immediately felt hot all over, under your skin. He had a beautiful, rich, deep, lyrical voice with a lilting, thick accent. “But you did twist your ankle pretty good. How do you feel?”
As you blinked again, you realised that it was dark outside and that the curtains had been drawn against the night. You shifted again, trying to sit upright, and you realised that your foot was cold. Staring down at it, you discovered that he’d strapped a plastic ice block to it, wrapped in a tea-towel. “Where am I?” you asked groggily. “What happened?” and then you added, “That kid… there was a boy out there…?”
“You mean that one?” the man asked gruffly, scowling and jutting his chin over his shoulder at a wild-looking boy standing at the other end of the cabin. He was resting his lean, wiry frame against the doorway to what looked like a kitchen area, though it was hard to see in the low lamplight. The kid, perhaps nine or ten, flashed you a wickedly sharp smile and disappeared into the other room.
“Yeah,” you said lamely. “He’s yours?”
“Yup,” he said, standing up and looming over you for a moment before backing off, mostly so you didn't have to crick your neck to look at him.
He was wearing a creamy, cable-knit jumper with an intricate pattern on, and pale scruffy jeans with a rip in the knee. Where he was tall he was also broad-shouldered, though there was a softness to his torso that spoke of a different kind of strength from movie stars and body builders. He was the kind of man who could lift a tree trunk without much difficulty, but probably couldn’t sprint for long without getting winded.
“Who are you?” you asked as he turned away and reached for a mug on a nearby table. It looked unusual and you realised a second later that it was carved from wood. Something in the back of your head said, with the voice of your late grandmother, that it was called a ‘kuksa’ by folks in these parts.
“Oh,” he said, pausing and glancing back at you over his shoulder. His hair was thick and coarse looking, hanging just down to his shoulder blades but you still felt the inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it. You frowned, wondering whether he’d slipped you something while you’d been unconscious. “I’m Arttu,” he said, drawing out the consonants in a way that made your mouth go a bit dry. His eyes were so blue that they were almost beyond comprehension. You’d never seen anyone with eyes that colour. “Here,” he added, moving back to you and holding out the kuksa.
You made no move to take it from him, no matter how rough and big and inviting his hands looked. “What is it?” you asked.
“Water,” he grinned. “You’re safe here, I promise.”
“You can’t blame me for being wary,” you grumbled, sitting up awkwardly and reaching for the cup. “Passing out in the claws of a yeti and waking up in the cabin of some supernaturally handsome guy…”
Arttu nearly dropped the kuksa as he handed it to you, but he laughed almost shyly at your words. “Well,” he said, oddly flustered and with his cheeks slightly flushed. From the other room, the boy yelled something in a language you didn’t speak or recognise, and Arttu replied more softly in the same.
You tried not to make an indecent noise at the sound of his voice, and looked away. You took in the way your foot was propped up on a cushion and, for the first time, noticed that your very unflattering snow-suit was nowhere to be seen.
When you looked back up at him, Arttu was licking his lips nervously and had stepped back even further. You drank and then set the kuksa on a nearby hand-made, pine coffee table. “I mean it,” he said in a soft, earnest voice. “You’re safe here. Are you hungry?”
For you? “Uh, yeah?” you said, suddenly realising how long it had been since breakfast as your stomach clenched almost painfully.
His lips twitched and he nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
___
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Last thing you expected when baking was your cookies coming to life. Not only was it alive but it was huge. You could practically look the gingerbread man in the eyes.
Oddly enough you both had sexual tension between the two of you. The now sentient cookie really put the man in gingerbread man. It had a large cock that was already hard as he stares at you.
You decide to humor yourself and tease the gingerbread man. You carefully reach to take a gumdrop off of his abdomen and eat it. You take a bite very slow while holding eye contact. You watch his cookie cock twitch as you eat his gumdrop button.
The gingerbread man walks closer to you. Leaving a small trail of cookie crumbs as he gets closer. You get on your knees and start to lick up his abdomen.
Tasting the spices of the cookie and licking off the frosting that glued the gumdrop to his body. You feel his throbbing cock against your body and decide to take it a step farther.
Just as you're about to put the gingerbread man's cock in your mouth, he caresses your face teasingly. His hand grazes your mouth, and you take a small bite. Tasting him in your mouth.
As you chew, you move down to his cock. Sliding the firm cookie into your mouth. You rub your tongue all along its length. Your mouth is filled with an overwhelming taste of the holiday cookie.
Continuing to suck and lick the gingerbread man's cock it starts to soften. Not like a human man but from the cookie absorbing your saliva. Almost as if was on cue, your mouth fills with frosting.
The gingerbread man came inside of your mouth and his cum was frosting. You didn't know what to expect but it wasn't that it kept spilling into your mouth as if it was a full frosting bag.
Trying to swallow it all before it spills from your lips but it doesn't work. There's frosting dripping from your mouth. The gingerbread man wipes your face of the frosting. Except he isn't cleaning your face. He's using his frosting cum to attach another gumdrop button to his abdomen.
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Latest ExoMas story on Patreon! It’s a poly one this time, and not a reader insert because my patrons said they like a mix, so a mix is what they shall get.
(For more info on the Twelve Days of Exomas Extravaganza, click here)
Twelve Days of Exomas (Christmas Special stories) 2019
Day One (male mummy x female reader - v. light nsfw)
Day Two (male djinn x male reader - NSFW)
Day Three (female were-hyena x female reader - NSFW)
Day Four (male sharkmer x reader - v. light NSFW/kiss)
Day Five (female orc x male reader - NSFW)
Day Six (male were-yeti x reader, Part One - SFW)
Day Seven (male were-yeti x reader, Part Two - v. light NSFW/kiss)
Day Eight (non-binary demon x reader - light NSFW)
Day Nine (male werewolf x male vampire x female character, Part One - NSFW)
Join Monsters & Maw on Patreon to get access to this post and more benefits.
12 exclusive stories will be going up on Patreon between 25th December and 6th January 2020. The first one (male mummy x female reader) clocked in at a whopping 10,027 words!
Stories so far:
Day One (male mummy x female reader - v. light nsfw)
Day Two (male djinn x male reader - NSFW)
Day Three (female were-hyena x female reader - NSFW)
I really hope you enjoy them! I’ll be writing a mix of readers and monsters on here, so hopefully there’ll be something for everyone. It’s my way of thanking my patrons for their support, and I wish you all a wonderful festive season!
(For more info on the Twelve Days of Exomas Extravaganza, click here)
Join Monsters & Maw on Patreon to get access to this post and more benefits.
12 exclusive stories will be going up on Patreon between now and 6th January 2020. The first one (male mummy x female reader) clocked in at a whopping 10,027 words, and the second one, a male (semi-genderfluid?) djinn x male reader (nsfw) came to over 7k words, so it’s shaping up to be a big treat!
I really hope you enjoy them! I’ll be writing a mix of readers and monsters on here, so hopefully there’ll be something for everyone. It’s my way of thanking my patrons for their support, and I wish you all a wonderful festive season!
(For more info on the Twelve Days of Exomas Extravaganza, click here)
