#male gargoyle
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A gargoyle protects a young lady from a stalker as he hides her inside an abandoned church.
Turns out she is the same girl who used to talk with him as a child, but she doesn't remember him.
#exophilia#monster x human#male monster x female reader#monster family#monster boyfriend#monster lover#male gargoyle#gargoyle x human
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A Heath the Gargoyle part 2? It’s going to be the 1 year anniversary for his story soon (you posted Dec. 29 2022) and I’d love to see the couple’s relationship in a more established/long term phase. Maybe Heath is getting ready to propose so Y/N doesnt end up “dying alone eaten by local strays”?
I can't believe it's been a whole freaking year!!! Time goes soooo fast! Okay, I didn't make it the 29th...but I'm close ^_^
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Gargoyle (Heath) x F reader
Word Count: 3.5 K
General Plot: You and Heath go to a childhood friend's New Years Party.
Previous Parts
TW: nsfw gargoyle smut, extremally awkward party conversation, p in v sex, flying and being in high places if heights bothers you, discussion of depression, hurt comfort dynamic
“Are you sure this looks good?” Heath asked you, shifting on his feet and plucking at the silver tie you’d fastened to his neck to match your sparkly dress.
“It's perfect!” You beamed, smiling up at him and swatting his hand. “Don't look so nervous!”
“I don't want to embarrass you,” he said, uncharacteristically shy.
You snorted.
“I’m more worried about the opposite,” you sighed. “Just…take anything they say with a grain of salt.”
“What does that mean?” He asked.
“Grace and I have been friends since we were kids because my mom works for her dad’s company…I kind of had to be her friend. Don't get me wrong, we were really close when we were kids,” you said. “But now I only see her for her annual New Year's party for my mom's sake. It's all I can stomach…how do I say this…she's kind of…competitive….You'll see.”
The two of you stood on the doorstep of her boyfriend’s obnoxiously large house, the sound of the party inside filling the chilly night air. You wore a sparkly dress, and Heath a sharp suit customized to fit his wings.
“Maybe they didn't hear me.”
You hit the doorbell again, and it let out a hollow DING.
“I’ve got it!” Someone shouted behind the door.
You heard the sound of footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal Grace's boyfriend Mark.
He was a better than average looking guy with blonde hair cut in a trendy style, wearing an expensive suit.
“Well…hello!” Mark said, his head tipping back to meet Heath’s eyes. “You’re…”
His mouth hung open for a moment, at a loss for words, then they both spoke at once.
“Heath.”
“Huge.”
There was an awkward pause before you stepped forward and hugged Mark.
“Thanks for having us over, Mark!” You beamed, shoving a bottle of champagne in his hand.
Mark blinked for a moment as you pushed past him, pulling Heath behind you.
“Grace’s in the kitchen!” He called after the two of you as he shut the door.
“Hiiii!” Grace squealed as you pushed through partygoers to get to the kitchen.
It wasn’t particularly difficult since Heath was bigger, harder, and wider than anyone in the room.
Grace looked beautiful, dressed in a glittery champagne bodycon dress. She'd always been lithe, her profile spruced up by a new pair of boobs Mark had bought her.
As usual, her party was perfect, every detail considered. There was a bartender wearing a bow tie serving drinks, the perfect music playing, and fresh flower arrangements everywhere.
All the furniture had been removed to create a dance floor, and someone had specially designed gold lights to set the mood.
“So this is the man himself!” Grace exclaimed, looking up at Heath with wide eyes.
“Gargoyle,” you corrected.
“Right! Right! Henry, wasn't it?”
Heath gave her a humble smile and stuck out a hand to shake hers.
“Heath. Nice to meet one of (Y/N)’s friends.”
She held his hand a moment too long before she dropped it.
“(Y/N), shame on you for keeping him hidden away!”
You blushed and put a hand on Heath’s arm, unsure what to say. The two of you had been half hibernating for the winter. You tended to get a bit of depression during the cold, dark months. Heath was more than happy to snuggle up with you and his fluffy little cat Aero and cuddle, which is all you really wanted to do from November to April.
People usually imagined gargoyles sitting stoically in the snow and menacing passerbys, but Heath liked to nest, tucking you both in piles of warm blankets and reading to you while you shared snacks.
Her eyes traveled from the tip of his folded wings, down the trim suit was wearing, to his clawed feet.
“I can see why,” she went on, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she caught herself. “I'm so glad you two came!”
“I've been missing my best friend! Let's get you some drinks!” she squealed, leading you out of the kitchen.
Heath glanced down at you and raised an eyebrow.
“Best friend?” He mouthed at you, and you shrugged.
“Pomegranate martinis for us,” she said to the man behind the bar.
“What do you like to drink, Heath?” Mark asked, appearing with the bottle of champagne you'd brought and handing it to the bartender.
“Whatever you've got with Whiskey.”
“Gotcha, big guy,” the bartender said, tossing bottles elegantly as he made the drinks.
When you were all set up with beverages, Lily led you out onto her back patio.
“Look at this,” you said, taking in the beautiful outdoor space. “You've been hard at work! It's beautiful out here!”
She'd put in layers of neatly trimmed flowers and bushes, which were dusted in snow. White lounges were arranged to make comfortable seating areas warmed by blue glass fire pits. The massive pool glowed, steam drifting up from its surface. It looked like it had come straight out of a magazine.
“Isn't it? Mark got the best landscaper in the state! I'll give you his card!”
She frowned at you.
“Oh, you're still in that icky old apartment, aren't you?” she asked. "You've got to get out of that place. Aren't you afraid of mold? It's terrible for your complexion."
“(Y/N) lives with me. Gargoyles like high places, so I have a flat downtown,” Heath corrected her, then smiled down at you. “Though the only plants we have are potted.”
“Heath is really good with plants,” you said, smiling back at him with warmth. “He’s made us a whole jungle on the balcony!”
“Hmm,” Grace hummed, eyes dropping to Heath’s large hands. “You look like you're good with your hands, Heath. You’ll have to come by sometime and give me some lessons.”
Heath’s eyebrows rose, glancing down at you for help.
“How’s work going, Mark?” You asked to change the subject.
“Mark got a promotion,” Grace said before he could answer. “He's a senior account manager at Dawson and Shields.”
“Congratulations, Mark,” you said politely.
He raised his drink and put a possessive arm over Grace’s shoulder.
Before anyone could speak, one of Grace’s’s friends practically ran towards you, eyes on your hulking boyfriend.
“(Y/N)!” Mary wailed, throwing her arms around you in a way she’d never done before.
“Oh…Oof!” you gasped, catching her weight. “Uh…nice to see you again, Mary. This is my boyfriend, Heath.”
He put his hand out to shake hers, but she shoved her body past it, attempting to plaster herself to his chest.
“We do hugs here!” Mary brayed.
He took an awkward step backward, gently pushing Mary off of him with one large hand.
“Sorry,” he said, tapping his nose. “Your perfume. My kind is very sensitive to scent.”
He folded his big body down and tucked his nose into the spot where your neck met your shoulder, tapping a small kiss into your skin and subtly sniffing your neck as if he was cleansing his pallet.
Mary’s face turned bright red, and she took a step back.
“Are you still working at that bookstore?” Grace asked, filling the awkward silence.
Before you could answer, she turned to Heath.
“I've been trying to tell (Y/N) it's time to get a grown-up job for years now. I mean, who works minimum wage at some shabby little bookstore at our age, don't you think?”
Heath glanced at you and tipped his head to the side in a way you recognized as annoyance, though didn't look it. He took a sip of his drink to hide his frown.
“What do you do, Grace?” He asked when he’d straightened his face.
Excited to talk about herself, she went on, her hands waving around as she talked.
“I'm a beauty influencer!” she said.
“Beauty…influencer?” Heath asked. “I'm not sure I know what that means.”
She stuck out her chest to show off the Chanel necklace resting just above her cleavage.
“I model jewelry, makeup, and nails,” she said. “Then I do reviews on all the products!”
“Oh..uh…neat,” he said, trying to be friendly for your sake.“I didn't know that was a job. Do the brands pay you?”
Her bright smile fell for just a moment before she plastered it back on.
“Well…No, but I'm hoping to get some sponsorships this year!” She said. “I have 1,000 followers on TikTok!”
Heath gave her a blank look.
“Tik… Tok?” He asked, glancing down at you for guidance.
“Um…it started as an app for teenagers to lip-sync popular songs, but now lots of people use it!” you explained.
He raised his eyebrows but was at a loss for words.
“What do you do for work, Heath?” Mark asked.
“I own a shabby little bookstore,” he said before taking a long drag of his drink.
“Oh!” Grace said with a stilted smile.
There was another incredibly awkward silence.
“Well, I think that's wonderful!” Mary cheered, squeezing his elbow. “There aren't enough brick-and-mortar stores these days! Everything is online!”
Heath brightened, though he took a half step away from Mary.
“We do a lot of online business, as well.”
He brushed his heavy hand over your hair, affectionately.
“We?” Grace asked.
“I made (Y/N) my co-owner.”
“Wow, sleeping with the boss, (Y/N),” Mary snickered. “I never thought you had it in you.”
You blushed, but Heath folded you under his arm.
“It’s the other way around,” Heath chuckled, brushing his thumb over your bare shoulder as he spoke. “(Y/N) is the boss. She’s got more of a mind for business than me. I'm just a book nerd, but she’s a marketing genius. Sales were dropping the year before last, so she managed to turn the store into more of a destination. Since she took over things, we've started focusing on hard-to-find antiques and hosting auction events. Profits have quadrupled.”
“Oh!” Mark said, snapping his fingers. “Of course! You own Gargoyle Book Gallery! That's a legend! My boss loves antique books...first editions and all that. He raves about your spot all the time!”
Heath tipped his drink at Mark.
“Donny Shields, right? He comes by for poker night.”
“Poker night?” Mark asked.
Heath nodded.
“Some guys from the Business League come over on Saturdays to play a couple of hands of poker and shoot the shit,” he explained.
Mark’s eyebrows shot up.
“I'd love to get in on that!” He said, eyes almost green with envy. "Can't imagine the conversations over that table!"
Heath shrugged.
“We’ve got a full table now, but if a spot opens up, I’ll ask the guys,” he said.
Grace decided too much time had passed without anyone paying attention to her.
“Now that Mark is on track to be partner, we are going to buy a new house!” she said. “I don’t understand how you can stand to live in a tiny apartment!”
Mark looked at her like he did not, in fact, want to buy a new house.
“We’re still discussing it,” he said.
Grace smacked him on the arm.
“Don’t be silly, Mark,” she said. “With your raise, we can afford something bigger!”
“I mean, I spend a lot of money on your stuff for TikTok, Grace,” he murmured. “Maybe if you were pulling in some revenue-”
Grace smacked him again, harder this time, and gave him a look that said, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you.”
“This place is really nice,” Heath offered Mark, trying to be diplomatic. “Plenty of room for a family.”
They both spoke at once.
“We aren’t starting a family.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I bought it.”
You and Heath glanced at one another and took long sips of your drinks.
“I have my career to think of!” Grace said while Mark found somewhere else to look.
“That’s a pity. You’d be a great mom!” Mary said. “You could be a mommy blogger. Your fans would love that. You and Mark would have beautiful babies.”
“Of course. We have excellent genes,” Grace said, enjoying being complimented.
Her eyes slid mischievously to you.
“What about you two?” she asked. “Are you thinking of starting a family?”
You and Heath’s eyes met.
“Maybe,” Heath said. “If you want to.”
Your cheeks warmed, but not from embarrassment.
“I’d like that,” you said.
Grace frowned.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked.
The two of you looked at her, confused.
“You know, because of your mental illness. You wouldn’t want to pass that on to your kids…and how can you be a good mom with depression?”
Your heart dropped, and tears flooded your eyes. It shouldn’t have gotten to you. You knew how Grace was, but it still hurt. It was something you’d always felt a little insecure about.
Heath’s mouth fell open, and he shoved his glass into Mark’s hand.
“It was nice to meet you, Mark,” he said before he scooped you up in his arms, and with a heavy pump of his wings, the two of you shot up into the night sky.
He flew a couple of blocks away, before he stopped and hovered in place.
Tears slid down your cheeks, leaving an icy streak as they cooled.
“Are you okay?” Heath asked as the two of you hung suspended in the cold December air.
You sniffled, wiping your tears.
“Yeah…I told you…Grace is competitive. She doesn’t like anyone looking better than her,” you whimpered.
You felt a low growl in his chest.
“That’s no excuse,” he said. “I think you’ll be a great mom. I’m not the least bit worried.”
“But what if she’s right?” you asked. “What if I’m a terrible mom? What if my kids are messed up or something?”
Heath let out a chuff with no humor.
“That’s nonsense, teacup,” he said. “Depression is pretty common…and you manage yours just fine. Nobody is a perfect parent, and everyone has different challenges. Grace sounds like some kind of eugenicist. It’s creepy, to be honest.”
“Are you sure?” you asked. “You don’t wish you had a perfect girlfriend like Grace?”
Heath laughed out loud.
“Grace is not the perfect girlfriend. Sooo far from it. I kind of feel bad for Mark, to be honest,” he said. “You on the other hand…”
He tucked his head in the crook of your neck, smattering kisses over the skin.
“You are smart…sweet…patient…incredibly patient,” he whispered, kissing you or nibbling with each word. “I have no idea how you put up with that woman.”
“You get used to it,” you murmured.
He tipped your face up to his.
“I don’t want you to get used to that kind of meanness,” he said. “I don’t want to control who you see…but I don’t like them. I’d rather spend the rest of New Year's with you if that’s okay, not some snobby weirdos.”
He adjusted you in his arms, nudging you to loop your legs around his waist. You pressed yourself against his warm body to chase away the chill of the night air. With one arm holding you to him, he cupped the nape of your neck, guiding your lips to his with the other.
He tasted like oaky whiskey, making your mouth water. His heavy kisses chased any thoughts of Grace or the party away.
Hovering in the inky night with the twinkling lights of the city sparkling in every direction, your only focus was Heath’s thick hand holding you securely in place and his lips on yours.
You ground your hips into his body, delighted to feel his hardening shaft meet your core.
His hand slipped down your neck, tugging the front of your dress down with a stiff jerk. The straps snapped, and your breasts tumbled out.
“Heath,” you gasped, but he hushed you with another deep kiss before speaking.
“It’s dark. No one can see us. Let me make you feel good.”
He dipped his head, drawing a peaked nipple into his mouth. The contrast of his hot tongue and the chilly air made you quake. He licked and sucked one nipple and then the other until you’d completely forgotten everything going on below. Your world shrank to just Heath and all the decadent things he could do to your body.
Your head fell back, pleasure snaking up and down your spine as he delighted you. Thick fingers roughly shoved the skirt of your dress up your thighs, and he traced your slit, growling at how wet you were for him. Another swift jerk and your shredded panties were fluttering a hundred feet down to the snowy earth.
You gasped his name, but he was high on your scent and taste, wholly focused on giving you pleasure. He screwed two fingers inside of you, opening you up for him. You let out a needy whimper when they pulled out for a moment but were quickly replaced with his tail, thrusting in and out of you.
You hardly heard the buzz of his zipper, your eyes rolling back in your head. With a tight thrust of his hips, his tail slipped away, and his thick cock filled you. He clutched your ass with a deep, satisfied grunt.
A hundred feet up in the sky, you didn’t dare unhook your arms from around his neck, so you were at his mercy as he slammed his shaft into you. You bleated lusty yelps with every smack of his heavy balls against your skin, clinging to him for dear life. You were dizzy from fear blending with pleasure, your breaths ragged gasps. There was nothing between you and falling to your death but Heath’s enormous arms and powerful wings.
“You’re so fucking perfect, (Y/N),” he growled into your ear, practically feral from the way your channel spasmed around his cock. You were tight, wet, hot, and the only woman in the world he wanted. Gripping your ass, he used your cunt like a fleshlight, slamming his cock into you over and over again.
The tip of his naughty tail circled your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your end until there was nowhere else to go, and you went careening over the edge. With the addition of your pussy strangling his cock he couldn’t hold back any longer, his final thrusts savage and bruising.
Your stomach dropped as he lost control of his wings for a moment, and the two of you dipped into a free fall for a few seconds. You felt his searing cum fill you as you screamed into his chest. The confusing sensation of falling and his cum filling your womb slammed you into another unexpected orgasm. You bounced in his arms as he steadied the two of you.
“Heath!” you gasped, your nails digging into his neck.
“It’s okay, teacup, I’ve got you,” he muttered as he titled his wings, and the two of you streaked across the city.
Instead of heading home, he deposited you on the roof of a tall building downtown.
“Wait here,” he said, zipping his fly, and before you could say anything, he swooped away.
When he returned a few minutes later, he was holding a bottle of champagne.
“Where did that come from?” you laughed as he settled next to you and tugged you into his lap.
“I stole it from a party going on down there,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, they have plenty.”
You giggled, leaning back into his chest, while he popped the top, aiming the spray off of the edge of the building, before tipping a little into your mouth.
There was a pop, and fireworks exploded in the sky across the city.
He turned you around to him, slipping something out of his pocket.
"I wanted to do this tonight...but things didn't go quite as planned..." he said, appearing suddenly nervous.
You tipped your head to the side, confused until he opened the little box in his hand revealing a pretty ring.
"Heath!" you gasped your hand going to your lips.
"(Y/N)," he said. "Since the day I hired you, my world changed. At first it was just a fantasy crush. I mean, as your boss...I felt like it was wrong to act on it...but something about you is irresistible. It was impossible not to fall in love with you. Impossible not to steal you away.
Then we started dating and for awhile, I thought that was enough...but as the year went on...I realized I was happier than I'd ever been and you seemed...happier than I'd ever seen you...So...I want to make this permanent. If...you want that..."
Your eyes danced from the ring up to Heath's eyes. More fireworks bloomed in the sky, and you could see them reflected in Heath’s dark irises.
"Are...you asking me to marry you, Heath?" you asked.
"I guess I forgot the most important question," he said, giving you a shy chuckle. "(Y/N), will you marry me?"
Tears filled your eyes again, but this time for the best reason.
"Yes! Of course! I love you, Heath! I want to be with you forever!" you said.
“I love you, too (Y/N). Happy New Year,” he said quietly, slipping the ring out of the velvet and slipping it on your finger.
“Happy New Year, Heath,” you said tucking your head into his cozy shoulder and watching the fireworks make your engagement ring sparkle.
#monster x girl#monster fucker#monster smut#monster#monster romance#monster x human#monster lover#male yandere#yandere smut#gargoyle#x reader
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Yandere Kelpie or gargoyle with hypnosis powers.
I have very fond memories with gargoyles, so we're doing that! The gargoyles that had my childhood were from a book called "The Farthest Away Mountain" and OH MY GOD ITS AMAZING, I still love it! You should check it out!
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Contains: Mentions of religion (going to church), non-human yandere (he's like, half stone half not?), watching, kidnap and release, threatening, darling is pressured
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Yan!Gargoyle who is known as the protector of the church, a stone angel resting atop the entrance. he watches over everything and everyone that comes into the church up until they leave the churchyard.
Yan!Gargoyle who has seen many beautiful people walk in and out, and has had a few crushes. but you... oh you. you're one of a kind, the only one that truly deserves his protection.
Yan!Gargoyle who waits for you everyday. you're the only reason he even watches people come in and out anymore.
Yan!Gargoyle who has a few thoughts unfit for who he's made to represent. he dreams of locking the church doors and slaughtering everyone so he can have you alone, alone and just for him.
Yan!Gargoyle who decides to trick you into coming at night so you're vulnerable and alone. he waits until no one's in the church before he goes in, writing you a little letter that claims that there's a party at the church that night. (he writes in beautiful cursive btw.)
Yan!Gargoyle who is thrilled when you come. he can barely wait for you to get inside, swooping down and flying you into the attic before you can react.
Yan!Gargoyle who doesn't mind that you're panicking, he just holds you down. he feels fleshy and he looks human, but he is heavy.
Yan!Gargoyle who goes on and on about how he's been watching you, about how pretty you are, about how much he adores you.
Yan!Gargoyle who starts to actually think about what he's done. he can't keep you here without anyone noticing, and even if he did he wouldn't be able to get you basic necessities without being seen, and he can't be seen.
Yan!Gargoyle who decides to let you go, at least until he figures something out. he crouches down in front of you, gets really close, and tells you that no one will believe you if you say anything. he's not real, he's a figment of your imagination. he's not real. he's not real. he's not real. he's not real. he's not real...
Yan!Gargoyle who lets you go after that. besides, even if the hipnosis didn't work and you went off and told someone, no one would believe you.
No one, because he's not real.
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My lazy ass is working on the other fics, just very... very... very slowly.
~🐈⬛
#yandere x reader#yandere x male darling#yandere x you#yandere#🐈⬛ answers#male yandere#yandere gargoyle
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Kork hours
#i love her even tho she has -1 one braincells#gargoyle gecko#I've been looking for a good male to pair her with but it's hard to find nice high contrast striped gargoyles because breeding for the bacon#flavor of just showing orange or red stripes when fired up is most popular#but i like the stripey
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Something Borrowed (Part Ten)
M Gargoyle x M Reader
PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT
Wordcount: 5127
Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup
The horrors have been numerous and persistent for me lately, so this part took its sweet time getting written. Not much else to say about this chapter, other than I’m very excited to write the next one!!
It seems that things are determined to go sideways today.
“Sorry to drop all of this on ya so early, but I knew you’d be awake.” Your sister’s voice comes through the speaker of your device.
You are indeed awake. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, despite it feeling like what you do the most these days- no idea why that would be- so you were already up and slowly trudging through your morning routine. But now you’re distracted with the call, going through making yourself a desperately needed cup of coffee mostly by feel in your dimly lit apartment kitchen.
“It’s okay- So, how exactly did this happen?”
“She took a wee tumble down the stairs. Got up in the middle of the night to get water, fell ass over kettle.”
“Oh, spirits. But you said it wasn’t serious, right?”
“Eh. Fractured her wrist, or so the doctor says. Right, Ma?” You hear a bit of noise in the background that sounds remarkably like your mother being quietly muttering in a displeased manner. “She’ll be right as rain soon enough. But she’s going to be in the cast for a tick.”
“Do I need to book a flight?”
“Hmm. You know we love to see ya- but nah. It's really not all that dire. Think she's tired of all the fuss by now, really.” She explains, before immediately switching into compulsory older sibling teasing. “Plus won't your new fella miss you? Unless you want to bring him along to meet what he's got to look forward to joining up with.”
“Haha… Yeah, you’re right. I suppose you’ll just have to wait…” You haven’t told them he’s not exactly your fella at the moment. What would you even say?
After a bit more conversation, Emer puts your mother on, and you speak to her for a short while. It assuages your worry a little, but not nearly enough to take the edge off. Though she's adamant you don't let her little mishap scare you into making sudden travel plans, you can't help but let it add to your ratings worries.
Maybe… you should go home?
You hang up your voci and look down at the brewed coffee that’s just started to drip through the filter. In your absent minded state, you’ve managed to put the exact mug you’ve been avoiding into the machine.
But there it is, the pink and white curves of ceramic reminding you of everything you're trying to push out of your mind.
You let out a long, frustrated sigh, pausing to stare vacantly at the mug.
Maybe putting an ocean between you and here will help you forget what you could have right now instead, if you weren't cursed.
You have all day to sit on it, you suppose, and can make a decision later. But you do have a business to run in the meantime, so you return to the process of adding your usual milk and sugar.
It doesn’t help the bitter taste at all today.
Things don’t really go much better for you the longer the day progresses.
“This is too sweet,” The older woman across the counter says, brandishing the mostly eaten cupcake in its paper lining. “I want a refund.”
“Well, it's a cupcake, m’am. It is mostly sugar…” You don’t even have the energy to muster your usual level of pleasantness. You barely keep from grimacing as you ring up the refund, just to get this person out of your hair.
Your customers are usually not this problematic, but you’re beginning to think that no one is having a good day today. You can deal with grumpy or picky people, but usually they’re not quite so many of them in a concentrated blast. Every little interaction is finding its way under your skin, and that’s not even taking into account how hard it is to concentrate and get any meaningful progress done.
Though, this is a task you’ve been pointedly avoiding that you’ll have to start sooner or later, today.
You’ve got to finish putting together Devin and Trevor’s cake- if you want it to be solid enough to put flowers in before delivery tomorrow night, which is rapidly approaching the longer you dawdle.
As in, nearly can be measured in hours instead of days soon.
It was different when it was just… anonymous cake layers you were cutting out and leveling. That could’ve been for anyone’s cake! But the more personality that goes into it, the more the subtle, nagging grief makes it difficult to work on.
You sigh and glob a stabilizing dollop of the vanilla buttercream- Trevor's choice- onto the base with your offset spatula.
It’s not as if you’re jealous that your ex is getting married at this point. You’re far past the stage of wanting him back by now. It just… all seems so unfair. Hopeless. He was able to wound you so deeply when he left- and just when you thought you had healed and moved on, carved out some new happiness for yourself- that got taken away, too.
Why should he get to be happy when you’re on the short end of the stick again?
You center a cake layer, then slather some more buttercream, spreading it out to make a glue for the next layer to adhere onto.
You’ll just have to think about it as Devin’s cake. It’s for your friend. That’s how you’ll get through this. You’ll do a good job, for your friend. Even if she’s marrying your ex, she should still get the best cake you can make for her, like you’d do for any other client.
Another layer of cake. A layer of elven berry compote that you made fresh yesterday- also Trevor’s choice, naturally. Another layer of cake. Then, repeat it all again.
As much as you try to rationalize that to yourself as you work through applying the crumb coat, you can’t help but realize you’ve been white-knuckling the spatula handle by time you’ve finished applying the buttercream.
Eventually, you have all of the crumb coated tiers ready on cake boards, to be given another coat and assembled after they’ve firmed up for a bit.
You mercifully shut the disassembled cake in the cooler, relieved that you don’t have to look at it for another few hours. Though, you have to hand it to yourself, even when your life is falling apart, you can make a bang-up gorgeous cake.
The demands of your business don’t stop just because you’re having a bad day and have other things to do, unfortunately. You’re not sure what portal to Hell has opened nearby, but it seems like all of the most awful customers have all decided to come to your shop today to take out their anger on you.
“No, we don’t do tiered pies here. I don’t even know if you’d be able to do that without making a mes- Well, okay. Have a nice day-” You say, though the person on the other end of the line has already hung up on you.
You turn to face the customer waiting at the counter, but before you can even greet them, they interrupt you with a snapping of their fingers.
“Where’s our waiter? I put our order into the kiosk twenty minutes ago and no one has even been by to so much as pour our water!”
“Oh, well, you can eat-in here, that’s what the seating is for, but we’re not a full service-”
“Ugh, fine! Just get me my order already, then.” The customer barks and you have to bite your tongue to restrain yourself from snapping back.
By time you reach another lull in activity and get back to work on Devin’s cake, your jaw and shoulders are fully tensed.
Since it’s slow, you take out the gumpaste. You have another tray of roses to sculpt so they can dry on time to place them tomorrow, so you might as well knock it out sooner than later.
Maybe none of this would be getting to you so much, but the full weight of the wedding being tomorrow is bearing down on you. The one saving grace is that Kirby will be there to distract you- at least you won’t be alone. You’ll deliver the cake, you’ll get through the ceremony, you’ll stay for a brief yet socially acceptable amount of time at the reception, and then you’ll go home and this whole excruciating ordeal will be over.
You just have to finish this cake and get through tonight first.
Only a few more hours until close.
You can do this.
You make it another hour, rolling thinned pieces of sugary paste into delicate petals, before the bell door rings, and the person you see walk through the door gives you pause.
It’s not Carlyle, as you’ve been hoping it was every single time you hear the shop bell jingle since the last time you saw him. But it certainly looks like him, in everything but personal styling, and of course, the shape of the quartzose horns protruding from his brow.
Today it seems he’s left his body glitter at home, however. He’s dressed in relatively casual clothing; a hoodie (midriff still intact), untied slim joggers, immaculately clean sneakers. The difference is so staggering you might not have even recognized him as the same person, compared to his last visit, if he didn’t have Carlyle’s face; which you can now see clearly underneath his loose brown curls, this time not covered by the shadow of his hood.
“Hey.”
He gives you a tilt of his chin in acknowledgement and smiles an uncannily similar, fanged smile to the one you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. It’s a stab of pain, how sorely you miss it right now, and seeing it again, but just different enough to not be it.
“Uh. Hi, Marcus?” You say in a stilted manner, not really sure how to proceed. “You are… looking less gilded today than last time.”
“Hahahah, yeah. I didn’t have work last night, dude. No hangover!”
“Hah. Right…”
“But good to see you again, man! …I was wonderin-”
“Listen, if you’re here to deliver a message or something, I really can’t do this right now.” You cut him off, begging more than anything at this point to not have another thing go wrong or a twist of the knife today. You scrub at your face with your forearm to keep your hands sanitary, the deep pit of frustration starting to bubble out of you unintentionally. “And he knows to not-”
“Hey, no man, listen! It’s nothing like that.” He pats his curls down, the same way that his brother occasionally does with his dreadlocks when he’s smoothing out a misunderstanding. “He’d be PISSED if I knew he was here, hahah. He told me never to come here on my own after last time!”
“Well, maybe you should follow his instruction on that matter.” You say dryly and continue to roll the soft substance in silent judgement. “He usually knows what he’s talking about.”
Marcus seems to take this as a bad sign, his face twisting into a look of exasperation.
“Fine! Gimme a dozen cupcakes then. Fuck, make it any flavor, dude, I don’t even care.” He starts rifling through his pants pockets, finally pulling out his wallet, and then a card that he puts on the counter. It’s got his name printed on it, rather than Carlyle’s, so you suppose he’s gotten it replaced since the last time. “You’ve gotta talk to me if I’m a customer ‘n shit, right?”
“You know I do have the right to refuse service to you…?”
“Yeah man, but I don’t think you’re gonna! You’re too nice, from what I’ve heard.” Marcus says with the sort of shit-eating grin on his face that absolutely makes you want to refuse service to him, but with a vengeance.
“Well if you’re not here on your brother’s behalf…” You sigh in your own matching exasperated look and set down your gumpaste project to start boxing a dozen cupcakes. “Why are you here, then?”
“I’m gonna be totally honest with you, dude. He didn’t send me, but it is about him. I’m like, super worried about him.”
“Oh…” You can’t help yourself, you have to ask. “Is he alright…?”
“Hell no! He’s all fucked up, man! The other night, I left at 8pm and he was still in the same spot at 11am when I got back in. Same book, same fit, same stale cup of coffee. He had sat still in the same place reading whatever nerd shit he was reading for so long that he deadass went half solid.”
You can’t find the words to respond to that. The guilt gnaws at you like you gnaw at your bottom lip, but in a strange way, you feel validated that he’s still as messed up about things as you are.
“Look, whatever he did, it can’t be that bad, right? It’s Lyle!! He like, never fucks up like that.” He leans over the counter, talking with his hands in another show of familiar, yet foreign-in-this-context expression. He taps his chest with the fingertips of a spread hand for emphasis. “And I would know, ‘cuz I’M the family fuck up here. So, maybe you could like, just forgive him and junk? Make up or whatever?”
“It’s not…” You take a second to steady your breath. You’ve been trying to suppress these feelings for weeks, and now they’re getting dragged up so suddenly. “It’s not something he did. It’s… outside circumstances…”
You hesitate for a brief moment before you pick out the last of the random assortment; an orange and mixed spice flavor you found yourself trying out.
“That’s it? There’s no gettin’ around it, huh?”
“No. I'm sorry. It's complicated. I just can't.” You say with weakened conviction as you tape the box up, and then hoping to persuade yourself once again, add; “It’s better this way.”
“Right-” Marcus straightens up and rocks back and forth on his feet, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the tile with the motion. “Sorry if pushing was out of line, dude.”
“Don't worry about it- honestly, I'm sort of glad you showed up.” You smile, bittersweet. “It’s good that he has someone looking out for him.”
“Yeah.” Marcus smiles a conflicted smile back, then takes his cupcakes to go. “See you ‘round, dude.”
You find yourself having a silent argument with yourself as you finish the rest of the roses.
There’s the guilt, of course. Are you a bad person if you know that this separation is hurting you both, and yet you’re continuing to enforce it? Maybe you should have just let Marcus convince you to reach out?
Seeing someone with such familiar features has only made your heart ache that much more for what you’re missing.
Perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t have any customers in the shop at the moment, because they’d be able to clearly see you sneering at empty air and grumbling to yourself.
By the time you finish the last petal on the last rose of the tray, you’re no closer to having resolved your internal disagreement.
You put the roses away, and pull out your fully set, crumb-coated cake. Now just to put the final layer of frosting on, and then you’ll be done for the night.
As you set the tray down on the counter, your voci starts ringing in your pocket. You remove your gloves and answer the call, seeing that it’s Kirby. They’ve been checking in on you a lot more often lately, like you’re a sickly pet needing constant supervision. They're not entirely wrong.
You greet them as you put them on speaker. Then you wash up, and reglove as their voice comes through on the other end.
“So! How is your day going so far?”
“Oh, you know. Typical weekend customers. Ma broke her wrist.” You say flatly, smoothing out the buttercream on the top of the lowest cake tier with a spin of the stand with well-practiced motions.
“Oh no! That’s terrible! Is she okay??”
“She’s fine, but it’s still stressful that I can’t be there to help out.”
Once you’re finished getting a perfectly even, level surface on the lowest tier, you begin the process again on a slightly smaller scale on the next largest cake tier.
“Mmm. Yeah, it must be, being so far away.”
“And Carlyle’s brother came into the shop earlier.” You continue, now lathing more buttercream onto the sides.
“Whaaaat??? No!! Glitter Boy?! Oh my SPIRITS you’ve gotta tell me all the details right now!”
“There’s not a lot to say, really. Told me Carlyle’s not taking it well either, and now I feel like a villain.”
“You’re not a villain,” Kirby sighs. “Sometimes things are just. Y’know. Messy.”
You continue to make your way through doing the final coat on the cake tiers, each one going progressively faster as they diminish in size.
“Oh, and how could I forget- I’m making a cake for my ex’s wedding that social pressure is forcing me to attend. So you know. The usual.”
“Hahah- Ooh, bummer. Well, when you put it like that, it does sound like, toooootally miserable! You’re having a pretty horrible day, and I’m… definitely not about to make it worse, hahah!!”
“Oh no.” You hiss through gritted teeth. “Something’s wrong, then?”
They laugh nervously, a little giggle-whimper that you can’t possibly be irritated with.
You’re silent as you begin to fill a piping bag with buttercream, waiting for Kirby to divulge their information.
“I MAY have some bad news.”
“Oh. Lovely. Just grand! More bad news is exactly what I need at this current moment.” You say, dripping with sarcasm.
“I know!!! Believe me, I know! But I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out.” Kirby sighs. “I just got out of a meeting with my boss and they’re sending me out of town on a case. I have to get on a red eye in a few hours.”
“But… the wedding is tomorrow…”
“Yeah, that would be the problem! But I can’t exactly tell my boss to fuck off and still have a job, y’know??? Soooooo. We are in. damage. control. mode!”
“It’s okay.” You say, it not really being okay at all, but not wanting to lash out at your friend who’s only ever tried to help you in any given situation. You’re simply too stunned to even start to panic.
“Nope! It’s ABSOLUTELY not! But I’ll be there in like, an hour!! I’ll bring dinner and we can totally figure out a plan B, okay? Or I guess plan C or D by now- But bestie, I don’t care if I have to HIRE an escort to take you to that wedding, you’re not going alone! Especially not because of stupid work interference!!”
“Hah- A-Alright.” You laugh weakly and speak through a sharp intake of air, but manage to not sound like you’re about to burst into tears, even though you desperately want to. “See you soon.”
The call ends, but you continue working, despite the rapidly expanding pit of terror in your gut and the sting at the back of your eyes.
This news, surprisingly, does not help your ability to finish this cake.
You keep going, but not without roadblocks. Your eyes screw closed in frustration and pain. Your teeth grit. Your hand clenches around the bag, nearly squeezing the frosting out of the back end of it.
As a small mercy, closing time finally comes and you turn off the light, though you leave the door unlocked, given you’re expecting Kirby sometime in the next hour or so.
You need to move on to piping some of the finer details- But you can't even think about piping an even line right now, not with the way your hand is trembling.
Still, you persist, pushing the bag back taut and re-twisting the open end.
“Stop. Shaking.” You hiss out loud at yourself, your body refusing to obey even your own verbal instructions.
You just need to get this cake done. Is that so much to ask?
Kirby is coming over and you’ll find a solution for the wedding. You won’t have to go to your ex's wedding alone. It will be fine.
The tremor in your hand nearly causes you to stab through the layer you’re working on with the piping tip, so you take a moment to straighten up your posture and try to loosen your locking muscles. You take a few calming breaths, then go back in and manage to finish the last few filigree details on the tier you're working on.
Your hand is already shaking again. You ignore it. You’ll get through this. You have to.
But every time you regain focus, the thought of Carlyle as a miserable and inert statue keeps creeping back unbidden into your mind.
It’s all too much. Too much. Too much.
The lights above you flicker. A buzz of energy ripples through the room.
The pressure on your chest is unbearable now. Blood rushes in your ears.
You can’t deal with this anymore.
You can’t even think-!
POP-
In an instant, something cold and cloying splatters across the side of your face and the bridge of your nose, the front of your shirt, your clenched hands and outstretched forearms.
You bring a hand to your face in shock, blindly testing the sudden change in texture.
Your fingertips come away coated in sticky, sugary goop, and bits of shredded vanilla sponge cake.
And where the cake tiers were sitting on the counter, there’s a conspicuous absence of a cake, only the sparse large chunk of shrapnel- a bloodless crime scene, the mostly empty, frosting smeared cakeboards evoking the essence of a chalk body outline.
Well. You’ll be damned.
The cake exploded.
Hoarse, incredulous laughter escapes your throat- first in disbelief, then in bitter resignation. No other reaction really seems to suit this situation more.
Because your life is a joke. A bad joke.
Your laughs thin out, turning into choked sobs. You sink down until you’re sitting on your cold shop floor with your back against a cabinet, and bring the lower clean edge of the apron up to cry into.
Eventually, the unrestrained weeping quiets into silent tears Time has passed, as evidenced by the sky beginning to darken outside.
“Heeeeellooooo~! I’m heee-” You hear a familiar voice call out and then equally familiar hoof falls on the tile. There’s a rapid change in their tone, making a 180° turn into hushed concern. “Oh. Well fuck, that doesn’t look good-”
After a few moments, Kirby rounds the counter, an inquisitive look on their face.
You can’t even muster the embarrassment to be seen like this, too tired and emotionally drained and just simply done with it all.
You expect a look of pity or maybe some awkward fussing, but instead, Kirby simply gives you a knowing smile.
“What a mess!!” Kirby shakes their head, curls tumbling as they assess the damage. “You’re not hurt, are you, honey?”
You shake your head weakly, rubbing at your eye with your inner wrist.
“Good! Well then, let’s get this all cleaned up!” They chirp and reach out their hand, palm up.
After the moment it takes to recognize the gesture, you take their hand. Kirby’s grip is surprisingly strong for being such a petite faun, and they easily manage to help you to your feet.
“You don’t have to-”
“Well I’m NOT going to let you sit here and cry covered in frosting all night.” Kirby laughs, beginning to roll up the sleeves of their work shirt. “So. Yes I do~”
“...Thank you.” You sniffle.
“Don’t mention it!!” They laugh. “You go get cleaned up and I’ll start tackling this absolute disaster zone!”
You trudge upstairs and debate on the benefits of a full shower before deciding that it’s worth it, even if ten more cakes explode. You’re uncomfortably sticky down your neck and arms.
Maybe you can wash this day away, while you’re at it…
Before long you’re redressed and coming back downstairs- if not feeling completely refreshed, you at least now have it in you to face the (suddenly much longer) list of tasks ahead. Kirby has gotten most of the cake into a trash bag, and is wiping down the counter.
“There, you look much better! Now, come tell me what was happening when this happened, will you?”
You join them, grabbing a sanitizer rag and beginning to help wipe down the closest surface. You describe as best you can exactly what you were doing, feeling, and thinking about when the cake exploded, just as you’ve explained to them about the previous incidents that you weren’t physically present for.
“Hmm.” Kirby hums quizzically. “Well, the good news is I’ve got a potential solution for the wedding dilemma.”
“Oh?” You’d be lying if you said that the promise of a stressor being removed didn’t sound divine.
“Actually, I’ve already convinced Rosario to go with you, if you want, while I was on the way over. Did you know that she’s surprisingly easy to bribe?!” Kirby giggles. “But to be honest- I didn’t even need to bribe her!! She agreed before I offered anything in return. Apparently wedding cake and an open bar is enough reason for her to turn up, or so she said. But I think it’s because she likes you.”
“That’s… very kind of her.” She wouldn’t be the worst companion for the event- you’ve grown quite fond of her presence in your shop, prickly attitude and all.
“Yeah! She’ll easily make your ex just as uncomfortable as I was planning to, all on her own merit, hehe!! BUUUUUT, I think you know what I’m about to say-”
“Don’t…”
“You should call him!” Kirby says in the most obnoxiously sing-song sweet tone they can, and you wince hard.
“I can’t-”
“But you can~!!”
“But I don’t think I should-”
“Well, maybe you should think again, sweetie!! You absoluuuuutely should! Because if this-” Kirby motions to the partially cleaned up buttercream splatter still coating the vicinity. “Isn’t proof enough that it’s not a him problem, I don’t know what would be!!”
You drag a palm across your face, overwhelmed, and heave a sigh.
“At the end of the day it’s your choice! I can’t make you call him. But you miss him, and he misses you! I know this for a fact! And SPIRITS is he being SO insufferable about it!! And so are you!!!! And it’s just a BIT silly to keep drawing this out like this.”
“But… I don’t want him to get hurt…”
“Listen. We know there’s something attached to you- Rosario’s exorcism attempt confirmed that much. But there’s no like, actual indication that any of that is related to what’s happening with the curse. It’s just not how this kind of magic works. We’re almost certain we’re dealing with two unconnected, non-standard issues complicating each other at this point- some sort of spirit attached to you, and some sort of ley-based magical compulsion in play- but we don’t know the source of where either of those things are coming from. Yet.”
“Right.” You say, pausing your cleaning work to take in the new information.
“Though, someone has some very promising ideas about the later being some sort of messed up geas, and Rosario seems like she has a hunch on what is in the shop.”
“But… it just feels like it’s getting worse. Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, of course…”
“I know it feels that way. But I am good at my job! And I’ve been keeping track of the numbers this whole time, y’know?? I’ve got the DATA. Do you know what I’ve noticed the most as a trend over the time I've been working your case?”
You simply shake your head to give them time to build dramatic tension before they continue.
“The cakes explode more when you’re upset!! Like, a whole, whole lot more! And quite frankly at this point, in my professional opinion, you being separated from him is making it WORSE!!”
“...You really think it’d be okay to ask him-” To go back to how it was before, to be with me again; you want to say, but end up continuing instead; “to come with me to the wedding?”
You have the feeling Kirby understands what you wanted to say, anyway, based on their pleased expression, like they’re finally getting the message through to you.
“You’re my friend!! And as your friend, I am HEREBY giving you the permission that you’re not giving yourself! I wouldn’t be suggesting this to you if I didn’t think it was safe.” Kirby squarely lays their hands on you on the shoulders, though they need to reach up slightly to do it. “If anything, having him there might keep you from getting bent out of shape at your ex and blowing up the second cake, like, at the actual wedding.”
“That would be horrible.” You rasp and find yourself genuinely smiling for the first time all day, trying to blink back the sting of more tears threatening to spill, though this time more out of a sense of appreciation than despair.
“It. Would. Be. HILARIOUS.” Kirby says with a mischievous grin, patting your shoulders with each word for emphasis. “And if it were to happen, I would hope you were recording it. Y’know, for data collection purposes, hehehe!! But it would also be, let’s say: bad for business.”
You manage to finish getting things looking clean, as if nothing bad had happened at all, Kirby has called their ride to the airport.
“Now, I have to go or I’m going to miss my flight and my boss will probably-actually-literally murder me.”
“And I have a cake to remake.” You quietly lament. “If you want, I can get on the plane and you can make the cake…”
Kirby lets out a string of giggles, picking their carry-on bag off the seat at the counter they stashed it on..
“Hahah- No thanks!! But- Call him.” Kirby repeats as they give you a squeezing hug goodbye. “Or Rosario, if you must. But don’t make yourself go alone. And keep me updated!! All of the juicy wedding gossip, please. I’m definitely going to be bored out of my mind otherwise, hehe!!”
Then they release you from their grip to head out the door with one last wave and a jingle of the shop bell.
You, on the other hand, let out a long, withering sigh and pull out another set of white cake layers from the cooler.
…It’s going to be a long night.
>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI
#exophilia#monster lover#monster romance#monster x human#monster x reader#gargoyle x reader#gargoyle#male x male#mlm#mxm#male monster#male reader#series: something borrowed#oc: carlyle#oc: declan#nine of words
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Male Gargoyle/Female Reader
SFW
Wordcount: 2,878
Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist
A photographer and adrenaline junkie, you climb the bell tower for photos. You don’t expect to find a lonely old gargoyle at the top.
You'd been attracted to the crumbling, ancient bell tower from the moment you set your eyes on it two weeks ago. It was old and a bit eerie, sure, but it held a strange charm that you couldn't shake off. So, one evening, you decided it was time to explore, camera in hand and a spark of adventure in your eyes.
"Here goes nothing," you muttered to yourself, starting your climb up the winding stone staircase. Every step was like a journey back in time. The steps were worn and mossy, but you loved it, the character and history practically seeping out of the stones.
The inside of the tower was musty and cool, the scent of aged stone and damp air mixing together. It was like stepping into a completely different world, frozen in time and untouched by modern hands. The silence was almost eerie, but it held its own kind of charm.
With each step, the wind picked up, whispering tales of the past as it rustled your hair. You reached the top after what felt like ages, the old bell looming overhead, silent and still.
Then, you saw him - the gargoyle, standing tall and watchful over the city. The stone was worn and chipped with age, but you could see the craftsmanship in the delicate carving. The library books you found said that its - his? - name was Larrimore, named after the man who had carved him back in the day.
"You're quite the looker, aren't you?" you said, reaching out to trace the details of his stone wings.
You took out your camera and clicked a picture, the small sound echoing in the quiet night. You leaned against the stone parapet, sitting next to Larrimore, just enjoying the peaceful quiet and the stunning view.
"I bet you've got some stories, huh?" you murmured, looking at Larrimore's stone face. He didn’t reply, of course, but you smiled anyway.
"Nice view, huh?" you said, settling down beside Larrimore. From up here, you could see the whole of Pinecoast, the little country town spread out below like a patchwork quilt of quaint houses and winding roads. The houses were a mishmash of colours and styles, each with its own charm, making you fall in love with your town all over again.
You brought out a sandwich from your bag, taking a bite as you gazed at the lights twinkling below. The cool breeze rustled your hair, bringing with it the scent of blooming wildflowers from the nearby fields.
Pinecoast was small, but from up here, it felt like a whole world. You could see kids playing in the park even as the sun set, and the flickering neon sign of the Sundown diner. You pointed things out to Larrimore, spinning tales about the little quirks and eccentricities of Pinecoast.
"See that house with the bright red door? That’s my place. Over there, that's Harmony Cafe. Best pastries in town. Seriously, Larrimore, you're missing out," you chatted away, forgetting for a moment that your companion was made of stone.
The hours rolled by, unnoticed. The sun had long since set, replaced by a blanket of stars that made the sky look like a vast, twinkling ocean. The town below was quieter now, the hustle and bustle replaced by the soothing sounds of crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl.
With a content sigh, you patted Larrimore's stone wing. "Time to head home, big guy," you murmured, pushing yourself up from the cool stone floor. You gave the gargoyle one last pat, and then began your descent, carefully navigating the steps in the dim light.
Downstairs, you took one last look at the tower, its stones glowing softly under the moonlight. "See you tomorrow, Larrimore," you whispered into the night, before turning towards home.
***
The next day, you couldn’t help but hurry back to the bell tower, the memory of last night’s adventure still fresh in your mind. As you approached, you noticed details you hadn't before - the ivy creeping up one side, the way the setting sun hit the stones, casting long, eerie shadows. You took several pictures, capturing the beauty of the bell tower from every angle.
With a newfound familiarity, you navigated the winding stairs, your fingers trailing over the stones, the camera clicking away. You noticed the worn-out engravings, the odd little nooks, the way some stones were darker, perhaps from age or weather. You loved every bit of it, the tower with its years of silent history becoming a subject of fascination for you.
Reaching the top, you once again found yourself face to face with Larrimore, the gargoyle who had become your silent companion. "Hello, handsome," you greeted him, unable to stop the grin that stretched across your face.
You busied yourself with your camera, taking pictures from different angles, trying to capture the majesty of Larrimore. It wasn’t until a few photos in that you noticed something odd. His wings looked different; the angle was wrong, they seemed spread a little wider than you remembered.
You paused, frowning as you examined him more closely. "Maybe it’s the lighting," you murmured, flipping through your camera to yesterday’s pictures for comparison. You squinted at the screen, switching between pictures, but the change was so subtle that you couldn't be sure.
"He's stone, he can't move," you reasoned out loud, laughing off your paranoia. Shrugging, you took a few more pictures, trying to shake off the strange feeling. You even touched his wings, half expecting them to feel different, but they were as cold and solid as yesterday.
You shook your head, clicking your tongue. "I'm losing it," you joked, addressing Larrimore, "your silent charm is making me imagine things." Yet, as you sat down to watch over Pinecoast again, a small part of you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Larrimore than you initially thought.
As the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you decided to call it a night, leaving the bell tower with a backward glance and a quiet 'goodnight' to your stone companion. The nagging curiosity didn't leave you - instead, it was there, quietly whispering in the back of your mind as you descended the tower. The next visit, you promised yourself, you'd pay extra close attention to Larrimore. Just to be sure.
***
The third visit to the bell tower had you buzzing with anticipation; partly because you were growing fond of your visits, and partly because of the nagging curiosity about Larrimore. As you climbed the tower, you went over your pictures again. Sure, the changes were subtle, but they were there.
Reaching the top, you froze. Larrimore's wings were undeniably different. Instead of being folded neatly at his back, they were now spread slightly wider. And his position... he was closer to the edge than before. Even his expression seemed altered, the stern look replaced with what seemed almost like a... smirk?
"Okay, this is not right," you mumbled, your heart pounding. You inspected him closely, running your hands over the smooth stone of his wings. They felt the same, cold and hard, but the evidence was in front of your eyes.
"Maybe I'm going crazy," you mused out loud, flipping through your photos yet again. Yet no matter how much you tried to deny it, the pictures didn't lie. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that Larrimore was changing.
"You can't move, can you?" you asked, turning to look at Larrimore, half expecting him to reply. "I mean, you're made of stone."
You continued chatting to Larrimore, voicing your thoughts and fears. It was a strange situation, to say the least. You even laughed at yourself, "Imagine if you suddenly spoke back, that would be something!"
With your mind in a whirl, you turned back to your bag, rummaging for your water bottle. That's when you heard it - a sound that made your heart stop. A grinding noise, like stone moving against stone. You froze, every instinct screaming at you to turn around, but you couldn't.
Then, a voice, deep and rough, echoed in the silent evening, "it would indeed be something."
You whirled around, eyes wide in disbelief. He was watching you with an unreadable expression, a hint of amusement in his stone eyes. It was impossible, you thought, it had to be a dream. Yet as Larrimore gave you a small, stone-crafted smile, you knew this was real.
You could only stare, eyes wide as saucers, as Larrimore continued to shift and change before your eyes. You took a step back, the reality of what you were seeing hitting you like a punch to the gut. It was impossible, you thought, your mind a whirl of confusion and disbelief.
His stone exterior began to crack and peel away, revealing scales underneath right before your eyes. They were an array of emerald green and warm brown, glinting under the moonlight. Larrimore’s body rippled and shifted, becoming less rigid and more... real. His features were the same, yet different - softer, more lifelike.
His wings spread wider, no longer the cold, grey stone but a mix of beautiful scales and thin, translucent membranes. They were stunning, taking up more space than his stone form had. The edge of the wings held a shimmer of gold, highlighting each scale, as if each one was a piece of art.
His eyes, once cold and emotionless, were now glowing with life. A brilliant shade of gold, they held an intelligence and warmth that the stone could never capture. His expression was the same, yet somehow even more expressive now - amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched your shocked face.
His body was now a mix of strong, toned muscles under the scales. His tail, once a mere stone appendage, now moved with a life of its own, its tip twitching slightly as he moved.
"What the hell..." you managed to choke out, your mind struggling to keep up with what your eyes were seeing.
Larrimore, now fully transformed, gave a low chuckle. "I suppose I owe you an explanation," he said, his voice rich and deep, a stark contrast to the eerie silence of the bell tower.
"An explanation would be nice, yeah," you finally managed to stutter, still trying to take in his new appearance.
Larrimore chuckled again, the sound echoing off the walls of the bell tower, giving it an oddly comforting feel. "My name is Larrimore, as you've been correctly addressing me," he started, his voice warm. "I've been the guardian of this tower and, by extension, Pinecoast for decades. Maybe even centuries, I lost count after a while."
You frowned, listening to his words but still struggling to comprehend. "Guardian?" you echoed, glancing around the abandoned bell tower.
He nodded, stretching his wings a bit before settling them comfortably. "Yes, I was placed here to watch over the town. Keep the peace, so to speak. As the tower fell into disrepair, my strength waned. Being in stone form takes less energy, so I've spent most of my time like that lately."
You took a moment, processing his words. It was a lot to take in. A living gargoyle, a guardian of your town, sitting here chatting with you as if it was a normal Tuesday night.
Despite the absurdity of it all, you found yourself captivated by Larrimore. He was charismatic and funny, his stories filled with a touch of humor that made you smile despite your shock. He was sweet too, apologising for startling you and even asking about your day, genuinely interested in your photography.
As the night wore on, you found yourself slowly relaxing, the initial shock melting away. His voice was soothing, his presence oddly comforting. He was different, otherworldly, and it was impossible not to fall for his charm.
The more you talked, the more you realised that he was enjoying your company as well. He seemed to laugh more, his gold eyes lighting up every time you shared a story. There was a softness to him when he spoke to you, a warmth that hadn't been there in his stone form.
At some point, you found yourself inching closer, your hand reaching out to touch his scales. They were warm, a sharp contrast to the cold stone you were used to. He looked at you then, his eyes soft and you could've sworn you saw a hint of affection in them.
When it was finally time to leave, you felt a pang of sadness. You’re eyes locked with his, which were such a brilliant gold it left you breathless.
“I should go,” you murmured, even as you remained rooted to the spot. “It’s late and…”
Despite your words, your feet seemed to refuse to move. You lingered there, on the brink of departure, a tension building in the air. Larrimore didn't move either, his golden eyes focused on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Something passed between you then, a silent acknowledgement.
For what felt like an eternity, you stood there, staring at each other. The bell tower was silent around you, Pinecoast sleeping soundly below. The only sounds were your shallow breaths and the faint rustling of Larrimore's wings.
There was a palpable energy between you, an unspoken tension that made your heart race and your hands tremble slightly. It felt like you were standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down into the unknown. Instead of fear, you felt a strange sense of calm. Whatever lay ahead, you knew you were ready to face it.
Breaking the silence, Larrimore spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is there something else?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer.
You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, you looked at him, really looked at him. You saw his concern, his confusion, and something else, something that made your heart skip a beat. Affection.
Swallowing hard, you took a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. This was crazy, you thought, absolutely mad. It felt right, more right than anything else had in a long time.
"Actually, there is," you whispered, your gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips. Taking a deep breath, you closed the distance between you two, your lips meeting his in a soft, hesitant kiss.
Larrimore stiffened in surprise, but he didn't pull away. Slowly, hesitantly, he responded to the kiss, his lips warm and firm against yours. It was a gentle, chaste kiss, but it still sent a flurry of excitement through your chest.
Pulling back, you looked at him, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. Larrimore looked just as shocked as you felt, his golden eyes wide. Then he smiled, a small, shy smile that made your heart flutter.
"That was..." he started, but seemed to lose his words, a rare occurrence.
"Unexpected?" you supplied, unable to stop the giggle that escaped you.
"Unexpected," he agreed, his smile growing wider, "but not unwelcome."
Before you could say another word, he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. The world seemed to fall still around you, the only sound in the world was the rapid, thumping beat of your heart.
The kiss started off shy, a slow exploration that made your heart race. As the moments ticked by, it grew more passionate. Larrimore enveloped you, his wings acting as a protective barrier around you. His hand, still cradling your face, was warm, his touch gentle. His other hand rested at the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.
Despite the obvious differences in your bodies, you fit together in a way you couldn't have imagined. His scales were surprisingly soft, warm to the touch. His size, so intimidating at first, now felt comforting, a solid wall of strength and protection.
The kiss deepened, both of you giving in to the emotions that had been bubbling under the surface for too long. It was an outpouring of everything unsaid, everything felt. It was passion, it was longing, it was a promise of more.
His lips moved against yours with an eagerness that took your breath away, his grip on you tightening just a fraction. His claws were careful not to scratch, his every move considerate and gentle.
When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless. Larrimore was looking at you, his golden eyes glowing in the dim light. There was a softness to his gaze, a tenderness that made your heart flutter.
"I'll come back," you promised, your voice barely a whisper. "Tomorrow."
Larrimore gave you a small nod, his hand dropping from your face. He didn't step away, though, his body still close to yours, his warmth enveloping you. "I'll be waiting," he said, his voice low.
With a final glance, you turned around, making your way down the bell tower. The night seemed quieter now, the world a blur around you. All you could think of was Larrimore, his kiss, his promise.
And as you walked away, your heart was lighter, a silly grin on your face. You were in love with a gargoyle, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
#exophilia fiction#exophilia#monster x reader#monster romance#monster boyfriend#tag: mxf#tag: male monster#tag: female reader#tag: gargoyle#tag: sfw
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big fucking gargoyle
slick ass card border by the ever talented how do i fucking tag people on this website anyways it's @pixelprofligate oh there we go
#inscryption#pixel art#aseprite#gargoyle#i hate videogames because they appeal to the male fantasy#the male fantasy:
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Saber-tooth inspired gargoyle, this big boy is a custom design commissioned by the super nice TheBrujoBee!
Yes, that's a thing we do, so if you're looking to commission customs or art of your gargoyles just ask and we'll probably be able to happily draw your stone children 😊
★ FurAffinity|Deviantart|Commission prices|Tapas|Pillowfort★
#artists on tumblr#gargoyles#gargoyle oc#male gargoyles#traditional art#commission#art commission#colored work#2023
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Mylan in color
@ariel-seagull-wings @themousefromfantasyland @theancientvaleofsoulmaking
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Actually since I added a tag to a post mentioning geckos babies they have a really interesting egg laying strategy.
Instead of doing what most egg laying animals do (ie: lay all the eggs together in one spot) many geckos lay just two eggs per clutch. They do this multiple time per season to reduce the chances all the eggs will end up as some creature's snack before they get a chance to hatch.
#also a related weird fact: the female retains sperm for a bit so they only have to fuck once a year to lay all those clutches#I know this only because YouTube recommended a video series to me where someone was breeding gargoyle geckos#and the one male gecko the dude had fucking died after a single night of lizard passion
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Every time I listen to certain songs, I keep on thinking about a picture of Monster High-styled Mermaid with gargoyle wings.
Would a story about her be appealing to anyone?
#exophilia#monster x human#monster family#monster lover#female monster x female human#female monster x male human#monster girlfriend#mermaid#gargoyles
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Claimed by your gargoyle boss
General Plot: Your boss is sick of hearing you whine, so he does something about it
Gargoyle boss (Heath) x female reader
Word Count: 1.5k
W: nsfw monster smut, yandere behavior, noncon/dubcon
“Allright, out with it,” Heath grumbled, dropping a stack of books in front of you, “your face is scaring the customers away. I hired you because you’re cute. What’s the problem?”
You bit your lip and pouted, plucking at a thread on your sweater. He sighed.
“Do you want a coffee? Will that open you up?”
You blinked up at him with wet eyes and he rolled his at you, pulling out his phone and ordering your usual from the shop at the other end of the shopping center.
“Coffee incoming. Now tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” he griped.
“No one can fix it,” you wailed, sniffling, “Jerry broke up with me.”
His pupils narrowed and an odd look crossed his face before he schooled his expression.
“Good, that guy was an idiot,” he said, “I don’t see the issue.”
You sighed.
“I thought we were going to get married,” you huffed, “what a waste of time. I’m going to be old and withered before you know it, alone, eaten by neighborhood cats.”
He raised an eyebrow at you.
“You will not be alone, teacup,” he assured you, “and consider you are crying over a human named Jerry…isn’t he a barback...at a Chili's? Just think about that...I bet he sleeps on a mattress on the floor, too.”
You sniffled but chuckled a little. Jerry did sleep on a mattress on the floor.
“Hey, I’m human too,” you griped, wiping the couple of tears that had snuck over your cheeks away.
“It works for you, it’s part of your charm,” the handsome gargoyle said, “but Jerry…I’m just sayin’, who even names their kid that? Did they hate him?”
He tagged some books with a price gun, handing you each one as he finished for you to pile on your opposite side.
“Yeah, I guess,” you said petulantly, “but even barbacks named Jerry don’t want me.”
“Why don’t you let me t-”
“Jerry?”
You glanced up to find the aforementioned ex standing in front of you with a bouquet of roses.
“(Y/N), I uh…wanted to apologize about before…I just-”
“No. No way. Absolutely not. Get out.” Heath said flatly.
You looked between him and Jerry.
“W-what do you mean?” Jerry stammered, clutching his flowers.
“You aren’t doing this during work hours. Come back when (Y/N) is off the clock. That’s barely an twenty minutes from now.”
Jerry blanched at the much larger gargoyle and shoved the flowers at you before scurrying away.
“Was that really necessary?” you pouted, fingering the flowers, “he was trying to apologize.”
“And you’re just going to take him back?” he growled.
You stuck your bottom lip out.
“He was being so nice,” you said.
Heath looked at the ceiling as if the tiles held answers.
“Come here,” he said, dropping his price gun and jerking you into the back room.
He’d barely closed the door when he suddenly started stripping your clothes away, his claws shredding the wool dress you were wearing.
“Heath!” you squealed, trying to hide yourself.
He grinned down at you with an edge of cruelty to his smile and grabbed your wrists yanking them above your head.
“I’m sick of hearing you squall about idiots,” he grumbled, “you obviously need to get fucked by a real man. Don’t act like you don’t want it. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“What?!” you screeched.
He smirked at you before shoving your shredded panties in your mouth and spinning you around to face the wall.
“You bend over for these worthless assholes like a bitch in heat,” his deep voice rumbled into your ear as he pressed two thick fingers inside of you and his massive body against your back, “you’re beggin’ me to make you my little slut. How about this? You’re mine now. Nobody touches your pretty pussy but me, problem solved. I'll never leave you wanting, never make you cry.”
Your eyes rolled back in your head as he stroked your G spot with his large fingers. His thumb circled your clit and you shuddered, whimpering against him.
“Yghfhg cnng dg tsdgh!” you cried into the impromptu gag he’d created, even as your pussy juices ran down over his hand.
“What was that, sweet heart? I couldn’t quite hear you,” he jeered, “did you say you want me to stuff your little cunt until you can’t remember that fucker’s name?”
Tears slid down your cheeks in confusion. On one hand you were turned on, how many times had you’d daydreamed about the handsome gargoyle pushing you against a bookshelf and ravishing you?
On the other hand, it was so real and overwhelming, your eyes glazed over as you got intoxicated on his scent. He smelled like old books and sweet tobacco from the rolled cigarettes he smoked. You couldn’t do anything but whimper if you wanted to. His strong hand had you pinned to the wall, your back arched so he could cup your ass with the other.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you teacup,” he assured you as you ground your hips into his big hand, “that’s it. Cum for me.”
You’d never cum on command before, but his arresting voice in your ear had you shuddering and mewling on his fingers. Your eyes crossed with pleasure and he chuckled.
“You’re such a good, obedient girl,” he murmured and you preened under his praise, “those boys don’t deserve you. Lemme give you what you need.”
You felt his fingertips retreat, replaced with his smooth cock head prodding your entrance. The thick pads of his fingers made their way to your nipples, taking his time plucking and playing with each one until they were stiff points. To your surprise your feet lifted off of the ground as finally he speared you, shattering every complicated thought you were having to pieces and slamming you into the wall in front of you.
“Good girl,” he said, his hand clamping on to your hip to maneuver you over his massive shaft, “you don’t need any cock but mine, do you?”
Heath understood very well the effect an enormous gargoyle phallus had on a tiny human cunt, and it amused him to know your brain was mush as your nerves tried to process the thing impaling you. He could see it in the way your eyes glazed over and you went limp in his arms, unable to do anything but accept what he was going to give you.
He’d never been one of the fetishists who worshiped tiny human females, but he’d always thought you were incredibly cute and now buried balls deep in your tight pussy he felt…right. Your arousal perfumed the air and he was drunk on your scent. He needed to ruin you for any other male, not that it would matter because he’d never let another male get close to you after that moment.
The tip of his tail found your clit and he played you like his instrument, bringing you closer and closer to your end. All the while his hips slammed into you over and over again, stretching your cunt to its limit.
You drooled and cried, still sensitive from your first orgasm. You were too busy sobbing into your panties to notice Heath smirking at Jerry, who’d appeared in the doorway looking for you. Heath didn’t slow down or stop for a second, staring the human right in the eye as he railed you into next week. The only muffled thing that came out of your mouth was Heath's name on repeat.
Cocking his his head to the side he asked the man a silent question of whether or not he liked watching his former girl get fucked by a better man...er...gargoyle. Jerry stared, his mouth open, for a moment, shocked, before he blushed and backed out of the room leaving you to your fate.
“That’s it, little one,” Heath groaned, high on his victory and your scent, “cum for daddy. Show me what that pussy can do.”
He curled his wings around the two of you, forming a safe cave for his passion. His encouragement pushed you over the edge, strangling his cock with the muscles in your cunt and flooding your channel with slick. You screamed, squeezing your eyes shut and you came, seeing colors. Wedged in your tight hole he slammed into you one more time before you felt his searing cum paint your womb.
He held you to him for a moment, his long hair brushing your cheek as you panted together in the darkness of his wingspread. Gingerly, he tugged your panties out of your mouth and spun your around, covering your lips with his.
“Mphh!” you grunted, surprised as he kissed you, gently, but firmly, staking his claim. One hand tangled in your hair, while the other stroked your cheek. He pulled back only an inch or so, searching your eyes.
“I meant what I said,” he growled, “gargoyles don’t do things halfway. You belong to me now.”
You blinked up at him and nodded slowly.
“O-Okay,” you said.
He carried you over to a couch in the back room and laid you down. Covering you with a throw blanket, he wrapped you up and arranged you amongst the cushions.
“Nap while I close up the store. I'll bring you your coffee when it gets here and then we'll go to yours to pack your things.”
“P-pack my things?” you asked.
He nodded.
“I said you were mine,” he said as if that were obvious.
“O-oh. O-okay,” you replied, yawning and sank down into the cushions.
There was no point in fighting with your nine foot tall gargoyle boss. He was hot and if he wanted to save you from an inevitable end as lonely cat food, you weren’t going to stop him.
If telling yourself he’d fucked you into submission was what you needed to say to yourself to let him have you, then so be it. You closed your eyes and sighed, collapsing against the microfiber couch for a well deserved nap.
#monster x girl#monster fucker#monster smut#monster#monster romance#monster x human#monster lover#male yandere#yandere smut#gargoyle#x reader
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I walked in on some tension
#i made a mistake lmao#they previously had my been able to see each other#*hadn’t been able#but I forgot to move the partions back between them#and I walk in on them literally staring at each other#I fixed it it’s fixed it was just not what I was expecting to walk in one lmao#context for non-reptile people: geckos even of the same species tend to not like each other and get territorial#especially when it’s two males which these both are#they don’t get lonely they get anxious about the other gecko in the area#this is why you should not cohabitate the vast majority of reptiles#I’ve had a gecko freak out because he saw himself in the camera lmao#gargoyle gecko#gecko#herpblr#lizard#reptile
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Something Borrowed (Part One)
M Gargoyle x M Reader
STORY TAG || NEXT
Wordcount: 3486
Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup
I think this might be the closest thing to a romcom I've ever written, so that should inform what this one's going to be like.
You’re cursed to be alone.
You wake up, alone. You do your job, alone. You eat raw cookie dough in your pink silk pajamas while curled up in bed as you watch your programs, alone. Then you go to sleep, alone.
Everything- alone.
You’ve nearly gotten used to it. Accepted it. Welcomed it, even.
It's certainly easier to not have to constantly worry about another person's feelings or needs.
Some people are just meant to be alone.
Though, you never imagined you’d be one of those people…
You let out a long, dreary sigh as you pick up another glob of buttercream frosting on your offset spatula and smear it in a practiced movement against the side of the cake on the counter in front of you.
…It’s really not all that bad, you reason as a small smile finds its way onto your face.
There’s always cake.
Today is more of the same. Another slow-paced and quiet Tuesday morning like any other for your modest, but cozy little bake shop.
…Or at least it was.
The bell above the door jingles sharply, announcing a customer. You look up from the frosting job you’re working on, chasing the sullen quality from your person.
“Good moooorning!” A small, perky, business-casual clad faun says in a chipper sing-song, shattering the peace of the empty shop by calling out to you before you even have a chance to put on your customer service face and greet them. They quickly make their way over to the counter, their hooves clicking on the tile. They produce a lanyard-bound ID from their vest pocket and present it to you. “I’m an investigator with the mana bureau.”
The small picture does indeed show the person before you, clearly trying to hold back a smile for a neutral, bureaucratic photo.
Kirkja Papadakis-Kierkegaard,
3rd level Mage-Investigator,
Certified Cursebreaker.
“Oh- Um, Hello. What can I do for you, Investigator…” You tilt your head at their ID, trying to reason out how to pronounce their last name without slaughtering it.
“Just call me Kirby! Everyone does!” They laugh, and after they give a cursory glance around the shop to ensure there’s no other customers, they continue; “I have some things I’d like to chat with you about! Is now a good time?”
“Sure, it's as good a time as any.” You smile wryly and motion to the bakery case. The first thing you learned growing up in your small, rural village's only bakery is that baked goods are an excellent ice breaker for nearly any social situation. “…Can I get you anything? Complimentary, of course.”
“Um. Yes???” Kirby basically scoffs, and you see the familiar glazed look in their eyes that you so often see in customers as they lean over the case. "That one."
They point to a pastel pink-blue swirled crown of frosting with a puff of spun sugar nestled in the center.
"Candy floss? Good choice. I'm testing this flavor out, so you'll have to let me know if you like it." You turn to grab a small plate from the rack behind you. "You can sit at the counter if you'd like."
"Don't mind if I do." Kirby lifts themselves up onto the bar stool with a grin.
After plating their cupcake and setting it in front of them, you pull up your own beat-up wooden stool you keep behind the counter and take a seat across from them. There’s no customers to assist right now and you don’t have any tastings scheduled until later this afternoon, so you might as well make yourself comfortable. You can always do the tasks you had planned later- one of the perks of being your own boss, you suppose.
“So. I’m here about a string of mishaps of magical origin that have happened across several weddings in the area.” Kirby starts, peeling off the paper and happily taking a large bite out of their cupcake. “Mmph- They all involved the wedding cake. As it would happen, my investigation so far turned up the only thing the couples involved all had in common was that they had gotten their wedding cakes from you.”
"Me…?” You say incredulously. “What could’ve happened?"
"Cakes exploded." Kirby says as elegantly as possible through a mouthful of cake and frosting.
“They exploded…?” You say, aghast, looking directly at the potential explosive in their hand. “And you’re sitting here eating one?!”
“Don’t worry about it! We’re not at a wedding.” Kirby says with a little chuckle, but it reassures you little. “Plus, I’d know if this bad boy was going to magically explode, for sure.”
“Oh no, that’s…” You cover your mouth with your hand as the information sinks in. It didn’t occur to you that a curse was something that could spread. You'd hate to think that you were passing on this misfortune to your customers, even the more difficult ones. “You don’t think… Are curses actually contagious? I’d feel terrible…”
"Sometimes. It’s complicated. Do you mind if I do a quick reading?”
“Ah, no. Go… right ahead?”
You’re not exactly sure what a magical audit entails. Being a numan, magic is a force that generally doesn’t directly touch your life often, outside of being in periphery to it on a daily basis.
“Great.” They put down the cupcake.
Kirby closes their eyes and stays quiet and still, which despite you not knowing them very long at all, seems to be starkly at odds with their usual demeanor. The only movement they carry out is bringing their hand up to hold the bolo tie at their neck.
You can swear that you feel a small thrum in the air - but knowing you have no capability for feeling energy magic yourself, you think you may just be imagining it.
And then, after a few more moments of slightly awkward silence; it’s over, just like that. All in all, it’s a rather underwhelming affair.
"Wowie, it's a shame, this shop is so cute but the vibes are waaaaay off! Magically speaking, that is. The decor is immaculate.” They finish fiddling with their bolo tie and open their eyes, a neon cyan hued glow fading from their irises. “I could tell from the moment I walked in something was funky, but this is just… Oof."
“That doesn’t sound like particularly good news.”
“It could be worse! But you have… hmmm, how to put this without it sounding scary…” They say as they pick their treat back up in one hand, and wiggle their finger at your general person with the other. "You’ve got a big glob of nasty energy hanging out all over you. Centered in your chest area.”
“Ah, that’d probably be because I’m cursed.” You say, matter-of-fact.
"That’s sure what it looks like! ” He says in a surprisingly bubbly tone, despite the worrying subject matter. “Don’t worry. Curses are my speciality, so I’ve got you. We just have to get to the bottom of things, and I can help get rid of it!”
“That would be lovely.” You say sheepishly. “How can I help?”
“Why don't you tell me a little about how an average day goes here?" They pull out a pen and a notepad from their bag. You lace your fingers together on the counter in front of you, trying to resist the urge to chew your nails down from the nerves.
You recount out loud your day so far: You came down early, baked off some of your batters, and while they were cooling you started a fresh batch of your signature buttercream. Not too sweet, just right. You piped a batch of cupcakes to add to the case, double checked your pars for the day, and wrapped delicate little treat boxes with fancy little bows for display.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
"Hmm. That sounds very picturesque, but none of that particularly screams 'OOOH NOOO I'M CURSED!!!' to me." They fiddle with the pen between their fingers in thought. “Usually there’s more… overtly magical disturbing spooky things, y’know. Blood seeping from the walls, unexplained patches of goo, disembodied cackling skulls… that sort of thing! Almost like a haunting.”
"No, nothing like that."
"Nothing at all? With this level of energy around here, I'm surprised you're not having constant poltergeist activity."
"Apologies. I'm afraid my life is a bit dull."
“Oh, don’t feel like you have to apologize! If anything, it's nice to have a curveball every now and then. Any little thing you can tell me might help, even if it doesn’t seem important at first."
You wrack your brain, working your hands on the hem of your apron, trying to jog your memory.
"I suppose there could be some wee things. Sometimes things seem to get lost or moved to places I didn't put them. Or… when I'm closing the shop down for the night, I'll feel dread like I'm being watched, even though I know I'm alone… I chalked it up to being forgetful and sad."
"Hmm. Forgetful- sure, happens to everyone." They click the pen top on the counter rhythmically. "But what's there to be sad about?"
"Er…" You hesitate. Exactly how personal are you supposed to get here?
The last thing you want to do is pathetically dump your issues on a stranger that's forced to be here, just because you have no one else to talk to.
These days, you’re severely lacking in social support. You’ve lost all of your friends in the breakup, as if your ex had won custody of them. There’s always your family, and you call home often. But you can only say so much about how you’re feeling to them- your parents are getting up there in age, and you don’t want them to worry too much about you. Your sister may have single-handedly kept you sane during the worst of it, but you don’t want her to bear the full emotional burden. It doesn’t help that every single phone call has a segment asking when you’re moving back, either…
"I’m not here to judge, so tell me everything. Even if you’ve committed a crime! That’s not my jurisdiction, so I could care less,” He giggles brightly. “Unless your victim cursed you from beyond the grave - then maybe it is? If that's the case I’d have to make a few phone calls to find out.”
You let out a huff of a laugh. Their energy is infectious, but you’re immediately faced with a huge obstacle.
…Where do you even start?
How can you condense nearly a full year of heartbreak into a mere minutes-long explanation?
Somehow, you find your words.
“Everything was fine until I opened that letter,” You finally start. "After that, my entire life fell apart."
"Ah, now that sounds like something I can work with!" The faun starts hastily jotting down notes as you speak. "Do you know the sender? Do you still have the letter? What did it say?"
"No, I don't know the sender- and probably, but I’ll need to look through storage-" You begin fielding his rapidfire questions one at a time. "But to paraphrase: everyone who had a hand in their failed marriage would suffer like they did- that any love I had or will have from now on will wither before blooming.”
"Yikes. Sure sounds like a disgruntled ex-client would be the first place to look.”
“I… didn’t realize it would pass on to the wedding cakes I make…" You say, still absolutely gutted at the thought. “I hate to think something I made ruined someone’s wedding…”
“Hey, technically we don’t know if that's the case yet! It could all be a coincidence. But I'm guessing something happened to support the letter’s claim?"
"Yes." You clear your throat, trying to dislodge the sudden frog stuck there. "The day after I received the letter my… well. My ex-fiance left me with no warning."
"Oh no, I'm so sorry to hear that. Had you been together long?"
"Eight years. He was my first boyfriend after I moved here. It was so sudden… things were normal- they were perfect. Or so I thought... Then just like that… He was gone. And so were all of our plans… I had to cancel everything. No refunds of course, but it wasn't even losing all the gold that hurt. It was hellish." You let out a shuddering sigh, realizing you're going off on a tangent. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't be making this interview into a therapy session…?"
"You go right ahead and spill as much as you need. I love tea."
You don’t need more encouragement than that to take the rare opportunity to vent. You find you continue to blab long after Kirby has finished their cupcake, them listening along attentively and responding with support or disgust where appropriate. They’re listening so intently, you’re not in a hurry to stop yourself.
"...Then all of our friends sided with him. Or at least it felt that way, since they all seemed to fall off right after…”
"Oh, that is so uncalled for!” Their ears flick in shared indignance before a grin finds its way back on to their face. “Don't worry, you'll see enough of me during this investigation, I'll be your new bestie by time we're done here. Especially if there’s cake like this is involved, haha-"
You laugh and nod, despite being skeptical of that claim. You don’t really think you even remember what it feels like to have a mutually supportive friendship at this point, so while it would be nice… you’re not holding your breath.
With that, Kirby tells you that they’ll be back the next day to start combing through your past client files, reassuring you when you question if it’s safe to keep selling cakes in the meantime. Then, like that, they’re off. And just in time, too, as it’s just about the time that customers tend to start turning up, and you still have a cake to finish frosting.
Hours later, you're finishing tidying up the back for the night. The colors of the end of sunset are staining the back window already.
It's been a long, eventful, emotionally draining day. You certainly didn't expect to bare your deeply personal relationship trauma to a stranger today. Kirby was very kind about everything, but still…Then, you got hit by an unexpected rush, on top of that.
Though, you have to admit that it was nice, not only having some validation of your curse being a real thing that is affecting your life, but being given a small glimmer of hope that it may be curable.
Usually you would throw yourself into work and relish not having to think about what happened to you at all. So, while having to talk about it felt a bit like picking at the open wound- in a way, you feel a tiny bit lighter having spoken to someone about it, even if you know that feeling won’t last.
After all, you can already start to feel the heavy sense of loss settling back in now that you’re alone again, a constant weight on your chest.
You're more than ready to go upstairs, relax and turn your brain off for the evening. Perhaps watch a program with people even more woefully unlucky in love than you are. Even if you’re doing it by yourself…
You glance at the clock.
Just six minutes until close…
And of course, that's when you hear the telltale jingle of a waiting order go off.
You heave a sigh. Then you stand up straight and wipe your floured hands on your apron, putting a customer service smile on, despite the fatigue.
Walking out into the front of house, you see the culprit is already physically present.
A gargoyle man dressed in a fine suit stands near the self-ordering kiosk, checking the watch on his wrist. The pink silk paisley of his tie charmingly matches the blush sheen of the quartz horns protruding from the tawny stoneskin of his forehead.
Immaculate grooming. Good posture. Excellent sense of style.
Your love life may be an absolute trainwreck, but you’re relieved you can still recognize a handsome man when you see one, apparently.
"Hello there," You greet the well-dressed man in your shop, trying to keep voice sounding smooth and unfazed. "It'll only be a moment and I'll have your order together.”
“Hey, good evening. Take your time.”
A dazzling smile. And a nice voice too.
You’re slightly weak in the knees.
You’re suffering as you meticulously pick his order out of the case, trying to convince yourself that you’d be this picky and only selecting the nicest looking cupcakes for any customer, not just the ones you find particularly attractive.
"Here you are, Carlyle, " You read his name off the screen and deftly seal up the bottom of the rosy pink paper box with a strip of tape before setting it back on the counter. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No, nothing more for me. Then again-" He squints at the chalkboard above you, and seemingly not finding the information he's seeking, adds: "Do you not serve coffee here…?"
"Ah, I'm afraid not. This is a cake shop, not really much of a cafe.”
“Too bad. It’s likely going to be an all-nighter, so I thought I’d get a pick-me-up beforehand.”
“Well- are you in a hurry?" You have a wild idea, and speak before thinking twice.
"I could not be." A small smirk plays on his lips, and his deep brown eyes glint with curiosity piqued. "It depends on the reason."
"Alright, you sit tight for a moment, will you? I'll be right back."
You duck into the back and up the stairs to your loft flat, and in a whirlwind prepare a regular cup of coffee in your single-serving machine. You blaze through the motions, muscle memory from going through your morning routine in a half-asleep haze shining through. You grab whatever mug is closest at hand and stare down the machine while it whirs and grinds, willing the two minutes to pass faster.
You hustle back down the stairs, pausing at the bottom landing to take a deep breath before emerging into the shopfront once more.
"Hope you don't mind storebrand," You lilt and slide the steaming mug over the counter to him, handle pointing towards him. "Be careful please, it's quite hot."
"Ah, it smells good." You cringe as he immediately takes a long sip from the still surely boiling hot beverage, before remembering a gargoyle's temperature tolerance is much different than your own. "I really appreciate it. However…"
You tilt your head slightly, waiting for Carlyle to finish voicing his concern.
"Is your partner going to be okay with me using this mug?"
"My- wha- huh?" You babble in confusion before realizing that he's turned the mug's design to face you to illustrate his point.
WORLD'S BEST BOYFRIEND, the well-loved mug reads, the hand-glazed font bordered by multiple pink hearts.
Trevor made you that mug years ago, and you can’t bring yourself to throw it out. It used to be your favorite… And even now, after everything, it's still apparently the one you subconsciously reach for.
Your hand finds your face in utter mortification. You barely muster the courage to peek through the crack in your fingers.
"Oh. Oh, gosh. I- That’s-" You stumble over your words further, still flustered when you lower your hand. Then, you settle on keeping it simple instead of going into your own personal tragedy too deeply. "No, I'm single."
"Hmm." Carlyle seems to at least have the sense of mercy to not pry further.
"W-Would you like cream or sugar?" You swiftly and blatantly change the subject. You can feel that your cheeks and ears are burning up. "Those I definitely have down here…"
"No, I prefer it this way. This is going to sound odd, all things considered, but I'm actually not a fan of sweets."
"Oh? But-" You pointedly glance at the box of cupcakes you just packed.
"I know, I know. It's for the rest of the team." He shrugs, shoving his free hand in his pocket and swirling the coffee in the mug like he's a sommelier. "It's been a difficult case, so I thought everyone could use a treat, then I somehow got roped into pick-up duty as well."
"I see…very kind of you. But why here, then?"
"The ladies are all crazy about this place." He grins. "Though now, I see why. Excellent service."
You can't help but smile at the praise. Thank heavens for Welp.
"So, what more do I owe you for this?" He gestures with the nearly empty mug.
"Oh, nothing! Consider it complimentary." You lean on the counter playfully. "But maybe you could come back sometime? I love a good challenge- and I bet I could find something sweet that you do like."
"Hahah- challenge accepted, then."
>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI
#exophilia#monster lover#monster romance#monster x human#monster x reader#gargoyle x reader#gargoyle#male x male#mxm#mlm#male monster#male reader#series: something borrowed#oc: carlyle#oc: declan#nine of words
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Male Gargoyle/Female Reader
NSFW
Wordcount: 965
Tags & Warnings: bruises/cuts, plus size reader
Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist
Firm, claw-tipped hands sank into the delicate flesh of your hips; never enough to hurt, but enough to make you’re entire body shiver under the eager ministrations. They skimmed across the expanse of your tender skin and left pretty pink scratches that never quite broke the skin.
Antoine loomed above your spread form, his golden eyes shining in the darkness with a look that could have only been described as awe. Here he was; this enormous, dangerous creature – the power he held over you, made you squirm.
“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you murmured, only to gasp as Antoine dragged his claws down your inner thigh. It set your skin alight with hot pleasure, that followed the long, delicate pink marks he left on your skin.
“I have to be careful,” Antoine murmured, and his voice was rich and deep, echoing through the little bedroom. “If I’m not, I could hurt you.”
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, you thought; and then Antoine began to rock his hips, his hardness pressed against your belly, and all other thoughts left your mind.
His dick was long and thick, ribbed in a way that made you squirm before he had even entered you. The feel of him as he ground against you, already slick with his excitement, was enough to make you moan.
“Ready?” Antoine asked; always so sweet, even when you had been ready all day. Waiting for him. Eager for him.
“Yes,” you breathed, your mind heady with lust. You let out a long, drawn out sigh as he entered you, eyelids fluttering closed as Antoine filled you completely.
Only to snap open again as those delicious hands gripped either side of your ass, massive palms massaging the soft flesh of your cheeks. His skin was rough and calloused, almost leathery; it was impossible not to squirm under his attentions, hips stuttering as he began to rut against you.
Antoine’s movements were jittery. Desperate. You knew that today had been rough for him by the way his eyes squeezed shut and his breathing came in harsh, ragged breaths. He needed this; and you were more than happy to comply.
And yet even now, as his sharp teeth sank into his lip to keep quiet, Antoine was oh so gentle. Too gentle.
You still had enough wits to see through your haze of lust, and reach out to put a hand over Antoine’s. He gripped your ass a little tighter, which elicited a moan from your lips.
He always knew exactly what to do, but today you wanted more. More of him, more of those gorgeous hands leaving marks against your skin.
“You can go rougher,” you muttered between clenched teeth, your need for him growing. “You- you don’t have to be so careful. I- I won’t break. Unless you want me to.”
The groan that left Antoine’s lips was divine, as his fingers curled around your ass. His rhythm faltered, hips stuttering, and his grip strengthened until pins and needles lit up your ass and thighs.
“Antoine,” you called, and your thighs squeezed around his hips until his moans joined yours.
The sensation of those hands on you, grip tightening as Antoine tried to pull you ever closer, made your mind go numb with desire. Then suddenly those hands were around your waist, tugging you from the mattress so that he could crash his lips to yours.
You felt like a doll in those enormous palms, which groped and pulled and left little twinges of pain as they roamed across your body. With each grasp, Antoine’s courage seemed to grow; his kisses became sloppy as his desperation grew, his claws less tentative as they raked across your skin until you were crying out, voice muffled by Antoine’s searing kiss.
“I won’t last,” you barely heard him mumble, his words disjointed as he gasped for breath.
You grinned into the kiss, loving the feel of his sharp teeth nicking at your skin. And then, impulsively, you caught his lip between your teeth and bit.
With a low moan, Antoine crushed his body against yours, arms wrapped around you like a cage; but a cage that you never wanted to escape from. His hands roamed between your joined bodies as he thrust into you, until his palms found the curve of your stomach. They gripped the soft bulge of your love handles and squeezed.
Pain and pleasure had you bucking into Antoine as a gasp flew from your lips. Antoine’s hands kept you locked in place as your orgasm hit; you rocked beneath him, feeling his claws scrape across your belly and chest before, with one last thrust, he grabbed your waist with enough strength to leave you reeling.
It was the sight of you writhing in pleasure beneath him that finally brought Antoine over the edge. His eyes slipped closed as his entire body stiffened; and then he came with a muffled moan, spilling himself inside of you.
You stared up at him for a long moment, smirking at his downturned gaze and heavy breaths. When you leaned up for a kiss, he greeted you eagerly with soft lips and sharp fangs.
When the two of you parted, sweaty and sticky between your thighs, Antoine’s gaze darted to your middle.
Right there, on your stomach, was a dark mark in the shape of Antoine’s broad, claw-tipped hands.
You followed his gaze, and a new kind of lust pooled between your legs. Before Antoine could apologise, you pressed his palm against your belly, in the exact shape of the forming bruise.
You smiled up at Antoine through thick, fluttering lashes – and then pulled him in for another mind-numbing kiss.
#exophilia#exophilia fiction#monster boyfriend#monster x reader#monster romance#tag: mxf#tag: male monster#tag: female reader#tag: not sfw#tag: gargoyle#tag: plus size
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When your mainline just climbs on top of you...just because.
#cyberpunk 2077#vince cullen#cyberpunk kerry#kerry eurodyne#rockerboi#virtual photography#kerry eurodyne x male v#male v#kerry x v#kerry x male v#kerry eurodyne x v#kerry is a snuggle/snogging gargoyle. Change my mind
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