Murmur of Ground: Chapter 1
SURPRISE! New series! Let me know what you think!
4592 words
CW: violence, slavery, past noncon mention, noncon monsterfucking
Masterlist, Next
~~~
The Labyrinth was not simply a maze.
The Labyrinth was an undead city, the buildings fungal, moving, growing, shifting, occupied by scavengers and other foul creatures. Rats the size of small dogs scurried down the porticoes and halls, climbing over marble drums of fallen columns. Harpies nested in the friezes, unphased by the violence depicted in the facades, preferring to inflict the violence themselves, territorial as they were. Caryatids, columns in the shape of gowned women, stared faceless and threatening down upon the concrete and stone walks, paced by restless ghosts. Archways lead to atriums full of silent, dry fountains and lifeless gardens. The occasional Propylaea, grand multi-tiered entrances decked out with stairs and pillars and wall carvings lead to sharp drops into nothingness, as if any temple, any holy place had been surgically dissected out. Nooks and crannies abounded, little chambers that tricked you into thinking you were safe there.
The most haunting aspect was the familiarity. The buildings and interiors took on tauntingly comprehendable shapes, just often enough to make you look twice, make you want to cry I’ve been here before, I’ve been here before – not lost, not home, but some happy distant memory of visitation, I took a picture here, trusted a stranger with my camera and posed. It had the flavor of a moment only remembered though a lens, or a description by someone else. You were five. Do you remember when Daddy had a beard? Look at the picture!
It’s not like you could find the same place twice to check. The Labyrinth grew and in equal measure died, creating a constantly shifting environment. Stay in one place, and it would whirl around you while you slept, never revealing its movements to mortal eyes. Travel, and you’d never find your way back, halls rearranging themselves as soon was they left your sight.
Yani ran.
He stumbled down stone steps, darted around pillars, dodged swooping birds with bronze beaks. It was dim in the Labyrinth, but not dark. There were no lights, no torches, braziers, or anachronistic spotlights. Instead the stone and concrete itself seemed to shed some illumination, glowing just enough for human eyes to see the way, to see the rotten splendor the Labyrinth had to offer.
Yani stood out to the denizens of the Labyrinth like a sore thumb. He was dressed all in white, as a proper sacrifice should be: drawstring trousers and a boxy button down, all linen and ill-fitting. The clothes had come out of a box at the temple – the temple provides, you see. At least his shoes fit, simple cotton slippers that they were. He had been clean when he was first thrown down the shaft, heavily sedated and bathed against his will by the priests. Dressed like a doll. Discarded as easily as one. Now he was sweaty with fear and exertion, and the creatures had his scent.
He did not know how long he had been in the Labyrinth, only that he was hungry and exhausted. The Harpies and bronze-beaked ibis birds dogged him relentlessly, driving him from one brief shelter to the next. A deep hopelessness had set into his heart, sending it racing along at a haphazard pace.
He really was here to die.
His breath seemed dangerously loud, in the quiet of the Labyrinth. The Labyrinth was not silent; low eerie rumbles could be heard in the distance, evidence if the movement of masses of stone and concrete. Nearer, harpies could be heard arguing. Their harsh voices sounded like the cawing of ravens until you tuned in, became practiced at picking out the words. But nearby, currently, it was all quiet, disturbed only by Yani’s hurried footsteps and haggard breath. He had evaded the bird-like monsters – for now.
He ducked into an alcove, home to a dry wall-fountain, and huddled under the basin to catch his breath. His brown, calloused hands shook as he wrapped them around his knees, curling to a ball. His dark hair, usually neatly pulled back in a half-tail, fell loose and lank with sweat around his face. Now that he wasn’t running, his thoughts settled into their new, self-flagellating pattern: Could have. Would have. Should have.
Yani was an indentured servant of the Mylonas family. Or rather, he had been, until the patriarch, Leon, decided to sacrifice him to the Labyrinth. Yani had always thought of himself as a good worker – every order followed, no matter what, regardless of his own thoughts or feelings – but now he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps if he’d worked harder, been more amenable, done… more of what Leon wanted.
There were certain nights, when the Lady of the house went to visit her father. Leon didn’t like to be alone.
Yani shuddered at the memory, but at the same time chased it; examining it. What had he done wrong? What could he have done better?
Had he been too lost in the relief of being loved to submit himself as fully as he should have to his master?
The harpies were back, flitting to and from column capitals and archway crowns. Yani knew he should run, he just needed a moment, a few seconds to collect himself, then he would run, he just needed…
The harpies spotted him. A call went up, and the flock made a cacophony of whoops and jeers. They surrounded Yani, landing on the smooth stone floor in a semicircle around his nook. They had the faces of women, sure, but their eyes were cold, reptilian, inhuman. Their heads bobbed and twitched as they examined him, shouting overlapping, indiscernible threats in their shrill voices. They flapped their wings in a show of dominance, like fighting cockerels, shedding mangy feathers and blowing back their stringy hair.
“Dinner! Dinner!”
“White clothes, white clothes, no one wanted you anymore!”
“Come with us, boy, we’ll save you from the Minotaur!”
Yani cowered, frozen, until one darted forward and seized his ankle with a claw. Yani shrieked, any semblance of dignity long lost as he kicked out with his legs, grabbing desperately at the empty basin of the water fountain, holding on as the creature tried to drag him out. He landed one kick to the harpy’s sharp breastbone, and she screamed at him and only dug her claws into his ankle tighter, drawing blood. A second harpy dove at him, hooking her claws into his shirt, and that seemed to break the floodgates. The entire flock fell upon him, dragging him out of the alcove and clawing at him, buffeting him with their wings. Yani screamed and sobbed, feeling every talon as they ripped into his flesh. Words abandoned him – not that the harpies would listen if he pleaded. For far too long his world was feathers and airlessness and scratching pains, then the harpies started in with their teeth, blunt human teeth, biting at where they’d loosened and bloodied his flesh.
Then, a sound cut through everything: a deep, rumbling bellow. Yani, his eyes screwed shut, felt the weight of the harpies lift away from his body. Their cries turned from triumphant to fearful, and faded away into the distance. Yani curled up into a shuddering ball, his sobbing breaths soon the only noise he could hear.
Then, footsteps.
He heard the soft pad of bare calloused feet, moving towards him. He cracked his eyelids open, saw only blood, and so rubbed his knuckles in his eyes. The portico came into focus, and with it, a figure.
A horned figure.
Yani blinked, staring in awe up at the Minotaur.
~~~
The Minotaur stood tall, at least a foot taller than Yani, not even counting the horns. It was pale, its skin almost translucent from years underground. That didn’t make it any less threatening; its human body was broad, muscular, and hairy, and its bull head sat unnaturally on top, brown-furred and dark-eyed. Its horns pointed upwards, proud ivory. It wore only a loincloth, in the traditional style the priests wore when the went down to the river, leaving its body in nearly full view. The occasional scar marred its skin, marking it white like a chalk tally. A tail hung behind it, languidly swishing.
Yani stared up at it, frozen in shock. This was the true king of the Labyrinth, not King Minos miles above them. This was who the sacrifices were truly meant for, not the harpies, not the rats, not the ghosts.
Who he was meant for.
Yani turned his face to the ground, shutting his eyes, praying that it would be over quickly. Would the Minotaur strangle him? Snap his neck? He flinched, involuntary, when he felt its large hands upon him. Digging under his shoulder, threading under his knees.
Picking him up.
Yani hadn’t been carried since he was very small, and his parents were still around; the sensation of firm but soft arms supporting him, bearing him up, sent electric shudders through his body. The Minotaur cradled Yani against its chest, and began to walk.
“Wait,” Yani croaked, and the Minotaur froze in place.
“Where are you taking me?”
No answer. Yani stared up at the underside of the Minotaur’s head, not sure what he was expecting. After a good twenty seconds, the Minotaur resumed walking.
Yani was still petrified, still convinced that he was doomed. Surely the Minotaur was taking him somewhere to be killed – some dark mirror of the temple on the surface, perhaps, some clandestine altar to the old gods.
Yani’s wounds stung against the cool air of the Labyrinth, some clotting, some still oozing. The blood was smeared on the Minotaur’s chest now, its arms, growing dry and sticky. Yani didn’t want to see it. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the Minotaur’s shoulder, and could almost imagine he was being rescued.
After some time, he had the sense that they had moved from the long hallways and open spaces of the Labyrinth into someplace smaller. Someplace warm. He opened his eyes, and saw something he thought he’d never see again: a home.
The floor was covered with fragrant reed mats. A great fireplace dominated one wall, paired with a nook full of firewood. A settee faced it, draped with a fur blanket. The opposite wall had a high bed with countless pillows, and more fur blankets. In the center of the room was a finely carved wooden table and chairs, all graceful lines and fauna reliefs. An open door on the back wall provided a glimpse of a bathroom, beautifully tiled in blues and whites. A closed door suggested storage. The other walls had arched nooks that suggested windows, but they were bricked up. Instead of a vista they were decorated with hanging tapestries depicting figures and gardens.
The whole space had an energy completely separate from that of the Labyrinth; the very air felt different. It felt stable. Solid. Alive, rather than undead. Homey.
The Minotaur laid Yani down on the bed. He refused to relax, sitting up, wrapping his arms around his knees. The tearing claws of the harpies had not spared his clothes, and while he wasn’t indecent he certainly felt exposed now that he wore tattered bloody rags. He watched the Minotaur with wide eyes as it moved around the room – its home, it had to be. It stoked the fire, then went into the bathroom. Yani heard the telltale squeak of a water pump, and the rushing splatter of liquid into a basin. Then the Minotaur returned, approaching Yani. The blood Yani had smeared on its chest and arms was gone, washed away. That didn’t make it less intimidating. Yani flinched at every step it took, and it seemed to see this, and stopped just short of arm’s reach of Yani. Instead of picking him up again, it offered a hand, its tail still.
Yani felt as if he might be dreaming – perhaps the harpies had truly mauled him, and he was dying, and this was his brain’s attempt at making his death kinder.
He took the Minotaur’s hand. What else was he to do? He rose onto shaking legs, and let the creature lead him into the bathroom, its hand large and warm around his.
It was even grander than the small glimpse through the door had promised; there was a bench with a toilet, a counter with a basin, and a massive tub inset into a raised platform, quickly filling with water from a pump. All of it was tiled with hand-painted ceramics, patterns of flowers and geometry. Overhead were soft white electric lights.
Fit for a prince, Yani realized. It was all fit for a prince.
The room was so dazzling Yani didn’t realize the Minotaur was reaching to unbutton the remains of his shirt until he had already started. Yani jerked back with a yelp.
“Back off!”
The Minotaur took two steps back.
Yani stared at it, panting. The bathroom was large, but so was the Minotaur – and it now stood between Yani and the door, dominating the space.
“I’d like some privacy,” Yani said, his voice wavering. The Minotaur didn’t budge.
“Fine.” Yani grit his teeth, and tried to continue unbuttoning his shirt – but his hands were too tremulous, and as he looked down and tried to focus he found himself swaying on his feet.
“Help?” he admitted, and the Minotaur was there, unfastening the buttons with deft hands and easing the shirt off. Yani hissed and gasped as it peeled away from spots where his dried blood had glued it to his wounds. The Minotaur cast the shirt aside and crouched, untying the drawstring of Yani’s shredded trousers. Yani opened his mouth to stammer out a protest but they had already fallen, leaving him naked. The Minotaur, at least, seemed unphased; it stood and offered a hand to help Yani into the bath.
Yani stood there, dazed and blinking. A prince. The Minotaur was a prince. The Minotaur was a prince and here it was, defying every horror story about itself, helping a lowly servant – less than a servant, a sacrifice. Someone the Minotaur had every right to kill.
Yani took its hand, and stepped into the tub.
The water was warm, warm enough to be comfortable but not hot enough to irritate his wounds. Yani sank in, running his hands over his body, taking stock as the blood washed away. There was barely a single area larger than a few square inches that was left unscratched. He dipped his head below the water, feeling his face with his fingertips, working away the dried blood. He had a long, shallow slice across his forehead.
He surfaced and wiped the water out of his eyes. The Minotaur crouched next to the bath, watching him. Its eyes were so strangely human. Yani looked away. It was obvious by now that the Minotaur could not speak; any questions Yani had, like why are you helping me and why haven’t you killed me would go unanswered. He didn’t bother asking.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Minotaur shifting up to sit on the edge of the bath. It leaned forward, and Yani shrank back. What did it want? At first, Yani’s anxiety seemed unfounded; the Minotaur reached over him to shut off the water, plunging the bathroom into near silence. But then it lowered its hand, and Yani’s breath caught as it settled onto his chest, massaging slow circles. His heart pounded hard enough that surely the Minotaur could feel it through his ribcage. The hand slipped lower, dipping below the water to caress Yani’s stomach, sending through him a chill of fear.
That’s what it wanted.
“Stop,” Yani choked out, expecting nothing, expecting to be overruled – but the Minotaur stopped, immediately. It withdrew its hand, and sat back.
“Leave,” whispered Yani, and the Minotaur obeyed. It stood, and exited, closing the door in its way out. Yani stared after it in disbelief. There was no way it was that easy. No way.
He knew the Minotaur would get what it wanted, sooner or later.
~~~
A bar of soap discovered on a little shelf allowed Yani to clean himself properly. After he got out of the bath he found a cabinet full of towels, and while he hated to stain one with his blood he had no other choice. The Minotaur had also left a set of clothes, and a roll of bandages, scissors, and medical tape, along with a container of store-brand healing ointment that looked absurdly out of place there in the Labyrinth with its red and white plastic tub. Once he’d towel-dried Yani applied the ointment liberally, and taped bandages over the worst cuts and bites left by the harpies. His hands shook with exhaustion, but he did the best he could.
Deciding he was finished, he shook out the clothes to have a look at them. They were made of a dark brown cotton, deliciously soft. The color proved some forethought on the Minotaur’s part – if Yani got blood on them it would hardly be noticeable. One piece was a pair of shorts, pleated and flowy; the other was a short-sleeved v-neck top. The outfit was far more revealing than anything Yani would have chosen to wear, but it was better than the bloody rags he’d arrived in. He dressed slowly, and braced himself to exit the bathroom and face the Minotaur.
Upon opening the bathroom door Yani was hit with a wave of delicious smells. Warm bread. Spices. Freshly chopped greens. His eyes were drawn to the table in the middle of the room, where a simple but abundant feast for two was laid out. Bread, moussaka, salad, wine. Yani’s empty stomach clenched and his mouth watered – but between him and the food stood the Minotaur. It no longer wore only a loincloth, but had donned a velour loungewear set from some designer brand Yani recognized the logo of but couldn’t place the name.
Princely, crossed Yani’s mind. Despite having the head of a beast, and apparently the lust of one, the Minotaur had a certain grace, clothed and standing there with one hand in its pocket. It half turned, sweeping the other arm out, inviting Yani to the table.
Yani’s exhausted, frightened, starving mind considered this for a moment. The Minotaur had rescued him. Made unsuitable advances. Respected his request for it to stop. Could kill him at any time. Was offering him food and shelter…
Yani stumbled over to the table and collapsed into a chair. He couldn’t think, not now. Survival was all that mattered. He would accept the hospitality of the Minotaur, and simply pray that its advances would not be repeated.
The Minotaur sat next to him at the table, and they ate together in silence. Yani’s hands shook as he served himself, and he did his best not to devour the food like an animal. The Minotaur had surprisingly good table manners, using its utensils as one should; but presently, when they were both close to finishing their plates, it rested a hand on Yani’s thigh under the table. Yani’s heart began to pound, his eyes fixed on the remains of his food. At first he just twitched his leg away, but the Minotaur’s hand remained firm, fingers pressing into Yani’s flesh.
“I don’t like that,” Yani tried, quietly, meekly, afraid of the repercussions. The Minotaur slid its hand further up Yani’s thigh, fingers brushing under his shorts. “Stop touching me,” Yani said, even softer, but at those words the Minotaur instantly pulled away. Yani blinked, risking a quick glance up at it. It just sat there, watching him, its food forgotten.
It struck Yani then how lonely the Minotaur must be. If his own experience was anything to go by, most sacrifices to the Labyrinth were likely killed by the harpies. Who knew how long it had been since the Minotaur had been in the presence of a human? It was also a prince, and aiding lowly Yani out of the kindness of its heart.
“I truly appreciate your hospitality,” Yani said slowly, carefully, “But please, give me some space.”
The Minotaur stood, knocking back its chair, and quickly stepped away from Yani, putting a couple yards between them.
“Oh, wait!” Yani exclaimed in surprise, and the Minotaur froze, “That’s not what I meant. Please, come back, sit.”
The Minotaur promptly obeyed; it returned to the table, sitting down.
Something itched at the back of Yani’s mind. Something wasn’t right here.
“…Stand up,” he breathed.
The Minotaur stood.
“…Sit.”
It sat.
“Stand up and turn in a circle.”
The Minotaur obeyed.
“Jump.”
The Minotaur obeyed.
A deep horror washed over Yani. Something compelled the Minotaur to obey his commands, to the letter. Some horrible curse had stripped away the Minotaur’s autonomy, and handed it to Yani. For a moment Yani couldn’t fathom how dehumanizing that must feel – until he realized, he could.
Yani had been an indentured servant his whole life. From as soon as he could understand them, orders given by his masters were to be obeyed, to the letter, no matter how trivial or ridiculous – on pain of punishment. A rap across the knuckles, all the way up to flogging.
Yani had never had control over his life. He didn’t even have control over his death – that, too, was chosen for him.
Yani didn’t want that kind of control over another being. He couldn’t do that to a thinking, feeling creature – and clearly, the Minotaur was.
“I’m sorry!” Yani leapt to his feet, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I’ll never do it again, you don’t ever have to do what I say, please, I’m so sorry,” he pressed his hands to his face, on the brink of tears, “I swear, I’ll never order you to do anything, I promise, I swear.”
The Minotaur stared at him for a long moment, its eyes unreadable. Then it approached, slowly, cautiously, drawing close to Yani. Yani didn’t move, just held his hands to his face, near-petrified. The Minotaur slid its hands over Yani’s hips, teasing under the waistband of his shorts. Yani’s breath caught.
I can’t say stop.
“I don’t… want that,” he whimpered instead. The Minotaur ignored him, pulling him close, breathing hot on his ear, his neck. Its hands edged downwards, tugging the shorts around the curve of Yani’s rear. Yani’s hands flew down and grabbed the Minotaur’s wrists.
“Please,” was all he could think to say. He didn’t want this, of course he didn’t want this, but how else could he say no without overpowering the Minotaur’s will?
Yani was by no means a weakling, but the Minotaur was even stronger; it easily broke out of Yani’s grasp and seized his wrists in turn, twisting them behind his back and gathering them into one large hand. Yani yelped and squirmed, but he was helpless against the strength of the Minotaur. The creature pinned Yani to its chest, its free hand plunging down into Yani’s shorts to grope his ass.
Yani cried out, flinching away from the touch and unintentionally pressing himself against the growing hardness in the Minotaur’s sweatpants. One word and it would all stop – but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when his words had the power to override the Minotaur’s autonomy.
“Please,” he sobbed, tears finally escaping him – he was so tired, so exhausted, and every inch of him hurt – “I don’t want this!”
The Minotaur didn’t let go. Instead it pressed its muzzle into the crook of Yani’s neck, its hot breath snuffling, blowing away Yani’s hair and taking in his scent. Then it licked Yani, its tongue sliding out and drawing a long line up Yani’s neck behind his ear. Yani yelped and cringed at the sensation – unlike a human tongue, a bull’s tongue is sandpaper-rough. Yani squirmed as hard as he could, and that seemed to annoy the Minotaur. It snorted, spun Yani around, and threw him onto the bed.
As soon as his stomach made contact with the plush blankets Yani was scrambling away, crawling across the bed. The Minotaur snatched an ankle and yanked him back easily, and Yani gasped in pain as the furs and blankets dragged across his many scrapes and scratches. The Minotaur had Yani bent over the side of the bed now, his bare feet brushing the floor, searching for purchase. It pinned him in place with a heavy hand on the center of his back, its other hand divesting Yani of his shorts.
“Wai-mm!” Yani almost forced a stop, but he caught himself, biting his bit hard. He refused to impose his will over the Minotaur’s, even now.
It wasn’t worth it.
He pressed his face into the covers, letting his tears soak in.
Leon had told him he’d missed his calling as a whore.
When the Minotaur’s finger, warm and wet with spit, probed him, he knew how to relax. How to take it.
See how good you take it? You ought to live in my bed.
Yani was lost in a haze of fear and memories. His heart pounded in his throat as he choked on his tears. His hands clenched fistfuls of blanket. His feet gave up reaching for the floor, going slack as one finger inside him turned into two. He groaned at the pain and sensation, the fingers inside him reaching, groping, spreading. They left far too soon – he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready at all as the Minotaur’s hands gripped his hips, lifting and spreading him.
What followed was brutal. Yani cried openly, sobbing and moaning while the Minotaur fucked him. The Minotaur remained, as it had been, silent. Only its breath became somewhat louder, harsh and ragged with lust. Yani’s body was jolted with each painful thrust and he clung to the bed for dear life, for any sort of anchor.
The only mercy was that it didn’t last long. The Minotaur spilled its heat inside Yani and remained there for a minute, panting. Then it withdrew, releasing Yani, who slid off the bed and crumpled to the floor. He was as silent as the Minotaur, now – all cried out. He pressed his scratched forehead to the reed mats, the coolness emanating from the floor soothing the painful heat of his face. He heard the Minotaur’s heavy footsteps retreating to the bathroom, and water running before the door closed between them. Yani melted even further down then, curling up on his side on the floor.
Was this his fate, then? To be the Minotaur’s plaything?
Others had made decisions for Yani his whole life. Had he died and gone to the Underworld, only to be punished with the same plight? Was there no way out?
Something lit up in the back of Yani’s head. A way out. He felt around for his shorts and rose on his wobbling legs, putting them on. Then he looked up: at the exit.
There was door the Minotaur had carried him through on their arrival. It had been there the whole time. Yani had always been distracted by the food, or the Minotaur, but the door was there. Yani stumbled to it, placed his hands upon the filigreed knob.
He froze.
The Labyrinth would kill him. The harpies and ibis would shred him, the ghosts would suck out his soul, the rats would gnaw his bones.
He screwed his eyes shut.
At least with the Minotaur, he was alive. The Minotaur wanted him alive.
The Minotaur wants me.
Isn’t that enough, to be alive and wanted?
~~~
Masterlist, Next
Everything taglist (I think? let me know if I've got it wrong, and whether you'd like to continue to be tagged in this): @angst-after-dark, @flowersarefreetherapy, @sunshiline-writes
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propaganda:
✅ "youre all fake monsterfuckers if a fat elf is your limit"
✅ "You'll cowards don't even fuck bears"
✅ "sorry but no way man. not because of his appearance or anything (though he's like extremely low tier in terms of round old men creatures) but he's not worth risking being turned into toys for children."
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losing it over the thought of vamp!lando teasing reader and being like haha you're a monsterfucker babe how do u feel ?? and reader being going you are a low-tier monsterfuck ask me later when you get like a monster dick or something and lando being SO offended
PLEASE SGSHSVSHSBSHB😭
he’s literally just sitting there like :0 while you just carry on doing whatever you were doing. and it probably takes him like five minutes of pouting around before he decides to fuck you to prove otherwise
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New works published, December ahead, and plans for the new year!
Good evening and happy December!
Here's the sign-up link to get these sorts of updates and lists directly into your inbox.
Happy second night of Hanukkah for anyone else celebrating, we lit our first candle last night and have also been doing a Hanukkah gift box with little bears and accessories, so we'll see if our first bear gets a yarmulke or something to wear tonight.
In the past month, I did go along to the Wakefield Makers Fair and it was a brilliant day, was lovely to speak to lots of other queer people in Wakefield and to chat around - I also did Honeypot comedy at the Room Above in Bristol for the first time, and it was a gorgeous night, super fun!
I am in the end stages of finalising my new apartment in Bradford, and once all the paperwork is done and I have my keys, I will be uploading pictures and videos as I move in and redecorate the place. The building went up toward the end of the 19th century, and while it was converted to apartments a lot more recently, only a few decades ago, I'll of course be decorating in more Victorian styles and with contemporary furnishings, and I'll be documenting my progress as I go.
In the meantime I've been wrestling with paperwork and the whole process whilst being technically homeless and going between partners' homes, so apologies for the delays and periods of quiet, work-wise!
I tend to be quite active in writing and publishing over the month of December because Christmas and the Gregorian new year aren't really my thing, so hopefully if you do spend a lot of time celebrating those or generally being offline, you'll be able to come back to a backlog when you've time to read again!
Speaking of, I have updated my commission guidelines, which are here pinned on my Tumblr page, and I'm in the process of editing and collating some short stories into collections at the moment. There'll be a few eBook and paperback collections of fantasy, horror, & romance short stories, and then depending on what I can do on Amazon, I'll also do some collections of erotica. I will not be able to post most monsterfucker stuff on Amazon because of Amazon's restrictions, but I will probably still do some eBooks and make them available on Smashwords and perhaps on Gumroad or Itch.io.
I will also resume podcasting in the new year too hopefully!
Relevant to restrictions, not everything I might want to write is always going to be permitted on Patreon in line with their own guidelines, so I have set up a SubscribeStar as a backup, and also to permit me to publish anything that might be too taboo for Patreon in future. I will be uploading my backlog of previous works and setting up a tiered system on SubscribeStar, hopefully while we're working on collating other stories together in the next month or so.
In the new year, I will of course be doing various markets and conventions, and if you'd like me to come and be part of any queer or trans events, or any writers' events, where you are in the UK, please do let me know! Definitely always feel free to recommend any events to me, whether they're cons or festivals, or local markets and events, or even stand-up comedy things - you can send me messages on whatever platforms, or my email is always
[email protected]. As well as working on new paperback short story collections for the new year and the badges I already sell at events, I also want to work on some sticker designs and similar.
I was super happy this year to submit to a few publications and get accepted, and I do want to keep that up as we come into 2024, so recs for those would also be appreciated!
I'm going to do a list this month of my favourite films and new releases of 2023, but in the meantime, I would just like to recommend Down Low (2023, dir. Rightor Doyle) - it's such a bizarre and unexpected gay movie, horny in the best and most ridiculous of ways, and bittersweet at its end but in a way that really clicks.
December having come around also means there's new prompts on Trans Erotica! If you're trans and write erotica or erotic horror, romance, etc, come and submit!
November's Most Popular Works
November's Most Popular Non-Fiction: Close Reading: A Deep Dive into the Process
An in-depth guide into applying analysis to a piece of text and extrapolating meaning.
Read on Patreon / / Read on The Writing Cooperative
November's Most Popular Fiction: Confession and Penance
A priest takes a hands-on approach to addressing a worshiper’s poor working habits.
11k, cis M/M, rated E! Tiernan, a manipulative workaholic who only ever relaxes during Mass services, is taken aside by Father Mullen when it all gets to be a bit too much. D/s, BDSM-approach to enforcing self-care, spanking, painplay, bit of a priest kink but it doesn’t go into that aspect too much, faith. Also some anal.
Read on Patreon / / Read on Medium
New Works Published
Erotic short: Enhanced Parts
Bear goes home with a cybernetically enhanced butch.
NB/NB, rated E, 2k. Commissioned by Bear Blue. Featuring cybernetic enhancements, breeding kink, dirty talk, size difference, large insertions, objectification, humiliation, mild dub con, rough sex, struggling, some tears, implied overstim.
Read on Patreon / / Read on Medium / / Read on Tumblr / / Read on Ao3
Romance & Fantasy Short: The Arena Fighter
An arena brute enjoys one of the attendants.
3.5k, M/M. Nasty violent guys getting off on treating each other a bit roughly. Adapted from a TweetFic.
Read on Patreon / / Read on Medium
Our Flag Means Death Fanfiction: Repentance & Forgiveness
Held hostage by Blackbeard on the Queen Anne, Frenchie can't sleep.
Desperate to just get whatever he can away from crew of the Queen Anne's Revenge, he knocks on Izzy's door and invites himself in.
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Slowly unfolding relationship between Frenchie and Izzy Hands, as well as an exploration of their relationships with Edward Teach and the rest of their crews, delving for Frenchie into what it means to really experience one's feelings, to get into touch with and truly grapple with the depths of one's worst experiences; and for Izzy and Ed, into what it means to transgress, to repent, and ultimately to be forgiven.
Read on Ao3
Erotic Short: Punishment
A man takes penance over the priest’s desk.
1.8k, rated E, M/M. Featuring spanking, mild anal play, power dynamics, of course the priest aspect, age difference. Tiernan Borel and Marshall Mullen first appeared in Confession and Penance.
Read on Patreon / / Read on Medium
Romance Short: Sleeper Train
Romance short. Two boyfriends head up north on the sleeper train.
850 words, rated T, M/M. Short, sweet, romance and slice-of-life. Adapted from a TweetFic.
Read on Patreon / / Read in Prism & Pen
Erotic Short: Knight Tactics
An elf serves as a distraction and an exhaustion tactic for a bandit camp. By letting them fuck him.
3k, trans M/loads of cocks, assumed as cis M. Amaethon gets himself stuck in a wall so that the bandits will work out their stamina fucking him rather than fighting off the king’s guard.
Stuck in wall, free use, fully (and gleefully) consensual whilst pretending he isn’t, mild belly bulging and come inflation, gaping, exhaustion, messy and come-spattered, etc. All the fun stuff.
Read on Patreon / / Read on Trans Erotica / / Read on SubscribeStar
Read on Tumblr / / Read on Ao3 / / Read on HentaiFoundry
Erotic Short: Free Ride
An elf is given a free ride — not with a saddle, but under a centaur.
1.8k, rated E, cis M/trans M. Centaurs, belly riding, huge stomach deformation, huge penis, suspension, implied inflation, size difference.
Read on Patreon / / Read on Trans Erotica / / Read on SubscribeStar
Read on Tumblr / / Read on Ao3 / / Read on HentaiFoundry
Erotic Short: Snake Eggs
An elf lets a naga lay her clutch inside him.
2.5k, rated E, M/F. Amaethon helps out his friend Gitte, a naga, with laying this year’s clutch of eggs. Size difference and size kink, belly bulging, vaginal and anal penetration, paralysis from her venom, some banter, oviposition, inflation, impregnation.
Read on Patreon / / Read on Trans Erotica / / Read on SubscribeStar
Read on Tumblr / / Read on Ao3 / / Read on HentaiFoundry
Erotic Short: Mimic Studies
An elf experiences a mimic’s tentacles, and then a reward.
Rated E, 2.5k, trans M/a mimic. Featuring multiple tentacle penetration in one hole, vaginal sex, some mild objectification and dehumanisation, some academic silliness, object insertion, cervix penetration, belly bulging and stomach distension.
Read on Patreon / / Read on Trans Erotica / / Read on SubscribeStar
Read on Tumblr / / Read on Ao3
These last four stories - Knight Tactics, Free Ride, Snake Eggs, and Mimic Studies - are all ones I'm publishing for free everywhere as well as in the usual paid places.
I've been in the mood to do all this sort of weird and monsterfuckery and body horror-y erotica, so definitely feel free to send asks or requests for similar themes!
Get merch on TeePublic | | Look through my Directory of Published Work | | Listen to my Podcast
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hi. you've single-handedly awakened me to thinking arsene is hot. am I a monsterfucker now? i don't know. hitting you with sticks for doing this to me but also looking at you like 🥺🥺🥺🥺💔 thanks for doing this and . having a super cool painting style btw. its awesome
im glad to do my part in opening peoples eyes to seeing some of the personas are hot as fuck, and just you wait cuz i was planning on drawing loki and raoul as well :3c heh and im glad u like my painting style !!
id say arsene counts as low tier monster fucking cuz hes mostly humanoid but its definietly close! have fun with that!
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i think i remember you posting a fic rec list for monster pedro boys, but i can't seem to find the post again. was that you or am i misremembering?
I think I did at one point but I'm not sure what happened to it, guess that means I need to do a new one!
To start, here's a HUGE monsterfucker fic rec done by @absurdthirst that has a LOT of great entries
Monster!Din masterlist @tuskens-mando which has more monster recs down at the bottom
Tremor (monster!din) @the-scandalorian
Low Tier Monsterfuck (monster!max p) @mandocrasis
Do I Want to Know? (multible monster orgy) @anaaaispunk
Aruetyc Kursh'ika (nonhuman!din) @torictailor
Monsterfucking fics done by me:
Flowers for Ishtar (nonhuman!din)
Kudzu (corrupted!ezra)
Unbridled (centaur!pero)
All That Glitters (nymph!Reader)
Snakes and Ladders (naga!oberyn)
Things That go Bump in the Night (werewolf!Reader)
I'm sure there are so many more, so please if you see this list and know of one not on here, reblog or reply so I can add it! Especially if it's one you wrote, we do shameless self promotion here
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4, 18, 26 💕
Hi Penny!!! Thank you for asking 💕 This one is longer, so I'm tossing it under a cut!
4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?
I love how open to interpretation this one is lol. I love a good descriptive word so I'm going to throw squelch in here. Depending on how it's used I'm going to go feral in a good or a bad way but it's always an interesting one
18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.
Okay so it's a bit much to include here, but I want to talk about the opening dialogue of Lamb and friends from Low Tier Monsterf*ck. At this point Monster!Max was only going to be a oneshot and this whole first conversation at the bar is based off an actual conversation I had with my bf and roommate lol!!
We were chatting about what "counts" as monsterfucking and I argued that Buffy is pretty low on the scale, and the idea for the fic spiraled out from there. We had discussed some other famous examples, but I kept the conversation to well known/funny examples so that anyone reading the fic would know what the hell I was talking about 😂
26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?
Playlists and rewatching their show/movie. I like to make playlists for fics and characters, which really helps me to get in the right headspace for writing them. If I feel like I'm missing their voice though, I'll go back and rewatch their content. When I do that I pay a lot of attention to how they talk as well as their physicality and if there's something I can use or that I'm missing in there.
I get out of their headspace when they let me 😂 sometimes one character grabs me for a bit and despite any other wips, that's what's going to get written. Otherwise I'll use my playlist trick to try and shake them off.
I've never regretted writing for a character/getting in their head - I only ever "regret" it when I want to be writing something else and yet another character has grabbed my attention for the time being lolol
Weird asks for writers
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When conversation about monsterfucking evolves into a critique of Aaron’s character you know it’s a brilliant day.
Thank you @ominousomni for the wonderful talk.
I’m just gonna summarise it because I feel like it’s something I want to talk about more in depth at a later date. And it’s easier to just be like ‘I’ll tag you in the post’ than it is to ‘I’ll tag you in the comment thread of someone else post’ because I can always find my posts, not so much other people’s.
So we listed off a few monster fuckers (Kiki, Enki(Travis’ mother) and potentially Aphmau), discussed how shadow knights and MS!werewolves are like low tier monsters and that MCD!werewolves are proper monsters.
And then the Aaron talk came up.
It was basically about how Aaron wasn’t a scary monster because him being able to do something doesn’t make him scary. Him being able to kill people with his eyes doesn’t make him scary, because he doesnt do it. And even if he did, it’s so easy to cover his eyes or your own to avoid it. He would be scary, however, if he just shredded people apart with his bare hands. Because he’s chosen to do that, he is doing that, and there’s not much you can do to stop it. There are some things. But not many things. So it’s scarier.
Plus I think a death where a huge 6 foot something dude is barrelling at you with the might of eight men is scarier than a death were you look at tall man and then just die. But maybe that’s just me.
Also, Aaron’s ultima form should’ve been more humanoid because it would’ve been cooler and made more sense like… world wise. Since like the ultima in the tale of the ultima’s origin is a MCD style werewolf and so Aaron’s ultima form should’ve been similars/the same to that. Proof provided below, it’s a screenshot from one of the episodes.
Like tell me I’m wrong. This sort of design would’ve just hit harder. And I would’ve let it hit me. Both violently and sexually. Like this is how you design a monster that’s clearly a monster and not just an oversized dog.
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Lobo, the Werewolf warframe
This should be easy... but fun. I know a werewolf is pretty tame for most of you professional-grade monsterfuckers but you did ask for one. It can't be all tentacles all the time, you know.
Health: 200 (600 at rank 30)
Shields: 120 (360 at rank 30)
Armor: 275
Energy: 100 (150 at rank 30)
Sprint Speed: 1.25
Passive: If Lobo has been continuously sprinting for more than 5 seconds without using attacks or abilities he will drop down on all fours, gaining 25% sprint speed. While sprinting on all fours Lobo becomes immune to knockdown effects. This is cancelled if Lobo loses momentum, attacks, or uses an ability. Maneuvers such as jumping, sliding, and wall-running will not cancel the effect as long as Lobo does not fall below a certain threshold of momentum.
Ability 1: Amarok's Claws, 25 energy. Lobo dashes between enemies within a cone 15 meters long and cuts them down with his deadly claws. The first strike inflicts 350 slash damage with 100% status chance, with each successive attack in the combo dealing 100 more damage than the previous. If this ability is activated again within 4 seconds the combo damage carries over.
Ability 2: Asena's Howl, 50 energy. Lobo takes a deep breath and lets out a long, loud howl that terrifies all nearby enemies. Causes all enemies within 20 meters to enter a state of panic for 20 seconds. While panicked, enemies will not attack and will haphazardly flee, exposing themselves and reducing their armor by 40%.
Ability 3: Skoll's Pounce, 50 energy. Lobo leaps onto an enemy within 30 meters and 15 degrees of his crosshairs and performs an automatic melee finisher attack that deals 200% extra damage. If the enemy is immune to finishers Lobo will perform a claw attack that deals 500+X slash damage (where X is equal to the targeted enemy's level times 10) with 100% status chance and momentarily stagger the enemy (if they can be staggered). If the finisher kills its target, 50% of Skoll's Pounce's energy cost is refunded.
Ability 4: Fenrir's Fury, toggled ability consumes 3 energy per second. When activated, Lobo surges with the power of legendary wolf-beasts. His muscles swell and his fangs and claws grow longer. While Fenrir's Fury is active Amarok's Claws have their base damage increased to 500, Asena's Howl strips 60% of enemy armor, and Skoll's Pounce has its extra damage increased to 300%. Additionally, Lobo heals himself for 5% of all damage dealt by slash procs inflicted by his abilities and weapons.
Subsumed Ability: Skoll's Pounce.
Signature Weapons
Rufus: Paint the town red with this flesh-rending shotgun. Lobo's signature firearm, a bulky Tenno shotgun that fires shrapnel shells. Semi-auto primary shotgun, deals mostly slash damage with very low puncture and impact. High damage at the cost of low firing speed. High status at the cost of low crit. When wielded by Lobo this weapon deals 100% increased damage to enemies affected by Asena's Howl.
Lycaon: Rip out your enemies' guts with Lobo's signature clawed melee weapon, the deadly Lycaon. With heavy blades that rip and tear with every slash, this weapon shreds enemies into bloody chunks. High per-hit damage and above-average range for a claw melee weapon offset by decreased attack speed. High status at the cost of low crit. Deals mostly slash damage with moderate impact and puncture. This weapon's combo multiplier contributes 0.05 to its attack speed for every combo counter bonus tier up to a maximum of 0.5. When wielded by Lobo this weapon's combo duration is increased by 5 seconds.
Damn that was easy... that took like... two hours to design his whole kit lol. There are some Bad Warframes that I spent whole days agonizing over. His abilities are named after legendary wolves from various cultures. Rufus is the scientific name of the red wolf, and Lycaon is the scientific name of the Eastern wolf.
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For the monsterfucker list, I recommend Low Tier Monster Fuck by @mandocrasis 😈🧛♂️🔥
Yessss! That is a great one!
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Werewolves are low tier on the monsterfucking list since they're technically still human and their monster form is temporary
i wholeheartedly agree. werewolves aren’t the lowest of the low, though. but they’re close.
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what's up with the 2018-2019 festival familiars
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Lance’s Compendium of Smashable Monsters Day 6: And now for something completely different
It’s time for me to stop being so pro monster fucking and lay down some goddamn truths:
Werewolves are Trash
Yeah, you heard me. Werewolves are the most basic of monsters. Like oh, you’ve got tiny fangs and your body hair is wack oohhh how spooky. Werewolves are the bums of the monster community. Vampires got sweet digs, Godzilla lives on an island with his bros, and even Xenomorphs[again, low tier at best smashability] have LV-426. Werewolves though? these dweebs live in the forest and cry about their humanity and crap; which as we all know is the exact same shit broke hipsters do. Werewolves are the basic monsterfucker litmus test, if someone says they’re headed to makeout peak with one of these losers they’re a basic bitch.
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Uhmm Birdie your recent Max is HOT but also can I please also say that I loved their fluffy dynamic a lot??? They’re just the cutest together and I want them to be together and happy for the rest of their lives because that’s how adorable they’re I’m sorry but I had to tell you this because I love them 🥺🥺🥺
Oh May thank you so much!! 🥺🥺 honestly the fluff surprised me, initially my plans were not as sweet as it ended up being, but it was just natural for them!
I think they've met a match in each other and while things won't always be smooth sailing (I mean, it is Max after all) they'll definitely stick together for a happy lil life 🥰
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The Monster You Know
Pairing: Monster!Max Phillips x F!Reader
Word Count/Rating: 6.3k / EXPLICIT (18+ only, bye minors)
Warnings: Monsterfucking, some angst, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), cockwarming, some body worship, size kink and lil bit of praise kink
Summary: There's a surprise visit at your office. It doesn't go how you might think.
A/N: I said take monsterfucking and make it soft and emotional. Unbeta'd. Additional notes at the end. Again if you're tagged and this isn't your thing, no hard feelings in the slightest.
Direct Sequel to Low Tier Monsterf*ck + Series Masterlist
You’ve been ignoring the messages on your inter-office chat all morning. There was a kind fifteen minute reprieve before the first one chimed. You'd barely figured out just how deep of a hole you'd need to dig yourself out of with work.
Sami: The prodigal daughter has returned!!
Linsey: With details?
Curtis: 👀👀👀
They’ve been at it since then, a variety of messages and gifs all designed to poke and prod you into spilling info beyond the “I’m alive” text you sent to your group chat the past two mornings as you called out sick from work. As though you would type out the filthy details of your past 48 hours on a work computer. Did they not take the same sexual harassment course as you?
Beyond not wanting to get flagged by HR, you’re also left puzzling another very important question. It hadn’t come up between rounds of getting your back blown out (seriously, there’s a slight twinge in your lower back now) and you’re left wondering if telling other people that Max is literally a monster is something you’re even allowed to do.
Max doesn’t seem to have too many qualms, considering you’re a nearly random woman he revealed that fact to, but since the existence of honest-to-god monsters isn’t the headline of every major news source maybe it is a secret for you to keep. Either way, you’re not entirely sure how to discuss the life-altering sex you’ve been having without bringing it up. The horns and wings, and not to mention his tongue, were half of the fun.
You want to text Max and ask, but it seems like a strange thing to message out of the blue rather than having a one-on-one chat about it. Plus, if the government is tapped into your phone, it might be best to not discuss those details where someone could easily read it. No need to have Max getting kidnapped and tested on weighing heavy on your conscience.
When lunch finally rolls around they’re practically ravenous. Curtis hardly waits for the elevator to close before he asks, “So is he packing? He has to be packing, right?”
There’s a beat of silence before you all erupt into laughter. You pat Curtis on the arm and tell him, “Yeah, man. He’s big.”
“Maax,” you playfully whine. “You have to let me go.”
He has you caged in next to the doorway – his wings creating a little bubble for you both to stand in. It had been a struggle to make it this far. Max has tried every dirty tactic and now he’s busy assaulting the spot he already knows you like on your neck. Perceptive bastard.
He barely raises his lips off of you to reply. “I don’t think I have to do anything, lamb.”
You try to ignore the way he’s shifting his thigh into position between your legs. “Well if you don’t want me to be fired and then homeless, you do. Don’t you have a job you should be at too?”
You hope that turning the tables on him will help. Maybe the reminder of some of his own responsibility will be enough for him to let you go. It fails spectacularly.
“Yes,” Max replies, his large hand sliding under your shirt. “I’ve been working while you sleep.”
He doesn’t sleep. Or at least not much. You had guessed at that with Max being awake every time you reopened your eyes, but you hadn’t actually asked. There wasn’t much of a chance to discuss it anyway between the numerous sexual acts you’d taken part in, as well as the necessities of sleeping and eating. Thinking got a lot harder while your stomach growled during your fifth orgasm of the day.
“Do you work remote?” you ask. Your breath hitches when Max presses his firm thigh just a little harder into you, but you try to act otherwise unaffected. It’s a ridiculous game to be playing with him, but you need to make it out the door. Getting fired or even reprimanded by your boss is not on your preferred agenda for the day.
Max, to his credit, goes right along with your game. Of course he has the fun part while you’re forced to try and act like this isn’t exactly what you want. Not fair in the slightest. You’re already plotting ways to get him back for this. “Not all the time. Doesn’t matter when you’re the boss.”
You don’t have a good comeback for that. “Right, well. Not all of us are bosses and mine isn’t going to believe I’m still sick without going to a doctor. So unless you’re also one of those, you need to let me go.”
Max’s hand that had been slowly inching under your waistband stops. You wish that he could keep going, that you could spend another day wrapped in his big arms and wings, but it’s just not realistic. You’ve already pushed it and you really would like to keep your job. It’s not the greatest, but you have friends who work there and it pays well enough. Even grade A monster dick isn’t worth losing that. Barely.
He’s pouting when he pulls away from you. If it weren’t obvious from the look on his face, he’s even letting his wings droop, like a dog lowering its tail between its legs. One final ploy to get you to stay that very nearly works. If only you didn’t need money to live. Fucking capitalism.
“Sorry, Max. I have to go.”
You move towards the door, watching as Max transforms back into his human appearance. It’s jarring, only having seen glimpses of it over the past few days. You reach out, carding your fingers through his hair where his horns normally cover.
You open the door and leave with a wink. “Bye, handsome.”
You don’t tell them about him being a monster. Not explicitly anyway. When you first sat down at your favorite lunch place you’d had more than half a mind to, but you just couldn’t when it came down to it. Not before talking with Max. It didn’t feel right to divulge his secret, no matter how much you trusted the three people sitting with you.
You find workarounds, little hints to his true nature but nothing overtly saying, yes, he turned into a big monster man and then he fucked me silly for two days straight. The looks on their faces might have been worth that though. Oh well, you can still surprise them with that later.
“No way is that guy stronger than me,” Curtis challenges. You’d just finished telling them how long Max had held you up against the wall for and he’d called bullshit. Said there was no possible way a man could hold any woman up for that long, much less with his dick buried in her. Okay, he’d been less crass about it, but that was the gist.
You shrug. It’s not like you can say it is possible because Max isn’t just a man. “I don’t know what to tell you man, there is a reason I called out for two days,” you answer around a bite of your sandwich. That reason is currently classified, but the wall-fuck certainly factored in.
Linsey pats Curtis’ arm and you feel significantly better about the hit to your friend’s ego. If you know anything about Linsey, she’ll have him feeling like a big, tough man again in no time. Really, Curtis should be thanking you for the no-doubt wonderful evening you’ve just bestowed upon him.
You’re actively avoiding Sami’s narrowed eyes. You know he can tell there’s something more going on, but you’ve already decided against telling them just yet, and if he asks the right question you know you’ll spill.
Maybe Sami is a supernatural creature too with the way he seems to read your mind. The thought pops into your head and you just as soon dismiss it. It’s ridiculous. Just because you met one bona-fide vampire doesn’t mean everyone else around you is some sort of creature too. That’s just absurd.
“Are you going to see him again?” Linsey asks.
“God, I fucking hope so.”
God, it seems, has a funny sense of humor. You’ve spent the last hour and a half since lunch debating on whether or not you should text Max and see if he’s available this weekend when you hear his voice echoing through the office.
At first you think you’re going insane. That somehow your pussy has taken over full operation of your brain and is now making you hallucinate at work. You’re not sure if that’s something that can actually happen, but at this point you’re not willing to rule much of anything out.
You know you’re not going insane when his voice becomes louder, paired with the telling click of your boss’s stilettos and her shrill pitch.
“Oh Max, we are just so thrilled to have you here. I hope you like what you see," Rebecca chirps. You peek up from your desk just in time to see her place a hand on Max’s bicep and squeeze. To think you’d been ready to shame yourself for interpreting her turn of phrase incorrectly when it had very obviously been the way she meant it.
You’re not stupid. You don’t know what you and Max are and a couple days worth of sex does not a relationship make, but your blood boils watching his hand fall over hers, his eyes raking up her body before replying, “So far I’ve loved every inch. I can’t wait to see more, sugar.”
It’s appalling. In more ways than one. You’re not even sure which you’d like to address first – the clear lack of professional behavior, the gross smiles painted on both of their faces, or the fact that he’d been buried in you within the past twelve hours – but all of them have you seeing red.
You can feel Sami’s eyes on you. He’s already figured out what’s going on and is watching to see if his intervention will become required. You’re honestly not sure at this point.
Rebecca’s high pitched giggle is what sets you off. It’s grating to hear and if Max can honestly stand to listen to it that’s his prerogative, but that doesn’t mean the rest of you should be subjected to it. Sami stands up with you, clearly under the impression you’re about to do something stupid. It’s a fair assumption. You’ve been known to do a decent amount of dumb shit.
The moment you clear the cubicle wall, no longer just peeking over top of it, Max’s eyes find yours. He stops in his tracks and you imagine you must look akin to a raging bull – only you’re not the one with the horns in this scenario.
He looks completely human. Of course he does, he’s in a widely public setting, but for a moment you can see him like you did this morning. Shirtless, that teasing strip of hair leading from his belly button to carelessly thrown on pajama pants, his hair ruffled. A few stray longer pieces gently falling over his horns that you couldn’t help but reach out and reposition. He kept his wings out, letting one gently wrap around you, cradling your body closer to his. His eyes glimmered with the ever-shifting flecks of gold, like a star shower that was happening only in his irises. It was the moment you felt like it could be something more than a days long hook-up.
It takes your boss saying your name to make you snap out of the trance you’re in. “Do you know each other?” Rebecca asks. There’s a look on her face that’s more panicked than you’ve ever seen her. At least you know to keep your anger directed at one person and not the pair. You even feel a little bad now that she’s caught in this situation.
“I guess not,” you answer, walking past her and straight for the bathroom. You’re not sure what you’re going to do in there – you went to the bathroom just twelve minutes ago – but it seems better than remaining at your desk.
Your boss and Max continue their tour, considerably less touchy than before. When they head into her office, Curtis pops over the cubicle wall to look for you. He finds Sami and Linsey staring at him instead.
“Uh, wasn’t that-?”
Sami cuts him off. “Yep.”
Your friends are the best. That could be the alcohol talking, but you’re almost certain it’s true when you’re sober too. The role of designated driver is on a weekly rotation and it should be your turn but after the surprise office visit on Thursday, Linsey offered to take it instead. Since she’s a total angel, she didn’t even make you swap with her, just said she’d double up. You very nearly cried. You might now.
“I mean, does he have no sense of decency? He probably didn’t even wash his sheets before moving to his next conquest, it’s disgusting.” You’ve been at this for a while. It’s another credit to your friends that they have the patience to put up with you, but they get it. Your hurt feelings are well within your right.
“Don’t worry about him anymore,” Sami says. “At least you got some good sex out of him and found out he was a piece of shit early on.”
Sami has a point. Both yours and his last relationships had ended with your boyfriends revealing that they were huge tools. Yours after you discovered his texts to his buddies degrading you and being pissed about the amount of hours you were working when you were financially supporting him, and Sami when he gave his boyfriend a surprise visit only to find him balls deep in another guy. To find out early on could be a blessing. It still hurts though.
It’s nearing the end of the night, most of the Friday crowd already having called it quits. Linsey and Curtis are making doe-eyes at each other that’s making your stomach twist and you know it’s probably nearing time for you to call it too. At least they can have a nice night together. You really hope they spill the beans on their relationship soon – pretending to not know is starting to take years off your life.
Linsey and Curtis leave first. You and Sami assure them both that you’ll grab cabs or ubers and let them leave without commenting on the way Curtis’ hand dips into Linsey’s back pocket.
“Do they think we’re that dumb?” Sami asks you, watching the bar door close.
You snort over what remains of your beer. “I really don’t know, man. I’m happy for them though. Curtis has been into her since she started.”
Sami clasps a dramatic hand over his heart. “Our sweet little himbo, all grown up.”
A momentary silence stretches between the two of you. This is not the first time you’ve both ended up here, some of the last people remaining in the bar. The beauty of having a friend with the same shit luck in relationships and a matching coping mechanism.
“I am sorry. You seemed really excited about him at lunch yesterday,” Sami says.
Ah. So you’ve hit that point in the night. The emotional one instead of the bitch about your problems in the hopes they go away one.
“I was,” you admit. It sucks to say out loud but it’s true. To make it even worse, the whole kink fulfillment wasn’t even the reason why. You liked Max. He made terrible lewd jokes, had a far too cocky attitude for how soft he was, and had actually laughed at you when you requested an ice pack for your poor overworked vagina, but you liked him.
Of course he had to be an asshole.
"If it makes you feel any better, you did manage to make Rebecca look like she was going to shit herself," Sami offers.
You can't help but smile. The look on your typically unshakable boss's face had been a treat. "Who knew that even she respects girl code."
Sami, ever the saint, covers your bar tab. He tells you he expects the same the next time he has boy troubles and you hope for both your wallet and your friend's happiness that day never comes.
You're still fairly tipsy when you climb into your uber, waving bye to Sami as he continues to wait for his. Alone with your thoughts, you're helpless as they drift to Max.
You feel like an idiot for thinking there was something more between you. It was obvious now that Max had used you for his own pleasure and when you decided you actually needed to return to your own life, you became unimportant in his. Probably just another notch in a bedpost that's likely been whittled to a toothpick.
Your driver is unfortunately chatty. Some young college kid doing this job to try and make ends meet and doesn't know when to keep quiet. He probably still has the romantic idea in his head that he might be some soothsayer for a downtrodden rider. Somehow he doesn't know that role is only for old men with grizzled beards or weird hippie women.
"What has you so down?" The kid asks.
You want to roll your eyes, potentially tell him to fuck off. Emotions and alcohol get the best of you.
"Found out a guy I slept with didn't feel the same way," you answer.
"How do you know?"
You expected sympathy, not a question like that. It's a little intrusive, but you like his gumption. "He came into my office and was all over my boss."
"Yikes, dude! That blows." Yeah, certainly not a secret paragon of worldwise advice.
You huff. "Tell me about it."
"Man, if I were you I'd be over there chewing him out. Blowing you off is one thing but to go for your boss? Low blow," he says, making a shockingly slow right turn.
"To be fair he didn't know it was my boss," you pause. "That might be worse."
He lets out a low whistle. "Like I said, I'd be tearing that guy a new one."
You consider it for a moment. Realistically, you and Max owe each other nothing. You had a few days of mind-blowing sex with no set plans to see each other again and that was it. He could move on whenever and however he saw fit. Something still burns in your gut though. An anger you know you’ll carry unless you get some answers. Fuck it.
“Could you actually take me to this address?” you ask, holding out your phone for the kid to read.
“Oh hell yeah, lady! Let’s get you some justice!”
On the list of intelligent decisions you’ve made in your life, listening to a college aged uber driver is not high. It is certainly higher than the time you decided to eat an entire funnel cake and then ride the Twister (you were 22 at the time) and higher than the time you tried to work a twelve hour shift on two hours of sleep while sick and hopped up on flu medicine (look, 22 wasn’t a good age for you) – but still, on your list of smart choices, this is not going to be in the top ten any time soon.
You give your driver a 5-star rating and a high five when you get out of the car before marching up to the apartment building’s door. There’s an immediate roadblock. The buzzer.
You blame adrenaline and the remaining effects of booze for you failing to remember this key hurdle. It’s not like you could just buzz Max to let you up. He probably wouldn’t and it would completely ruin your surprise attack.
“Fuck,” you mutter, weighing your options. Your uber has already taken off and you’ve come this far. You need to see it through.
You press one of his neighbor’s buttons. They don’t respond. You try another. Again no reply. Third times the charm? Nope. You try the first one again. Nothing.
You take a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself before you lose it entirely. This always works in movies, why isn’t this working? You try the first one a third time.
This time, a very annoyed voice comes through the speaker. There is a god! “What do you want?”
“Um hi, yeah I need someone to buzz me in.”
“Why?”
Okay, time to think of a good lie. Something to get you inside. “I need to yell at one of your neighbors.”
No! Stupid! Why would you say that? Now they’ll never let you in!
“4C?” the voice from the speaker asks. It takes you aback and you double check Max's address on your phone. 4C.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Go ahead, dude’s a dick. If you kill him though please don’t tell the cops I let you in.”
“You got it.” You don't even remember what apartment button you pressed anyway.
The door lock unlatches, allowing you entry. The stairs look daunting in your current state and you slip off your heels, risking the dirty floors to a rolled ankle.
When you get to his door, you have the thought to message someone where you're at. He didn't kill you last time, but you never know. Things could change.
You send a message to Sami.
You: At Max's. If I don't message by morning assume I'm dead.
It's a little dramatic, sure, but the point comes across when Sami replies almost instantly.
Love of my life😻: What do you mean, at Max's
You: I mean I'm outside his apartment door rn and I'm gonna yell at him
Love of my life😻: If you die I'm telling everyone at your funeral about how you thought a blow job literally meant blowing air on a dick until you were seventeen
You: Fine
It's a risk you're willing to take. If Sami tells everyone that he'll have to include how the guy actually came from that too. It was the best part of the whole story.
You shove your phone back into your purse, taking a moment to collect yourself before pounding on the door. There's a muffled yell from the other side and the telltale sound of approaching footsteps. No turning back now.
The door swings open to reveal Max in a look you can only call Friday night in chic. He's wearing what looks to be silk pants and a large fluffy robe that you had eyed but left alone during your extended stay. You're guessing from the large strip of his chest you can spot that he's shirtless, probably to allow his wings to unfurl. His eyes are wide at your sudden appearance.
"I- you- lamb?"
You push past him, storming into the apartment. The ambiance of the room does not match your energy. It's lit in the soft yellow glow of incandescent bulbs and calming piano music you aren't refined enough to identify lilts through the air. There’s the soft scent of lavender in the air and if it weren't for the book and wine glass filled with what can only be blood, you would think he has company over. Is he wining and dining himself?
The peaceful atmosphere of the apartment throws you a bit, but you refuse to let it distract you from why you came here in the first place. You spin on your heel, turning to face Max. He still seems to be processing your presence and before he can get a word out you yell the question that’s been rattling around in your head since Thursday afternoon.
“What the fuck was that?”
The apparent randomness of your question is enough to jar him. “What was what?”
“Don’t pretend. You were all over her. Sugar? Is that your thing, do you come up with a little nickname for each new partner to make them feel special? That’s sick, you know.”
You hate the look on Max’s face. It’s one of surprise but also intrigue. As though he just had a eureka moment that he’s now going to use against you. His eyes flash gold. “Are you jealous?” he asks.
You scoff. “Jealous? You think I am jealous?”
Unbelievable. Truly. More so than his horns and wings, this turn of events is simply unbelievable. You came here to yell at him for his disgusting and perverse display in a place of business and he tries to turn it around on you.
You watch as some of Max’s features become more monstrous. His eyes shift color, ears becoming pointed once again, and those stupid, ridiculous horns make themselves known. The effect they have on you is infuriating. You’re rooted to the spot, staring at him with open disbelief, waiting for him to say something more.
Max walks towards you, and you can see his body grow larger with each step. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder why he doesn’t just keep his size at all times. He would certainly be marked as a large man, but nothing too out of the ordinary. As soon as you begin to ponder over it, you admonish yourself. You didn’t come here to wonder about his human disguise. You came here to yell and you aren’t done yet.
“You really have some nerve, you know that? And to think I had just told my friends about you too,” you shout.
Max’s smile only widens, his arm wrapping around your waist while his other hand comes up to cup your cheek. Your jaw is tiny in his palm, easily cradling it entirely while his thumb gently passes over your lips, effectively silencing you.
Your pulse is racing. You want to push him off, tell him that he can go fuck himself in a fit of righteous glory, and strut back out into the night. Instead your breath shudders, letting Max take his time looking at you before he speaks again.
“It’s okay to be jealous, little lamb. Did you think I would show her all of this?” he asks.
You know your eyes give you away. He managed to hit the nail on the head, a truth that you barely allowed yourself to fully process or consider. Max moving on so quickly had only been part of the pain.
What hurt even more was that you had thought yourself special, that for whatever reason, he had revealed himself to you and no one else, only for that idea to come crashing down in seconds. It was stupid and more than a little selfish, but it was true. To think there was even the smallest chance that he would easily reveal himself to Rebecca as he had to you was unbearable.
Max offers you a small pout. You want to bite his stupidly plush lower lip. "My sweet little lamb."
You don't want to give in. You want to hold your ground, yell a bit more, maybe even throw something and yet, you can't help but relax into his touch. His body pressing against yours still feels better than anyone else's ever has and you can feel your resolve slipping.
Max leans down and just before he kisses you he whispers, "There's only you."
You let your purse fall to the floor. Max's lips slot over yours like they're meant to be there, slow and careful. Your anger melts beneath him.
Max's tongue slips between your lips and the kiss grows more heated. Your hands fumble, finding the tie around his robe and pushing it from his shoulders. Once it falls Max picks you up, walking you to his bedroom while trailing gentle bites and kisses down your neck. The bruises he left earlier this week have begun to heal and he seems intent on refreshing them, leaving you marked as his.
He sets you down gently on the bedroom carpet, guiding your lips back to his. His hands slide over your body, pulling at your clothes as though he wants to take them off. For some unknown reason he’s stopping himself and you move back from the kiss. “You can take them off,” you tell him.
“Are you sure, lamb?” Max is looking deeply into your eyes, as though he’s searching for a different answer than the one you just gave.
“Yes.”
He takes his time – peppering kisses between each layer you have on. When you’re left in just your bra and panties, he lays you back against the bed, worshipping every exposed inch. He mumbles gentle words into your skin, ones that you barely catch until he’s lavishing attention along your collarbones.
“So perfect, too good for me, thought I lost you…” The last one makes you pause.
You wind your fingers into his hair, careful to avoid his horns, and gentle tug until you’re able to bring his face back up to yours. “What do you mean, thought you lost me?” you ask. You're gentle about it, trying not to seem judgemental or break the nearly reverent atmosphere.
Max looks embarrassed, like he got caught spilling a secret he didn’t mean to share. He can’t hold your eye when he answers. “I thought you were done with me. That after you left Thursday morning I’d never see you again.”
Your heart breaks a little at his tone, but even more so you’re confused. “Why would you think that?”
You sit up on the bed, cradling Max’s face in your hands. You give him time to answer, slowly tracing a finger over his defined facial features. There’s a knit in his brow, as though he’s trying to puzzle things out for himself.
“You didn’t stay and I never got to ask to see you again. You said bye.”
You’re still not sure you’re understanding. “I had to go to work, Max. You had my number, you could have called or texted.”
Max huffs, sitting up with you. The memory foam dips with his larger weight, tilting your body into his. “Most- most people don’t stick around after. I figured you’d had your fill and wanted to be done with me.”
You can see the hurt on his face. There’s no way for you to know how many people have rejected, rebuffed, or used Max over the years. Hell, you don’t even know how long Max has been alive for, but you don’t need numbers to understand pain. To know what it is to not be appreciated or even somewhat cherished.
You climb into Max’s lap, wrapping your arms around him as far as they will go and bury your head into his chest. The chill of his skin doesn’t bother you, even as his arms fall around your shoulders and wrap you in a frosty hug.
“I’m so sorry, Max.” You know your apology won’t suddenly make things right for him, but you hope that it can at least start to make it better. “I didn’t want to leave. I was already debating if it was weird to text and ask you out for tonight,” you tell him. The honesty feels strange but good, the need to build a wall between yourself and your feelings towards him gone.
You begin to press chaste kisses into his chest and push against him until he falls back against the mattress, your body draped across him. “Max, can I show you just how much I wanted to stay?”
Max nods, shifting his hips to help you as you slide his pants and boxers off. He’s only half-hard and you’re already wondering how you’re going to take him. In your days spent with him, oral was something he never pushed. You had asked at one point, wanting to reciprocate, and he’d redirected by fingering you instead. Well, we’ll figure it out as we go.
You lick a broad stripe up your palm, taking him in hand and start to slowly pump, feeling him harden under your steady ministrations. You keep your eyes on his face, watching as his head tips back into the pillows. He’s still holding onto parts of his human visage and you can’t help but wonder why. If it’s more comfortable that way, like not lying on his wings you understand, but holding the rest of it in can’t be truly relaxing.
“Max?” you say, running your free hand over his brow. “You can let go. I’ve got you.”
Max’s twitches in your hand and you watch as he appears in his full glory before you. He's breathtaking, laid out underneath you like this.
You move down his body, positioning yourself between his muscular legs. Max's eyes remain trained on you as you begin to kiss down his stomach, skipping down to his thighs. You murmur words of affection between each press of your lips.
It doesn't take long before Max is moaning beneath you, beads of precum starting to trail down his cock. When he speaks, Max's voice hits a deep pitch that travels right to your own pooling arousal. "Stop teasing me, lamb."
You move away from him, eliciting a whine that stops short when he realizes what you're doing. You take off your bra and panties, tossing them to the floor, and then swiftly turn back to Max and wrap your lips around his cock.
His hands jump to you in surprise – not forcing you further down, but instead moving your hair out of the way. You swirl your tongue around the fat head, moaning at the slightly salty taste of his precum. You're only able to take half of him before you can feel the edges of your gag reflex giving you warning.
Your hand covers what you can't otherwise fit, pumping him while bobbing your head. The noises coming from Max are sinful. He doesn't even need to breathe and yet his voice is catching, making you wonder when the last time anyone did this for him was.
You can't help yourself. Watching Max fall apart beneath you, knowing that you're the one making him feel this good is getting you worked up. You slip your hand down, gathering some of your own arousal before circling your clit.
Max's eyes widen when he realizes what you're doing and his hips buck, making you gag. You pull off to catch your breath, a line of spit still connecting your lips to his cock. When you go to wrap your lips around him again he stops you, a single finger under your chin.
"Won't be able to last, babe."
You can't help but smile at the compliment. Max's eyes are half lidded, a dopey look on his face that allows his fangs to peek through.
"Come here," he rumbles.
His hands are already inching down towards you as you climb over top of him but you bat them away. You're plenty aroused and you don't want to wait – feeling the stretch of him will be worth it.
You position him at your entrance, taking your time as you sink down onto him. You brace yourself on Max's chest, fingertips digging into his pecs. Max doesn't seem you care, his own hands firmly holding onto your waist.
Once you're finally able to take every inch you pause, taking a moment to feel him inside of you. You lean down, pressing more kisses and praise into him before starting to roll your hips.
"F-fuck, Max. You're so b-big. Handsome."
You push your hand behind Max's head, angling it so that your foreheads press together as you increase your speed. His irises are swirling, reminding you of when glitter is spun in a glass.
Max shifts slightly, somehow pushing deeper into you. You're certain you're leaving indents in his chest from how tightly your fingers flex, but Max only groans with pleasure beneath you.
"Close," you moan, your hips losing their rhythm.
Your vision flashes white, little stars appearing, your legs shaking as you clench down around Max. You can feel that he's close too, and in a haze you pull his head closer, placing soft kisses over every inch of his horns.
The combined sensations of you fluttering around his cock and lavishing attention on his horns is too much for Max to handle. He hardly warns you, not that you have the presence of mind to care, before cumming deep inside of you.
Neither one of you attempts to move. You flop your head down onto Max's chest, mindlessly stroking his bicep. Max's hand is running along your spine, making a chill run through you. He chuckles when your body twitches from it.
You look up towards him and smile. "Do you believe that I want you now?"
He kisses the top of your head. "I believe you, lamb. Give me a few minutes and I'll show you how much I want you."
There's a knock at the door. You're surprised, considering you hung up with the pizza place only 5 minutes ago, but you shrug and go to answer it anyway. You double check the knot on the robe – Max's fluffy one, now yours, before opening the door.
The knocks increase in urgency and you open the door just as the person's fist comes down again.
"Ow, shit!" you yell, holding your head where you were just inadvertently punched.
Max is next to you before you can even look up at your attacker. "Who the fuck are you?"
A familiar voice answers him. "I'm here to make sure my best friend isn't dead, asshole."
The pain is already subsiding and you look to see Sami standing in front of you, looking pissed. Right. The text you were supposed to send. Oops.
Additional note: I am blown away by the response monster Maxie got and honestly I'm having a ton of fun with him. Please feel free to send me asks and questions about him, I would love to add to this silly little series with more chapters, headcanons, whatever!! I want to answer whatever questions you've got
Everything Taglist: @janebby @spideysimpossiblegirl @roxypeanut @paperbag33 @danidrabbles @honestly-shite @sharkbait77 @stevie75 @tintinn16 @doin-stuff @hdghty @salome-c @greeneyedblondie44 @snow30285 @fic-appointment @kirsteng42 @athalien @missminkylove @niki_xie @tothejedi @readsalot73 @castleamc @nakhudanyx @quietpainter @spanishmossmagnolia @kirsteng42 @dihra-vesa @sergeantbannerbarnes @ezrasbirdie @liviiii98 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @justanotherblonde23 @mummifymecaptain @gracie7209 @klara-luise18 @mswarriorbabe80 @just-here-for-the-moment @mimimi-stuff @dumb-npc @showbuckysomelove @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @captain_pikas_world @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @shadesofnerdlygrace @mylovelycomandante @starlightmornings @afootnoteinyourhappiness @girlwholoveswords @my-blink-romance
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Monster Love Masterlist
Monster!Max x F!Reader
A relaxed fit fic that brings the emotions to monsterfucking
Asks and questions are always welcome for this series, as I write for it when inspiration strikes or when a question is asked. No true plotline here. *denotes 18+/explicit rating
Entries
(ordered in a chronological-ish order)
Low Tier Monsterf*ck* - you're not sure what to think when someone overhears your conversation at the bar. you'll find out soon enough.
The Monster You Know* - direct follow-up to Low Tier Monsterf*ck - there’s a surprise visit at your office. it doesn’t go how you might think.
A Waking Dream - takes place during your first two days with Max. Max's POV
Horns* - a welcome and pleasurable surprise.
Cramps* - Max's wings are hurting him and you help out.
Love Bites* - a visit to Max's office goes wrong, but maybe it helps to make things go right. (bonus art at end of chapter)
Flirty texts
Fla/eshlight* - a sexy gag gift.
Art
Shy Monster!Max by @mjpens
Max frees his wings by @mjpens
Main Masterlist
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