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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Captured by elves

This is the first chapter from a novella I'm writing. Just a little sneak peek ^_^ It's so close to finished...

General Plot: Local elves take a hellhound hostage

Elves (Thorne, Kharis, Slait) x fem hellhound (Fury)

note: Fury has a human form and a hellhound form, fyi

Word Count: 2.5K

W: a bit of fighting, monster fluff, kidnapping

GIF by fio-picolo

I stretched and yawned, kicking one of my little siblings, who barked at me before curling up and going back to sleep. A sunbeam leaked into our cave, alerting me that it was morning. I looked around at my pack. My father and mother hellhounds were sleeping in a ball together, while I was curled in my human form with my siblings.

Unlike them, who had a small and large hellhound form. I only had a large hellhound and a half human form. At the moment, only my half human form would fit in the cave, so that’s the shape I was in. I swished my fluffy white tail and sniffed the air.

An odd scent drifted on the wind and my parents stirred.

“Elves,” my father barked to my mother, “let’s take the children deeper in the cave.”

My mother looked at me.

“Fury, guard the cave opening in your human form,” she yipped at me, “you can warn them off if they think you are a dog spirit.”

As the oldest, born, not of a litter, but as a single pup, it was my duty to guard the family.

“Yes mother,” I yipped back in Hellhound-speak and stalked to the opening of the cave to wait.

As hellhounds we had few natural predators, but occasionally ambitious two-legs thought they could capture a puppy to keep as a pet. It almost always ended up with the capturer dead in a few years when the puppy came into its full strength, but there was no need to traumatize a young pup for no reason, so we were cautious.

Sure enough, a trio of elves decked out in woodland armor came tromping up the hill towards the cave.

“They should be just up here,” the blue one said.

“Are you sure about this, Thorne?” the purple one asked, “it seems a bit cruel to steal a puppy.”

“What? You want to take on a full-grown one?” the green one laughed, “i’d pay to see that fight!”

“I just mean…should we really be doing this at all?” he asked.

The blue one brushed away his concerns.

“A hellhound will make a good hunting dog and I have a secret to make this easy for us,” he said, confidently and I couldn’t stifle my growl.

They’d come to take one of my siblings! I had to stifle the urge to shift to my full sized form. It would give away that I was a hellhound and that would be no good. My father taught me avoiding a fight was always best. We were strong, yes but even the strongest can be defeated. Guile was our best weapon. I tried to remember his words, but my mind was hazy with anger.

“Well hello there,” the purple one said to me when they crested the hill, “who are you?”

“Stand aside, dog spirit,” the blue one announced, “if you let us pass we will not harm you.”

This time I couldn’t hold back my growl and my tail went up in aggravation.

“You’re too polite, Thorne,” the green one snorted, sauntering up to me and shoving me to the side, “out of the way bitch.”

I stumbled a bit and whatever handle I had on my temper snapped, suddenly I was looking down at them, my teeth bared. My hot saliva dripped into the dirt.

“Holy shit!” the green one shouted, jumping back and reaching for his weapon.

“Here we go,” the blue one said, his face splitting into a big grin, “this is much better than a puppy!”

I pointed my body, perking my ears in a threatening stance. They would not pass me. There was a short stand-off where the elves brandished their weapons at me, before the blue one leapt and I struck. I was powerful, but the elves were quick, surrounding me on all sides. He whacked me with a heavy club, which did little more than anger me.

I snapped at his leg as he passed me, grazing it with my teeth so that I got a little taste of his blood. It tasted good. I’d never had anything but deer, rabbit, and occasionally boar meat. The blood lust common to all hellhounds slowly began to take over as the scent of the red fluid filled the air.

My growls became feral and I soon lost myself to the monster in me, snarling and frothing at the mouth. The purple one seemed to be standing back, so I ignored him, while the blue and green ones attacked aggressively from either side. It was impossible to pinpoint where one would strike from next. They were incredibly quick and it was angering my inner beast, pushing her to respond more viciously.

“We’ve almost got her, keep pushing,” the blue one shouted and I lunged for his neck.

I was a strong hellhound, raised and trained to fight by my father and mother, but I was inexperienced. This was the first real fight I’d been in and as my father had warned me I was relying too heavily on my strength. The elves were wearing me down with their speed before I could get good shots on them.

“She’s getting tired,” the green one huffed as he successfully landed a hit on my back leg that had me yelping.

“Now!” the blue one shouted and they all started chanting some weird words. I tried to make a run for it, spooked by the sudden use of magic, but it was like my limbs were frozen in place. I snarled and snapped, but I was bound by some warm light. There was a flash and everything went dark.

–

I woke in the purple one’s arms and thrashed immediately.

“Be calm little one,” he cooed and I snarled. I was not little. Only I was. I shifted quickly back to my full sized form, forcing the elf to throw me so he wouldn’t be crushed. I snarled and turned on him, opening my jaws to gobble him up in one bite, only no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get them to close.

“Ah you see now, bitch,” the green one laughed, “we’ve bound you. You can’t hurt us if you want to and it’s obvious you do. Well too bad, you’re our hunting dog now.”

I snapped at him and tried to run away, when I got about twenty feet away it was like I hit a brick wall. I snarled again and turned on them.

“You might as well turn back into your human form, hellhound,” the blue one said, smugly, “you’re mine.”

I decided I was not changing back, even if I couldn’t harm them or run away, I wouldn’t appear weak in front of them. I growled and flopped down on the ground angrily, resting my head on my paws.

The purple one sighed.

“Don’t pout,” he said, “my father will have lots of meat for you when we get back home.”

I huffed at him, making his hair fly up around his ears.

“Hmmm…” he said, thoughtfully and then smiled, “I have an idea. How about a little hunt before we get home? I bet you want a juicy bone, don’t you?”

I didn’t like the elves, but I did like hunting and bones. If I was going to be stuck with them, I might as well get some food out of it. I sniffed the air and pointed my body in the direction of a boar.

“That’s the spirit!” the purple one cheered, “now we’ll give you a little longer leash so you can lead us.”

I stepped carefully in the direction of the boar and finding nothing stopping me, stalked off silently through the trees. I would figure these elves out later, when I had a little more information. They’d obviously done something to me with magic and hellhounds didn’t know much about that. For now my instincts were calling me to hunt which I understood very well.

The scent of the boar turned on the animal in me and when I found it, I easily pounced on the morsel.

“Stop!” the blue one shouted, before I swallowed the whole thing.

I pouted, my mouth hovering over it.

“Ew she’s going to get drool all over the meat,” the green one said, shoving my head away. I snapped at him, but it was no use, I couldn’t sink my teeth in.

“Here you go!” the violet one said, smiling and cutting off one of the boar’s legs with his sword, “here’s your treat for a job well done.”

He tossed me the leg and I sank down on my haunches to devour the meat. When he was sure I was occupied gnawing the last bits of flesh off of the bone he came over and stroked my nose.

“That’s a good girl,” he said. I had to admit, he knew how to give pets, even if they were unwelcome. I huffed at him, too happy with my bone to chase him away.

“Come on, girl,” the blue one said, when they’d field dressed the boar and had chunks of meat tossed over their shoulders.

I carried my now clean and perfect for gnawing bone as I trotted behind them. Fed, I was in a much better mood. At least they hadn’t found my family. For all they knew I was the only hellhound around, which was better than nothing. As long as my siblings were safe, I could endure this.

“What should we name you?” the blue one pondered as he dropped back next to me, patting my flank. I let out a low growl.

“I’m sure she already has a name,” the purple one said and I decided I liked him a little bit more than the others.

I blew a puff of air on the back of his head, fluffing his hair and he giggled, waving me away.

“That tickles!” he laughed, “why don’t you turn back into your human form so you can tell us your name?”

I shook my head. I was not changing back.

“That’s all right, bitch is fine for me,” the green one said over his shoulder.

“Stop calling her that,” the purple one huffed, scratching my head, “she’s a good girl. She’s just a little frightened, aren’t you? We took you away from your cozy cave. That’s okay, I have a nice blanket at home just for you.”

I didn’t want a blanket, I thought sadly, I wanted to wake up just like I did this morning surrounded by my family.

Soon I could hear the sounds of the village through the trees and a little while later it appeared before us. I’d never seen a village before, but it looked quite large. There were huge walls made of giant timbers and big buildings taller than me. There were so many smells all in one place it was confusing. I shrank back, not scared, but disoriented, crouching behind the purple one.

“What’s wrong with her, Kharis?” the green one asked, impatiently shrugging the hunk of meat on his shoulder, “this shit is heavy. Hurry up.”

“She’s just overwhelmed,” the violet one said, “there’s a lot of new smells, huh? Let’s go find my dad first. He loves dogs. He’ll have treats for you.”

I followed carefully behind the violet one as we passed through the town gates.

“Thorne!” a breathless, pink elf woman cried, throwing herself at the blue one’s chest, “I missed you so much! I was so worried about you!”

She looked up at me frightened.

“Is that the beast?! I thought you were getting a puppy?!” she gasped.

I narrowed my eyes and growled at her. She smelled like too much perfume and alcohol. She jumped about a foot in the air and clung to the blue one, whose name I had determined was Thorne.

“She’s perfectly safe, Peony,” he said, peeling her off of him, “we need to go to the butcher’s to drop off this meat.”

She nodded and batted her eyelashes, flirtatiously.

“Can I come find you later?” she asked.

He shrugged and kept walking. I stalked past her and she hurriedly gave me room.

Kharis, the purple one, led us to a wooden building that smelled delightfully like meat and a large purple elf with huge biceps came out, grinning at me.

“So what’s this?” he said, holding his hand out politely for me to sniff. I gave it a good snuffle, finding pleasantly that he smelled like fresh meat and his son under the bitter scent of tobacco. He went back inside for a moment and came out hauling a huge bone. I dropped the tiny one in my mouth, drooling.

“There ya go,” he said, tossing it to me, “that’s a dragon bone for ya!”

I caught it, and decided I liked the two violet ones better than all the rest.

He gave me a conspiratorial grin.

“If you follow me I’ve got a real surprise for you,” he said.

I looked at the other elves who were unloading meat.

“Go on,” the blue one said, waving me away, “we’ll come find you.”

Kharis and his father led me to what had to be heaven. Behind the town and in a clearing in the woods there was a huge pit where they dumped all of their bones. Big bones, small bones, juicy bones, dry bones. It was amazing. I trotted in a circle with glee.

“You can come here any time you like,” the butcher said with a grin.

Without thinking I poofed back into my human form and jumped on him, giving him a big hug.

“Thank you!” I squealed.

“Ah!” he shouted, surprised at first, but then he chuckled, “I see you’re a special hellhound. Not many like you that can change into a human are there?”

Kharis pulled me down from his father’s chest and looked me over.

“Nice to finally see you,” he said, “I’m Kharis. What’s your name?”

I blinked up at him.

“F-Fury,” I said, feeling shy in my human form. I wasn’t big as a human. I only came up to Kharis’ middle chest. I was, however, strong. I turned from Kharis, lured by the scent of bones and hoisted one as large as me over my shoulder and carried it to a corner to lick it. Even in my human form, I liked bones.

“What a delight,” Kharis’ father beamed, “how did you possibly get her to stay with you? I’ve never heard of a hellhound being this docile, even one that can change human.”

“We bound her,” Kharis said brightly and his father’s smile immediately dropped.

“You what?” he asked.

Kharis looked up at him a little less sure this time.

“We bound her with the Aika binding,” he said, “Thorne said it would make it so she would have to follow our orders.”

His father buried his head in his hands.

“You idiots,” he groaned, “we need to go speak to the chief, immediately. Come along Fury, you can bring your bone.”

I decided if I could bring my bone it didn’t really matter where we went, so I put it over my shoulder and followed them back to the butcher shop.

Kharis’ father looked seriously at Thorne.

“We need to talk to your father about this hellhound you caught,” he said in a voice that brokered no argument.

“What did you do?” he asked, looking at me surprised that I was in my human form.

It was Kharis’s father’s turn to growl. “It’s not what she did. It’s what you did to her,” he said and marched past him.

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o0cosmic-whorror0o · 1 month

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{18+} Eldritch horror de-flowers {demonic} priest over altar. Horrible things ensue

This smut exceeded Tumblr's character limit, so I am afraid I must link a google doc! !!Includes biting that breaks the skin!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The eve was grim. Cold and silent was the small church, devoid of comfort, kinship, or care for many, but most of all for Piety. The damned priest sat upon the stairs which led up to the altar, alone. He was to tend to the church with no assistance tonight, the other priests busy handling an outbreak of some disease which ate at the eyes that had begun to spread through the town. Piety was not trusted to handle anyone sick with the disease, as it was suspected that it was demonic in origin, and the fact Piety was a cambion, something born of a human witch after a deal with a demon, rendered him, in the eyes of the other clergymen and the townsfolk, unable to help in this situation, as well as many others. Nobody liked Piety, his horns, fangs, and claws, all slightly damaged from previous attempts to file or cut them down, only for them to regrow mere days later, marking him as tainted. Many hated that the church had taken him in after burning his mother, believing him unworthy of the station of priest which he found himself in after being raised to fill the role, but he tried his best. He believed the doctrine whole-heartedly, and cared for his flock with both tenderness and diligence. Despite this, he found himself agreeing more and more with the townsfolk, that he was unworthy.

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ridingtorohan · 6 months

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𓇻 ft. aela the huntress x werewolf gn reader 𓇻 content. graphic murder and werewolf transformation, gore. 𓇻 summary. after being inducted into the Inner Circle and blessed with the werewolf curse, Aela comes forward to request your help with hunting some members of the Silver Hand. 𓇻 extra. crossposted to dA + ao3. this one was written in 2015 and unedited. descriptors like e/c were used so feel free to use the custom reader insert tool. 𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, share, reblog or send in asks!

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‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ·❆· ※───‎‏‏‎

You jostle yourself awake when you hear the door creak open. Your muscles twitch tightly in alarm, before a familiar scent calms you. Pine needles, sweat, and feathers from arrows seem to be Aela's trademark scent, only all the more prominent the day you tasted her blood on your lips - a fierce stab of bitterness that you'd never have guessed. She stands in the doorway, staring into the room, scowl prominent on her face. Ria and Njada were sleeping already, Torvan was snoring away, whereas Athis watched from the safety from his bed.

"(y/n)," Aela says, voice scratchy from trying to be so quiet. Usually she was loud and rambunctious, ever throwing taunts and offering to brawl with you, not caring if one of you got hurt. She had only started acting this way when she gave you the werewolf blood, because she knew you could handle it.

You say nothing to the Dark Elf as you get up from your bed, knowing he is watching and may or may not tell Kodlak later, depending on if it suited him. You dress quietly into your armour, only looking up after you tie your boots, only to notice she is gone. It makes no difference; you can always follow her scent trail - fresh and enticing, always setting your blood roaring when you were near her. You would have been able to locate her blindfolded.

The cool night air presses against you, cooling your warm body. Ever since you were given the wolfblood, your body heat was remarkably high - which wasn't so great when you had to wear heavy armour and thick clothes to persuade the other companions not of the Circle that you were very much affected by the cold.

You pass through the streets of Whiterun, nodding at the night guards patrolling, who seem to recognize you and utter a simple and curt, "Companion," as a way of a greeting.

You spot Aela beside the well, arms crossed and looking almost like an indistinguishable shadow, although you would never have doubted it is her.

The guards let you two pass through the gates; the walls are too high for you to climb over them, even when transformed, and with these guards around, you do not risk it. You aren't particularly fond of accidentally killing innocents either, when your bloodlust controlled you - or at least, not anyone that you knew.

Aela is quiet as you both trek down the pathway and beneath the archways that guard the entrance to Whiterun; it is only after you two pass the stables that she rounds on you, eyes remarkably bright in the starlight. "Can you feel it calling, [sibling]?" she smirks, fingers noticeably twitching.

"I have followed you, haven't I?" you respond, cocking your head in an arrogant way. She bares you her teeth, but you recognize it as a more primitive smile. She turns away from you and breaths in the air, her breath puffing out in front of her when she exhales. You blatantly stare at her, waiting for her to respond.

“The wolfblood cannot be controlled,” she says, finally, voice rising despite the fact that this requires high levels of secrecy. But a quick sniff of the air lets you know that you are alone with her, even though you are both standing beside the road, just upwind of Whiterun Stables. “Some nights, Hircine calls us to hunt for him. Vilkas and Farkas ignore this,” she continues, sounding remarkably upset with them. “Skjor and I are the only ones who accept this.” She eyes you out of the corner of her eye, her expression unreadable. “Then you came along. You take to the wolfblood remarkably well.” There is praise in her voice, and it takes you a moment to realize that you are leaning in towards her. “Will you run with me tonight, (y/n)?”

“Of course.”

She flashes you a triumphant look, arrogance and pride flashing through her emerald eyes. “Good,” she says, mouth twitching into a slight smirk. “Come with me; the road is far too open a place,” she frowns then, eyes darkening. Without so much as another word, she saunters off, feet stepping silently across the stones with practiced ease, starlight glinting off of her auburn hair. There is no moon tonight - not that either of you need it to see.

“Why didn’t we transform in the Underforge?” you dare ask.

She doesn’t spare you a glance over her shoulder when she responds, “It would have drawn too much attention.” She doesn’t elaborate, and you suppose that is alright.

It takes far too much time to get to a shielded area, with trees lining the sky and shadowing your steps. You only have so much time left, you know. Something inside of you feels more at ease, beneath the shelter of the tree tops, an insatiable hunger gnawing at you. “Aela,” you try, but she has already stopped, face pointed towards the tree tops, shoulders hunched. She knows.

“You can hear him call to us,” is all she says. She strips herself of her armour, underclothes doing little to stop your mind from wandering. The pieces of cloth are dumped unceremoniously onto the ground with a soft whump. “We will bring him glory, [sibling].”

She looks over her tanned shoulder at you, her eyes glinting an inhumane yellow. She does not cry out in pain; she only folds herself backwards with an echo of bones snapping, vertabrae making themselves visible along her spine. She falls forward, russet hair draped along her front this time.

All you see is her backside; her body visibly breaks out into a sweat, shivers overtaking her form. The crackling of bones that once sounded sickening are deafening loud on your heightened ears. Gore is what meets your eyes next as she sheds her human skin; it is enchanting to watch, no matter how sickening it is to see. You turn away when she looks like some form of twisted monster.

You have to shed your own clothes; you are stark naked, the air of Skyrim breezing through your hair and over your shoulders and in other nameless places. You pull on that instinct that is roaring fiercely in you; when nothing happens, you think of asking Aela -- even though she is underway of her own transformation and isn’t likely to understand you at the moment -- when your knees snap backwards and you fall forward, ankles twisting before reverting back then twisting again.

You let out a shrill noise of anguish, because nothing could ever describe the pain that is transforming. You muscles are constantly contracting and relaxing, knuckles popping and moving in a jarring sensation. Your stomach empties itself, contractions fiercely stabbing through your body. You’ve only had a few transformations that you could count on one hand, and it never gets any easier for you, no matter how smooth Aela or Skjor tell you it is.

Whatever noise you are making is cut off when your vocal cords shred themselves, blood convulsing past lips that are no longer your own. The pain almost blacks you out, the darkness would have been comforting.

Hircine is not a merciful Daedric lord, however; you are aware of every sensation that tears through you, although it all blurs together in blacks and reds. You are not aware of what happens for the rest of the duration, but the next moment you are aware and conscious of what is happening, you are still hunched over, long limbs in your vision.

Aela has never been one for comforting, but a soft growl still meets your keen ears, (y/n)? You shift your weight backwards onto your haunches and hindlegs, strong muscles rippling beneath your skin.

Blood and human skin litters the ground - your sharp nose detects it both easily. Your long fingers grapple at the ground, digging through the soil that once felt hard underfoot that so easily tore now. You pivot unsurely, awkward and gangly as you peer over at her.

Aela? you ask. Her green-yellow eyes glint at you, even through the darkness. Recognition floods through you. Aela.

The wolfblood was always hard to control at first; but recognition had flooded through you faster than when you had transformed with Skjor. Your muscles twitch, remaining in your hunched position as your trot over, snout poking at her shoulder.

Aela, Aela, Aela, Aela, you repeat, sounds vibrating through your throat with each jab of your snout at her shoulder. She does not retaliate; she only watches you with keen eyes. If you had ever thought she was beautiful as a human - which you have thought many times before, admittedly - you thought she was stunning now. She was in her element, tall and lanky, reeking of power and bloodlust. She was more confident in this body than she ever was as a mortal. Your wolfblood keeps thinking alpha, alpha, and your conscious self felt inclined to agree.

[Sibling], is her response, and she tips her muzzle briefly to your own, ears flickering. You do not speak to each other in the sense that you would as mortals - you growled out sounds at each other, words and meanings heard beneath each grunt and whine. It was a language just between you two. An intimacy that you loved to share with her.

We honor Hircine tonight, she reminds you, when she catches your eyes wandering. We will tear a group of Silver Hands asunder, her lips peel back in a feral grin. You return the gesture. In a fortnight, I will help you attack another; Skjor will go ahead of us. Do you understand? She has spoken to you of this mission a couple times before, but now was not the time to worry about it.

Hunt, hunt, kill, kill, comes the simplist mind of the wolfblood, demanding sacrifice. You would never deny Aela though, so you give a jagged nod of your head. Let us taste their blood on our tongues, and smell the fear from their bodies, then, comes a jagged noise that would have amounted to a wolfish laugh.

She turns tail and lopes off, picking up speed as she went along. You chase after her, easily catching up to her, the unfamiliarity of running on four limbs almost causes you to stumble, but you catch yourself numerous times. The wind whips across your [h/c] fur, the chitters of the flying owls and clacks of nearby mudcrabs whistling in your ears. Freedom tastes sweet on your tongue, face turned toward the sky as you run with her, both of you free.

* * *

There they are, cowering like cravens, Aela sneers, hunching over the encampment of the Silver Hands. There are only five of them; young blood by the smell of it, with one older. It is likely that they are new recruits with the older man teaching them the warning signs of the lycanthrope. Hah! Do they not know of us here? Are they really so ignorant? [Sibling], shall we go and give them a greeting? She turns to you, eyes not wavering from your face.

Yes, you grunt, blinking slowly at the few mortals; only a few of them were awake. They would be easy prey. Yes; let us hunt them, Aela. You tense your muscles along your haunches, coiling your muscles and leaning forward. Your steps are light as you tear down the slope, giving out a warning howl.

The Nords jostle themselves, raising cries of alarm and surprise. You jaws are parted; their fear tastes like victory in your mouth, and it is easy to tear through their flesh, blood tasting like copper running through your jaws and past your teeth. It is satisfying, seeing the young Nord’s eyes go bright with feverish fear and an instinct for survival, a pleasing crunch of bones meeting your ears as you grip his forearm tighter and wrench backwards. His muscles spread apart like sinew, and the shrieks that wrench from his lips are delicious. If the three others were slumbering before, they were surely awake now as your victim screamed.

It is easy for the wolfblood to grow tired, though. You tear through his jugular and take sick pleasure in seeing his blood pulse outwards, matting your fur and blood spraying across your muzzle.

Aela is already on her next victim, gnawing on his ear in a teasing way before she sprints away, leaving a raspy survivor in her wake. She pivots on her sharp-toed feet and slashes her persuer across the face, claws marking his face like a grave. He instinctively drops his weapon and raises his hands to his face, a guttural cry of surprise rising. She lunges forward and wrenches his ribcage open, gore spreading across the ground in a matter of seconds. He is dead within minutes.

The remaining two try to make a run for it. You give chase, jaws snapping at their heels as they scampered away like scared deer. The eldest of the group suddenly turns and brandishes a blade, sinking it into your shoulder and wrenching a surprised howl from your maw. How dare he!

The silver burns like liquid fire through your veins. You growl at him, springing backwards in high leaps, blood pulsing from the wound, heat flashing through you.

How dare you, you growl out, furious and ferocious all in one heartbeat. You lunge towards him and snap at the hand that bears the blade, snapping it in a quick twist of your jaws. He gives a half-hearted jerk, although there isn’t much of a surprised scent coming from him. The blade catches the corner of your lips, a red hot fire bleeding through you.

He will pay. They will all pay for hunting down your kind.

You tear into his face, blood blinding you; hot and sticky dampening your face further before you retreat. A quick snapping sound resonates through the clearing, and you pivot, [e/c] eyes blinking in surprise at the sight of another Silver Hand going limp, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Aela stands tall behind her, hand clenching from where the other’s neck was moments before. The Silver Hand had held a silver dagger, dangerously close to where you were, blinded and incapitated. She would have killed you if Aela hadn’t been there.

Thank you, you say, more of a breath than actual sounds or words. Aela tilts her head, before she turns. You both leave the bodies, trekking through the forest. The smell of gore is still fresh in your mind, although that could also be due to the fact that it was smattered across your maw and between your eyes.

Aela is always a few strides ahead of you. You do not demand to stride beside her. Protect the alpha, is what your blood sings of.

The wolfblood is what made you mercilessly kill the Silver Hand, you know. Or at least you hope so. It is what comforts you when you think of what Aela asks of you, at least.

The wolfblood is also what whispers to you - things that you think you wouldn’t otherwise think of the Huntress. Protect, is what is echoing, deep in your flesh and bones. The instinct is not unwelcome; it gives you strength, the power to be brave and courageous and every bit of the Companion that Aela seems to think you are.

You nearly bump into her, so deep in your thoughts you are. Aela? comes your whine. She says nothing, only lopes forward again and splashes into the river that you recognize as the one that tears into the earth beside Whiterun.

There isn’t much cover nearby, but at least it is close to where you two transformed. She sinks beneath the shallows, or at least, as much as she can. She has no shame in rolling over to get her back, and as soon as she deems herself clean enough of the gore that had once stained her fur, she instructs you to wash off as well.

You emerge soaking wet, fur matted close to your body. Aela gives a sharp bark of laughter at the sight of you, even though her russet coat isn’t much better.

The sun will rise soon, she explains as she moves again, silent as ever. You pad alongside her, tail brushing against the undergrowth as you let out soft huffs of air. The other Companions will suspect something if we are not back soon. Especially Athis, you respond, thinking of how the Dark Elf watched you leave. She looks over at you, making a quizzical sound but does not otherwise question you.

When you arrive at the site of where you transformed, you both simply stand quietly. Aela quickly becomes restless and moves around the clearing, simply enjoying the last bit of freedom she has before she transforms.

You like being a werewolf, you observe.

Yes, she responds without looking at you. Her gait quickers before it stops altogether, and she turns her snout towards you. There is no worry of how others will react to what I say or do. I am my own person. I own everything; nobody can hold me back. I am free. You decide you have nothing to say to that, so instead you return to watching her pace.

You do not know how much time has passed before she suddenly stops and looks at you, an amused glint in her eyes. You are always watching me, [sibling]. Am I? I haven’t noticed, you reply wryly, offering a quick session of barked laughter. ..It is hard not to.

She hesitates, eyes keenly watching you. You are interested in me, she says boldly, although with a very confused accent underneath.

You are an interesting person, you confirm, although you know that is not what she meant. Her ears fold and she bares her teeth. She trots forward, a warning growl ripping from her throat.

Your ears fold and you tuck your head quickly, wolf instinct whispering harshly, alpha, alpha. You are tired of it telling you what to do, what to think of her. You never let yourself be subjected to your more primal nature; it tells you to rebel and challenge her, even though it remembers her as alpha. You wish to be her equal, in more ways than one. She has always called you [sibling], or even, once with a sneer, ‘pup’. Aela is an enigma; power in her movements and grace in her steps. She is mistress only to Hircine, daughter of the wild. She is untameable, untouchable, unreachable. These intimate night strolls with her is all you have to seeing her carefree gestures, the only time you listen to her howl freely and without care. Subconsciously, you had been watching her - judging her movements, watching her reactions. The primal instincts first saw her as a challenge, a rival for prey and territory, but now it saw her beyond the folds and safety of the pack. She has since achieved the title of ‘alpha’ - surpassing even Kodlak. She was the only one you answered to.

She was the one who had given you the wolfblood; she was the one whose blood coursed in your veins. She was always there, scent thick and choking, something that you reveled in. As your forebear, she was more intimate with you than anyone else could be.

Aela, you say, and this time she flickers her ears. This time she listens to you. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. Aela, Aela, Aela, you say, her name rolling through your throat and past your lips. You are dizzy with the sensation of knowing that only Skjor and you have the privilege of hunting with her. Of being with her. You are the only one who I could be interested in.

She offers a wolfish grin, and lopes a bit closer to you before bumping muzzles with you. I am inclined to agree, [sibling]. She does not elaborate, and while your blood hums with the knowledge that what she’s just said implies means that she feels the same doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s carved in stone.

Tonight, you are alive. Tonight, all you want to do is live with her, in this moment where you are eternal beings and only the moon is your witness.

I am glad to hear that, Aela, you rumble back. Taking the initiative, you continue, There is still some moonlight left; do you want to walk with me, still?

She laughs, ears folding and lips peeling back in a grin. There is nothing that requires my assistance. Let us go.

The night welcomes you like lost lovers, your blood roaring to know that you are safe with Aela by your side. There is nothing that could stop you; just the inner wolf roaring and making you twine beside each other as you pace the earth.

For now, all is well.

#skyrim #skyrim x reader #aela the huntress #aela x reader #werewolf #skyrim imagines #the elder scrolls v: skyrim #aela #aela the huntress x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader #werewolf lover #monster x human #monster x monster

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nine-of-words · 20 days

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Out in the Cold (Part Five)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG

Wordcount: 3631

Content Warnings: None

Sorry for such a long gap, I had a crippling bout of writer’s block and then it was suddenly a month later. But I’m pleased to announce I haven’t forgotten how to write :)

You look down warily at the creature scratching at the base of the tree you’re perched in.

This little guy is nothing like that one scary hexopard etched in your memory- the one that supplied the material for your beloved winter cloak.

You sigh at the sight of the creature’s plush fur. You left that cloak behind when you fled the settlement, despite it being one of your favorite belongings. It just didn't feel right to take it with you after… everything… but the biting cold is really making you wish you had caved and brought it along anyway.

This smaller hexopard’s scavenging around for food at its leisure, driven to snack on anything it can get its hands on easily to bulk up for the coming hibernation, but it’s not in a hurry.

Because it’s not currently driven mad by post-hibernation hunger and aggression, you can probably distract it enough that it won’t view you as a tasty morsel to snack on and you’ll be able to slip away. You just need something enticing enough to hold its interest…

Then, looking down at its twitching nose, you realize that its sensitive sense of smell has probably picked up on the dried venison jerky in your pack. Your theory is all but confirmed when you pull out the pouch where your rations are from within, and you swear you can see its eyes light up.

“Alright, buddy. Follow these and not me, okay?” You say, looking for a good place to toss them. Then, you wind up your arm as best you can in your position, and chuck the pouch into the woods in the opposite direction.

The hexopard immediately lets off the tree and lumbers after the pouch, tail swishing behind it as it loudly crashes unbidden through the underbrush.

After a few moments of observation, you slip down the tree gingerly, hoping to not become more interesting than the alluring scent of dried meat. When you get to the bottom, you’re relieved to see the creature so fully engrossed in your ration pouch that you might as well not exist any longer, its snout fully covered as it roots in the opening of the leather. You sneak off quietly while you still have the chance.

Once you get far enough away, you resume your trek at a faster pace. After another hour or so of traveling, you grin from ear to fluffy ear as the sight of the river comes into view.

Salvation.

Your pace picks up without you even thinking about it, your morale boosted by something going right for once. Your tail curls behind you in a delight.

You’re not exactly thrilled at having to give up your only food supplies; yet you’re alive and no longer lost, and that seems like a pretty good trade-off.

Now, all that’s left is to follow the river back to town. Then, this whole ordeal will be over. You’ll be back to your old life, though now enjoying the increase in station in the guild pulling off such a momentous task surely will earn you. Who knows, maybe they’ll even splurge on a feast to celebrate!

Now that does sound good right now.

Think about something else, you urge yourself. You need to force yourself to stop, lest your mouth start watering. Anything else… The grumbling of your stomach is distracting enough already.

But it’s no use, you’ve fallen down the mental rabbit hole, and now only thinking of all the things you’d like to eat when you get back. You’re swept up in thoughts of whole roasted suckling pig and honeyed chestnut sweetbread… braised venison with cherry glaze and grilled root vegetables… seeded crackers with soft cheese and over-slathered with homemade berry jam…

Hell, you’ll even take marinated eggs right now…

You wipe your mouth on your sleeve. It takes you a moment for it to sink in, but those are all things that you’ve been eating at the stronghold that you’re craving, not things you miss from home. All of your memories of food you miss from the past are so fuzzy. It’s hard to remember anything of note, past vague, smeared memories of nostalgic meals you ate when you were very young.

And when you get back… you probably won’t eat Orcish food again. At least not for a while.

It’s… fine.

You’ll be home, soon. And you won’t have to think about any of this ever again.

LAST SPRING

“Surely there’s something I can help you with.” Your tail swishes in agitation behind you, a clearly visible indicator of your emotional state. “You’re just being difficult.”

“Urgh- Don’t you have something better to do than bug me?” Torg rumbles, running his good hand down his face in annoyance. "Work to finish? Anything?"

His arm is still in a sling from the hunting incident. And true to his nature, he's being an absolute ass about accepting any help.

"I've already filled my quota today." You say smugly, hands planted on your hips. It's one of the rare days you've finished early and without incident, and you're quite pleased with yourself about it.

"Good, you should be off enjoying the nice weather while it’s here, rather than nagging me in this stuffy office."

"Just let me help you, you stubborn oaf!" You lean over the desk, slapping your hands down on the papers in front of him. Your loosely laced shirt hangs off you a bit with the movement. The new clothes you had made for the warm weather don’t quite fit you as close as you typically wear your shirts- the tailors here still aren’t quite used to your non-orc proportions.

Torg simply stares down at you in perturbed silence. You’ve gotten much more comfortable with the way you communicate with Torg since the hunting trip, but he is your superior. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far..

"...Torg?"

"...Fine." He grumbles, now looking at anything but you.

He really must be prideful if accepting your help makes him this uncomfortable…

"Shop taxes are due, but I don't think I'll have time to visit each one today." He makes a list of names on a sheet of paper. "You can knock out some of the collections for me."

"You're trusting me with handling funds?" You scoff.

"When you put it like that you're really making me second guess it." He chuckles, but slides the paper across to you nonetheless. "But I do trust you, if you can believe it. They'll already have the gold ready in pouches. You just have to collect them and bring them back here."

"Alright. Leave it to me." You take the paper with a grin, filled with a sense of victory at having convinced him to let you help.

He grunts and goes back to what he was doing.

You can barely refrain from rubbing your hands together in glee on your way out. If the big man of the settlement trusts you with funds of all things, it looks like you're making progress towards your goal. Maybe having a reason to poke around more shops will give you more of an idea of where the item you're looking for is…

The first stop is close enough: a short walk to the tailor's shop, nearby in the middle of the settlement.

"Good afternoon ladies!" You say cheerily as you enter the colorful shop. Granny Ghorza is taking a break from her loom, sweeping the floor instead. She's become one of your favorite orcs here; she’s a funny old bat and makes the best sweets in the whole settlement, to boot. "The good looks must really run in the family."

Her young adult granddaughter manning the counter balks a little at the blatant flirting, but gives you a courteous smile. She's a nice enough woman, though shy and a bit forgettable. Her name eludes you at the moment…

"Mmhm, and how are your new spring shirts fitting dearie? I might have to add some modesty stitches if you're going to wear it unlaced like that, ohohoh!" She cackles, using the broom handle to pull at the front of your partially open, billowy shirt. "Looks a little breezy, you might catch a cold- or worse, someone’s attention, eheheh!”

"Ahah- They fit perfectly fine, thank you!" You act scandalized, pinching the gaping collar closed and pressing the broom handle away, before you turn to approach the counter.

"Um, what brings you here today? I don't think you have any orders waiting to be picked up..." Ghorza's granddaughter says meekly with a polite smile, looking through the ledger book at the counter. "Your items are… hard to forget, since they don't use up much fabric…"

"Ah, I'm here to collect your tax dues." You explain. "Since Boss is still healing."

"Oh. So… He isn't coming today, then…?" The young woman asks, in a curiously forlorn tone.

"Afraid not. Though, I assure you I am perfectly capable of safely transporting a gold pouch." You say and let out a friendly laugh.

"I see, I see. About time the man let someone give him a hand once in a while." Ghorza gives you a toothless smile. "Would you be a dear get him the dues, Murgol? The pouch is ready in the top drawer."

Murgol twists the hem of her shirt in her hands in displeasure, looking like she's about to break into tears at any moment. Then her lip quivers, and she unceremoniously flees the room, sniffling.

There’s an awkward moment of silence that seems to stretch out far too long for your liking before Ghorza speaks again.

"Mmgh, that girl…" Ghorza shakes her head in reproach.

"Is she… going to be alright?" Clearly something upset her quite badly, but you don't think you said anything that egregious… "I hope I didn't offend her…?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. She's sensitive when things don't go her way, but she'll live." She shuffles behind the counter, hobbling into her granddaughter's previous spot. "Let me get you the gold, dearie."

You leave the tailor shop, eating a slice of candied apricot-studded sweetbread that Ghorza definitely forced on you and you only took because you were guilted into taking. You scratch the tailor’s family name off your list as you reflect on the strange interaction with the seamstresses.

You like to think you're quite astute when it comes to social intelligence, but you just can't put your finger on what may have been the trigger of her outburst.

Oh well. Perhaps she's just going through something personal?

You put the interaction out of your mind and head to the next place on your list.

You walk into the blacksmith's next. Luckily she doesn't seem to be too busy as the shop is currently devoid of customers, with her hammering out something at the anvil.

You’ve been friendly with her ever since prepping for the hunting trip. Apparently Lurog and her are good friends, and she was kind enough to let you use her shop to create the arrowheads you needed for your trial. You buy them directly from her now, chatting a while every time you come to replenish your supply.

"Hello Burzgob," You speak up so she can hear above the metal clanking. "Amazing job you're doing there."

“Thanks, little guy. I'm guessing you're not here to buy? Don’t think you used up all those arrowheads from the other day already. …At least I hope."

"Nope, I'm here to collect tax dues. I'm helping Boss out since he's still injured. Two hands better than one, or so they say."

She guffaws, setting the hammer down and pulling her gloves off before wiping her hands on her apron.

"Oh, damn. I was expecting him to be the one to drop by." She rubs her cheek with the back of her hand, still managing to smear soot there as well. “Bummer.”

"Spirits, you're not the first to feel that way today!" You say in exasperation. "I'm starting to think no one wants to see me…"

"Hahah! Nothing personal, trust me!" She grins and pats your shoulder, getting soot on your shirt as well. "Had something I needed to ask him."

"Oh, I see." You nod, and without missing a beat, nonchalantly add; "About what?"

"Hah! So nosy! Sorry, little guy. I like you, but it's a secret."

"Drat. Well, I tried…" You let out a performative sigh and shrug.

"Hey, uh… you're pretty close with Boss though, right?"

…Are you…?

You hadn't really considered it before, but over the course of training and especially after the hunting trip, you've definitely gotten used to his presence. You have something akin to a friendship now; or at least, what must look like one from a spectator's point of view. He’s quick to help you with anything, but he seems to be that way with all of the people in his charge. Though, at the very least, he trusts you enough to let you help him with this task, when asking for help with his own tasks seems to be something he does very seldomly..

"I suppose you could say that." You conclude.

"Can you deliver something to him for me, since you're going back there anyway?"

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"Great! I owe you one, bud." Burzgob's face lights up as she grins, the silver caps on her tusks glinting. She returns and hands you a tied bundle with a letter tucked under the string. It smells like perfume. "Uh, promise you won’t read it, okay?"

You fervently promise you won’t, then bid her goodbye and leave the blacksmith's.

You have a similar experience at the tanner's, then the baker’s… and then the chandler’s…

Somehow, this seemingly easy task has left you feeling like a withered corpse. Luckily for you, however, seeing which family runs the last business on the list fills you with a sense of ease.

The shop bell jingles as you enter, and you’re immediately awash with the pleasant scent of soap, as well as a heady mix of any sort of cosmetic salve, wax or powder you can think up.

Your self care routine took a little adjustment, being out in the wilds, now. So many of their products were completely foreign to you at first. But despite the slight learning curve, you’ve honestly never felt better. You weren’t exactly taking the best care of yourself while hopping from flophouse to flophouse that belonged to your guild; you barely had the resources to keep yourself fed, let alone buying overpriced soaps and perfumes. But here, things aren’t too expensive, despite being handmade and about as locally sourced as something can be.

Lurog is sitting behind the counter of her family's salon, seemingly counting out the till while the shop is closing down for the evening around her.

"Hey." If she's surprised to see you, she doesn't show it. "We're closed. But if you want your hair done I can do it for you when I'm done here."

"Oh, is that Boss?" You hear one of Lurog's several younger sisters call out from farther inside the shop.

"Is he finally here?!" Another one chimes in and peeks her head around the divider.

"No! False alarm." A third one sweeping her station sighs. "Just the little kitty cat."

You quirk an eyebrow at the reception, but everyone but Lurog has gone back to chatting over their tasks.

"I might just take you up on that offer, I'm getting a little scraggly… Not what I'm here for, though. Boss sent me to collect your dues."

Lurog nods in understanding, but your attention is on the loud, spirited gossiping in the shop behind her as the women discuss their displeasure at this development amongst themselves.

"Don't mind them." Lurog shakes her head in admonishment. "They're just mad because they wanted the chance to flirt with Boss."

“Flirt?” You scoff. “Taxes really get their motors running, huh?”

“Hah.” Lurog rolls her eyes. “No, they’re just all desperate to find men to torment.”

"Oh." You say, wheels starting to turn in your head. "Do you think that's what's going on with everywhere else I've stopped today too…?"

"Wouldn't doubt it. Boss would be a catch for a lot of the women in the stronghold." Lurog says simply, retrieving the gold pouch and sliding it to you over the counter. "Midsummer festival's coming up. Big time for romance. But Boss is either real picky or just not into it. Hasn’t taken any of them up on the offer yet… But he also hasn’t explicitly turned anyone down.”

“Ah, but then… Why are they all still asking? Wouldn’t he just ask who he’d like to and be done with it, if he wanted to court anyone?”

“Because with orcs it’s up to the one that’s gonna be taking it-“ She smirks and makes an incredibly crude gesture with her hands. “To ask to start the courtship, or whatever you wanna call it.”

“Really now?” You feel your eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Why is that?”

“Unh-uh.” Lurog shrugs. ”Just how we do it, I guess."

Well, that certainly explains why you haven’t been getting invitations to share anyone’s bed, despite being as gorgeous and alluring as you are. What would a full-fledged orc want from you, with so many massive, hunky orc men around to choose from?

But that means you have the power to try to lure a man in.

Hmm… if you were to ask out one of the right orcs, you might have better access to off limits areas for your search…

Lurog must notice the spark of an idea in your eye of how to use your newfound power, because she quickly adds; "You should wait until the festival to harass any men. Better success rate."

“You know, you’re actually very helpful when you want to be.” You grin at her. “It’s a shame you don’t often want to be.”

“Thanks.” She snorts in a deadpan tone. “I wish I could say the same.”

You finish your friendly ribbing with Lurog, more than ready to haul back the large rucksack of gold and the almost nearly as large, cumbersome pile of offerings for Torg, and be done with this task.

You can't help but get into your own head about what's happened during this excursion while you make your way back. You can feel the irritation growing the more you dwell on it, your tail twitching behind you.

All of the shop owners on your list were women. Specifically, women that seem to be interested in Torg. It seems far too unlikely to be a coincidence- you doubt that many of the shops in the settlement are run by eligible women fawning over Torg.

More importantly, why does it upset you so much?

Jealousy…? Because you’re lonely?

It must be that- because he apparently has a queue of women asking to court him when none of the male orcs in the settlement even look at you twice.

…Right. That must be all it is.

You're still a bit grumpy about it as you return to Torg's office.

"Here you are." You set down the pack with the gold pouches inside and the bundle of gifts on his desk with a heavy sigh.

"Thanks for the help." He says, then noticing your clearly negative mood, he looks up from his task. "I hope it wasn't too much of a pain."

"No, it was easy enough.” You grumble, and go on to quip as you nonchalantly examine your cuticles; “Though… if you wanted me to host a meeting of your fanclub, you could've just asked."

"That bad?" He looks genuinely sheepish, scratching the edge of his beard.

"It was pretty bad." You put your hands on your hips, deciding that you'll give him a bit more of a hard time. "A lot of disappointed ladies giving me shit for not being you."

"I'm sorry. If I knew it would bother you, I wouldn't have given you that task."

"Apology accepted, but it seems…” You make a noise in disgust. “A tad unkind to lead so many people on like this, doesn’t it? It's not like you at all."

"I'm- Ugh. I'm not leading anyone on. At least I'm not trying to-" He runs a hand through his hair in discomfort. "I am Chieftain, I can't have so many of my people holding a grudge against me for rejecting them romantically. It would be disruptive, so I thought it would be best for me to just ignore any of these crushes some of the younger women have on me."

"It must be difficult being so popular with the ladies…" You say dryly.

"Hey, poke fun all you want, but it can be. Someone will be hurt regardless of what choice I make."

"Why not… Oh, I don’t know… pick one, then, and get it over with? Then the ones you don't pick can accept it and move on, rather than holding onto false hope."

"It's not that simple…"

"It sure seems like it is!" You chuckle. "How is it not the simplest thing?"

"Because I am not interested in any of them."

"You're telling me you have your pick of half of the young, gorgeous Orcish women in this stronghold throwing themselves at your feet," You lean over the desk and gesture to the bag of offerings on his desk. "And not one of them meets your standards?"

"No." He says heavily, clearly weary from the ongoing nature of this conversation. “Are you satisfied? Can you end this interrogation now?”

"...Okay." You relent, incredulous, but still accept his words. You've grilled him enough, you suppose.

A small smile has taken up residence on your face. Did you really enjoy hassling him that much…?

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x reader #orc x reader #orc #monster x monster #male reader #mlm #mxm #male x male #queer romance #series: out in the cold #oc: torg #oc: reyr #nine of words

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 7 months

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Short Prompt #1274

CW: character death.

The massive werewolf lay peacefully on the wooden floor, its body loosely coiled around its master's chair. It played aloof as if it couldn't understand any of the conversation, but they could already tell the visitor held ill intent.

From their tense body and words to the smell of silver the wolf had picked up when the stranger entered - things were about to get interesting. But, of course, Werewolf knew its master was no fool. There was a reason why it had stayed loyal to them for so long.

Before the human visitor could even grab the handle of their hidden knife, the wolf's master was already on top of them. The human's neck snapped with a loud crack in mere seconds.

"Not even going to get up today? Some guard dog you are," the wolf's master, the vampire, scoffed with amusement. The werewolf made a show of yawning and flopping over onto its back.

"You had it handled," the wolf growled, stretching lazily.

"That I did," Vampire smirked. "One less hunter for us to worry about."

#writeblr #writing #writing prompt #short prompt #monster fucker #terato #monster x monster #vampire x werewolf #smuwfy #some messed up writing for you #tw: character death

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teratophallia · 8 months

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These two hate each other <3 Enjoy the monsterxhuman content!

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thepenultimateword · 11 months

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Prompt #202

The knight pulled the chains tighter around the little dragon’s snapping maw, heaving until the beast’s jaws were clamped so tightly together, not even the smoke could escape.

The dragon rumbled deep in its chest and puffed flames from its nostrils but could do little else with its legs pinned to its sides.

“Shut up, you beast,” the knight said as he checked the horse team’s traces. Even a runt like this one weighed a couple tons, if anything went wrong pulling him down the mountain—a chain snapped, a strap broke—it could cost all of their lives. “Be grateful I didn’t stick you where I saw you.”

He swung up into the drivers seat, but as he flicked the reigns the horses shifted sideways instead of forward. Their ears flattened against their heads and they whinnied anxiously.

A shadow darkened the mountainside and when she landed, the cliff broke beneath her in a violent spattering of sod and stone.

However, it was none of this that made the knight shrink in his seat. What scared him was the bone protruding from her skull.

A five horned crown. A dragon queen.

Flames flickered behind her born teeth, her growl shaking the earth and causing the horses to scream. “Get away from my mate.”

#apparently I’ve got dragons on the brain #prompt #monster x monster #dragon x dragon #dragon queen #short prompt #writing prompt #fantasy #fantasy writing #writblr #fantasci

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finns-art-sins · 1 year

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nsfw art warning !

" if it fits, i sits " (art under the cut)

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lesbianwriter · 1 year

Note

Hello there! I hope you are doing well!

If you feel up to it, would you mind fulfilling my slightly odd request for a powerful monster (you can pick what kind if you want) discovering the inexperienced but very determined monster hunter that has been hunting her for a while has become a member of her kind herself?

I hope you have a nice day! And don't forget to take care of yourself!

The night was calm. Crickets were chirping. Owls were hooting. Fireflies had begin to float through the air, flickering in the dark like stars. There was no obnoxious stomping through the forest or tripping on branches. It was unusual.

Villain strained her ears, trying to figure out if Hero had become better at sneaking around or if she hadn’t shown up at all.

But there was nothing.

No rustle of stomped leaves…nothing.

Crossing her arms, Villain paced around her lair, kicking at a pebble as she walked. “She can’t just…leave me.” The pebble skidded across the ground and ricocheted on the wall after an especially fierce kick. “I’ve been so good to her! I mean, I haven’t eaten her yet! I let her try to kill me. So why would she abandon me now?!”

Villain, a powerful demon, could have easily killed Hero long ago, but she didn’t because she liked the game. It was the most anybody had ever interacted with her in a long time. Creatures avoided her; they could sense the power emanating from her and would scatter when she got near. But Hero didn’t. Hero was reckless—a hunter with little to no experience or survival skills—but she didn’t ever run away.

And now she was leaving.

Villain contemplated the idea of her going out to look for Hero. Hunting her down herself.

That would show Hero something about commitment!

Sighing, Villain stopped pacing and looked out the entrance to her lair. It wasn’t like Hero to run away from things. She was stupid—so foolish and audacious, even more so than most hunters—and it was uncharacteristic of her to do so.

It was possible she was late.

Humans had hundreds of mundane problems that hindered them…perhaps Hero was being hampered by one of those myriad of things.

She pouted, staring at the entrance, listening for any sound of Hero, and finally she decided to go out herself and look.

—

Hero’s hands trembled.

It couldn’t be real.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. It was cold. Her stomach growled like a beast, and she wanted more than anything to rip something apart and devour it, but there was nothing near. It was her, the cold, and the forest.

Leaving would mean that she would kill a human. Or, she would run into the other hunters. They’d see what she became and they would laugh at her. Before they killed her, they would taunt her for being so stupid.

Stupid Hero. Weak, stupid Hero.

Sobs wracked her body as she curled into herself.

She couldn’t be a demon!

Her whole life she was raised to be a hunter! Her parents were hunters, and their parents were hunters, and so on and so forth for generations. And she was the disappointment. The scion that couldn’t take up the mantle on her shoulders; the scion that muddled up the bloodline. The one that ruined a proud, noble lineage.

It made her blood boil, it made her want to kill something, but if anybody knew what she had turned into…it was truly over.

“There you are—why are you all the way out…”

Hero kept her head down and kept crying.

It was Villain’s voice. Villain had a pretty voice, a pretty smile, and a pretty face—she was deceptively gorgeous and alluring like all evil and dangerous things in nature.

“Hero, it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Hero wailed miserably. “I can’t be a demon! I’m supposed to kill demons. I’m—I’m supposed to kill you!” Her breathing trembled. When she tried to wipe her eyes, she only cried harder, gasping for air.

Villain crouched down in front of her. “The horns haven’t grown in yet…” She reached out, touching a hand to Hero’s face. “I can help you, darling. Breathe. Match mine.”

Carefully, as if Hero would shatter into pieces, she pulled the trembling hunter into her body and wrapped her arms around her.

Hero didn’t understand how Villain was so calm. Each breath was long and deep, winding like a river, and her bones didn’t rattle with sobs or shake with fear. Hero didn’t understand why Villain was helping.

She sniffled into the demon’s shoulder and took a shaky breath, trying to match it to the other’s. “I—I—“ she hiccuped. “I don’t wanna be a demon.”

“It’s not so bad.” Villain soothed.

“Why are you helping?”

“I would’ve liked someone to help me.”

Hero blinked through her teary eyes. “I’ve tried to kill you. Still—it doesn’t…”

“I was abandoned when I was turned. I can’t let that happen to you, too. I like you.” Villain held on a little tighter, her embrace a little warmer. “The next part of going to hurt, so I need you to hold onto me, okay?”

Hero whimpered and nodded.

The past week of my life has been very…😬

I’ve gotten behind on asks and haven’t been very active in general this week, but I really do love and appreciate all the support I’ve been getting recently because it’s unreal and so amazing. Thank you to all those that left an ask and those who enjoy my content :)

#hero x villain #monster x human #monster x monster #I don’t know what else #i mean there’s angst #is this whump?#I mean Hero’s in pain #monster whumpee

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