Shadow Monster x Female Reader (Commissioned Piece)
So... I’m back. Been a while, but I have finished my third year at uni. Feels weird, but these three years have been a lot and I have many good memories. I look forward to the future and hope that I get to continue something I love.
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Relationship: Male monster x human reader
Mornings Like These
On crisp days like these, mornings felt so much more appreciated.
Languid music filled the air as you poured your cup of coffee into the mug you got from the boys on Mother’s day, the same hum drawing from your lips, languorously continuing with your chores to yourself, when a pair of warm arms pulled you back into the reverberating chest of your lover.
“Mornin’,” you replied sweetly, earning a groan and kiss from Hank, his wispy black tendrils dipped in and out of the air when he was sleepy, trying his best to concentrate and not clip out. “Mornin’.” his voice was deep and rich like honey, always able to bring a smile to your lips and a shiver to reach down your spine. Maybe he was aware of how much you enjoyed his raspy voice every morning, teasingly luring you each time with it.
“How’d you sleep?”
“Good, but I didn’t have you in my arms when I woke up.” Hank groaned against the back of your neck, idly sniffing your hair, but his arms would not budge when you tried moving to turn towards him. “I had to be up before the boys were,” you giggled when a wisp ticked the side of your cheek. “They’ve already gone out with Cerberus.”
“Good, that means I can have you all to myself,” he murmured incoherently, tugging you back. “Come back to bed, darlin’.”
“You know I can’t, I have to watch over breakfast.” You sang, turning a gaze to the pancakes already needing to be flipped. “They’ll burn.”
The sound he made was similar to a kicked puppy, whining in the back of his throat as he whined your name. “No buts, mister!” You giggled, enjoying how he grew lax around you, very much aware that he could phase-out of the air around you and head back to bed with a pout on his lips. “You can help by flipping the pancakes.”
“Or, I could help with something else…” he drawled, his entire demeanour changing so swiftly that you hadn’t been prepared. The mug in your grip almost fell to the counter had Hank, not been quick enough to pull it out of your grasp and put it down seamlessly. “You seem… tense.”
“I’m not tense, baby, I just want to make sure everyone eats and they don’t eat concrete spheres.” You twisted around to focus on the stove, but Hank was quick to pass through you, quickly to hug you now from the front. You halted, bumping head to chest almost clumsily, earning a deep rumble of mirth through your ears. “Oops.” He chortled, snuggling into you, pecking at your jaw.
“Hank, you know I don’t like it when you do that.” You sighed, earning the shadowy being to kiss everywhere but your lips in apology. “And now, you’re trying to make up for it.”
“No…” you snorted before you could even notice. “Come now, darlin’. I know something that could bring that pretty smile back on your face.”
“What would that be?”
“Well,” Hank slid his fingers into your hair, smoothing your scalp. “You, me and a warm bed that begs for you to come back.”
You finally looked up at him, the pout on your lips now was evident that his words were working on you. “Hank-”
“No, it’s fine, I’ll just go.” His grasp around you weakened but you had been quick to grasp his wrist before he had the chance to disappear. The look on his face told you that he was relieved you had pulled him back, his bright white eyes expecting and bold. “Is there something you need, darlin’?”
“Stay, here. With me.” You pulled him back to holding you, allowing him to peck and kiss at your face and neck. “Are you just going to continue doing this until the boys come back?”
“Maybe,” he hummed. “But I could also say things like how beautiful you look right now. How you’re practically glowing.” You scoffed, “Hardly, I haven’t had a shower.” Hank chuckled in your ear, nibbling your lobe, “We could always go for one, a quickie.”
Your cheeks flushed as you startled yourself to almost knocking the batter of pancake mix to the floor, moving it just out of your view to turn and face your lover. “Hank.” “What? Am I making you flustered?” You felt his solid form ground yourself against your behind, grinding something against the small of your back. “Am I getting you a bit excited?
”“No,” you chewed your lip, turning so he couldn’t see how red your face was becoming, shifting eyes when you heard him laugh with amusement. “You’re just distracting me.”
“Oh? Am I?” Hank purred, grinding more of him against you, groaning at the small amounts of friction. “Maybe you need the distraction, my love.” The heavy weight from Hank was making you grow light in the head, your legs almost buckling from the feelings that were building in the pit of your stomach, fluttering with the familiar pleasures that roused when he brought the smallest of pleasures across your body.
You felt him turn you back around to face him, your hands wounding up being rested against his chest, pulling you to him to kiss your lips sweetly, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip silently, begging for an answer. You finally complied, delving into that sweetness as he held you so lovingly to you, forgetting about all but focusing on one another, tugging and pulling on one another for more.
What you failed to hear was the wide slam of the door, many footsteps coming through closer and closer into the kitchen, some laughter, some jovial conversations bouncing across the walls. “Hey, ma, you don’t know if you’ve seen- Oh my God!” The two of you swiftly pulled away from one another, flushed to the cheeks, when you looked back into the doorway, the wide eyes of Hank’s boys, Jason, Jacob, Jack and the youngest, Jeremiah staring back at you. Realising that Jack had been the one to ask the question, you looked to the boys: all similar in colourings of dark purple and blacks, their eyes a differing shade from the other of green, blue, yellow and fuchsia. At the front of them came padding in the large black hound that Hank had rescued, a fitting name of Cerberus, its shadowy form had billowing smoke trail off its large long legs, its large head fitting of a wolf than a family pet. Cerberus casually ignored the confrontation, wandering to his basket in the corner of the room.
The sight alone of the four boys made you want to burst out into laughter when you realised that you had been interrupted, but the wan look to their surprised, albeit revolted faces did bring the smile to curve the corner of your lips. “Eww, that’s so gross, guys!” Jason was the first to announce horrified, pretending to retch, Jack covering Jeremiah’s eyes before it was too late.
“Hey, it’s natural between adults who love each other very much,” Hank interjected, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you to him. “You would understand when you’re all older.”
“Yeah, but not like that!” Jacob exclaimed.
The youngest, Jeremiah was still attached “Yeah, get a room! Gross!” One look to one another and before long, yours and Hank’s laughter filled the room when he doubled over, you following, holding the side of the table for support as the two of you struggled to keep your composure. All boys seemed almost disappointed at the sight of you, especially the eldest two, both of their expressions matched how ‘parents’ would look to chastising their disobedient kids.
One look to one another and before long, yours and Hank’s laughter filled the room when he doubled over, you following, holding the side of the table for support as the two of you struggled to keep your composure. All boys seemed almost disappointed at the sight of you, expressions twisted to make them look like the ‘parents’ chastising their disobedient kids. “Alright, alright,” you cleared your throat, earning a roll of the eyes from Jason and Jack. “You two be off, be safe.”
“Yeah, yeah, take your time,” Jack remarked, grabbing the phone on the table before hurrying out the door, Cerberus striding by the hip of Jeremiah with little care of the situation.
“Well… that could’ve gone better.” Hank’s mirth was still warm like whiskey in his throat, pouring heavily over you as if to coat you in the deepness of his voice. A hand curled around the small of your back, pulling you close, distracted once more from the closed door and emptiness of the house. You scoffed, jabbing a finger into his shoulder playfully, “You’re a bad influence.”
“Me?” He laughed amusedly. “You see dear, I’m not the only one of a bad influence.” “Hmm, yeah, I beg to differ.” You kissed the corner of his mouth teasingly, earning the man wrapped around you to pout boyishly. “If you’re going to pout like that, you could at least help me, not wrap around me like a snake waiting for its meal.”
“Well… we do have the house to ourselves again,” Hank hummed, nuzzling your cheek affectionately. “The boys won’t be coming back for some time.”
“Hank… if you want to sleep on the sofa, so be it.”
Be wary the shadow demon’s honeyed words. Beware their sweet murmurings. Don’t listen to their whispered promises. Never accept their kiss. Lest they pull you into the shadows too...
Just Something quick I sketched and colored while playing my Dnd session tonight. What do you think their story is?
Almost at 500 followers! I’ll be doing a raffle giveaway, so keep an eye out for that!
You already know a lot about me, @cozycryptidcorner! I am an artist at heart, my favorite media are painting and ceramics because I love how involved they are. People have often described me as someone who does no harm, but takes no shit. Being kind to others is an extremely important trait. I love it when someone is hungry for knowledge, with an eagerness to learn, grow and develop themselves into being better. I believe that going with the flow that life gives someone is a sign of strength.
You’ve been matched with a living shadow. Whether they’re the absence of light, shadows personified, or something else is something great minds have debated for centuries. It is the nature of a shadow being to be solitary, quiet, and calm. Occasionally they break the mold and do things like try to go to college.
You’re in the library stacks working on an art history project when the shadows around you sort of congeal into a humanoid shape and politely ask if you are done with one of your books. You’re startled, but hand over the book without complaint. The figure settles down at a nearby table and begins reading. You can’t resist observing, taking in the way light plays upon the surreal solidness of their features.
After this first encounter, you become more aware of the shadows, and you begin to notice them more. You ask a few careful questions and find out that his name is Roman, and he’s a new student here for a semester abroad. Abroad from where? Nobody can quite say. He’s a friendly sort, you notice now that you’re watching for him. He seems to always be hanging out with a few people. He’s also in a few of your classes, sitting near the edge of the group, listening intently to the professors as they speak.
You want to know more about him. Things like, where he’s from, why you took so long to notice him, what he’s interested in, and can you paint him? Important questions, of course. You tell yourself you’ll approach him the next time you see him, but of course that’s not quite how it goes.
Instead, you’re at the cafe drinking mediocre coffee when Roman steps up beside your table.
“May I sit with you?” He asks, his voice richer and warmer than you remembered.
“Of course,” you respond, clearing your sketchbooks and things out of his way. You knock over your travel mug full of coffee, and disaster is only averted because you’d remembered to seal the no-spill top for once. (You’ve gained something of a reputation as the girl who spills her coffee all the time, the mug had been a gift. It’s saved you more than you’d care to admit.)
“Let me help,” he says, flashing you a smile that shows you straight, white teeth against his pitch-black face. His hair seems to be a little long, swept to one side. It’s hard to tell, because his presence is almost an absence of light. You’re enthralled once more by the way light seems to reflect off him, or move around him, or whatever it does, and your fingers itch to grab your pencils and try to capture it on paper. He moves quickly, stacking the papers and notepads and books all to one side of the table before he sits across from you, and flashes you another smile. You think you see dimples. “I hear you’ve been asking about me.”
“Oh.” You know you blush brightly. “I mean… yeah. I have, but not like…” You gesture vaguely, unable to find the words. “Not in a creepy way?”
“I didn’t think it was.” He leans forward. “I was interested in learning more about you, too.” He says. “Would you like to get to know each other a bit better?”
“Yeah, that would be nice.” You respond, already thinking of how you could get to know him. He’s in your art history class, and word is he’s one of the other people vying for the top spot. Maybe you could study with him? It would be nice to not have to tutor your study partner for once. Or maybe the two of you could just hang out here in the campus cafe and chat. No, studying together is probably better, you’ve heard rumors of a partners project, and locking down the other top student as your buddy would be ideal (kneecap the competition, in a way.) “Maybe we could meet at the library?”
He cocks his head, then chuckles, but it’s not cruel, and though you’re fairly sure he’s laughing at you, you’re not insulted. Something about the way he’s laughing invites you in on the joke, and it doesn’t bother you the way it would if it was someone else.
“I’m asking you on a date.” He clarifies.
“Oh. OH.” You know your blush burns brighter. “I mean. Okay. Still interested. Just, a bit higher stakes than I’d thought at first is all.”
“I’ll give you my number and we can arrange something, okay?” He offers.
“Yeah, sounds good.” You nod, and grab your phone.
He hangs out a bit longer, and you do get to know him. He’s sweet, and he’s quick to offer a joke, or make you laugh. By the time he has to head off to class, you’re glad you’ve agreed to go on a date with him. In fact, you’d say you’re pretty excited to go on a date with Roman.
This was a “Monster Match.” ♥ If you want your own, check out my Ko-Fi Commissions or my regular Commissions page for details.
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There was something so calming about the darkness – something that you never felt afraid of since you were a child. Your parents neglected often times to let you be a child, sometimes it was the subtle ways of showing they didn’t really have the want to attend to a child.
You were never bothered by it, in fact you always felt you had… someone watching over you. Making sure you never got up to anything bad or did anything alone that would danger you or others.
You had told them that this person was your friend; there with you when you had little friends in school.
Your parents thought little of your imaginary friend: more relieved you wouldn’t have to ask them to play dolls, you could have the entertainment of your imagination.
You were sure that your ‘imaginary’ friend was more than just that – they was something so human about it that you could never put your finger on, but you knew that there was something to be afraid of, that whatever your guardian angel was, they never would harm you.
As you grew older, you grew to become more independent, forgetting of a bleak and forgotten childhood you had as you made your way to college and moved out of your parent’s home – forgetting of what was once anything to associate yourself with your home.
Years went by and seasons came and went, and soon, you were just twenty-five years young, a graduate out of college and moving back to collect more of your things from your parent’s old home.
It didn’t take long for them to want to move out and go and get a smaller house, and so, it was your job to collect the rest of your things before they were to sell the entire property for good.
You came through the front door, shuffling to put your keys and bag on the floor, looking around to see such a place like this bring back weird memories of melancholic nostalgia.
You remembered the hallway smelling of sweet fresh oranges and chocolate – thanks to your mother always bringing sweet smelling candles and baking in her spare time – you had thought the smell would’ve gone away by now.
You walked through aimlessly trying to pin point every memory you could have from this house: from feuds and fights with your mother, to sleepless nights stressing over exams and finals, to mundane things like sorting out your wardrobe and giggling over crushes.
You were heading up the stairs to your room: small and cramped as you remembered it to be. The wallpaper had crumpled and stained from over the years, your small bed had still be there but you had to sell it or put it for jumble.
You could barley fit inside, thinking how someone could grow into it for eighteen years of your life.
You sat on the floor by the window, staring out on the neighbourhood street, counting the drops to every raindrop that fell and cascaded down.
You were staying the few days to pack your things before giving the keys to the next owner, so you had exactly three days to pack away your things; meaning you would have to spend those nights alone here to get up bright and early to pack.
You had spent the whole afternoon packing when you spotted the small things: you would find the smallest things you owned going missing and reappearing in other spots of the house, in places that you swore you didn’t put to begin with.
There would be odd cold spots whenever you went into a certain room, and when you went to go stand to investigate, it would disappear into thin air and go back to normal once again.
You had finally settled down for the evening, sitting on the old couch for the few nights as you got your laptop out and watched films whilst you ordered for pizza.
A couple hours into watching anything exciting, you begun to feel yourself drift to sleep, a heaviness slipping onto your eyelids as they drooped the more you wanted to close your eyes and fall asleep.
The illumination of your laptop suddenly went back, a curt snap of it shutting brought you to snap out of your state, looking around to see that something or someone had shut off and closed your laptop for you.
You sat in complete darkness, a sudden chill coming over you as you stared to the open windows, wondering if there was a draft.
That was when you saw something in your peripheral. There had been darkness around you, especially in the very corner next to the window and when the television had once been, but you had caught just in the corner the large shadow shift to the right, and you were certain shadows couldn’t do that.
You turned fully to look, staring fully into that corner as your breath hitched in your throat, a dryness building up on your tongue and lips as you witnessed what stared back at you.
Two distinct golden eyes, clear as anything, merged in the abyss of that corner, before closing and disappearing, a long hand emerging and holding onto the corner to pull themselves out properly; like pulling a form out from flowing water.
You watched in silence as a shadowy figure formed and stood not far from you, a form that you couldn’t tell was more humanoid or took a resemblance to one. You were sure that the lack of coffee was playing with your head.
But the more you stared, the more the realisation came to you, and the name you remembered came flooding back with memories.
“Shadow? Is that you?”
The figure was tall and formed to look larger with flowing and morphing to grow larger and smaller, but for this instant, the creature that had been certain your friend from a child was weary of you, or to how you would react.
You pushed yourself up on the couch, “You remember me don’t you? I was never afraid of you.”
“I did, always.” A deep transcendental voice came from Shadow. You blinked back the surprise on your face. “You-You could talk, after all those years? Why did you never say or show yourself to me?”
“I was only learning your tongue. I was… scared you would never want to speak with me again if I showed myself.”
Shadow’s form shrunk to its normal shape, becoming gaunt and rake-thin, possibly going to try and slip into the darkness again and leave, but you called again, pleading in your voice. “Please! Don’t go! I’ve been alone for so long, and I was sure you were always there for me.”
Shadow paused, not growing bigger nor leaving, but moving to pass through your coffee table and morph to stand in front of you. You stared up to them, wonder and awe in your eyes. “You were a lot bigger than I expected.”
“And you are still small as I remember.” They purred, pulling a long clawed hand up to almost pet you, shunning themselves like they had been burned. “No longer youngling.”
“I got older.” You smiled, scooting up on the couch as you patted the space for them. Shadow looked hesitant, before finally growing back to their larger form, more with a human silhouette and features – still fluid than a solid form - as they settled beside you on the couch.
You took the initiative, running a tentative hand along their back and along where an arm would be. Shadow purred greatly, pulling you closer to their form; cool like the cold spots in the room, but none to make you shiver.
“Was it you watching me all along? Did you take my things?” You questioned, curiosity more than chastising in your tone. Shadow slunk smaller at your words, but didn’t vanish. “Didn’t want to leave so soon. Was wanting you to stay longer.” The murmured to your ear closely. “I missed you.”
“I did too, so much.” You leant into them, intrigued. “Were you ever masculine or feminine? I never knew.”
“I am neither.” Shadow informed you, running a fluid hand through your hair softly, as if timid to touch you all those years. You were glad to finally feel some sort of touch from them, finally you had gotten contact with Shadow; all whilst thinking you were very much alone.
You touched further along their flesh, and underneath your touch, their skin solidified and became more like human flesh, except there was a leathery texture to them, but it didn’t bother you.
Purring into your touch further like a cat starved of affection, your feelings for your friend grew from something so childlike to something… much more dormant in you; awakening in your stomach as you sighed blissfully.
Shadow took notice of your scent in the air, nuzzling to sniff your hair and face, their mouth trailing lower and lower until you met where their lips could be on their face; shy and timid.
The two of you grew accustomed to it once you figured out where their mouth was and Shadow opened their mouth wider for you, trailing a long tongue to swipe at you lip as their explored your mouth further.
You moaned against their lips, feeling them push you further into the couch as their towered above and surrounding you in a thick vicious that looked similar to smoke.
Shadow pulled you plush close to them, nipping and nibbling and exploring every part of your body and mouth, whining into you as you groaned below.
The two of you grew accustomed to it once you figured out where their mouth was and Shadow opened their mouth wider for you, trailing a long tongue to swipe at you lip as their explored your mouth further.
You moaned against their lips, feeling them push you further into the couch as their towered above and surrounding you in a thick vicious that looked similar to smoke. Shadow pulled you plush close to them, nipping and nibbling and exploring every part of your body and mouth, whining into you as you groaned below.
Things grew heated between the two of you, as trails of smoke built and grew, resembling long arms or tendrils as they gently caressed and touched parts of your skin, reaching to your quivering thighs to open them.
Another moan slipped from your lips, as you felt one trail into your underwear, testing and softly stroking at your clit, the other going to grab and squeeze at your breasts.
A fire burned inside of you, not ever failing to be burnt down, and you could feel a wetness build in your underwear the more you were teased. Shadow pulled back the tendril, your clit sensitive to the touch as they delved back in, pulling your shorts and underwear fully to one side, and slowly, pressing a smaller tendril against your opening and slowly sliding in.
Your body reacted, your back arching, toes curled as you whined into the pure touch, moaning underneath with such more wanton. Shadow seemed intrigued and genuinely impressed that you were reacting this way to their touches, and wasted no time in pushing more of the tendril inside.
“Please, oh God – yes!” You cried, gripping at the couch with a vice-like grip, watching with half-lidded eyes as they worked you to get your orgasm to come quicker.
You could hear the hum of a loud purring, coaxed on by the shadow creature above you to get you to come, they gave you affection as your orgasm came quickly; rushing with such release that it made you squeal and yelp in surprise.
You came down from your release, Shadow’s forehead pressed against you, giving small kitten licks to your neck and kisses in praise, as you laid cosy against them, waiting now than anything to sleep and be cuddled up to by your favourite shadow.
MxG commissioned a NSFW scene with her shadowy boogeyman. Thank you!
Pt 1
Time had ceased to have meaning while you dwelt with the Babau in his kingdom, but you knew you’d been there long past the year he had initially promised you. Your life with him was happy, as his queen, and while he was still mysterious and sometimes terrifying, you genuinely loved one another.
After a while, you’d learned the layout of the shadowy palace(though the library and the gardens were still your favorite), and had made friends with some of the ethereal beings that inhabited your new home. He was rarely away from your side, though. The dark corners of the palace were still home to terrible things that couldn’t tell the difference between their new queen and their next meal; mindless things that were all teeth and stomach and claw. Your husband shed his genteel demeanor whenever you were threatened, becoming every bit as feral and ferocious as the beasts he protected you from.
It didn’t frighten you the way it should, really.
He had given you his true name, once, in the aftermath of lovemaking, in recognition of the fact you had given him yours the day he took you. He no longer wished to have that power over you and gave you his name so you’d be armed with weapons of your own, should you need them. You couldn’t imagine needing them.
“Melos.” he says, with your head pillowed on his shoulder, one of his many hands stroking your hair.
“Melos...” you echo, trying out the shape of it in your mouth. He rarely calls you by your true name, preferring sweet epithets like my love, my queen, starlight, my heart.
Likewise, you resolve to keep the secret of his name locked inside your heart, safe from any who would do him harm. Though the way he purrs and presses against you when he hears his name fall from your lips is enticing...
“Melos...” you whisper, hungry, against his mouth.
With a growl, you find yourself on your back, your shadowy lover poised over you, all embracing arms and stroking hands, completely enveloping you in darkness. The yellow glow of his eyes hangs over you in the dark, twin harvest moons in the sky.
Countless skeletally-thin arms pin your hands above your head and push your thighs up, holding you in place just how he likes. You like it to, the feeling of relinquishing control, of being at his mercy. And oh, he is merciful, your nightmare-king. For all the fearsomeness of his form and the deep disquieting rumble of his voice, his eyes are molten gold and full of tender affection.
“My love...” he says, rough and hoarse, as he pushes into you.
The first handful of times you made love, it had been a little painful, a little difficult, your small human body not built to take this eldritch creature’s form within you. But you learned, you adjusted, and so did he. Together you discovered how to join your disparate anatomy in such a way that brought you both soaring together, closer than you imagined, and dancing on the precipice of ecstasy.
His multitudinous hands find purchase all over your body; massaging your breasts, pulling your nipples to stiff peaks that he he spoils with his mouth, sharp teeth dragging over the delicate flesh, other hands supporting and kneading the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him as he thrusts into you, still more gripping your thighs and keeping them high, spreading you open, massaging your clit and pulling cries of joy from you.
Melos consumes you. Not literally, though you can’t be sure what sustains him, but everything about him draws you in. Every glance, every brush of hand, every kiss, every gentle word; you are lost in him. And he is lost in you. You are, each of you, moth and flame.
He spears you on his cock, working within you as if this is purpose for existing, the burn of him stretching you open around him and the pull of him inside you as he moves in and out is the most exquisite torture. You tell him so, in obscene detail, whispered against his mouth as he kisses you, and oh how he groans and growls at that!
Melos presses his face into your hair, his breath stirring your hair and tickling your ear as he responds in kind, telling you the heat and the wet and the tightness of your cunt around his cock is the greatest pleasure he’s ever known, how the drag of your sweet sex along his shaft, coating him in your wetness, drives him to madness, how he would sink continents and bring empires to their knees only to know a moment of the pleasure of your body.
The heat suffusing your body convinces you that your face must be flushed scarlet, both by his words and what he’s doing to you. No human lover has ever been able to make you cum with their body and words alone, and you know you’ve been spoiled forever for anyone but Melos.
“My starlight, my heart, if you keep saying such wicked things to me, I will not last...” your husband warns, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts.
“Go on then, I’ve already cum like five times...” you goad.
Melos narrows his eyes at you with a dark laugh, pulling you up to sit astride him as he thrusts up into you, his arms and hands holding you in place aloft as he pistons his hips, bringing you over the precipice yet again.
The first time you coupled, you had expected his release to be violent, loud, like a volcano. Surprisingly, you found your lover’s orgasms to be quiet, intense things. His arms wrap around you, cocooning you in his embrace and pulling you close, his forehead to yours as his eyes never close, never leave your own. His release into you isn’t like a human’s either, no heat or gush, but you feel filled by him anyway, a release of power into you, strengthening your connection to him. You imagine yourself being filled with shadows that curl against your flesh inside.
“I am lost to you, my fragile heart...” he whispers as he takes your mouth, your reply swallowed in the kiss.
MxG commissioned a drabble of her monster match, the shadow boogeyman Babau. Thank you! I hope you love your spooky boy.
Part 2 (nsfw)
Knock knock knock
There it was again. All day you've been hearing knocking sounds. At first you thought it was someone at the door, but there is never anyone there when you look through the peephole. Now it seems to be following you around your home.
Knock knock knock under the table, knock knock knock against the pipes, knock knock knock on the walls. You feel like your grip on reality is slipping. Eventually you fall asleep on the sofa, the book you were attempting to distract yourself with slips forgotten to the floor.
When you wake, you are not in your home. Looking around, everything is dark, and kind of shadowy. Shadows fall off the curtains of the four-poster bed upon which you lie, shadows pool over the floor like smoke. Your heart begins to pound in fear.
“Ah, you're awake...” a deep voice says from somewhere in the dark recesses of the room. “I was beginning to think you'd sleep the whole year.”
“Wh-who is that? Who are you? Where am I?” you demand, pushing yourself up into a sitting position against the headboard.
A tall figure emerges from the shadows, clad in a long black cloak, the hood obscuring his features. Shadows also fall from him like smoke and curl around his feet as though alive, caressing the hem of his cloak like spectral cats.
“I am the Babau, the shadow-man, the dark man, the ruler of this kingdom. And who are you?” he asks, his head tilted down at you as though he is peering at you through the dark.
You give him your name as though your will is not your own, and belatedly remember that names are Things with Power. You promise yourself to be more careful.
“Why am I here?”
“Because I have taken you.” he says, drifting to the side of the bed and sinking down onto the matress beside you. “Fear not, I will return you unharmed after the year is up.”
“Why did you take me?”
“I am lonely, and you are spirited. Is that not reason enough?” he asks, his head tilting to one side.
You see a flash of his face, or skull, or whatever it is he has in place of a face. One skeletally-thin hand extends to you, palm up. You regard him cautiously for a moment, before placing your hand in his. A year, huh? You think you can manage a year.
It turns out Babau is a most gracious host. He takes you on a tour of his palace, and while the colors are certainly more muted than in your own world, it is luxurious and beautiful, all marble and gemstone mosaics and fanciful fountains of black water. The gardens are full of strange shadowy creatures that flee at your approach, and strange small flowers that sound like bells when you pass by. There are darker, more frightening creatures in the shadows, as well. Things with sharp claws and teeth that snarl and snap at your heels. When they venture too close to you, Babau turns terrifying in his ferocity as he roars back at them, and they retreat, whimpering, back into the darkness.
The shadow-man himself rarely leaves your side, engaging you in conversation about books and your life and your interests. You offhandedly mention an author as being your favorite and the next time you wake the bookshelf in your room has every work they have or ever will write. Your closet is full of the kind of clothes you'd pin to a Pinterest board and dream about. Babau watches you as you enjoy the meals that appear before you when you are hungry, he says he has no need to eat.
One night, you fall asleep as you both sit side-by-side in the library, and when you wake, he has curled himself around you and spread a thick blanket over you. He's surprisingly comfortable, you had expected all of him to be as bony as his hand, but you can feel his chest is broad and firm. Embarrassed that you had cuddled up to him like that in your sleep, you look up at him to apologize, and your words die in your throat.
His luminous yellow eyes hold such fondness as he gazes down at you, you're not even afraid of his somewhat ghoulish face, the skin tight against his skull, wrinkled and scarred but somehow still expressive. Your heart thuds in your chest and you're positive he can hear it as you slowly lean up, giving him ample time to move away if he wishes to. He does not wish to.
Your mouth slants against his, and one thin hand comes up to cradle the back of your head as he pulls you closer, oh so gently, as though he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers like shadow. At long last, you break the kiss. His eyes are as fond as they were, but also heated now, and you blush.
“I've been thinking...” you say, and his expression turns focused as he hangs on your every word, “a year seems such a short time...”
His scarred mouth twists in a wry smile. “Well, I suppose I might be able to arrange a longer stay, if you're that partial to my humble home.”
Babau runs his thumb softly down your cheek and leans down to capture your mouth again.
