#monsterlovetober2023
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T | 1625 | m/m Steddie human/wingfolk | fantasy | winged!Eddie, wing grooming
The business was slow at first, but as the word spread, more clients were coming, including those that paid a lot for full treatment, from cleaning to waxing, and sometimes even dyeing. In a year, the salon became the best known in the region, with some arguing it was the best one. Maybe it wasn’t the biggest achievement considering the services provided were still hard to come by, but it was an achievement nevertheless.
Robin saw wingfolks from many species and all walks of life, but the man that walked through the door one Thursday afternoon was a sight to behold.
He was dressed in all black, the alternative type that didn’t mind cutting a hole through a shirt to accommodate his wings. The clothing matched his feathers, dark like coal and opalescent when the sun hit them just right. Black wings were rare in general, and their owners also kept to their circles. Steve could count on the fingers of one hand the times he worked on them in the past year of running his business.
“Welcome to Robin’s grooming service, how can I help you today?”
Instead of a greeting, the man looked around, studying the salon walls and the man who greeted him.
“I’ve heard you take in all the customers?”
Steve straightened his spine. It was a question he’s heard before, in many intonations.
“Yes, we care about the wings, not who they belong to or what color they are.”
He’s heard about salons that refused to treat black wings, running on a prejudice that black wings belonged to demons or, as some called them, corrupted angels. Thus why they kept to themselves.
The man relaxed a bit, finally approaching the counter.
“Are you free today?” he asked, fingers drumming nervously on the wood.
“Yeah, I have noone scheduled. What would you like to get done?” he smiled, hoping to come off as reassuring as possible. His client didn’t look very convinced though. He fidgeted with the feathers of his right wing, curled slightly towards himself.
“Just the basics. I don’t have much money and,” he hesitated before admitting. “I’ve never been to a groomer before, usually my uncle did it, but his arthritis got worse, and, you know…” he shrugged sheepishly, realizing he's sharing more than necessary. “Long story short my band leaves for our first tour this weekend and I wanna look good on stage.” He smiled, finally, and Steve could read the pride and excitement behind it, despite how small it was. He offered his own, wide grin back.
“Congrats on the tour, man. It sounds like a special occasion.”
“Thanks, it kinda is, isn't it?” The man scratched his cheek, the sheepish grin back.
"My name's Steve, I'll be working on you. What's yours?"
"Eddie."
The man notes the appointment down in his calendar, then closes it.
“Well, let’s get you stage ready then. Would you like some tea? I have a great yasmine blend. Do you prefer to lie down or sit?”
“Sit, I think. Tea would be great.”
“Gotcha. Get comfortable, you can change the music, adjust the chair however you like. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
The man sauntered to one of two stations in the salon, the one with the chair, tracing the leather before he turned to the radio and a stack of cassettes beside it. The wide selection of genres proved that the owner cared about his clients’ comfort more than imposing his taste on music on everyone. He shuffled through them, finally settling on an Aerosmith tape to pop it in. He settled on the chair, watching the man lineup needed supplies. A steaming mug of fragrant tea was settled down next to him.
“Thank you,” he said, following him with his gaze and then listening intently as he ran him through the process and the tools he’ll be using. First, came the brushing, to get rid of anything his feathers don’t need. It took him a moment to loosen up to the fact that a stranger was touching his wings, but when they finished the first one, he was relaxed enough to engage in some small talk.
“What’s the name of your band?”
“Corroded Coffin. We play metal, mostly covers, a few originals.”
The man hummed.
“Sounds fitting. Are all your bandmates winged folks?”
Sometimes this line of questioning would rub him the wrong way, but the groomer’s intentions seemed genuine. Besides, he got raving reviews from people Eddie trusted.
“Our drummer is fully human, but other than that, yes. Only mine are black, though.”
“They are beautiful,” the man said, and he blushed under the compliment, glad to be turned away from him. “Pity I don’t get to work on black wings often.”
“Well, if you do a good job today, who knows,” he offered. “Maybe I’ll need some grooming when I come back from the tour. Someone’s gotta brush away the leftover coke.”
Steve snorted.
“Oh, it’s this kind of tour? Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll? I’m fine with coke, but cleaning up sperm will cost you extra.”
Eddie choked on his spit, head snapping back to see the man’s cocky smirk. He could feel his cheeks heat up, imagining scenarios in which cum could get up there.
“Thanks, I think I'll manage,” he choked out, turning back away.
“I mean, it takes two, at least, and a good partner should help with it.”
“I guess so,” he mused, red faced against his arms, and the topic simmered out.
“Were you in a forest recently?” the groomer asked instead.
“Uh, yeah, why? Oh no, is there a tick?!”
“No, no, don’t worry,” the man chuckled. “Just some pine needles. And twigs. Found a small pinecone too,” he said, showing him the findings in his palm.
If he gets any redder he might faint.
“Uh, that’s not cool, I’m usually more careful, I swear I’m not a slob-”
Steve stopped him, patting the bare skin between his wings soothingly.
“My friend has wings too, I know how easy it is to get stuff stuck in them after just a short walk through the woods. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about."
Eddie grumbled into his arms, melting further into them as if he wanted to disappear. The rest of the brushing was uneventful, with Steve mostly talking about his winged friend. Her name was Robin, the namesake of the salon, and she was a co-owner of the place. It seemed like they were close, but not once did Eddie get the idea the feelings between them were romantic.
“Now I'm gonna clean them for any remaining dirt, then just conditioning and we’ll be done.”
Eddie nodded, watching him swap the supplies for the next task.
Five minutes in proved him wrong for thinking brushing was his favorite part of grooming. Steve was way more attentive than his uncle, gently rubbing the suds into feathers. Under his touch, and with a faint smell of jasmine, he started dozing off. After the third time he jolted himself awake, Steve gently said:
“It’s okay, you can nap. You wouldn’t be the first one. I’ll wake you up to pick the oil when I’m done.”
Eddie nods once, and settles his head on his arms, letting himself drift off.
He’s woken up by a warm hand soothing the knobs of his spine. He purrs at the touch, still in a sleepy daze, before catching himself. The man chuckles, but doesn’t comment. He offers him a slim brown bottle.
“I have others to choose from, but I think this one would work for you.”
Eddie screws it open and takes a sniff.
“It smells…” he searches his brain for the right word. “Foresty.”
“Yeah, Do you like it?” The man is grinning again, so Eddie rolls his eyes before admitting that yes, he does. Steve takes the bottle back. “You can go back to sleep, or I can make you some more tea or coffee if you’d rather wake up before leaving.”
As appealing as another nap sounded, Eddie didn’t want to embarrass himself further in front of the man.
“Coffee sounds great.”
“Gotcha. Be right back.”
He returned bearing coffee and immediately went to work. He rubbed the oil on his palms before applying it to the feathers with the same motion he’d been cleaning them with, slow and attentive.
Maybe not going to sleep was a bad choice, but Eddie determinedly sipped on his coffee, just letting himself enjoy the treatment.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” the man spoke up, surprising Eddie. He made a hum of encouragement. “For a favor, actually. I’d give you a full treatment for free as payment, of course.”
Eddie turned back to look at him, now curious. The man was focused on his wings.
“Just spill it, man.”
He breathed out, finally looking up to meet his gaze.
“I’d like to add your wings to my portfolio,” he motioned vaguely to the walls of the salon, decorated with photos of wingfolk. The main focus were their wings, some of their faces weren’t even shown, though some had make up and hair done - a secondary specialization for the salon. “Most of those are of my friends, but none of them have black wings. I’d love to have yours displayed.”
Eddie frowned.
“You want my wings on your wall?”
“Greatly.”
“Wouldn’t that scare off customers?” he reminded.
The man only huffed.
“Good, I don’t need people like that around me.”
Eddie was stunned into silence. He turned back to settle against the chair, considering the photos on the walls.
“Okay. I’ll contact you after the tour?”
“I’d love that. Thank you,” the man said with a smile in his voice and went back to work.
#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#monster lover#human/monster romance#fantasy romance#spooktober#steddie#steve x eddie#stranger things#wingfolk eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#fantasy au
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T | 151 | m/m werewolf/human, it's a Steddie snippet, I've stopped trying | off-screen, uncle Wayne, Werewolf!Steve
“Hey, kid?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you hiding a dog from me?”
Eddie frowned, confused. What?
“No?”
His uncle let out a huff.
“Just wanted to know why there’s so much fur on the couch.”
Oh. Oh shit.
Eddie’s brain went blank with panic. Because, Wayne would be okay with him having a boyfriend. He’d probably survive the reveal that said boyfriend was a werewolf. But he might not survive knowing they fucked on the couch.
“No idea. Might be from Gareth’s dog? I’ll ask him to roll his clothes better.”
Wayne squinted at him, still suspicious. He’s known his nephew long enough to sniff out deceit. Eddie just gave him his best smile of oblivious innocence.
“Alright,” the man grumbled finally, flicking Steve’s butt hair from his favorite flannel. “But if you are hiding a dog from me, just fucking tell me, I’ll get a lint roller on the next grocery trip.”
#good to know tumblr kills my italics#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#monster lover#steddie#human/monster romance#fantasy romance#monsterfucker#spooktober#monster kink#werewolf steve harrington#steve x eddie#steve harrington#stranger things#eddie munson#monsterfucker eddie munson
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G | 237 | f/? But its HarlIvy coded :) | plantacles
She's the only one not scared to send food below ground. The cafeteria gives her weird glances, guards eye her with distrust, and she's tired of them all.
Nobody goes with her because there are enough guards around the cell as it is. The ones below greet her with a touch of respect. Ask her what's in the cafeteria that day, and joke about The Upstairs.
Some of them flirt, like most men do, but she has her eyes set on someone else.
She knocks on the cell’s door before opening the food drawer. Sets the tray down, and passes it to the other side. The person on the other side doesn't say anything, but from the metallic clang, she knows the meal has been accepted. She sits down and starts talking about her day until the tray comes back out, empty.
“I hope you liked it,” she smiles, reaching out for her favourite part of the exchange.
When she reaches out to take the tray, a green tendril slithers through the drawer. Crawls over her palm, tracing her pulse points, slithering under her sleeve. She shudders at the sensation. It’s warm, and feels alive against her skin, somewhere between a plant and something more. Makes her hope one day she could feel it all over her body.
The tendril retreats, leaving a tiny daisy in her hand, which she promptly hides in her pocket.
One day.
#monsterlovetober2023#this is just a blurb lbr#so is like half of my works here#monster romance#monster lover#human/monster romance#harlivy#fantasy romance#monster kink#monsterfucker#teratophillia#terato#harley x ivy
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T | 1692 | it's Steddie again :) more of the wingfolk!Eddie AU | continuation of 'wings'
As soon as he passed the "Welcome to Hawkins" sign, he got nervous. There was a phone call looming over him. One of professional variety but with a very kind and handsome man.
The slightly crumpled business card is waiting in his wallet, hidden out of view, so it wouldn't distract him on tour. Too much, at least. Steve probably hasn't thought about him at all. It's been over a month, he might have forgotten about his offer completely.
He still had to unload their equipment in Gareth's garage, so it took several hours before he could hide behind his trailer's doors and pick up the phone.
"Robin's grooming service, how can we help you?" a woman's voice answered. Probably Robin herself, he thought.
"Hi, it's Eddie Munson, I've talked with Steve-"
"Wait, hold on," she interrupted him. "Steeeve!" she yelled away from the receiver but still loud enough for him to flinch. "Your man is calling!"
Your man? Oh. Oh.
There's a clatter on the other side before he can finally hear Steve's voice.
"Eddie?" He sounds excited and Eddie's stomach swoops. His wings flutter behind him, the traitorous bastards.
"Or your man, if you prefer?"
Steve lets out an awkward laugh.
"I might have been talking about you a bit too much."
Eddie shuffled in place, elation preventing him from standing still.
"That excited to see me?" he drawls, unable to help himself.
"Gods, yes," the man groaned. "I really hope you'll let Robin do your makeup, I've found this eyeshadow that'll match your wings perfectly. I've been drafting the photoshoot pretty much since you left."
Right. The photo shoot. The favour he was asked for.
"I'm okay with makeup," he says, composing himself quickly. There's a tiny "yes!" On the other hand, he can't help the smile pulling on his lips. "When would you want to do it?"
"Are you free now?"
For a second, Eddie is too stunned to answer, so Steve follows up:
"No, I know it's late, we'd do the photos tomorrow at the earliest, but I'm too hyped now and would love to talk out the details with you. In person."
The silence on the other side is expectant and nervous. Eddie considers his losses. Possible chances.
"I guess I could meet up," he says, totally casual like he wasn't day-dreaming about seeing the man again with every groupie at his side.
"Great! We're actually closing soon, so would you be okay with going to my place?" There's a squeak on the other side, followed by some clattering. He could have imagined it though, it was so quiet. "It's okay if you'd rather stay in the salon."
"No, it's okay. We can talk it out at yours," he pushes out, wondering how in the hell was he gonna stay sane while in the man's home, having a semi-business conversation. Artistic project conversation? Not a fucking date, that's for sure.
"Whenever you can, then. I'll wait for you at the salon, it's just a short walk."
"I just got back, gotta shower and eat something, and I'm off."
"I'll feed you, don't worry about that."
"Uh, okay then. Shower and I'm leaving."
"Perfect." He could hear the pleased smile through the line. "It's nice to know calling me was a priority over eating, you know," the man teased, ending the call before Eddie could defend himself.
He sighed, realizing he accidentally gave his eagerness away.
He deliberately took his shower slower than usual.
*
As soon as he stood in front of the salon, Steve was waving at him through the glass. Eddie waved back, unwilling to acknowledge they were both acting like dorks.
After grabbing some stuff, the man met him outside.
"Hi! It's nice to see you again!" He said with a wide smile, eyes on him while he locked up. Then he turned fully towards him and raised his hands, with an expectant quirk of his eyebrow.
Albeit surprised, Eddie leaned into the short hug.
"Likewise," he admitted. They started walking arm to arm as Steve led the way.
"I have some leftover sauce, and I could cook pasta real quick. Is that okay?"
"After a month of bar food and cheap take-out? More than okay."
Steve laughed.
"Okay, I get it. Does it mean you don't want any beer to wash it down either?"
Eddie was shaking his head before the question even rang out fully.
"I need alcohol, I was the driver for the whole tour."
"None of your bandmates has a license?"
"Uh, they do, but Gareth is the only one I would trust with my van, and he's not comfortable in the altered seat."
Steve nodded with understanding. Wingfolk drivers had their seats cut a certain way so the wings wouldn't get in the way.
"So Gareth is the human drummer?"
Eddie nearly ran into a light pole.
"You remembered?"
"A human drummer in an all-wings metal band Corroded Coffin? Yeah, I remembered."
He was ready to swoon on the spot.
*
He watched Steve cook the pasta while shuffling through sketches and magazine cut-outs of winged models, make-ups and hairdos. There was a lot, and he was surprised to see how much thought Steve had put into it. Into him.
To his surprise, when they sat down to eat, Steve asked him about his tour. And he paid attention to his words, asking the right questions at the right times. Like he was genuinely invested.
It was only after Eddie thanked him for the meal and started his second beer, that the actual purpose of his visit was brought up.
"I think you'd look the best if we made you more animalistic, but I don't want to play into any hurtful stereotypes, you know?"
Eddie only shrugged.
"I don't mind. People will think what they want anyway. Besides, you're not putting me in a suit."
"Pity, but I bet you'd look good in anything," he said, eyes assessing Eddie's body, stopping at the halter top he chose to wear. It displayed even more skin than his cut-up shirt from their first meeting. It was easier to take off, too.
It seemed to be doing its job.
"Anything in mind?"
Steve hummed.
"I don't know, I kinda like the halterneck." Then, with hesitation, he added, "I was thinking… nothing, actually? I want to focus on your wings."
"Steve,” Eddie coos with a smirk. “If you wanted my nudes you should have just said so.”
"Black fabric!" Steve spat out, face red. Eddie barely held in a laugh. "We'll wrap some fabric around your hips, maybe make a simple toga. Not completely nude!"
"Boo, ruining the fun," he pouted.
To rein in his humiliation, Steve went into business mode.
"I want to do your hair, just simple stuff to give it some shine and volume. Robin would do eye makeup, something to match your metal vibe," he smiled, and Eddie grinned back. "My friend Jon will be photographing, we have some poses in mind, but I've found out it's best to work on the spot."
Eddie whistled.
"A whole team working on little old me."
"I want the photos to look professional, and your eyes unstabbed with an eye pencil, so yes. A team," Steve nods seriously.
"I kinda liked the one-on-one treatment though. It was very relaxing," he mused, half hoping to get an idea of what Steve's thinking.
"We'll work alone before they join us. I'll also owe you another session for doing this for me," he reminded him with a shrug. Eddie hummed softly.
"Right… Can I cash in now?"
Steve blinked.
"I was actually hoping we could do the photoshoot tomorrow, or the day after so…"
"Great, we'll get a head start, then."
Steve gulps, looking around as if for an escape route and Eddie winces. Maybe he got a bit ahead of himself.
"Sorry, I overstepped. We're not in your salon anyway. We can do it tomorrow." He grabbed his beer, planning to empty it and leave as soon as possible, but Steve straightened in alarm.
"No! It's- We can do the brushing today," he nodded, mostly to himself, before scrambling to grab the wing brush. He rolled it in his palms, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
"Where would you want to sit? Robin usually lies on the floor or on the bed. Sometimes just sits in front of the couch, but it's not the most comfortable."
Eddie considers his chances.
"Is bed okay?"
"Yeah, I don't mind. Just let me… do some damage control."
Eddie chuckled.
"Sure. Hide your dirty underwear and stuff."
"It's not that bad," he grumbles, disappearing into his bedroom. Whatever he does there doesn’t take long, because soon he's motioning Eddie to follow.
The room is small and simple, focused solely on sleeping and picking out daily outfits.
Steve pats the bed invitingly. It's big enough for two people.
"Does your bed see guests often?" he asks, unable to help himself.
Steve is quiet momentarily, settling on a fluffy ottoman next to him.
"Only Robin. But if you're asking about my dating life, I've been in a bit of a dry spell recently," he shares, starting the relaxing drag of his brush.
"Aw, why? Such a handsome bachelor?"
The man snorted.
"Had been striking out after a bad break up, then focused on opening the salon. I'm trying to get back into it now, but I might be out of practice."
"Well, I might not be the target audience, but for what it's worth, it would work on me."
“What if you are my target audience?”
Eddie gives himself a moment to collect his thoughts and still be able to stay cool.
"Then it’s our second meeting, and I'm already in your bed. I think you're doing great."
Steve chuckles.
"Guess so."
"Speaking of which,” Eddie shifts on the Steve-scented bed. “You know that if you keep at it, I'll fall asleep?”
"That would be terrible. On my queen-sized bed? Unthinkable. Whatever would I do?”
“Okay, just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He rolls his eyes before closing them and let the gentle caress on his feathers send him to sleep.
#monsterlovetober2023#fantasy romance#spooktober#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#wingfolk eddie#stranger things
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T | 649 | m/m Steddie human/demon | it's part of the Temptation universe, monsterfucker Steve, demon!Eddie
Sometimes, when they are inside, especially in Eddie's trailer, he slips up without thinking.
He doesn’t shift fully, but somehow the mix of familiar setting and people makes him feel safe enough to let go. It’s on a day like that, when he’s on the floor, taking notes for his next session, that his tail shows up swaying behind him, back and forth.
Steve can’t take his eyes away.
They are waiting for Robin to finish her driving lessons, so they can go to the movies together. It’s been an excruciating twenty minutes since he got there and he was already losing his mind. The tail had a mind of its own and was trying to hypnotize him.
And he was determined to read the comic in front of him. The Teen Titans that both Dustin and Robin seemed to enjoy, so he decided to give it a go.
Based on the little he knew about the characters so far, he wondered if Eddie was like their private fusion of Raven and Beast Boy. The demonic and shapeshifting parts, respectively. Although Raven’s powers were more akin to Eleven’s…
“How’s the comic?”
He nearly jumps out of his skin, when Eddie addresses him out of the blue. He lowers the issue in his hands to look back into his mischievous eyes.
“Uh, it’s good.”
He remembers nothing from the past ten pages.
“Maybe you should try Marvel instead. It’s more suited for casual readers.”
Steve frowns.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Eddie chuckles.
“Absolutely nothing,” he sing-songs, his tail swinging. Only then does he seem to even notice it. “Damn, sorry. Do you mind?”
Steve shakes his head furiously, flabbergasted that he even has to answer that question. Eddie should be aware by now how little he minds.
The metalhead settles back down, tail swinging with new vigour, even letting his horns grow out in full.
Steve is far from settling down. He doesn’t even bother with picking his comic back up. Why would he care about fictional characters with superpowers when there was a real one literally in front of him?
“Steeeve,” Eddie's voice is reprimanding yet playful. “You’re distracting me.”
Steve lets out a huff.
“Well, I'm trying to read, and you’re just-” he waves his hand in Eddie’s general direction
“I’m what?” Eddie leans on his elbows to look up at him properly. “Waving a dick-shaped appendage right in front of your face?”
He fumes, slapping his comic book down and straightening up.
“So it was on purpose!”
Eddie laughs. Laughs so hard he almost rolls over on the dirty carpet.
“No, I wasn’t even thinking about it, honestly. But it’s good to know that’s how you interpret it.”
Steve tried to fight the blood going to his cheeks. Was probably failing. So instead, he picks the comic back up and tries to focus on it.
“Steeve.” He can hear the boy crawling closer. Stares harder at the blurry speech bubbles in front of him. “Steve, sweetie.” A warm hand lands on his knee and he gives up quickly. Lowers his comic faster than before, because the hand on him is big.
Eddie has shifted, and while still on his knees next to the bed, was already towering over Steve. And that, unfortunately, worked on him.
“There’s still over an hour before Robin gets here,” he says, his tail rubbing tantalizing circles into his calf.
Steve hesitates because what they're doing is weird, and not because they are both men or because one of them is partially a demon. It’s weird because Steve is unable to name it. It’s further than flirting, more than casual, but not enough to call it dating. But his gut churns with the promise of what Edie can do to him, and with his next words, his dick comes alive.
“And I remember someone wanted to be fucked with my tail.”
#steddie#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#human/monster romance#monster lover#monsterfucker#monsterfucker steve harrington#demon eddie munson#human x demon#fantasy romance#spooktober#monster kink#steve harrington#eddie munson
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T | 793 | m/m human/werewolf | sequel to 'shapeshifting' but this time I'm not pretending it's not Steddie | cw: a little drug related oopsie but everyone's safe | getting together
He wouldn’t call himself a recluse, but he certainly wasn’t a social flower. He’s only been to frat parties for mere minutes until he sold out of his stock. A mostly monster party? Where everyone was fully shifted and in the open? Never.
He watched them be themselves, no hiding from the conservative faculty or parents, or students, even. No pretending they were civilized humans. Here they were all uncivilized students, no matter their species.
Aside from the new features of his peers, he found a lot of food and drinks he hadn’t seen before. And drugs. He’s been eyeing a certain shroom that seemed to be popular with other party-goers. The girl handing it out catches his eye and offers him the baggy to pluck out from.
It’s blueish and doesn’t smell anything, but before he can take it in his mouth, there’s a growl in his ear, and the shroom gets slapped out of his hand.
“Wha-”
The growl grows, making him flinch and back away, straight into a broad chest and a stronghold of hairy arms.
“The fuck are you guys doing?!”
Despite the music, the room goes quiet.
“Shit, Steve-”
He growls back, teeth clasping in warning.
“Dude, it’s just some shrooms-” Eddie tries to dissolve the situation, but the hold only tightens to the point of pain. He gasps, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice.
“Just shrooms?! These are poisonous to humans!”
“Oh.”
He looks at the inconspicuous funghi, still held by the girl, now white as a sheet.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he was human-”
“Well, maybe you should fucking ask!”
Realizing this isn’t going to get any better until they leave the situation completely, he pushes against the chest, backing away from the group. Steve doesn’t budge at first, so he turns around his tight embrace, trying to find his gaze. The grip tightens, ribs creaking against each other before the werewolf finally looks down.
“I need some fresh air, let's go,” he says, and Steve gives a tiny nod. He growls one last time to the group and finally lets himself be pushed towards the door.
"Thanks for saving me, man," Eddie says, once outside.
"What if I was too late? You can't just take any drug in your sight!"
His instinct was to argue, but he knew Steve was right. Besides, he was still shaken up.
"Okay, sorry, I promise I'll only take my own stuff. Or triple-check if what I'm taking is human-friendly at least."
Steve huffs and his hold only tightens, and it’s too much.
“Dude, you’re choking me.”
“Shit, sorry.” Despite his words, he’s reluctant to let him go. Eddie doesn’t like the loss either, but they sit close on the porch stairs instead. It’s quiet, weird.
“Couldn’t they sniff out I’m human?” he asks eventually, recalling the argument from earlier. Steve flinches against him.
“Too many monsters around, the smells are hard to discern. Besides…” he hesitates.
“What?” Eddie turns to him, curious.
“We’ve been hanging out a lot. You smell wolf-ish.” He cringes and kinda collapses on himself.
“Okay…” he draws out, trying to decipher what that means. “Have you been rubbing off on me? On purpose?”
“No!” he immediately denies, offended. “Yes? Maybe?”
“Dude! What the fuck?” He asks, trying to hide that he’s mostly amused. Partially thrilled.
“Not on purpose! At first.” The werewolf rushes to explain, leaning away a bit to look at him properly and gesticulate with his hands. “It’s hard not to… scent someone… when you’re having sex, okay?” he hisses through his teeth. “But then we kept hanging out, and it just… happened?”
“You gave me your hoodie,” Eddie says with sudden realization. “Were you marking your territory?”
“What?! No!” Steve seems scandalized, but he goes red in the face, and shoves at Eddie half-heartedly. The man just laughs.
“Dude, that's so hot!”
“Right,” the wolf scoffs, expression going sour.
To placate him, Eddie places a hand on his knee and squeezes. Trails up higher.
“I mean it,” he says.
“Oh.” Steve looks at his hand, then up into his eyes. “Oh, okay.”
“Do you guys also pee on each other? It’s not my thing, but I’d consider it.”
The wolf’s face tells him everything he needs to know. His smile turns into a grin.
“It is?” he asks, incredulous. “Damn, now I’m really, really thinking about it.”
“Dude,” Steve whines, claws scratching at the porch wood. “You can’t just say shit like that. We’re not even…”
Eddie hums, thumb tracing the denim stretching over the wolf’s thigh.
“We could be. Would that be much different from what we’ve been doing?”
“Man, I hope so,” Steve chuckles. “More kissing and sex, for starters.”
“That definitely could be arranged.”
He leans with a smile.
#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#monster lover#human/monster romance#monsterfucker#fantasy romance#spooktober#monster kink#steddie#werewolf steve harrington#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#human/werewolf
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M | 1455 | mlm | werewolf/human, prey/predator, being hunted down as a form of foreplay | they don't have names bc I wanted to pretend it's not Steddie | it is | it was supposed to be a back to school fic too | pre-relationship, mutual pining if u squint
One of the students in the wobbly line tied his hair in preparation for the event. He has been anxious for the past few days but now as he looked around, it settled his nerves. Everyone was here for the same reason and didn’t look much more prepared than him. Meaning taking a shower, putting on shoes easy to run in, and a crop top he hoped exposed his midriff in an alluring way.
Behind them - the Prey, the Hunters were huffing and puffing, claws digging into dirt, their hot breath too far away and yet so easy to imagine on his neck.
It was his last year of college and he finally let his curiosity (and lust) get the best of him. For the first and last time, he was joining the Hunt Down - a ‘celebration of youth and new things to come’, brought by their monster peers. Read: fucking in the forest under the last full moon before school.
He’s been hesitant until the last moment, but this afternoon his roommate reminded him it was now or never. Not only because they were on their way to finishing college, but also because the faculty was doing their best to shut the celebration down.
So here he was - on the edge of campus grounds, where the picnic space was giving way to the local forest. His skin was itching in participation and the arousal was buzzing low in his belly.
He was almost ashamed to be here, almost being the crucial word. He was way past that point, he was on his last leg of college and if he felt like being hunted like a prey by a bunch of frat boys, then he had the right to do it. He grew as a man in the past few years. Because it took true balls to go from "fuck the jocks" to "fuck with the jocks".
One of them, especially. He was hoping the guy was one of the Hunters tonight, the rumors better be true or else he might red his way out of it. Yellow if the mood hits. He would be green all the way for him, though.
That he could be ashamed of; his infatuation with one of the frat guys. Granted, he was from one of the newer, more inclusive fraternities, but a fraternity nonetheless. With how painfully cliche it was, it helped that mingling with monsters was still frowned upon.
Because his frat boy crush was also a werewolf.
The dark clouds had finally parted and the full moon, the last one of the summer, came into view above the trees. A cacophony of howls pierced the night sky - the hunt was on.
Too stunned to react, it took him a second to register the thunder of shoes and the giggles accompanying them. The Prey got a head start until the howling stopped. He scrambled to follow the other freaks (mostly giggling sorority girls) who found the idea of being hunted between the trees thrilling.
He knew he was an easy target. He’s been slacking at PE for as long as he could remember, and the terrain of squishy moss and fallen twigs decreased his abilities even more. It would be hellishly embarrassing if despite that nobody considered him worthy of hunting down. He was just some guy, a metalhead, among a group of pretty girls and even prettier boys. Who could he possibly appeal to? What kind of werewolf would sniff his weed and sweat drenched shirt and decide ‘this one’?
His thoughts and wheezes were so loud he hadn't noticed when the howls stopped. It might have been mere seconds or minutes ago but what he could be sure of was that the wolves were now in the forest with him.
He heard a scream to his left, a delighted one. To his right, slightly far away, a howl. And behind him, thunder of paws.
Behind him.
He wasn’t sure it was him the wolf was after, but his instincts kicked in regardless and he pushed his muscles to their limits. He knew they must be aching now, but he couldn't feel it. Tomorrow though, he probably won’t be able to use his legs at all.
Pinecones and twigs were cracking under his heavy boots, but it wasn’t about the stealth. It was about the thrill of running away from a predator that will do unimaginable things to you when you get caught.
If you ask nicely, of course. A stoplight system was in place for the safety of participants.
He slipped on a patch of moss and the beast got closer, the hot breath on his back confirming that yes, he was after Eddie and nobody else. Zeroed on this twig of a human reeking of weed. There was a playful snap, cold wet nose brushing against his skin, and a tug on his loose top. The one he wore for the sole reason to be easier to catch, pull, and tug towards capture. Also getting your clothes torn on you sounded hot and he had millions of other Metallica shirts in his closet.
What did not sound hot was getting your face smashed in by a tree at a fuckfest. He had maybe a millisecond to flinch, before he was yanked backwards, away from the tree trunk. He collided with a mass of fur and muscle, stumbling to the forest ground in a tangle of limbs.
He and his captor rolled across moss and twigs and when they stopped he couldn't help a short and nervous laugh that pushed out of him.
The werewolf's snout was in his hair, sniffing aggressively.
"Okay?"
The words sounded unnatural in the fanged mouth but they were understandable enough. He nodded despite the weird position he was in, sprawled on a big wolf.
"I'm fine."
The grasp on him tightened for millisecond. A reminder.
"For now."
Right. His breath stuttered and he suddenly could feel all the scorching hot points of contact. There were a lot of them considering the wolf took his fall.
He shifted, a pathetic attempt at putting distance between them, but a quick yank on his wrist was all it took to have him stumble back into the wolf's grasp. Without time to even struggle, he was flipped over a broad shoulder. His teeth bit hard into his lip and his thighs squeezed even harder. He wasn't ready to turn into a whining mess this early into the night. Being manhandled was a low blow.
But as enticing as the act was, the logistics of it weren't that pleasant. His body was shaken with each step and the hairy shoulder was digging into his hip bone. The swaying motion of his head forced him to close his eyes and focus on the heavy scent of sweaty fur and the soft tufts of it between his fingers.
Finally the blur of movement, trees and fur subsided and the world shifted, his wobbly legs setting on an equally wobbly surface, promptly making him collapse. The wobbly surface turned out to be a patch of moss. He ran his fingers through it, damp and soft. Suspiciously soft. He twisted around, caressing it with his hand before looking up with poorly contained curiosity.
"Did you prepare a den?"
The wolf huffed and while the snout wasn't very expressive, there was something in his movements obvious enough to be read as sheepish.
"You did!" The smirk was now on full blast, he couldn't help himself. He spread himself on the makeshift bedding while cooing: "Is the big bad wolf secretly a softie? Wanted his prey comfortable for the main event?"
The wolf growled, a warning, but he was having too much fun teasing a literal beast hovering over him, his heart thudding in his chest, thighs spreading subconsciously just a bit more.
"Did you come here in the morning with a rake, found the fluffiest moss blanket and cleaned it up for me? Awww that's so sweet of you. Such a good puppy."
The tail behind the werewolf twitched while his thighs tensed like it took everything from the beast not to start wagging it. But before he could make a comment about that, the wolf decided he had enough of his teasing and dropped on top of him, caging him between his huge arms. It growled right in his face and his brain took an embarrassingly long moment to decipher it as a word. A question.
"Color?"
He let out a breath, relaxing into the mossy bed set up for whatever the wolf had planned for him. His fingers traced the paws resting next to his head, the sharp claws, soft fur and strong muscles beneath.
"Green, puppy."
#monsterlovetober2023#steddie#i just dont say it out loud but we all know this#werewolf steve harrington#my beloved#monster lover#monster romance#monsterfucker#being hunted#monster kink#steve x eddie#werewolf x human#kinktober#spooktober#human/monster romance#human/werewolf#jock x nerd#writeblr#writing prompt#original work#but its cryptosteddie#modern fantasy#fantasy romance#mlm#monster fucker#monstober#monstertober#writober#idk#gay
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T | this is Steddie | I've stopped pretending | not even 300 words | part of The temptation of St. Harrington universe | Demon!Eddie
Eddie woke up to the softest of touches, to fingertips barely grazing his skin. He sighed sleepily, feeling warm and satiated and unwilling to move.
The soft caress slid over hisnnose and eyelids, to his temples, pressing delicately at the invisible bumps.
He must have been watched closely, if they were found so easily. Hs hummed his appreciation, and the touch emboldened, rubbing around the bumps, relieving a never ending itch, until it became easier to just let go and let them grow out, break through the human skin.
He sighed when the touch eased the strain of bending his skin and bones to accommodate his demon self.
"Shift, please?" Steve asked softly.
Eddie groaned.
"It's like 5AM, Steve, can't you wait? I'm pretty sure I'm all out of cum, too."
"It's three, actually."
He opened one eye, daring a peek, and all he saw was the pitch black around him. He groaned, burying himself deeper into the pillows.
"Steevee."
The man grabbed the now fully formed horns, hauling himself into his demon's lap.
"I just wanted to sleep on you," he said innocently.
"Yeah?" Eddie grumbled, grabbing his hips, palms curling and elongating into claws, earning him an instant shudder.
"Mhm."
He huffed, flipping them around, until he was lying on Steve, and let his skin ripple into his second form. Soon, the man was fully trapped under his body, sighing contently into his ear, muscles relaxing under pressure.
"That works too."
It turned into a small, soft moan, and Eddie could feel his dick twitch against his abdomen. No surprise, Steve had this whole size thing going.
"Try again when the sun is up."
Steve was now boneless and half sedated under him, none of his brattiness left to protest.
#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#steddie#demon eddie munson#this challenge is running me dry#on top of a new job and helping with and playing in a small play im on the verge of crying#but my meds arent letting me#:)#monster lover#monsterfucker#human/monster romance#fantasy romance#monster kink#spooktober#monsterfucker steve harrington#size difference#steddie microfic#microfic
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T | 726 | m/? human/woodland monster | dark(?) fantasy | cw: animal death, injuries from hunters | dead critters as gifts my beloved
It started like every romance, with a glance. They say to never stare right at a wild animal's eyes. That was his first mistake.
The second was accepting a gift. It was a dead rabbit left on his porch, which he brought in because hey, free bone collection addition. He left the meat he cooked off the bones outside, an offering that was his next mistake.
He'd walk the forest path and know he's being followed. He was never alone when visiting the cabin, but he couldn't tell if it was a good or a bad thing. His bones collection was growing, though.
One day, he finds it on his porch, bleeding and whimpering. The hunting season has recently started, and he was lowkey expecting something like that. He opens the door wider and lets it limp inside, a trail of blood left behind. He watches it, for the first time up close, visible more than just the eyes shining in the darkness.
Despite the injury, it doesn't want to be touched. It hisses when he gets close, palms up and empty.
"You came to me," he reminded, reaching out a hand for sniffing. It eyes his palm, gives it a thorough sniffing, and then a tentative lick. He deems it safe to get closer and reaches out his hand further to pet it.
He knows it's not an animal but the need to scratch its fur is stronger than that.
They settle together on the living room floor, uncaring of the blood stains. It hisses and growls when he reaches for the injured side, but he prevails, trying to assess the damage.
"I think you're just grazed," he says, hoping the creature understands him enough. "Please don't move, I'll clean it up for you." He stands up, pats it between its antlers and leaves to get the first aid kit. When he gets back, he finds it licking at the wound.
"Hey!"
The creature startles, eyes flaring red and teeth bared, until they realize it's just him.
"Sorry, that's probably what you're used to, but you can irritate it that way," he says, kneeling with the sizable red bag. "Is it okay if I cut the hair a bit? It gets in the way," he looks up, hoping the creature understands and to his relief, he gets a nod. Without much hesitation, he cuts around the wound, getting rid of the blood-stained fur carefully, so it wouldn't get in. When he cleans it, he can feel sharp nails digging into his shoulder, but he focuses on his work. He's never dressed a wound like that before, never had to use this much gauze, but he thinks he did a good enough job. He pats the creature's side gently.
"All done. You can stay here and rest."
He stands up to put the medical supplies away and isn't sure if he'll find the creature there when he comes back.
But it's still there, looking at the white bandages around its black fur. He comes closer, and it doesn't protest, letting him rub his hand around its antlers.
"You can come with me to the kitchen if you want some food," he says and when he turns he can hear it getting up and following him to the fridge. Once standing, it easily towers over him.
He opens the fridge.
"I don't have much, but you could get a grilled sandwich."
It reaches over him to grab a block of cheese while he grabs the ham and toast bread. For a second he just watches it tear the plastic wrapping and bite into the cheese. He's silently glad it's not another bloody animal.
He fills up a glass of water, and holds it up.
"Drink," he orders.
It takes the glass, sniffs it, then instead of drinking from it like a human would, sticks up its long tongue and laps it up like a cat. He chuckles at the comparison.
The glass gets emptied and given back to him. He puts it away and the creature leans against his back to watch him work, sniffing at the smells of food coming together, the air moving his hair gently.
He wonders if he just made another mistake by letting it in, by taking care of it and cooking for it. Or if it wasn't a mistake at all.
#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#monster lover#human/monster romance#monsterfucker#another blurb#i could do better#spooktober#fantasy romance#monster kink#original story#teratophillia#terato#forest monster
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T | 1379 | m/m human/dragonborn | modern fantasy | cw: drugging attempt | I call him dragonborn but he's more of a tiefling, pre-relationship
He was hoping for a nice night out, to meet up with a friend from his old job for drinks. Unfortunately, she bailed on him at the last minute, saying something about shattered glass and aching kidneys. But the vision of getting drunk was too rooted in his head by then not to go, even alone. A drink, maybe two, maybe a dance, and he’d leave.
Unless the huge guy eyeing him from the corner starts up something. Their goalie was already bulky as hell, but this man had nothing on him. And the angry stare? Ten out of ten.
He should play a villain's right hand in a movie, not stare down overworked office workers in their thirties.
Their eyes met and the giant’s nostrils flared. Only then had he realized the unusual shape of his features, far away and blurred without his glasses.
In his haste to avoid the dragonborn’s gaze, he hadn’t noticed he was getting closer. He became even bigger as he approached, with his broad chest in a tank top, and horns curving back from his head. A big clawed hand fell on top of the bar. He loomed over him like a wave above a surfer, hovering and ready to crash down.
“Is there a problem?” he asked because he had no self-preservation whatsoever. The dragonborn stares him down, eyes glowing in the poor lighting coming from the dancefloor.
“There’s going to be,” he answers, and in one swift motion grabs his drink and dumps it somewhere over his shoulder. A gasp from behind comes before he can voice his protest.
"The fuck, man?!"
“Don’t,” the dragonborn hisses at the random guy on his other side. “I saw you. Don’t try pretending.”
The guy, now dripping with whiskey, shots up from his seat. But the bartender acts quick, grabbing his elbow and throwing him off balance. He sways and falls back on the stool.
The dragonborn passes him to get to the other guy. Now that he knows he's not a target he marvels over the height difference, the size of his… everything.
“Hand it over.” He holds out his hand towards the soaked man.
“What-”
“I know you have more,” he grits through his teeth, just at the edge of boiling. “Hand them over, or I’ll search you myself.”
The man flails with his pockets, before opening his blazer and reaching inside to withdraw a tic tac box. It’s almost empty save for two candies rattling inside. Dragonborn snatches it and hands it to the bartender who’s already on the phone, reciting the address of the bar.
“No, no cops-” the plea is cut by the hand around the man’s neck.
“Yes cops,” the dragonborn says, then holds up his phone. “Now smile for the picture.” He takes a photo of his scowling face with his scaled hand as a necklace. "Everyone’s gonna know your piece of shit face.” He spits right at him. The man tries to squirm out of his grip, but it just turns into a choke.
“You’re gonna sit here and don't move until the cops get here. With my spit on your face. Understood?”
When there’s no answer, he squeezes harder. The man nods frantically with whatever limited movement he has left, and finally gets released, gulping for air. He looks around but the sight of two goalies and several patrons watching him closely makes him collapse on himself and stops any attempts at running.
The dragonborn finally loses interest in him and turns back to the almost-victim. The one with a tight coil in his gut from the display of strength he just witnessed.
“You okay?”
He nods and gives an affirmative grunt that gets lost in the bar's music.
“Going home or staying?”
This night has not been faring well from the start so maybe his best bet was to open a cold one in front of his laptop. A new episode of Only Murders had just dropped the other day.
“I’ll go home,’ he decides, nodding mostly to himself and getting off the stool. To his surprise, the dragonborn follows suit.
“I’ll get you a cab," he explains, pulling out his phone. It looks thin under his big thumbs.
He kinda wants to suck tem.
"Thanks," he says instead of the trillion profanities at the forefront of his mind.
"Gotta make sure you'll get there safe," he shrugs.
"You save unobservant bar idiots often?" he asks, genuinely curious. Was it a hobby of his?
"Not really. And I hope that's because it doesn't happen that much, not because I don’t notice."
"Uh, yeah," he winces , trying not to think what would have happened if he hadn't noticed. "What's your name?" he asks to derail his imagination.
"Mitch," the dragonborn shares easily. “Yours?”
“Phil,” he offers, nodding his thanks when he holds the door for him. The crisp air outside lifts the haze of the bar atmosphere off his mind. He frowns, looking up into the cloudy night sky. “Holy shit, I almost got drugged.”
“Try not to think about it too much.” Mitch makes a face. “It’s terrible but it happens, it’s best to just have a trusty buddy with you.”
“Well, my trusty buddy had work, so…” Should he tell her about what happened? Or would it put unnecessary guilt on her? He sighs. “I don’t blame her but if I tell her about it, she may feel guilty.” He lets the unspoken question hang in the air.
“It’s your call, but I think it’s good to know the reality we live in.”
Phil hums while they walk the short distance to the taxi stop.
“I guess so.”
They finally stop and Mitch checks his phone.
“It should be here in ten minutes tops. I’ll wait with you.” He doesn’t offer, just states it as a fact and Phil is grateful. If asked, he might have played a tough guy, while in reality he needs the company.
Maybe he could be even less tough, he thinks, eyeying Mitch’s muscles, his towering posture and intimidating claws.
“Will you see me home?”
He seems surprised by the request.
“If you need me to, then sure.”
Phil smiles gratefully. No one would dare to touch him in the dragonborn's presence and it was a feeling of safety he now needed. Especially considering the district he just moved to.
When they get into the back of the cab Mitch asks, “Aren’t you worried I’ll know your address?”
Phil thinks on it for a second.
“Honestly, no. It would make me feel better, if anything. Besides, my apartment building is big, you won't know my flat number."
Which becomes a problem to Mitch in turn, when they enter the shady neighborhood. He eyes the old architecture with distrust.
"You live here?"
"Yep," Phil answers with a shrug as they roll to a stop in front of a sad gray apartment complex.
He watches Mitch pat his pockets furiously, looking for something. "Well, thanks for seeing me off-" The dragonborn holds up his hand so he waits. The cab driver eyes them with distaste but says nothing.
"If I give you my number, will you text me when you're locked and safe inside?"
Phil blinks, confused. Then just hands him his phone.
"Are you always this worried?" he asks, half amused, half charmed. "Giving off your number to strangers?"
"Just to the pretty ones," he smiles and Phil snorts. He hasn't been called pretty in probably a decade. "But yeah, I am always this worried. Especially about pretty strangers."
He hasn't blushed in about a decade either. It was probably the fact that Mitch was crowding him in the limited space of the cab's backseats. He gets his phone back, looks at the string of numbers and saves them simply as Mitch.
"If you wanted my number you should have just said so."
"It's not like that-!"
"Don't worry, I don't mind sharing it with the pretty ones," he says, observing the emotions shifting across the dragonborn's face. He squeezes his knee; it's huge, his fingers strain to wrap around it.
"I'll text you in five, don't worry," he promises, opening the door.
"I'll stay here until you do."
The driver makes the tiniest groan in the front seat.
#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#monster lover#human/monster romance#monsterfucker#fantasy romance#spooktober#monster kink#original story#teratophillia#terato#size difference#size k!nk
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T | 1980 | f/? Human/lake creature | horror elements | lake cabin vacation, questionable courting gifts, lady of the lake but they're a monster
"Charlie? Dude?"
"Hmm?" Charlie answered, not turning around until her friend ran across the cabin in a blur of movement.
"Call the cops."
Only then did she look at her friend, frantically locking the front door.
"What's happening?"
"There's a foot."
"A foot?"
"Yes, a fucking foot!" She yelled, suddenly in hysterics as she bounced away from the door and towards the phone hanging next to the kitchen wall. Her fingers shook when she dialled 911.
"I'm at Kelpie Lake, the third cabin from the main road. Yes, from Thornfield Street. There's… somebody dropped a severed foot on the dock. Please send someone."
Charlie blanched. She looked at the glass doors looking out into the lake, its emerald green surface sparkling in the sun. They've been cleaning the cabin since their arrival the previous day. She slowly walked towards them, listening in while her friend talked to the dispatcher.
"My name is Sally Bloomfield, I'm here with my friend Charlie May. It's my parents' cabin. We cleaned the deck this morning, somebody had to drop it there later, somebody is here, right now!" she was screaming into the receiver.
There was something on the deck. On the swept and mopped up wood, in a small puddle of water, laid a pale, wrinkled shape. She stared for a long time, listening to her friend's frantic explanations and nagging to get someone here, please, until the shape started resembling a foot. She wanted a closer look, morbid curiosity itching at her fingers to open the door but she knew behind them she was safer if whoever put it there was still around. They must be because just two hours earlier she was sitting at the deck drinking her morning coffee. Since leaving was out of the question she did the next best thing and stood there rooted at the spot, unblinking not to miss anything that might happen.
"There are only these and the front doors, right?"
She flinched and looked away at Sally who walked towards her with the receiver at her ear. Charlie immediately looked back, fear grabbing at her neck and yanking, but the foot hadn't moved. Obviously.
"Yeah," she answered.
"I'll check the windows."
She rounded the cabin, closing all the windows with the receiver clutched at her ear like a lifeline until the police arrived. Similarly, Charlie was clutching to the sight in front of her. A bloated foot decomposing in the summer heat.
Despite a whole day of patrols and questions, despite the police tape, they stayed. The summer season just started and nearly all of the surrounding cabins were occupied and their presence helped to soothe their nerves. More of their friends were due to arrive in a few hours too. They got a direct contact number from the local sheriff and a patrol car was supposed to be circling the area at all times.
“They just want us here for free surveillance,” Charlie muttered as she watched the officer walk back to the car.
Sally didn’t say anything. They waited for their friends in the living room, with the deck in view.
“What’s with all the police tape?” Tommy asked as soon as he opened the cabin door, bags in hand.
“The lake needs to be scanned for body parts.”
“It’s a suspected disposal ground.”
The boy snorted, dropping the bags and approaching his friends but his face fell when they didn’t even turn towards him. He followed their gaze to the deck. It was wrapped in police tape as well. His eyes fell t the trail of muddy footprints leading to the sliding door from the entrance.
“Guys? What the fuck?”
The rest of their friends just walked in, their greetings cut by the weird atmosphere in the room. Charlie was the first to turn towards them.
“We found a foot on the dock this morning.”
“Excuse me?” Tommy sat down and the rest followed so the girls could brief them.
“Some animal probably found it and dropped it there,” Sally finished with an explanation the police gave them.
“But we should report any weird thing we notice,” added Charlie.
“So uh, no drugs?”
“Not while the police are running around, no. Is that your only concern?” Sally frowned at Jim, their usual source The boy just raised his hands.
“Sue me for wanting to relax after the story you just dropped.”
The friend group murmured in agreement.
“Let’s just all hit an early night, okay? I’m tired after the drive.”
Nobody wanted the couches with the lake view, even with the heavy window curtains, so they had to split between the two bedrooms. It was a tight fit but the closeness of friends brought comfort.
By the time all of them were ready for bed, it’s gotten dark. Their friends dozed off quite fast, but Sally and Charlie were too wired up with the events of the day to fall asleep. They sat in the armchairs next to the window while Jim’s sister slept in the bed.
“What are we going to do if we can’t swim in the lake?”
Sally shrugged.
“Next lake is just a short walk away and the area is pretty enough to just chill. Tommy wanted to check out the local farm. They make their own cheese and open a mini zoo in the summer.”
Despite everything, that pulled a smile out of her friend.
“I’d be down to pet some baby goats.”
“Right?” Sally smiled back.
They stood up to join Amy in the bed, and Charlie took a moment to look out the window, at the expanse of water. Most of the cabins had their lights still on, and the orange squares of their windows reflected on the surface. The lights rippled when she was watching like something moved just beneath them. Some fish perhaps. Or more like a snake, she thought, considering the movement. Coils and coils of serpentine bodies, bubbling the surface like boiling water. She blinked and the movement was gone just soft ripples on the water.
She joined the girls in the bed.
The next day started mostly the same. In an unfortunate way.
"At least it's not a body part this time," Charlie commented as she sipped on her coffee in front of the glass doors to the dock.
On the weathered planks, in a puddle of water, laid a dead fish.
"It matches the animal theory, I guess."
"It's in the same space," Charlie observed.
"We're not calling the police, right? It's just a fish." Jim frowned, but Sally shook his head.
"They said anything weird. This is weird enough, I think."
An hour later, an officer walked in, took a hasty photo and pushed the fish back into the water.
"It looks like an animal kill. Nothing to worry about," he reassured before leaving.
Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the cabin grew tense and they decided to leave for the day. When the surrounding areas were properly scouted and their trunk filled with groceries and alcohol, it was already dark. The living room light illuminated the deck and Sally walked to the glass to take a closer look.
There was something on the dock again but the shadows around made the object hard to identify.
"You know, my cat sometimes brings me dead mice. He thinks it's a gift," Tommy muses, squinting next to her. She hums in thought, before turning around.
"I need a flashlight."
Sally stood up to look around the drawers and handed her one. But when Charlie's hand reached for the door, she frowned.
"What are you doing?"
"We need a closer look, we can't call the police if it's just some weed."
"Can't you see from here?"
Charlie turned on the flashlight and pointed it towards the dock. The light was too weak to reach the object.
"Okay, fine."
The doors get yanked open and the smells and sounds of the lake enter the cabin. Charlie steps out. The planks creaked under her feet and the closer she gets, the more solid becomes the object in front of her. It's a pendant, damaged by water but still recognisable. But behind it, tendrils; inky black in the shadows and sliding down towards the water.
She pointed the light towards the water and for a second she could swear she saw a pair of black eyes watching her.
"It's a necklace," she informs them after closing the door and cutting off the cricket orchestra.
"Guess we are calling the cops then," Amy sighs, cheek squished against her hand like it was all just a big inconvenience to her. Not a potential threat to their lives.
It kept like that, random objects appearing now and then. They tried staying in the living room but they could never catch it, whatever person or animal was leaving the items to be found. Nobody seemed to notice anything amiss, no bubbling water or black eyes gaping at them from below the surface. No one except for Charlie.
It’s been a few days, patrols still idly circling the area and searchers finding the first body parts (seemingly from the same body, thank gods) when Charlie stepped out into the night just to observe. She could see the lights from the bathroom upstairs reflecting in the water, giving her a sense of safety as she took a couple of steps on the deck. She was wary of approaching the edge and the inky waters below.
The night at the lake was loud, all the creatures inhabiting it fighting for the loudest sound of their presence. The grass rustled in the soft wind, and water splashed aghast the pails. And yet, Charlie could hear something moving under her feet, below the wood. Something big.
The water splashed louder, bubbled and bulked like it was trying to take shape but its own nature betrayed its attempts. Then, a pair of huge black eyes was blinking at her. Once, then again, like it had two sets of eyelids.
Tendrils, black like tar in the darkness, slithered over the edge of the wood, carrying something, wrapped in dripping algae. It didn’t stop at the usual spot, shuffling closer until the item got dropped at her feet.
The tendrils hesitated, inching slowly toward her, leaving enough time to react, to run, but the curiosity and tenderness of the moment rooted Charlie to the spot.
It was cold and wet in touch but retracted quickly away from her ankle as if scared by its own actions. The item in front of her was revealed. A rusty dagger, probably from the bottom of the lake, lay at her feet like an offering from some fairytale.
He thinks it’s a gift.
Well, it was certainly better than a body part.
“Is it for me?” she whispered before the creature could shy away.
It nodded slowly, and her eyes adjusted to the light enough to notice hair, sleek and long, plastered to the scaled skin like algae.
“Thank you. Were all the other things for me too? The, uh, foot?”
It nodded again.
“I loved the gifts, but let me give you something next time. Tomorrow night?”
It watched her, only its eyes peeking out and she wondered if it was going to kill her, displeased with her refusal of gifts. She heard a sound and for a second worried it was a warning growl, but her brain finally registered it as a very croaky “okay”. She smiled, partially relieved and partially hysteric giddiness at whatever the hell she was just witnessing.
“Great. Goodnight.”
This time she took the gift with her with no hesitation and watched the black eyes widen and sparkle with joy. There was a splash, the body of the creature minutely peeking out of the water, followed by tendrils, or, tentacles. Like it was a very graceful octopus. Octopus-fairy hybrid. Charlie was excited to find out tomorrow.
#monsterlovetober2023#Tentacles#monsterfucker#creative writing#monster lover#monster romance#original story#monster kink#Lake creature#Lake monster#courting rituals#Sapphic#Kinda#horror fantasy#horror elements#Fantasy#lake cabin#Lake house#The horrors and romances of summer vacation
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T | 1426 | m/femnb? human/monster from under the bed | horror elements | single dad trope my beloved, kid shenanigans, domestic fluff, established relationship, how does it feel to hide from your kid that you're dating the monster from under his bed, Ed?
"There's something under my bed."
"Where? Between the dinosaur collection and the Lego boxes?"
The child, his very own precious offspring, glared at him. But his tiny fist was gripping a flashlight in a trembling grip.
"There's no place left for a monster there, little man."
"What if it's like, a ghost and can pass through them?"
That means it could also pass through the mattress, but that's not something you tell your preschool kid.
"What's a ghost, Timothy?"
The boy frowned.
“A dead person?”
And while diverting it into a talk about death was tempting, he wanted his kid to actually sleep tonight.
“Why do you think a dead person would be under your bed?”
How a five-year-old could sigh with so much anger was beyond him, but the boy stomped towards the kitchen table, sitting on his favourite chair perpendicular to his dad.
“I don’t know!” he admitted, slamming the flashlight, now off, onto the counter. “Maybe it’s lonely and wants me dead too. So he has a ghost friend?” he wondered, pouting and, yikes. Dad winced at the sound of his son talking so casually about being dead. About a ghost under his bed wanting to kill him. Which, he knew for a fact wasn’t possible. But instead of telling him that, he sighed and offered:
“Boys sleepover?”
The grin his son gave him was enough to settle the pain of postponing his plans again.
He closed off the tabs on his laptop, the spreadsheets and email drafts (preschool research was no joke) and hovered over the multitude of streaming apps he had installed.
“What do you feel like watching?”
The kid hummed in thought, tapping his chubby fingers against the table.
“Bugs Bunny?”
“Good choice,” he nodded appreciatively, opening the app he knew had The Looney Tunes. Was he using his kid to revisit the nostalgia of his childhood? Totally.
He let Timothy arrange a bed for him on the floor while he made them some chamomile tea, plain for himself and with some honey for his kid. The set-up was familiar for them as the boy was still adjusting to having his own room - there was a folded mattress he used as a chair during the day and at night would often be used by his dad to sleep. The laptop stand was balanced on his bed and his dad’s head was resting just against his little thigh. They were sipping on their teas, with Timothy’s in a special straw bottle that would prevent any spillage in case he dozed off mid-seance. Dad learned it the hard way.
And like each time, the boy was too preoccupied to see his dad’s hand slipping under his bed, between all the toys and Lego sets, palm up and waiting until the darkness entwined their fingers and squeezed gently. It liked Looney Tunes too.
*
“There’s a monster in the basement.”
I know.
“Well, it better start paying rent, then.”
“Dad!”
“What? You want a freeloader in our house, Timothy?”
“No, of course not,” he said, even though he had no idea who a freeloader was.
“We should write a contract too. In case of damages.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“Damages?” The boy's eyes went wide.
“Yeah,” the dad nodded. “When someone rents a place like we did, they sign a lease promising to pay for any damages they might do to the place. Usually, they pay extra money to the owner with the first rent. The owner uses it to fix the things they break unless everything is okay, then they can have the money back,” he explained.
Timothy nodded, small forehead scrunched in his rendition of an adult face.
“Makes sense.”
He thought that was it and went back to working on dinner, but then Timothy spoke up again.
“Did you ever break something you had to pay for?”
Dad hummed in thought.
“Yeah, when I was in college, me and my roommate broke a shower stall. Like, the glass door? Had to take an extra job to pay for a replacement."
"How did you do that?"
He winced, remembering the mild concussion and the bruises.
"I slipped and slammed into it. The door fell out of its frame and broke in half."
"You didn't have a bathroom mat?"
Dad smiled, knowing his safety lessons were engraved in his son's head.
"No, I wasn't as smart as you are now."
His son puffed out his chest, happy with the praise.
And so, the basement monster went forgotten until after dinner, when Timothy laid a piece of paper and a pen in front of him.
"We should write the contract. For the basement monster," he clarified at his father's puzzled gaze. He quickly nodded.
“Yeah, that’s smart.”
“How do we start?” his son asks curiously, climbing into his lap and peering into the blank sheet. His dad hummed.
“Let’s see… Lease agreement, we need a heading, between Ed and Timothy Sandsmith,” he drawled as he wrote. “And the basement- I think ‘monster’ isn’t a nice word, you know?”
Timothy frowned.
“How so?”
“Well, if we describe a human as a monster, it means it’s a bad person. Maybe we should use a different word.”
He could see Timothy’s frown as he tried his hardest to come up with a way to address their monster in a friendly way.
“Neighbour?” he offered hesitantly.
“Basement neighbour,” Ed tried and nodded in approval. “That will work, yeah. So… The basement neighbour. In exchange for rent-free use of the basement, the basement neighbour agrees to cover the expenses of any damages they may cause. Is that enough?”
“I think so,” Timothy said, looking at the paper. “I’m not a lawyer.”
Ed chuckled.
“Well, let’s hope our neighbour isn’t one either. Now let’s sign it.” He put his signature on the corner and handed the pen to his son to scrawl his name underneath. Then he added a line on the other side of the document.
“Now I guess I just gotta get the monster’s signature.”
“Neighbour's!”
“Neighbour's, right. I’ll do that tomorrow, I don't wanna bother them so late. What do you say we read for a bit and go to bed?”
“Peter Pan?”
“Sure, why not.”
After Timothy dozed off, Ed grabbed the document they’d crafted and the pen next to it and walked down to the basement. The light flickered to life when it captured his movement. It was colder down there but not unpleasantly. There was a washing machine in one corner, shelves of preserves and wine from his parents in the other, and in the center an old couch and a coffee table sitting on a thick rug.
“Hi, baby,” Ed said into thin air. He put the paper and pen on the table. “Timothy was worried the monster in the basement would break his toys and made me write an agreement in case of damages. Would you be so kind and sign it?”
The document shuffled on the surface and he dropped onto the couch. The lights flickered and dimmed like a thick fog suddenly fell over them. The shadows around, thick and misty, caressed his wrist in question.
“I haven’t told him anything. I guess he just senses you,” he shrugged before collapsing deeper into the cushions. The lightbulb above the stairs shut off with a click after not sensing any movements for a while. The darkness settled heavier on his skin.
“Maybe I should, he’s a smart boy.”
A huff. A scratch of pen against paper.
Let him start school first.
Ed raised his hand, caressing the shape around him. He smiled at the creature he couldn’t see but could feel. “You’re so maternal,” he cooed with a happy sigh.
Shut up, the darkness scolded, slapping his arm. It felt like little pinpricks of cold.
“There’s only a week left. My boy is going to school. He’s growing up so fast,” he choked up with realization and his lover purred, caressing his skin with emotion.
All kids do.
“I know. Yeah,” he sighed, burying his face into them.
You’re a great dad, they added. He smiled.
“Thank you.”
I say it how it is. Oh, by the way, you forgot to plug in your laptop.
“Shit, thanks. What would I do without you?”
Wither alone and untouched.
He barked out a surprised laugh that was quickly captured by the darkness. It coaxed him gently to lay down, pressing him into the cushions, into his favourite place to be - between the thrifted couch and the creature he found in his basement.
#monsterlovetober2023#monster lover#monster romance#monsterfucker#fantasy romance#human/monster romance#monster kink#original story#spooktober
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T/M | 702 | f/nb human/angel | fantasy, horror elements i guess | continuation of 'curse', tentacles
Everything smelled of lavender, making her nauseous. She hated lavender. But she was dreaming, so she probably could change it, somehow. She tried thinking very hard about chocolate. Nothing happened.
It’s an amalgamation of both her and Abe’s apartments. She’s looking for chocolate cake, so she steps into the kitchen. Abe is there, already cutting the brownies.
“Hi,” they say softly, hesitant.
“Hey,” she answers, waddling through the fogginess of a dream. When she’s offered the cake, she bites in and some clarity comes over her senses.
“You said you’ll come," she says out loud to make the memory more tangible. Abe nods.
“I don’t like invading your brain like that, but it’s the only way I can show you.”
They eye each other, Jade munching on her cake. She swallows.
“Well?”
Abe sighs, resigned.
Their skin peels off, strings of flesh forming the shape of feathers. Their whole body unravels, weaving itself back into a fleshy creature of uncountable wings, eyes and tendrils.
Jade's eyes can’t wrap around the depth of the image in front of her, so she closes them, lights throbbing behind her eyelids.
“This is me,” says Abe’s voice, echoing from everywhere around her.
“Is this what you were so scared of?” she asks, the sight still imprinted in her brain. “You look… right.”
“Did you not like the blond hair?” they ask, covering their nerves with amusement.
“Course I did,” she scoffs, opening her eyes again. It was easier to look already, and it probably would be with each time. “But this is more you.” She bites her lip, wiping away everything she thought about life up to this moment. “What happens now?”
“Nothing.” Abe shrugs with a soft movement of their feathers. “I’ll leave you alone, I just wanted-”
“Oh, don’t,” she rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been a drama queen. Just come here.” She spreads her arms and, albeit with a lot of hesitance, she gets a bundle of warm threads of life to embrace. After a moment, tendrils snake around her middle to hug her back.
“But we can’t kiss," Abe reminds her, almost whining. "If we do, I turn, and who knows what’ll happen to you.”
“You said melted eyeballs," she recalls.
“At the least.”
For a moment, she’s completely quiet.
"What about other people?" she asks eventually.
"Only you will see me like this. For other people, I'll stay Abe, the local barista."
"That’s stupid," she frowns.
"That's GOD for you," they shrug.
They stay quiet, just embracing each other and softly swaying to a song in their heads.
“Do I even need eyeballs?” she asks eventually.
“Baby…”
“What if we like… scoop them out?”
“Lil, what the fuck?” They try to lean away from the hug, eyes moving to better see her, check if she's being serious, but she keeps holding them close.
“I'm just considering our options!” she defends. “Can we kiss, like, here?”
“I don’t know, and I don't want to risk it.”
She hums in thought.
“But you're already in this form, so…”
“Not risking it, still.”
She huffs.
“What about sex?”
The tendrils around her flexed.
“Well, it’s safe, apparently. We can keep doing it.”
“Damn, GOD is perverted.”
Abe snorts.
“But no, I mean here. In this form.”
Abe goes still, the tendrils around her tightening minutely.
“You’re not serious.”
“Oh, I am. What were you thinking, showing me tentacle porn?” she teases, and if the angel in front of her could blush, they would.
“Well…”
“Were you thinking about fucking me with all these?” she asks, caressing the tendrils that composed Abe, from wings to makeshift appendages to holding up the countless fiery eyes. “Would you let my eyes melt just to use me like this?” she follows, her eyebrows quirking teasingly. Abe squirms in her hold.
“No, of course not!” they protest, but her hold only tightens.
"Just play along, baby. Ugh, this is the part when I would grab your pussy if I knew where to look."
Abe chokes out a startled laugh.
“Oh, you’re serious about this.”
“How about you reach down and see for yourself?’
Abe does and then proceeds to show her all the fun parts of their true form.
#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#monster lover#human/monster romance#monsterfucker#fantasy romance#spooktober#monster kink#human/angel#human x angel#angel romance#biblically accurate angel#eldritch angel#horror fantasy
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M | 527 | f/f human/demon | horror/fantasy elements idk | mating cycles
Susan took a step back before entering her flat but after double-checking the number, she walked in. When the door shut behind her, it cut off the hall light and wrapped her in pitch darkness. She slapped the light switch but the bulbs above her only buzzed before giving up. She sighed.
"Babe, you can't turn the whole place into your lair. We have a bedroom."
She could hear her girlfriend crawling up the walls, invisible in the dark.
"You'll be explaining the footprints to our guests next time," she grumbled, dropping the gym bag on the floor and extending her hands to somehow navigate her home. Judging by the soft fabrics against her arms, Lilith broke into the linen closet again.
As she stumbled towards the bedroom, the skittering footsteps followed above. Despite running into something every two seconds, the elaborate, at least room-wide pillow fort didn’t fall apart. She hoped it didn’t mean Lilith used her spit again.
She finally reached her dresser, but almost lost her footing when a little demon jumped down from the ceiling. Regaining her balance, she continued with her search for a change of clothes, unfazed by what was a daily occurrence at this point. It took a long time to get used to, but the regular gym workouts helped with keeping them both upright.
Lilith’s limbs wrapped around her tightly, and her whole body started rubbing against her back. She weighed on Susan like she was trying to bring her down and her body was hot like a furnace, to an almost unpleasant point. The realisation hit her like an electric shot.
"Oh, is it this time of your cycle?"
Dating a demonic creature was an adjustment. While Susan had her periods, Lilith turned more feral every two months. Usually, that was when she'd turn the whole living room into a nest of blankets and pillows, the urge to create a safe, warm space taking over. She never fully understood how the mating cycle exactly aligned with that, but apparently, she was about to find out.
"We can do that, just let me take a shower first."
Instead of a coherent answer, Lilith purred, sneaked her tail between her thighs and started rubbing at her in long, slow drags.
"Baby, I'm all sweaty," she protested with a sigh, while her thighs flexed.
She knew it wasn't a compelling argument, not when the previous cycle Lilith threw away all of her deodorants repeating "smell bad" over and over again.
To prove she wasn't bothered, on the contrary, Lilith let loose her tongue, dipping it between her sweaty breasts. Susan leaned her head back, feeling her resolve crumble.
"Alright, point taken, you nasty bitch," she chuckled, turning it into a moan when the tail pressed harder, its ridges easy to feel over the gym sweats. Her knees buckled and to avoid falling under the weight of her lover she collapsed onto their bed, thus sealing her fate. She became the main course for her lover while she licked her body clean chanting, “Mate, mate, mate,” in a lustful frenzy. Starting the first round of a long weekend spent in their lair.
#monsterlovetober2023#monster romance#monster lover#monsterfucker#human/monster romance#fantasy romance#monster kink#spooktober#monster girlfriend#demon girlfriend#Wlw monsters#Wlw demon
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T | 1588 | f/? human/demon | fantasy | transfem character, they/it demon pronouns
Steph imagined going to Hell in many ways. Being unceremoniously thrown through layers of the planet into a sizzling tar. Stepping up in front of a horned guy who'll take pleasure in coming up with a custom torture plan. Not suddenly opening eyes to a dark figure in a Hawaiian shirt holding a clipboard. She worked her dry mouth to push out some words.
"So this is, um-"
"Hell," the figure answered. "Does it live up to the expectations?"
She took a cautionary look around - a dark room with no corners, no windows or doors. It was almost like they were floating in space but it didn't feel like it. She stood up with alarm at the unfamiliar sensation under her palms.
"The ground is moving."
"Uh, yeah? I keep forgetting Earth is already dead," they murmured, eyes back in the paperwork.
"What?" Stephanie frowned. "Wait, are you implying Hell is alive?"
"That is exactly what I'm saying."
"Holy fuck."
"No cussing, please," the demon twisted their mouth in distaste. "Don't need the upstairs to pop in and audit us again."
Steph frowned.
“Isn’t this like, your whole thing?”
“Our whole thing,” they repeated under their breath as if offended. “The first word, darling, you can fuck down here all you want."
“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense,” she nodded slowly, considering it. “Can I say unholy fuck?”
The demon rolls their eyes like it's the hundredth time they’ve heard the question. Probably was.
“Yes, yes you can. So, Stephanie,” they looked down at the clipboard again. “Your partner is running a bit late, but should be here any minute now.”
“My partner?” Steph frowned again and the demon in front of her was visibly on the verge of frustrated tears.
“You humans think selling your soul is not a big deal, like it’s not something that’s gonna affect you. Well, newsflash, it does. Most of you don’t choose a particular demon so your soul is assigned at random. After your death you go to Hell and get handed to them,” they explained sharply, flipping through the documents. “You’re assigned to… Tom, it seems.”
She was flabbergasted, for many reasons. Tom, first of all, didn’t sound like a very demonic name. But more importantly…
“When the fuck did I sell my soul?”
The demon flipped a couple more sheets.
“Hmm. December 6th 2010,” they said and then proceeded with a quote in her pre-transition teenage voice: “I want her fucking dead. Whoever the fuck is listening, kill my fucking mother. Have my firstborn or my soul, whatever. Save me.”
Okay, she might have said something like that in her peak teenage angst years. Bit living with a transphobic mother was… not fun.
“She died a couple of years later from a stray bullet wound led by your assigned demon. Thus, fulfilling their part.”
Sophie gaped.
“What does that mean for me?”
The demon shrugged.
“Depends on the demon. You had a dog, right? It’s kinda like that.”
“I’m a pet?!”
“Well, you have a place to live, you’re fed, played with, so basically.” They shrugged after listing off on their fingers.
She thought about protesting, about running, but what good would it do to her? She was dead and she handed off her soul. So instead, she just asked.
“Is it an eternity thing?”
“Until The End happens, so in a way, I’d say so.” Then, they turned to the right. “Well, it took you long enough.”
Steph turned that way too, wondering who they were addressing when reality opened like a door and another demon stepped in. An inky void in a human shape, wearing a simple black dress.
“Sorry, I’ve lost track of time,” they grumbled, stumbling in towards them. The demons greeted each other with a weird approximation of a fist bump, before turning back to her.
“That’s my soul? She’s so much prettier than I remember! Hell’s doing you good already,” the dress demon grinned. She couldn’t see any teeth, but the way their form and the floppy ears perked up, made them easy to read.
They stepped closer, extending their hand.
“I’m Thomeles, but friends just call me Tom.”
She eyed them, the horns, the ears, the tail, the approximation of a face when their head shifted.
“Stephanie.” She took the hand, claws gently digging into her flesh. Other than that, their palm was soft and warm.
“I know. I’ve been watching you for a while, Steph.”
The demon behind them coughed.
“Okay, now that you two are here, sign these and get out of my office.”
Steph looked at the document in front of her but it didn’t contain much more than the quote and both their names. There was no pen in sight and she looked a bit lost at her partner.
“Just press your finger like this,” they said, touching the line under their name with a pad of their pointer. The paper sizzled and a slightly burned fingerprint was left.
She frowned but did as instructed. It burned for a moment, like touching a plate fresh out of a microwave but the paper soon was signed.
“And here, that you received your Soul.”
Thomeles pressed another fingerprint.
“Here, that you were partnered with your demon.”
Stephanie hesitantly did the same.
The demon accountant flipped through the documents, bringing them to its face and inhaling.
“Ahhh, freshly burned paperwork. Now get out! I have another Soul incoming!”
They were both pushed out by an unseen force, stumbling into a long dark hallway.
“Don’t mind him, Der always had a stick up his ass.”
“What’s that short for? Deremoth?” she asked to occupy herself while being led somewhere. A kennel, perhaps?
“Derek,” answered her demonic partner. She didn't know what to ask after that and silence followed. Waiting for the next development seemed to be the most reasonable course of action.
The hall they were going down seemed to have no end, only random doors here and there.
“Tell me, Stephie, what would you like to do on your first day in Hell?”
She was surprised, expecting to be pushed around not unlike on a first day at work, not treated like on vacation.
“What is there to do?”
“It’s Hell, we can do anything!” Tom grinned again. “We can chill on the couch, we can go shopping, I can take you to dinner. I’ve finished all the TV series I've been watching, so we don't have to watch anything separately."
Stephanie blinked, taking it all in.
"Do you watch like, human TV series?”
“If you’re asking me if you can watch the next season of Drag Race here, then yes."
She felt herself smile for the very first time since dying.
“What about an actual drag show?”
“Oh baby, there’s no better place like Hell!” Tom grabbed her excitedly, finally swinging open a seemingly random door. They stepped into a nightmarish room full of pink curtains and cushions, and the smell of incense. “I’ll fix you a drink, and we’ll find you something to wear. You don’t mind wearing something of mine, right? Can I do your make-up?”
Stephanie watched them bounce excitedly, staring at her with their soulless face.
“I guess I am a puppy, huh? Or like a doll, perhaps.” She wondered if she’d end up forgotten on a shelf like her cousin's Barbies when the new Sims came out. “Sure, you can dress me up.”
Tom deflated, their head turning in confusion.
“Well, you are pretty like a doll, but why would you be a puppy?” they asked.
Stephanie scoffed, turning to sit on the couch in the center of the room. She instantly fell deep into the soft cushion.
“Derek said demons keep humans like pets,” she explained, the acidic tone obvious in her words.
All she got for that was silence and when she looked up, Tom was fuming. They became fuzzy at the edges and the surrounding air dimmed, like under a layer of dark fog.
“I don’t care what Derek does with his Souls,” they rumbled, the room shaking with their voice. “But I will treat you like the precious thing that you are.” They softened, composing themselves. “If you want to be a pet, I’d love to put you on a leash,” the voice turned into a purr, as they kneeled in front of her. Stephanie hasn’t been this close to them yet and the demonic presence leaning into her space was overwhelming.
“I’ll do whatever you ask for because I'm yours, and you’re mine.”
The possessiveness of the word felt like a punch to the gut, and she pressed her lips hard together not to whimper. But then Tom took her hand and pressed it to where their mouth should be.
“We’re partners in any sense of the word that you want to be. Friends, first and foremost, and whatever more you let me.”
The open earnestness of the demon was breaking her walls alarmingly fast.
“Take me to dinner first,” she joked to ease the tension but Tom only collapsed against her with a whine.
“Can I? I’ve been waiting decades for you to die and be mine. Can it be our first date? Today? Please?” They looked up, suddenly small despite their size and power and something in Stephanie woke up at the sight of a demon begging at her knees.
She raised a hand to their cheek and Tom nuzzled against her palm and in an instant, she was gone.
“Of course, baby. Doll me up for our date.”
#monsterlovetober2023#monster lover#monster romance#monsterfucker#human/monster romance#sapphic ish#fantasy romance#spooktober
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G | 916 | m/m vampire/werewolf finally some monster on monster action | fantasy | drugged flirting, pre relationship, d/s dynamics hinted
It's embarrassing. What kind of respectable vampire chips his fucking fangs? He lies to himself that maybe no one will notice, that it's not that bad. But fangs were a vamp's most noticeable feature, they were their pride and any blemish was commented on by his so-called best friends constantly.
So he sucked it up and went to the only dentist in the state who specialized in monster teeth.
The business was in no way illegal but also wasn’t regulated in any way, so he found himself under the ground level of some back alley building, greeted by a bulky half-orc and an ‘interspecies peace zone’ sign.
Inside there is a fairly insane-looking guy with thick glasses, scribbling something down. In front of him, sitting sideways on the dentist chair, is a werewolf, holding his cheek. His nose moves and he turns towards him, instantly twisting his face into a scowl.
It quickly drops, the wolf letting out a pained whimper instead.
“Awww, somebody got a cavity?” he cooed meanly. The wolf glared.
“Ah, Mr. Lee. Haven’t you chipped your fang opening a wine bottle?”
If there was any blood in him, he would go pink with embarrassment.
“What about doctor confidentiality?!” he asks, while the wolf snickers.
“There’s none,” the dentist shrugs. “I work on the fringes of law, so I make my own rules. One of them being my patients acting civil to each other. Respect that or find another doctor.”
He doesn’t answer, he just sits down on a vacant chair and waits for the two to finish their transaction. After the wolf pays though, he doesn’t leave. He sits down next to him, while the dentist motions him to take his place.
“Is he gonna watch?”
“Yep. Gotta wait for the anaesthesia to wear down.”
“But-!” he cuts himself off under the doctor’s murderous gaze. He should have gone to medical school himself. To be a vampire and be overpowered by a medical professional. Unthinkable.
He lets the mortal put his fingers in his mouth while a werewolf watches. The most mortifying time of his life.
The doctor hums as he studies his fangs.
“I’ll give you a temporary filling but after taking a cast of your teeth. Until we fix your teeth with proper acrylic, no biting because the filling isn’t strong enough for that. It should be ready in a couple of days though, so no worries.”
The vampire hums an affirmative, mouth still full of dental tools.
After that, even more weird stuff gets placed there, like some artificially smelling pink cream, used for the cast. After that, a piece of clay to form the missing tip of his fang.
He pays a lot, but he can afford it, and it’s worth not listening to his friends laugh anymore.
“Do you remember what to do?”
“No biting, brush gently, be back in two days.”
“Great. Now please take Mr. Blum on your way out, I’m closing up.”
“What?!” his head whips to the chair in the corner, where the werewolf is still sitting.
“He told me he reacts badly to anaesthesia but I didn’t expect it to be this bad,” the man explains with a shrug. “Just call him a taxi or something,” he waves his hand dismissively.
Lee gapes. But the doctor doesn’t seem to give him any attention, and the half-orc enters the room, giving him the stink-eye, so he grabs the werewolve’s elbow and drags him outside.
“Okay, Mr. Blum, where do you live?” he asks, straightening him up since he’s a bit wobbly on his legs. He looks around to see the nearest place to grab a taxi, but when he doesn’t get an answer, he looks down. A pair of puppy dog eyes is looking up at him, big and sparkly. The waning moon is reflected in them.
Dumbass probably was too drained after the full moon to fight the chemical haze.
“Dude?”
The werewolf sighs.
“You vampires are so pretty…”
For a second he’s so taken aback he’s frozen speechless. Then, he scoffs.
“Okay, if you don’t tell me where you live, I’m just going to drop you here.”
The wolf seems to be deciphering his words for a very long time, and he’s about to drop him here and there, when he finally gets an answer, along with a giggle.
“16 Mirkwood Lane,” he says, slurring just a bit. “Will you come in?”
The question was bad, but the eyebrow waggle was too much. He drops the werewolf on the pavement, letting him wobble against the nearest lamp pole.
He makes only a couple steps away when the night is pierced by a howl.
“Shit, fuck, fuck, shit!” he hurries back to the werewolf, covering his mouth with his hands. “Shut up!”
“Give me your number.”
He blinks.
“What?”
The werewolf inhales again.
“Fine, fine!” he hurries to cover his mouth again. “Whatever, just, shut up!”
He whips out his business card (of course he has one, he’s cultured) and hands it to the werewolf. “Here. Now, you’re gonna get in the cab, I’ll see you walk into your house, and you can call me when you sober up, no sooner,” he instructs, dragging him forward and waving to a taxi driver who stopped for a smoke.
“Yes, sir.”
The voice is smaller than before, and when he looks down the puppy eyes are even bigger, shinier. Guess he let his dominant side out too much.
This is what he gets for drinking alcohol.
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