falslibrary

[falslibrary]

Do ghosts count as ‘monsters’? Cause if they do imagine moving into a haunted house and suddenly waking up in the middle of the night feeling surprisingly full, looking down and not seeing anything. Or bending over the kitchen island while reading through some mail, skimpy shorts and a skimpy top on when you suddenly start getting pounded from behind… OR WANDERING HANDS WHILE YOURE IN THE SHOWER, ugh so many ideas…so many hot ideas 😞😞

Someone else asked: Hi! Would you make more ghost content, please? Like a horror fan moving into a haunted house, then getting randomly and repeatedly getting sexy surprises or something. Uh, if you're interested, that is. If not, don't worry about it. :)

Hi anons! Ghost def count as monsters. You can find another story about ghosts here and a short txt here. This one went way overboard with and I'm in fucking love with it, it's probably top 5 hottest things I've ever written. Hope you like it!

Spectro-cum

Ghosts x fem!human || free use, groping, dub-con

You didn’t think ghost existed until you found yourself living in a haunted house.

When you saw the price of rent you didn’t think twice about moving in. It was so cheap and the house was so big, and the pics looked phenomenal. You should have asked yourself why it was so cheap in the current housing market. You should have guessed it was wrong in some way. And it was.

Things started to become weird when things moved on their own. At first, they just moved some keys, opened some doors… No big deal, you weren’t going to move out of a great house just because there were a few ghosts living there. They didn’t pay rent, but you didn’t care about roommates. It was okay, just annoying, but okay. You found your stuff soon enough, the cabinets and doors could be closed. You were fine.

Then the touching started. You were bending down to grab something under the sofa when you felt something pinching your ass. You screamed, startled and a bit mad. You turned around, but nobody was there. Of course nobody was, they were fucking ghosts in your haunted house. Dang. What started as a pinch developed into caressing your ass, your legs, your neck… They let their ghostly hands caress your body every once in a while, making you shiver and frown. But it was still not enough to kick you out of a good house. You could deal with the ghosts, the housing market not so much.

But it didn’t end there. They started groping you. You woke up one day with what felt like hands holding you down, you trashed and tried to get free as ghostly laughs sounded around your room. You cursed them as they undressed you and played with your tits for what felt like hours. Probably was. They pinched and twisted and sucked on your nipples until they were puffy and oversensitive, until your pussy was so wet you could hear the slickness every time you rubbed your thighs together. And they didn’t even make you come, they just disappeared when they got tired. You had to touch yourself after. Fucking ghosts.

The groping started to be a bit annoying. You could be bending down and someone pulled your panties down and probed your asshole. You cursed them and they left with a laugh. Another time you were doing laundry and ghostly hands held you inside the washing machine like you were in a bad porno. They poured some detergent on your ass and fondled you until they got bored. At some point, they ripped your clothes off and started groping you in the middle of the hallway. You liked that shirt, damn it.

And then they went beyond all you were expecting. You were showering one morning and you felt the water turning cold, their latest discovery, making your nipples pebble under the spray. You cursed out loud when you heard the ghostly laugh and the water stopped. And then they stopped playing. Hands grabbed your arms and pinned them to the wall, more hands took your ankles and held them apart. Another hand started pinching and caressing your boobs, making you groan involuntarily, your pussy getting wet. You didn’t know how many of them there were, but the amount of hands you could feel in your body said at least four.

One of them took upon himself to spread your pussy lips, spreading your wetness all over your clit and frantically rubbing it. Your legs gave out under their assault, but they didn’t let you fall. They held you in the air as you felt a dick being shoved inside of you. You cried out as he hit your G-spot repeatedly, some fingers kept rubbing your pussy. And without a second to spare, the one fucking you came, you felt him twitching and shooting inside of you. You looked down and there was some kind of blue liquid leaking out of you, sticky and slimy. Gross. The next one took his place, same thing. A few dozen thrusts and they were coming inside of you. When they all finished and you were dripping, they took upon themselves to pinch every sensible place of your body until you came. They released you then, your pussy a mess of spectro-cum and your body spent after being tag-teamed by ghosts. Fucking ghosts.

From that point on, it was like a magical limit had been lifted. They used you wherever and whenever they feel like it. It was weird the moment of the day that you didn’t have some ghost cum dripping down your legs. You opted out of wearing panties a couple days ago, tired of having them ruined. You stopped wearing pants, too, what was the point if they’ll end up messy either way.

They had no limits, and they had no worries about you either. They didn’t care if you were awake or asleep, eating or busy with something. One second you were reading through your mail and you felt a cock filling you to the brim, pounding into you without any preamble. They didn’t even try to satisfy you anymore, they just used you as a cum-dump for their come, jerking themselves inside of your pussy and leaving soon after. You sighed and kept doing whatever you were doing at the moment, tired and sore, but so turned on that it was almost painful.

Usually they used you one at a time, giving you a while to get yourself together and do some stuff around the house before you felt another cock shoved inside. But sometimes they didn’t even wait a few minutes. Sometimes not even seconds. One cock was pulled out and another was pushed in, making impossible for you to get anything done the whole morning. It was maddening, and annoying… And made you so fucking hot you were horny all day long. You had to rub one off multiple times a day to relieve some of the pent up sexual frustration of being fucked and ignored all day. Fucking ghosts.

[falslibrary]

Had an idea

Imagine Dean goes to pick up his little brother, Sam, from campus. He's overworked and exhausted, and all he wants to do is go home, eat the pie he got yesterday, and sleep till morning

He pulls up to the curb where he usually picks up Sam and calls "Get in". Doesn't think twice to drive away after hearing the backseat door open and close. Doesn't question why Sammy would go to the back instead of shotgun

Jack meanwhile, waits 10 full minutes before asking, "So where are we going?"

Dean nearly swerves off the road before hitting the breaks. Fully awake now, he turns and stares at Jack ".. You're not Sammy" Jack tilts his head and squints. "No, I'm Jack."

"Why the fuck are you in my car???"

"You told me to get in."

"You don't know who I am! Why the fuck did you listen???"

Meanwhile, professor Castiel is on campus, freaking the fuck out because he can't find his son who he told specifically to wait for him on the curb near his last class

Sam, one of Cas' students, is trying to help and reassure him cause Cas is having an absolute meltdown

Neither of them knows Dean accidentally kidnapped Cas' son

Shinanigans ensue

[falslibrary]

The thing was a mound of flesh and mottled skin, as big as a barn and the shape of a pumpkin. Four tentacles as thick as trees hung limp at its sides; teeth ringed the gaping mouth at the top of its head like a crown.

A huge, sad whale eye the colour of wine stared at the knight. She could see her reflection in the jelly surface.

“We don’t know what it is,” she heard. “Some kind of monster that makes a perfect copy of whatever it eats. They think that was how the Dark Lord made his armies, feeding his minions to it so that it would make hundreds of copies of them. Do you recognize it?”

The knight opened her mouth. She hesitated. “Yeah,” she murmured, drawing out the word. “We found it in the Dark Lord’s tower, right?”

“That’s right. That’s where it ate you.”

The knight turned around and looked at her other reflection. This one appeared to be about ten years older, and had doffed her armor for a loose blue tunic and breeches.

She was holding a cup of tea. She had pressed another cup into the knight’s hand when she woke up here. It had been a shock finding herself suddenly out the obsidian dungeons of the Dark Lord’s tower and into this tall room of stone and straw. The warmth of it in her hands steadied her a bit.

“Everyone else in the party was worried, but then it started making copies of you,” the copy went on, staring up at the tentacled thing. “And all of the copies helped fight against the Dark Lord, and we won, and peace was restored across the land, but then nobody could figure out how to kill the damn thing or just to make it stop. Dozens of copies of us in a day, hundreds in a week, and then someone decided that the only thing we could do is just bring the thing here, seal it off and hope it starved to death.”

She sipped her tea. “Anyways, that was two-hundred years ago and it’s slowed down a bit. It can only make a new copy of us every few weeks now.”

The knight looked down into her tea. The copy had also draped a blanket over her shoulders.

“I have so many questions,” she said.

“I figured.”

“How can it be two-hundred years? I can still remember breaking into the tower. That feels like it was just minutes ago.”

“It was, basically. Your brain is a perfect copy of the original you’s brain at the exact moment she was eaten.”

“But the quest is just — done?”

“Yep. You missed some of the things that needed tying up afterward. There was a war, and a dragon, and some business about a ring.” She waved a hand. “It was before my time. Things are pretty settled now.”

“My parents?”

“Passed away about a hundred-and-fifty years ago. I’ve been told that they were very proud.”

The knight nodded. “Um. I don’t know if you know — we had an elf in our party—”

“I’m aware.”

“I — right. Obviously. Um. It’s just, after everything was done, I was going to ask her—”

“One of us did. She said yes. She outlived her. A couple of us have tried to reach out since then, but she wants to be left alone for a while.”

The knight considered this. “Uh — right,” she said eventually. Her fingers tightened around the tea cup. “Um. What do I do now?”

Her older copy shrugged. She had let her hair grow out again, the knight noticed. There were a few strands of grey against the black. “That’s up to you, I’m afraid,” she said. “A lot of us are finding work as soldiers and sellswords. We’ve done it for so long that most armies know we’re reliable and don’t tend to turn one of us away. Most of us are just sort of spreading out, wandering the world. Some of us keep in touch.”

The knight frowned. “What do you do?”

Her copy paused, tea cup half raised to her lips. “Sorry?”

“You said it only makes a new copy every few weeks now. So you just stay here and wait for a new one to show up?”

She lowered the cup. “Well,” she said. “I guess I just — I know what it can be like, waking up here in the dark, and it — it can be horrible trying to figure all of this out on your own.

“So I thought that what I’d do is just stay here with a pot of tea, and whenever I see myself again, I tell her that — that she’s not alone.”

“We aren’t?”

“Of course not. We’re all in this together, you know.”

[falslibrary]

hey hey hey brawl. write the spiderman fic where anti-mutant bigots think jj is one of them because of how he is about spider-man and he experiences no personal insight whatsoever in reaction to this but is so offended he dedicates the front cover of the Bugle to spotlighting the X-Men for like three days straight and peter is keysmash feelings. do iiiiit i want to read.

Because you sent this more than a month after you pitched it, I was briefly like, "This sounds so familiar. I didn't propose this...right...?;;" Anyway I finally assembled myself, here you go.<3

--

The Daily Bugle didn't take walk-ins.

Three men knocked on J. Jonah Jameson's office door. One was young and tall and pale. One was middle-aged, short, and approximately dumpling-shaped. The third had a waxed, curly mustache, which completely distracted from all his other features.

JJJ himself threw open the door and glowered at them. "Who the hell are you people supposed to be?" he barked.

The short one crinkled his eyes up in a winning grin. "We hate people like Spider-Man."

The Daily Bugle didn't take walk-ins...theoretically.

Jonah's forbidding countenance melted at once into perfect amicability. "Well, why didn't you say so? Come in, friends!"

-

Peter sidled into the Bugle bullpen. He did not strictly work there right then, but no one ever revoked his keycard.

He wove his way to Betty Brant's desk and stole the remains of her bagel off her plate. "What's the news, beautiful?"

Betty predicted her old ex's carb crimes and waved a hand around to intercept him, but missed completely because her gaze was fixed on her boss's office door, her eyes alight as she worried the end of her pen distractedly between her teeth.

"Jonah's with some guys," she said. "I'm pretty sure they're HAM."

"Jonah's finally getting better deli meat for the breakroom?" Why did that sound familiar?

Betty gestured abstractly with the pen. "Not ham, like meat. HAM, like meatheads. It's one of those armchair extremist movements Twitter keeps pretending they don't know how to ban."

"That narrows it down."

"It's short for... Rats. Something militia?"

Peter twitched abortively for the door.

Betty reached over and smacked his arm without taking her eyes off Jonah's office. "Honestly, Peter," she said, "you haven't changed since we were teenagers. It's not a real militia. Don't go anywhere."

He would sense it if they were armed, right? Right?

-

Jonah stuck a cigar in his mouth. He chewed it. He was trying to quit.

"--so nice to see a man in your position who cares about the important things," the short one was saying. He seemed to be the main mouthpiece.

Jonah's mustache quivered pleasantly.

"About upholding accountability for people dragging down our community."

"Yeah, yeah," agreed Jonah, succumbing to autopilot and lighting a preemptive celebratory cigar.

"People who don't know what 'neighborhood' means."

"EXACTLY," exclaimed Jonah, smacking his hand on his desk.

-

Betty swiped out of the search engine on her phone. "Okay, it stands for 'Humans Against Mutants'," she said. "Sorry, I was remembering a sarcastic nickname." She fussed with the phone a little more and then put it down.

Right, right, Peter remembered why it was familiar now. He had punched some of them. Shoulda guessed.

He fixed his own hard glare on Jonah's silent door, still feeling twitchy even though his spider-sense stayed silent. "Betty," he said. "Darling Betty. Why are you giving me this news like a gift? Why is this a good thing?"

Betty finally turned to him and smiled in a mischievous way that reminded Peter of gleefully murderous little housecats.

She said, "You don't want to see what happens once Jonah figures out what their angle is?"

-

"I would love to collaborate with you gentlemen," said Jonah, shaking hands vigorously and indiscriminately. "You're an upright, civic-minded bunch, I can tell." He gestured his good cigar box at them. The younger one took one. Jonah spread his arms wide, biting off a half-manic grin. "I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership. Where do you want to start?" He took a cheerful puff of his not-for-lighting cigar.

"Well, we're especially focused on the mutant threat," said the short one.

Jonah choked on his inhale and started coughing around the cigar.

"Public opinion about them is very in their favor these days," he continued obliviously. "It's just disgusting. Dangerous. But your Spider-Man platform is the perfect jumping-off point. Start with one target and then ease people in from there."

"Boiling frogs," nodded the mustache sagely.

Jonah reached over to his 'decorative' ashtray and ground out his cigar with force. His lips peeled back to reveal crooked tombstone teeth. He inhaled.

-

Robbie walked over to Betty's desk and knocked on it, two short knuckle taps. "What are you two standing around gawping at?" he asked. "Peter, didn't I fire you?"

"Can't write about bloodshed you don't watch," said Betty. "It's a good day in the office, Mr. Robertson."

"...And why is that?" inquired Robbie, who loved Betty like a daughter and knew her very well, with trepidation.

"Wait for it," said Betty.

With the decisive violence of an erupting volcano, there was a blast of raw sound from behind the office door that was only just distinguishable as a voice everyone in the building was familiar with screaming: "W H A T ?"

Robbie scrunched up his face and braced himself against the desk like the sound had had the hair-ruffling gale force it seemed it must have. "...Why is that good, Miss Brant."

Betty twirled her pen on her fingertips and beamed up at him, squinching her eyes. "He isn't mad at us!"

Jonah's door slammed open, the knob bouncing off the abused brass wall guard. "Out, out!" bellowed Jonah, pursuing his visitors waving both arms, one of which was holding an empty mug that read ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ's ᴍᴏsᴛ ʙᴏss like a club. "Out, out of my office, out of my building, out! Hell, leave the state while you're at it! I used to be the mayor of this town! I still have connections!"

"I thought--" sputtered the short one. Jonah brandished the mug at him and he skipped out of the way. "With your vigilante-combatting crusade-- Surely you--" He panted. "You must see that our priorities--"

"I don't hate Spider-Man because he has powers!" shouted Jonah, "I hate him because he's a--"

"Wow," Peter said about a minute into the following deluge. "That's not fit for print."

"You want mutants in my paper so badly!?" finished Jonah, backing the little posse up against the exit. "I'll run nothing but mutants for weeks! --You, wait!"

This last was directed at the tall one, who was at the back of the group. Before he could scurry out of the room Jonah seized him by one shoulder, spun him around, and (juggling the mug) reached into his shirt pocket and plucked out his gifted cigar.

He dropped it in the mug and then pushed the man out the door. He kicked it shut, visibly aiming to clip any lingering ankles.

"Beautiful," said Betty. She tapped her phone to wake it, revealing that it was already open to a contact labeled "Sid S. (Bugle Security)". She hit the call button.

"Would somebody," projected Jonah, "call security and--"

"I'm already doing it!" chirped Betty, waving at him with her phone hand.

"Wh-- Well, good! The rest of you layabouts, take a note of Miss Brant's work ethic!"

Betty mugged a little smugly.

Peter had drifted over to a street-facing window and was looking down out of it, forehead practically touching the glass.

"Bigots!" Jonah was muttering, pacing back and forth strangling the air with his hands. "Hate groups! Trying to use my editorials as propaganda! Me! J. Jonah Jameson!" He twisted his grip on nothing viciously. "As if I would allow that! As if I would think like that! Nobody without their head so deep underground it's coming up in Australia would believe that of me! I'm not... I... ...Do people...really think...I'm like that?"

Silence.

Someone shuffled papers. The sound carried.

Jonah inhaled, deep and angry, then let the breath out as a sigh, his shoulders slumping. The room tensed further in a way it hadn't when it had seemed like he was about to yell.

For a moment, with his posture crumpling, Jonah came dangerously close to looking his age.

Then he straightened back up, recovering his usual vim. "Well, we'll just see what they think this time next month! That's a good idea--somebody put up a comparative poll on the website. Now, speaking of layabouts--" He swiveled his head back and forth, scouring the bullpen. "Wait, where's Parker?"

"He left," supplied Betty. "Just now. Tore out of the room like he thought you were going to hit him."

Jonah huffed. "That punk! Some people just don't know how to act."

-

"What a bust!" the short man said. He kicked a piece of trash viciously off the sidewalk in front of the Bugle building and into the road. "This city is crawling with pamphlet-hawking, soy-drinking, gene sympathizers."

"There's no hope for mutie-lovers," grumbled the tall one.

"Eyyy-men," sighed the one with the mustache.

"Hey," said a new voice, coming from directly overhead.

They looked up.

Blank white lens eyes greeted them.

"We're nonviolent," said the squat one.

"Bully for you," said Spider-Man. "I'm not."

-

"Interviews!" barked Jonah. "Aren't we supposed to not talk over people? Amplify voices?"

"Suppose we are," said Robbie.

"WELL, SOMEBODY FIND ME SOMETHING TO AMPLIFY!"

"Oh, really?" Betty was saying into her phone. "No, just let him have them. Past the doors is public property; we aren't liable." She hung up, satisfied.

"--and if he isn't back here by the time I've set one up I'll get pictures from Grant, and next time he darkens my doorstep I'll mail him to the Globe in a giftwrapped box!"

-

"Well, fellas," said Spider-Man, dusting off his hands, "I'm not sure you've brought me around to the whole 'path of nonviolence' thing. But I've never been very zen. Maybe next time."

He leapt up onto the wall and started creeping around to the back of the building. He had had to bolt down two floors to find an unobserved window to jump out of. Totally worth it. "Honestly," he said. "Some people just don't know how to act."

-

Jonah paced around in an even higher dudgeon than his usual. "Somebody get me a mutant!" he barked. "Why haven't we got any mutants in this room!?"

"Good question," muttered Robbie.

"I had better not hear that we don't have any in the whole building!"

"That's oddly noble," said Glory, who had persisted in picking at the assignment she had open on her laptop at her desk right by Jonah's door through the whole ruckus.

"If I consult somebody who's not already salaried I'll have to PAY them!"

"Aaaaand there it is."

"Do something about it! Start a new hiring program!"

"We have hiring programs now?" asked Peter.

"WHOA, where did you come from," said Betty, startling hard.

Peter shrugged with the arm that wasn't braced on Betty's desk. His hair was mussed and his face was a little flushed. "I had to call my aunt," he said. "For an emergency...fashion consultation. For her. Not me. I think my sense of style is great, don't you?"

"No comment. Do you remember when we met and you wore yellow vests every single day?"

"That is a blistering lack of comment."

"I didn't say I didn't like the yellow vests. Whatever happened to them?"

"I think someone I dated after you might have burned them. Just shows you have superior taste."

"MJ?"

"I think it might have been Felicia.... Have you met Felicia?"

"It's not right!" Jonah continued to rant in the office foreground. "Ostracizing people just because they have powers! It's not right!"

Peter cupped his hands around his mouth and called over, "Gee, does that mean you're going to go easier on the old wallcrawler?" Then he jammed his fingers into his ears.

"SPIDER-MAN GOES OUT EVERY DAY OF HIS OWN VOLITION AND--"

Betty whapped Peter on the arm.

"--A PEST, WHO GOES WHERE HE IS NEITHER WANTED NOR NEEDED-- Wait, Parker?" Jonah did enough of a double take to finally stop pacing. "Why is it you're never here when I want you--"

"I don't work here," said Peter.

"--but the walls spit you out whenever there's an opportunity for a smart comment-- Huh? Well why the hell are you here if you don't work for me!?"

"Can't I drop in to visit my first love, and, frankly, the only woman I've ever--"

"Aren't you back with MJ again?" interrupted Betty.

"While she's on the clock," said Jonah, "no, you cannot."

"Oh, shame," said Peter. "In that case, my rates have increased by twenty percent."

Jonah spluttered. "In my eye they have--!"

"Fifteen."

"Five and I'll send May a gift basket.'

"Make it an edible arrangement and we've got a deal."

They shook on it. Betty rolled her eyes fondly between them.

Jonah plunked his ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ's ᴍᴏsᴛ ʙᴏss mug down on Betty's desk, fished the cigar out of it, and jammed it between his teeth, unlit.

"I am not a bigot, Parker," he chewed out around it.

"No, sir."

"I am not always ahead of the times, but I am a fair man."

"It's true, sir."

"And if people don't see that, I'll just make them see!" He slammed his fist on Betty's desk. "So I want PICTURES! PICTURES OF X-MEN!"

"....It just doesn't sound right...." muttered Peter. Betty shook her head.

"And if that's not close enough to your specialty, then I don't even know why I keep you around! --Not," he added, "that the X-Men and all the other X-people are anything like that Spider-Man!"

"Oooof course not," said Peter.

"But they've got to be the same kind of tricky shot!"

"So you admit I take tricky shots."

"WHY DO YOU THINK I PAY YOU SO MUCH, HUH?"

"I don't think you--"

"Parker!"

"Alright, alright."

Jonah thrust out his hand, expression a picture. "You'd better actually have something good for me after all this haggling."

"Of course!" said Peter, waving his hands in a very unconvincing reassuring/defensive combo motion. "Just hold that pose while I get a flash drive made up."

Jonah's mustache flexed. "How long will that take?"

"Couple hours?"

Jonah inhaled preexplosively.

"Here," said Betty, turning her laptop around and pushing it at Peter. "Just get them off the cloud."

Peter stared at her. He blinked once, slowly. "I'm not...in the cloud?

"The camera I gave you last winter backs up automatically to the cloud. I set it up before I gave it to you because I knew you wouldn't. I wrote the account information in the card and told you to change the password. Did you even look at the card?"

Peter began to look alarmed. "It does?"

-

After several minutes of Betty reassuring him he wasn't going to be in a data leak ("Honestly, what's in your camera roll? State secrets? Nudes?"), Peter hunched over and started picking at the keyboard. "You're in luck," he said. "Tuesday the original lineup took some newbies out and closed a portal to the prehistoric era out in Hamilton."

"And you were in Hamilton?" put in Betty. "With your camera?"

"My rent just went up," said Peter. "Thing is, JJ, they were teaming up with--"

"Son," interrupted Jonah, "I've done so much for you. I value you as an employee--as family even. Now, for me: Don't say Spider-Man."

"...Bernie Sanders."

Jonah sighed and ran his hands down his face. Several desks over, Robbie stifled a laugh into his fist in a passable impression of a cough.

Leaving one hand over his eyes, Jonah pointed at Betty's laptop. "Show me the damn pictures, Parker."

-

"Not bad...." gruffed Jonah, clicking through the pictures rapidly. "It's good the original five are there--they're classic, reliable, people are used to them capturing their imaginations.... --Do people call them that? The Oh-Five."

"Wow, you really have no mutant opinions," marveled Peter. "Or mutant thoughts. Your head is just empty, like a flower vase."

"Cut the sass, Parker," Jonah said perfunctorily.

"Seriously, don't you run a newspaper?"

"It would be perfect," said Jonah, mercilessly changing the subject, "if Spider-Man weren't in all the good photos."

"Look here, bossman, normally you like that," said Peter. "Demand it, even. Seems like you're cursing your own Pavlovian conditioning."

"We can edit him out," muttered Jonah, ignoring him, still clicking the mouse pad with unnecessary gusto. "Maybe he was attacking them. What do you think, team? 'Vigilante Pesters Helpful Citizens'."

"Boy," said Peter under his breath as Jonah straightened up. He fought to hold a sour expression, and failed. "Some things never change."

Jonah smacked Betty's desk decisively. (She tried to nudge his hand off with the back of her pen.) "But I still need somebody to talk to--a personal account to write out in lights!"

"Jonah," said Robbie moderatingly.

"STATISTICALLY," projected Jonah, who was difficult to moderate, "I KNOW THERE HAS GOT TO BE A MUTANT ON THE PREMISES, SO COUGH THEM UP! THIS IS A HUNT, PEOPLE."

"I cannot imagine why people would think you might be willing to participate in some sort of minority witch hunt," drawled Kate.

"Isn't Beatrice down in Accounting a mutant?" offered Betty.

"I didn't know you were a proponent of hum-- sentient sacrifice, Bets," said Peter.

"You are no better than me," said Betty.

"..."

"She quit last month," said Robbie. "Moving to Florida to be closer to her mother."

"Oh, good for her," said Glory.

"Florida," said Peter distrustfully. Jonah nodded.

Jeff from HR, who did not work in the bullpen but was 23 and as such had been drafted by one of the editors to help her fix a problem with her e-mail and had been there for most of the morning, slowly raised his hand. "I'm a mutant," he said. "Sir."

Jonah's full attention, which was a terrible thing to bear, shifted to focus on him. Jeff's hand drifted downward, and he looked at it like he was second-guessing the body language choice.

"That's wonderful, my boy!" exclaimed Jonah, suddenly overflowing with powerful avuncular energy.

"Ummm," said Jeff from HR. "Thank you."

"Wonderful, stupendous," insisted Jonah. "What do you do?" He fluttered his hands at Jeff. "What's your--special thing?"

Jeff from HR, in less than one second, visibly considered how verbose just the cliff notes on the topic of asking mutants about their powers in a PC way were and discarded the idea of trying to convey them. "I can turn my fingers into French fries, sir."

"...What?"

"French fries. I can generate French fries out of my hands, sir."

"Like...a McDonald's?"

"Homestyle, sir."

Jonah performed a contemplative chewing motion that made his mustache flutter. "...Do you want to be in the paper?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Understandable, kid. Understandable."

-

"God," said Peter, leaning against the wall with his arms folded to watch as Jonah dragged Jeff from HR with him back to the conversation about page layouts he had put on pause to be bothered by his photographer, shadowboxing the ethics of hiring him as a consultant en route. "For once Jonah is running on spite in the right direction."

"Now, Pete," said Robbie, who had likewise stepped back until he was reactivated by an impending major ethics violation, "you know he does that more often than not. Otherwise we wouldn't all still be here."

"...Yeah," admitted Peter. ("The photos need to be bigger," insisted Jonah. "Really use the wing guy to frame the others--") "I do know that."

He fished around in his jacket and got out his phone.

-

"Do you have one of those little flags that look like tropical drinks?" Jonah was asking.

Glory abortively started to raise her hand to cover up the subtle bi triangle pin on her hat band and then lowered it.

"Being a mutant isn't a sexuality, Jonah," said Kate.

Jeff from HR coughed into his fist. "There is a flag," he said.

They looked at him.

"Other things have flags," he said.

"Ha!" said Jonah, pointing at Kate triumphantly.

-

"Who are you texting?" asked Robbie.

Peter's head was bowed over his phone, typing something. He tapped things out with one index finger at a bizarre speed that could not reasonably be called hunt and peck.

"No one," he said. The contact name read: SCOTTY BOY. The last two messages were "Lol, you're in luck," (on the left) and "Don't say 'lol,' what are you, 12?" (on the right). He raised his head to address Jonah, pocketing his phone. "Hey, you still shopping for mutants? If I get you a good one, will I get a commission?"

Jonah swiveled in the ergonomic chair he had commandeered from Kate when she stood up. Once it was facing the right direction he leaned forward forebodingly. "Now, Parker," he said. "I might not be on the ball all the time, but even I know not to hawk this 'one of the good ones' horsesh--"

"NO," interrupted Peter, "I mean-- Not like-- I meant famous, if I can pull in a--"

There was a knock on the outside of the window.

Most of the rabble surrounding Jonah silenced. Betty reached into her purse, gripped something inside of it, and then left her hand there. The action movie gun clicking sound Peter thought he heard was almost definitely imaginary. They were on the highest floor.

"--An X-Man," finished Peter.

Outside the window, a woman in a green body suit, masses of red hair pulsing around her in a telekinetic breeze, raised her hand and twiddled her fingers in a little wave.

Jeff from HR unsubtly sunk down behind a desk.

-

After gibbering a demand that "Everyone stop gibbering, someone let the poor woman in" and eventually giving Jean a polite hand inside, Jonah looked back and forth between her and Peter.

"How do you two...know each other," he asked.

"We're in the same pilates class," said Peter.

"He has a deep, inexplicable bond with my boyfriend," Jean said at the same time.

They looked at each other.

"...Okay," said Jonah eventually, deciding he did not want to know about it if his freelancer had had a threesome with Phoenix and Cyclops.

-

After overcoming the awkwardness of introductions, Jean assumed a businesslike patter out of sync with her dramatic entrance. Peter extricated himself back to the noncombat zone with the nonchalant speed of a man who was hiding something.

"Bets," said Peter.

Betty was back to staring from her desk. "Yes, Pete?"

"Are we about to become the most pro-mutant news outlet in New York?"

Betty worried the end of her pen some more. "I rather suspect it."

"Hell, I rather expect it," cut in Robbie, stepping up behind them and joining their huddle. "Might even swap news outlet with employer."

"--run organizations," Jean was saying while Jonah watched her perched on a desk in a Thinker pose and waved at Glory to take notes. "I can put you in touch with some of our school to work programs."

Robbie ran his hands down his face, looking tired. "There's so much to do," he said. "And always so much to learn, before you can do any of it. I can't claim the high ground on this one--I hadn't noticed we hadn't taken a clear enough stance on this either. It's impossible to stay on top of all of it. ...But we're journalists. We have to keep trying."

"Is that why you stick around?" Peter asked. "...Sir?"

Robbie snorted. "You asking if I never cut the apron strings for long because Jonah tries so hard? Maybe among other things. Don't get too cheeky, Parker."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"He always tries," repeated Robbie. "Now if only he would just let go of his vendetta with--"

"--that rat, Spider-Man?"

Jean pursed her lips and tipped her head to consider whatever character defamation Jonah had asked her to confirm. "He is slightly less funny than he thinks he is," she conceded. "Which is much more annoying than you'd think it would be."

Peter made a drain unclogging noise. Robbie pointedly did not look at him.

"She's not wrong," muttered Betty, whose attention was rapt on the exciting part of the room and as such missed any fine nuances being brandished beside her.

Peter made the noise again.

Jean looked over and stuck her tongue out at him.

-

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy STORY TIME, PEOPLE. I FEARED FOR MY LIFE OR AT LEAST MY DIGNITY AT WORK TODAY (view all replies) . . . JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy i'm wearing my worksona rait. i physically cannot stop saying "sir". i think i said sir 47 different times out of sheer social what the hell

YBY Call Me @belovedssdarling i don't think you have a worksona i think you;re a genuinely boring person

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy okay wow. . . . JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy When i say i hid behind a desk i wish i was exagerating for comedy. but.

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy "wow jeffavorite you hid from marvel girl? you must really be a radical!" no she's just really tall OK

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy Also once i met an actor i worshipped and his personality didnt hold up. i cant let that happen again. i'm traumatized . . . JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy The effort it took to not say "yeah but it does look like a pride flag probably because every single xman is some kind of gay"

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy god

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy he immediately asked me what my deal was and i was so overwhelmed by the sheer ... yeah that i didn't tell him youre not supposed to ask that... i need to go back in there before he publishes something don't i

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy hes a nice very loud old man i cant let the word choice nitpickers have him

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy fuck

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy he's a coot but like i get it now. that's my coot.

JEFF!❀ @theother_jeffy i'm gonna see if i can get him to wear a magneto was right pin

-

A week later, Peter flopped face first into bed. There was a newspaper clutched in his hand which if uncrumpled would have read "Iɴᴛᴏʟᴇʀᴀɴᴛ Cᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛɪᴇs ᴛʜᴇ REAL Mᴜᴛᴀɴᴛ Pʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ".

"Awwwwwwwww, Tiger," cooed Mary Jane from where she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. She put down the script she was looking over. "Are you feeling cherished?"

"Whamph?" said Peter into the bedsheet. "No. By Jonah? No. Why? He's not cherishing me."

MJ patted him consolingly on the back, snickering.

--

AO3

[falslibrary]

i have been concerningly curious how would fucking a shape shifter feels...maybe he can manipulate one body part...maybe make it feels too big when he goes inside your cunt...maybe he'll fuck you in the body of a person you stared too long earlier... maybe he won't stop until you've tried every skin he can change into...maybe even your favorite idol...

sigh...i told you, it's concerning

Ffffuuuuck, it’s been concerning for me too. Ive been thinking about shapeshifter bf so often for so many things. I have like three draft ideas I wanna write. And now you’re giving me even more 🫵🏻!! It’s an infection!!

It’s ok gimme more hehe.

But seriously you inspired me to write an entire fic with these rambles. So give me all you got, you’re my muse babyyyy.

Think of the possibilities with role play with Shapeshifter bf. Any scenario you can think of and he can fulfill it. AHHH WAIT!!! You’re inspiring me too much dammit, I love you!!

Imagine being with Shapeshifter bf when you finally admit to him that you’re actually a huge monster fucker. Your bf blushes and pouts at you, asking if you don’t consider him technically a monster.

And of course you comfort him and hold him close. But you have to admit to him that what really gets you going is the idea of a huge giant monster chasing you down and pinning you beneath his weight as he fucks load after load into your fertile cunt.

He’s shocked for a moment before something passes over his eye. You can see the bulge forming in his pants and it has to wriggling in place, desperate for him after just talking about the fantasy. When all he says is,

“Run.”

You’re briefly a bit confused before you see your bf start to shift and your eyes widen.

And that’s how you find yourself suddenly being chased by a raging orc, a feral werewolf, or a probing alien. In his excitement your bf can’t seem to lock down a shape.

Then when he finally catches you, his claws sinking into your plump waist as he pins you to the ground with his hips and slams his cock as deep inside your weeping pussy as he can, he still can’t land on a monster.

The overstimulation is pure torture and you fucking love it. One minute he’s pounding you with his giant orc cock and then the next he’s slipping his werewolf knot inside your cunt with every snap of his hips. The tentacles of his alien cock slip even deeper inside you, curling into your wombs like they plan to shoot his eggs right in there.

You’re afraid by now your eyes are permanently glued to the back of your head, your body shaking like your possessed by his demon form. Each pump of his different cocks sending you higher and higher till you swear you’re about to lose your mind.

And when you finally cum you see stars, your being transcended to the next plane of existence. Your screams reach such a pitch that only dogs and hybrids can hear. Your bf feels like his cock is about to explode from how hard you’re clenching down on him as you milk him for all he’s worth.

He doesn’t last long with you squeezing him so right and he pumps you full with buckets of his warm yummy cum.

When you’ve both calmed down he shifts back into his original form and sags down on top of you, both of panting like you might not ever breathe again.

“And that’s why Im the best monster for you. Not any of those quacks,” your bf grumbles possessively in your ear.

You can’t say you disagree with him.

[falslibrary]

Easter special: Egg hunt

A/N: Happy Easter for those who celebrate. Did I imagine the alien as someone similar to the Easter Bunny from The Origin of the Guardians. I don’t confirm nor deny it… But yes. Enjoy!

Alien x gn!reader || eggpreg, oviposition, breeding, dub-con, overstimulation, (very light) degradation

He pushes his hips deeper, making you moan like a whore. “Come on, little bunny, you can take one more,” his soft words try to coach another egg into you.

“I- I don’t know if I…” You try to tell him, but your voice breaks with a loud moan when you feel the stretch of another egg going in.

Your stomach is already distended, egg after egg filling you until you feel like you are about to pop and he’s just rubbing against your special spots until your eyesight goes white and he can slip another egg into you as you climax for the thousandth time.

You had so many orgasms you can’t feel half your body already, you are just a puddle of pleasure and come. His seed is overflowing from your abused hole, and he keeps fucking into you as if it’s his life mission. And good goddess if you aren’t enjoying it more than you thought possible.

“Shhh, little bunny, just a couple more and then you’d be nice and round with my eggs. Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t you like to be pretty all full of me?” You moan at his words, too tired to tell him you are already round with his eggs.

He pinches your nipple and kisses your neck, his actions so soft compared to how hard he’s fucking into you. How hard he’s pressing egg after egg in you… “You said one more…” You weakly remind him.

His voice is almost begging when he speaks again. “Just one more, I swear. One more and I’ll pull out of you,” he says between grinding his hips against your hole and kissing your forehead sweetly.

You cry out his name (or you try to with your fucked out voice) as you feel his dick expanding once again, another egg joining the dozens already inside of you. You can feel them sloshing inside of you, the mix of eggs and come driving you insane.

He pulls out and you can feel the mess between your legs, his self satisfied smile looking at his doing making it even more obvious how messy you must be. You can’t really see anything over the bulge in your stomach where his eggs lay.

“What now?” You ask when your brain gets back into action, your body so tired you can barely open your eyes to look at him over you.

He looks up at you for a second before announcing: “Now I let you rest for a while… And then I fish them out,” he bites his lower lip as he stares back to your leaking hole. He looks mesmerized, and if you weren’t so fucked out you’d be embarrassed.

“You what?” Your voice sounds high pitched, and you try to sit up, but your body is too tired to do so.

He pats the side of your leg in a calming manner, his eyes never reaching your face as he licks his lips and probes your hole with his fingers, making you shiver because of how tender you are. That makes his grin so wide you think he’s going to get sore cheeks.

“You won’t be able to push them down on your own… So I’ll help.” He looks giddy with excitement at the prospect to pull the eggs out of you, and you can’t even care that he’s a freak like that. You fell in love with him already knowing he was an alien pervert.

You are too tired to get more explanations. “Okay,” you let out in a whisper before your eyes close.

You wake up with a moan, your body thrumming with sexual energy as you feel his hands caressing your sides and his furry body rubbing against your hip. He’s hard again, and his dick feels huge again. You aren’t sure if you are up for another round, but you’d definitely want to try.

“Again?” Your voice is slurred and he chuckles.

“It’s time to get them out, little bunny,” he announces, his big body looming over you. His completely black eyes focused only on one thing.

“Ho- how?” You ask with a sigh when his fingers probe your hole once again. It feels raw and stretched, and his touch feels like a thousand electric shocks running down your spine.

“I fish them out,” he explains as he pushes three of his fingers inside your hole without warning. You let out an unhinged groan as he starts wriggling them. You can feel his fingers elongating, you never though dating an alien who could stretch his body would be this fun, but good goddess…

His fingers reach so deep inside of you that you are worried he’s going to touch your organs, but good goddess if the wriggling of his fingers trying to catch the eggs is not sending you into all kinds of new pleasure levels. You never thought you’d be into this kind of… exploration, but is doing something for you. It’s doing a whole lot for you.

Your whole brain is melting inside your head and you can’t do anything but to weakly roll your hips with the excuse to help him out, but in reality just trying to reach that orgasm that feels at the tips of your conscience.

You don’t even know if you can come anymore, you feel completely spent, he milked each drop of pleasure from your body and your greedy little hole is just asking for more… You can’t believe how much of a whore you are for him, but damn it, the embarrassment only makes you hotter.

“Push down, little bunny. Help me take them out…” He instructs, one of his hands slowly caressing your sweaty skin as he

“Please,” you beg not knowing what you are asking for.

“On it,” he says in his most cheerful voice as you feel his fingers curl inside of you until you feel him pulling back.

He almost cheers with happiness when he shows you the first egg. You look at him, blinking really slowly as your body releases some pent up tension. But then he pushes his finger back inside and you are screaming once more, your body seizing as you come once more.

The pleasure is borderline painful after so many orgasms, but he’s relentless as he pulls out two eggs at the same time. The stretch is so big you think you are about to be split in two.

“How… How many more?” You ask between muffled groans after he pulls three more out.

“Just a few more, little bunny. You are doing wonderful. Your hole looks so pretty, so stretched and abused for me. I should take a pic to immortalize this moment.” You clench involuntarily at his words and he chuckles. “You like that, don’t you? We’ll explore your fantasy next time.” You moan at the prospect, your body trembling as he fishes another one out.

By the time the last egg is out of you, you have had so many orgasms your legs are shaky and you can’t move. Your face is all messy with saliva and tears as he licks it off you and tells you how well you did for him. You fall asleep with a smile on your lips and his come slowly dripping out of your stretched hole…

Happy Alien Easter for you.

[falslibrary]

day 1 at the communal puzzle club: i see a puzzle with a sign next to it that says "please help with our communal puzzle" and i say to myself "don't mind if I do" and did the whole thing

[falslibrary]

She discovers that the house has been beset by salamanders. But in addition, there is a tradition of a shadowy drowned figure, who tears down curtains and who chills warm food even as the plate reaches the table.

[falslibrary]

The Dragon's Hoard

dragon x princess

Cw: enemies to lovers, kidnapping, oral sex, coming untouched, depression, blood

Word count: 9k

A million thanks to the lovely @marigoldendragon for doing art for this, it's all lovely, go give them all the love in the world!!!

The window of her carriage was closed. She’d long since grown tired of the endless trees as the carriage bumped and jostled her around on her way through the foliage. 

There was nothing to do on her travels. She couldn’t play any games, with no place to put any cards without them sliding away with the rocking of the carriage. She’d discovered reading was not in the cards either as waves of nausea washed over her when she’d tried. 

She couldn’t help but feel for the decoys that had been sent out alongside her, to confuse outsiders. At least she was being moved to keep her safe. They were being stuck in identical carriages to protect a princess they’d never met, likely also bored out of their minds. 

So she was left alone, fighting off the ever present motion sickness, shut in the dark. 

And then chaos broke out outside. 

It felt almost as if she’d wished it, so bored that her wandering mind wanted something, anything, to break up the monotony, 

She’d never unwished something so quickly. 

The sounds of battle echoed through the thick walls, intended to keep her safe from any incoming dangers. She lifted her hands to cover her ears as the clanging of metal against metal was overrun by screams and horrible, wet noises of steel on flesh. 

And then everything quieted. It felt very sudden. The clanging of metal disappearing was a welcome change but she hated to imagine what had caused the immediate cessation of their screaming without so much as a word being spoken. 

Before she could so much as move, the door swung open.

A man stood in the doorway, backlit by the sun, and he looked down at her where she’d fallen onto the floor without so much as noticing. He was a rugged looking, scruffy sort of man. His face was calm and he seemed unmarred by the battle. He didn’t move nor speak, just observed her from the entrance to the carriage.

The longer he stood there, the more disconcerting things she noticed about him. Most importantly, she’d never seen him before and he was not wearing the colors of her knights. 

He seemed disheveled, certainly. His clothes were askew but other than that, the battle seemingly hadn’t affected him. Not only was he unwounded, she realized, but he had no blood on him at all, his or otherwise. 

As she peeked between his legs to the scene outside, it became even more disconcerting. The floor of the forest was painted red. He was clearly the only survivor, a pile of bodies littered across the ground, both in her kingdom's colors and bandits gear, in dark greens and browns to hide amongst the trees. 

In what should have been good news but instead simply seemed even more disorienting, this stranger was not wearing bandits attire either. Instead, he seemed to be wearing a random selection of clothes, none of which fit together. His shirt was too big, a little torn at the side, with puffed sleeves. His pants looked to be jesters pants, split down the middle with bright colors on either side. His shoes didn’t even match, the left closer to a sandal, wrapping halfway up his calf, while the other was a short, sturdy boot.  

He stuck his hand out to her and she nervously eyed it, like her willingly taking it would put her in any more danger than she was already in.

“What do you want?” she asked, standing up on her own and dusting off her skirts, trying her best to keep her gaze locked on him and away from the bodies on the floor. 

“Me?” he said, like there was anyone else she could be speaking to. “I just came out to see the carriage, honest. There were rumors that there was a royal carriage coming through. We know about the decoys, had heard of all the identical carriages and charades because of that dragon but a royal carriage is a sight to see, even if it doesn’t look quite as grand as they normally do, and even if there is a little pretender inside. Everyone else ran when the bandits came but I couldn’t just leave. I’m not much of a fighter so I hid but then your knights lost and there were only a few bandits left so I did the best I could. I got lucky, I suppose. Didn’t take much to kill some unsuspecting, injured men.”

“So you killed them.”

He looked at her, brows furrowed. “Did you not want me to? I’m sorry if you didn’t, it just didn’t seem right, leaving you to fend for yourself like that.”

It sounded reasonable. They tried to keep her nondescript but she was well aware that very few people were traveling through the woods in fully covered carriages, of course it would draw suspicion from people who noticed them. There were other carriages traveling without her in them, to try and spread suspicion across them all, but she was sure each of them had drawn similar attention. 

She looked down at all the bodies of the men she’d known for years, had grown up alongside, and of the ones who had been after her. She wondered what they would have done with her if they’d won, if this stranger hadn’t come along and finished them off. Would they even have recognized her for who she was? She supposed now she’d never know.

“Thank you,” she said, voice shaking as her eyes remained locked on the bodies, unable to force them away. 

And then a warm hand covered her eyes. She tried to pull away but it held her firm and steady, the sight in front of her diligently hidden away. 

“You’ll make yourself sick,” he said from right behind her. “I’m going to take my hand away, just don’t look, I’ll lead you out.”

She took a deep breath, steadying herself as her vision came back, the stranger's hand falling to take hers as she let her eyes fall shut. 

She stepped forward with his guidance, a wet noise sounding as her foot hit the ground. 

A sob escaped her throat as the faces of all her men ran through her head, wondering which of their corpses she’d just desecrated. 

And then she was being lifted unceremoniously from the ground. He immediately began moving faster, no longer hindered by leading her blindly through a battlefield. 

He walked for long enough that she knew he wasn’t only getting her through the battlefield but far away from it. She didn’t open her eyes even when she knew they must be far from it simply because if she opened her eyes she would have to confront the fact that a strange man was carrying her. 

Eventually, she felt herself being slowly and carefully lowered and, as her feet touched solid ground once more, she opened her eyes. 

“Where were you heading?” he asked as he gently placed her down, hand lingering around her waist for a moment to ensure she didn’t drop to the ground like dead weight. 

He pulled away when she managed to stand and she was embarrassed that her only answer was a shrug. “They didn’t tell me. They just said somewhere safe.”

“Well,” he said with a smile, “luckily I know some safe places, though I doubt it’ll be the same one.”

“Where?” she asked cautiously. 

“Local village. Has some of the kingdom's knights there, I’m sure they’ll know what to do.”

“Right.” It sounded fine. It wasn’t like she had many better options. 

He started walking and she tentatively followed him. He turned backwards as he walked, so he could face her and move at the same time. It did not give her confidence in his navigation skills that he wasn’t even bothering to look forwards. “Not that you’ll answer me honestly, but are you a decoy or the real princess?”

She couldn’t tell him the truth, she knew that much. It would be monumentally stupid. “I think I’m supposed to say I’m the princess but at this point it seems we are a little beyond that.”

He chuckled. “It seems we are. Do you have a name, not princess?”

She pulled the first name she could think of, that of her handmaiden. “Phillipa.”

“Lovely name,” he said with a smile. “Much better than Princess Ophelia. Less stuffy, certainly.”

She nodded, trying her best not to show her displeasure at the comment. She quite liked her name. 

“I don’t think you should speak ill of our princess like that,” she said in a measured tone.

He shrugged. “Maybe not.”

“And you? It’s not fair to exchange names only one way.”

“Kadrin.”

“Oh. I’ve never met someone with that name before.”

He shrugged. “I was born outside the country. What, you’ve never met someone who wasn’t from Aplor?”

“I have,” Ophelia huffed. “Just not with that name. Where are you from?”

“Far away. That’s all you need to know.”

It was a rude sentiment, certainly, but she allowed it to pass, not wanting to push the only friendly face she had left. 

They moved in silence after that, her questions having seemingly ruined the amiable conversation. 

It became evident fairly quickly that he was going to take her up a mountain. 

She was in heavy skirts and had no desire to climb the winding path on the rocky mountain, but she didn’t seem to have many other options. 

“Is this really the only way to this town?” she asked as she almost tripped again, skirts gathered up in her hands. 

“It is,” he said, his tone more curt than it had been before. He was staying a few steps ahead of her now, not providing any sort of help. “It won’t take long though.”

The horrible silence that had begun to fall over them couldn’t be blamed on her, at least not entirely. She tried to make conversation as they walked, wracking her brain for things to talk about with this near stranger she was lying to. “May I ask what the clothes are about?”

“I go through clothes quickly,” he grumbled, less light-hearted about the topic than she had hoped. “It’s hard to find enough.”

And that was the end to her attempt at conversation. It seemed he was perfectly willing to talk on his own, but any attempt from her to strike something up was quickly shut down. 

The mountain was largely barren. She could see the harsh surface as they climbed higher and higher, no more trees to block her path. 

And then, as they climbed and wrapped around the mountain, she looked down and saw the path they had climbed thusfar, winding around and around, going up and up and up. 

And it was the only path she saw. No other path winding back down the mountain, nowhere else to go as they circled the pillar of rock and dirt. 

So there was no town. This much was clear to her now, as they climbed still upwards with no way down. She was a fool to believe him at all, this stranger who had offered her salvation. Why would he have her best interest in mind? It was a stupid mistake, one she hoped would not cost her her life. 

Kadrin spoke up again, sounding chipper, completely unaware of her inner turmoil. “What were you running from again? Or, rather, what was the princess running from? I suppose you were just collateral.”

“A dragon,” she muttered, trying to mimic her tone from before so she wouldn’t alert him to her realization, desperately trying to come up with a plan for escape. 

“A dragon? I’ve never seen a dragon, are they really real?”

“They aren’t common,” she said, the lines of her body tense, moving even more slowly up the mountain to put more distance between the two of them than her struggle up the mountain had already established. “My father made a deal with one years ago. Now it wants me.”

“You?” he said, stopping and turning to face her. “Well, that doesn't make any sense. Why would some deal mean he was coming after you?”

“It was part of the deal,” she muttered, her gait slowing to an almost complete stop. 

“Part of the deal? Well this doesn’t seem fair then. You running. Or, her running, I mean. If you were promised to him. She. If she was promised to him.”

She had no logical plan of escape, there was no good way out of this. So instead, she turned on her heels, and she began to run. 

There was no way she could make it out, could run faster than him. She knew that, but she at least had to try. 

As she moved, half running and half tumbling down the steep stone, she chanced a look behind her and saw that Kadrin wasn’t giving chase. He was just standing behind her, arms crossed, watching her run.

Relief ran through her for a second before, with her head turned, her pounding feet misstepped and she found herself tumbling off the edge of the path.

It was too far of a fall, down the sheer face of what could only be described as a cliff. The only thing she could feel was fear, wondering if she should have just stayed and taken her chances with this bizarre stranger. 

A roar sounded above her and before she could process it, talons were closing around her shoulders. 

She looked up and found herself in the clutches of the very dragon she’d been running from, cursing herself for being this stupid. 

They flew over a familiar pile of mismatched clothes, torn to shred on the ground, flying right past them as they soared towards the top of the mountain. 

“Let me go,” she called out, struggling inside harsh talons that didn’t so much as budge at her movements. “This isn’t fair.”

“Fair?” he snarled. His voice was recognizable from what it had been, but with a distinct rumbling growl underlying it now. “You know what isn’t fair? Going back on a deal the second it’s time to pay up.”

He soared into a cave and dropped her unceremoniously to the floor. 

“You’re him,” she said with a gasp as she fell to the ground. 

“You are brilliant, aren’t you?” he said, his tone cruel and mocking. 

As she tried to stand, she stumbled, the ground unsteady under her feet. 

And then, she managed to draw her eyes off of the dragon for a moment to look down. She found that she was not, in fact, standing on the ground, but instead on a massive pile of gold and gems. 

“And you,” he said with a snarl, “are not a decoy.”

“Well, I guess we’re both liars,” she huffed.

“You more than I. I’m just using the tactics your kind pioneered. I am a man of my word, I think you’ll find. But now you’re here, as promised, and there is no more reason to lie. Everything is as it should be.”

“As it should be?” she cried out. “I didn’t ask for this. I wasn’t even alive when this deal was made. It’s not fair.”

“Perhaps not. But you’re here now, and you will not be going anywhere.”

He shifted in front of her, moving a boulder she hadn’t even noticed in the corner of the cave until it was right in front of the entrance, sealing her inside. 

“It’s been a long day,” said the creature, his low voice feeling almost mocking. “You should get some rest.”

She hated that he was right. She was exhausted, her limbs feeling heavy and her brain moving slower than she was accustomed to. The adrenaline was wearing off, unable to carry her for this long, despite her still clearly being in danger. 

So she sat on the gold, the creature curling up around the massive pile of treasure. Around her.

It was deeply uncomfortable, the various pieces of hard metal digging into her skin through layers of skirts. 

She moved, careful not to shift too suddenly and frighten the hulking creature encircling her, and climbed carefully over his tail in an attempt to sit on the cool cave floor. She curled up on the ground as soon as she reached it. She’d certainly never slept on the floor before but it was far better than the harsh edges of the treasure. 

And then cold talons wrapped around her and she was being lifted again before being unceremoniously dropped atop the gold once more. 

“I can’t sleep up here,” she said, knowing it was a bad idea to complain about her comfort to her captor but unable to restrain herself. “It’s too uncomfortable. I’ll take the floor if I must, just please, not up here.”

“You will learn,” he said, his voice low and threatening.

No matter how she positioned herself, it was awful. If she had been any less tired, she would have laid awake on the treasure endlessly. 

But as it stood, she was half convinced she could fall asleep on a bed of nails, and as such she found herself nodding off, despite the sharp pains of the cool metal below her. 

Before she knew it, she was awakening again, sore from the pieces of gold that had been poking into her side through the night, to the feeling of wind blowing over her. 

As she opened her eyes, she realized the wind was from the flapping of wings overtop her, the dragon flying in from outside. 

And then, with a thud that echoed through the treasure, something was unceremoniously dropped beside her. 

She turned to see a bed, one that had clearly been stolen from someone’s home. The blankets and pillows were awry from the flight and it had seemingly lost a pillow or two on the journey here. 

“There,” he said, curling up around the gold once more. “Now you can stop complaining.”

She should have made a break for it while he’d been gone, she’d slept through what could be her only chance at escape. 

It didn’t make real sense but she felt she couldn’t sleep in the bed, like that would be giving into her captor, letting him win. It was a matter of pride. 

She did not fall asleep again that night, wallowing on his piles of riches. 

But as the sun began to rise and peek through the cracks in the entrance to the cave, she thought maybe there was some use to the bed. 

And so she pulled at the misshapen covers and curled up underneath them, covering her head completely. 

And there she stayed, tucked away, blocking out the world as much as she could. So long as she couldn’t leave, what else was there to do?

She wasn’t sure how long passed like that. She was fairly sure she drifted in and out of consciousness but it was hard to tell, the whole world filtered through anger and exhaustion and thick brown blankets smothering any light that had snuck in through cracks in the stone. 

And then the blankets were being pulled from atop her. She stayed adamantly still, curled up in a ball, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

She heard him snarl above her head and fought back a flinch. A cold, hard claw poked at her and still she stayed, head tucked against her knees. 

And then he grumbled and left her alone, the blanket being haphazardly dropped atop her. 

It continued on like that for who knows how long. Every now and then, how long there was between she had no way of knowing, he would check in on her. It started out with him being frustrated, angry even. Every few times he’d spew vitriol at her, things like, “Is keeping your word really this abhorrent to you,” and “You simply cannot be this weak.”

But then the remarks began to shift. His pokes and prods got softer, the placement of the blanket more precise. 

And then something seemed to shift in the air and his responses stopped completely for what felt like an eternity. She’d begun to ache, lying there like that, still, motionless. Part of her wanted to stretch but that felt like letting him win. 

The position began to feel more necessary as hunger began to take over her, an awful cramping taking over her stomach. At least it was minimized by the fetal position, curled up on herself in a way that had begun to feel almost natural. 

She’d starve there, she realized. She was going to die in this bed. There was no other way about it. 

And then the irritating talon returned, poking her through the blankets this time. “You need to eat,” he said, the low rumble of his voice practically resonating in her bones. 

She said nothing. She had already resolved herself to her fate. There was nothing for her here, it was better this way. There was no way out. At least this way he wouldn’t get to play with her, there’d be no chance for him to do whatever this monster had planned for her. 

She felt him huff, his breath wafting warm air over her.

And then she felt a shift, the gold the bed was resting on moving as his weight changed.

A human body sat on the bed beside her. 

“Please,” he said, his voice softer than she remembered it being. She almost hated him more for it, for trying to sound comforting as her kidnapper. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I’m going to make myself dead,” she said, her first words in a long time, her voice cracking over the effort of forcing them out. “So you won’t be able to get any sick satisfaction out of me.”

She felt him reel back at her words and wonder what it was that had done it, her harsh tone or the idea of him losing his brand new toy. 

“Is that really what you want? You’d rather die than be here?” He sounded sad and it made the anger rise even further in her. How dare he ask that, act like she had any other option. 

And then his presence was gone and she heard the shift, gold spilling onto the floor as he grew back to his true size. 

And then, with a horrible grinding noise, the boulder in front of the door was shifted. 

She didn’t fall for it. She knew if she ran he’d be after her, could catch her in a second. So she stayed, curled up tight, a horrible dread sitting in her stomach. 

“Please look at me,” he said, his voice low and frightening again in his true form, but undeniably sad. It shouldn’t have gotten through to her. It was so obviously a trick, but something about it tugged at some emotion inside her and she shifted to peek out from where she was hiding her head. 

He was lying on the floor, head pressed against the ground and wings tucked against him. It was clear to her that he was trying to look non threatening, for what reason she could not fathom. 

“Would you prefer my other form?” he asked, shifting a little uncomfortably as he spoke. “I don’t want to frighten you.”

“No,” she spat. “I don’t enjoy being lied to.”

“Right. Can we talk? I have been unfair to you, I fear. Blamed you for sins that are not your own.”

Her nose scrunched up. “What sins? What could you possibly blame me for?”

“What did your father tell you about us?”

She shrugged. “Everything. All of it, how you started destroying everything, how he had to give me up to stop you, how there was no other way if he wanted the kingdom to survive, to stop the senseless violence.”

He sighed. “Dragons were peaceful creatures, once. I’d say we still are, though I’m sure many would disagree. We were sought after though. Our scales are almost impenetrable, an invaluable resource. Your father figured that out and simply could not bear to let that resource go to waste. He decimated our population, my family, my parents and brothers and sisters. I am not a destructive force but I was left with nothing else, nothing to do but get revenge. Your father took my family, it was only fair that I get his in return. I can’t send you back, I can't let him have that victory. Not after everything. But I don’t want to cause you pain. I have no quarrel with you. I can provide for you, care for you. I know this isn’t what you wanted but it doesn’t have to be the way it has been.”

“You’re a liar,” she spat at him. “My father wouldn’t do that.”

“No?” he asked. “So you’ve seen no dragon scales then, scattered around, built into armour and displayed proudly. The skin of my loved ones, where do you think he got that? And if dragons are so very violent, how did he get it in the first place? No, we are peaceful and he slaughtered us. I was turned violent, he turned me violent.” His words got louder and louder until he was snarling out the words by the end of his speech. 

She couldn’t help but flinch, pulling back into herself at the malice in his tone. “I don’t-” she stammered out. “I can’t-”

His body language shifted instantly, hard lines of tensed muscles softening. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted you to understand. I take no joy in your misery but I cannot let you go, not after everything he has done. But that doesn’t mean I need to lock you away like some criminal. I will make this as pleasant for you as I am able.”

She shifted in her seat. She did not want to be miserable. She supposed no one ever did. Who was it helping, really? Her wallowing in this awful bed, starving herself, would aid no one. Her father would never know it, her kingdom would miss her no less as a corpse. “Fine,” she said. “If you’re willing to try then I suppose I am too.”

A sigh escaped him, one of relief if she had to guess. She wondered if the state she’d been in had really been weighing on him or if she had just been an inconvenience. 

“If you’d like to start somewhere,” she said. “I could really use some food.”

He nodded, turned, and left, flying off into the distance. 

She watched him go, knowing there was no use in running. He could travel so much faster than her and see so much farther, there was nowhere she could go in the next few minutes where he couldn’t find her. Better him think her complacent, perhaps fall into a false sense of security. Then she could make a real attempt at an escape. 

He returned fairly quickly, though it was still immensely difficult to tell time here in this stupid cave, even with the sun in sight. The shadows were all wrong, harsh and unfamiliar against the cold walls of the cave. 

As he returned, his wings stirring up the typically still air hidden away in the rocks, he dropped talons full of fruits and breads and pastries at her feet, them immediately getting dirty on the cave floor. Hooked into one of his claws was also a full bucket of water, so at the very least she could clean the fruit, though the bread at the bottom of the pile may be a lost cause. 

“Will this do?” he asked, looking at her eagerly.

“I suppose,” she said, lifting some of it off the filthy ground as quickly as she could. 

He stared at her expectantly and she refused to dignify the look with a thank you. “Are you going to eat?”

He stared at her. “I can’t like this?”

“What?”

“In this form, I can’t eat anything but meat.”

“Can you leave then? Or at least shift into your other form. I’d rather not eat in front of you while you stare at me.”

And then he began to shift. It was the first time she had seen him change. It was an odd affair, less frightening that she would have guessed. Where she had expected to see something horribly frightening, this was fairly seamless, his dragon scales seeming to melt off of him, sinking into the ground below him and leaving a man standing before her. A man who, she quickly realized, was entirely nude. 

“Goodness gracious!” she said, her hand flying up to cover her eyes. It did no good, the image of his bare form was seared into her mind. “Can you put some clothes on?”

“Right,” he said with a huff, his human voice returning. “I always forget about your hang ups about nudity. It really isn’t such a big deal. And it is so irritating. I tear the clothes I’m wearing every time I shift and I have to keep finding new ones constantly. Such a grating tradition. If I had my way, I’d be rid of them entirely.”

Her spare hand, the one not being used to protect her propriety as best she could, reached down to clutch her skirt defensively. “You will do no such thing. Speaking of, I need new dresses. Nice ones, if you may.”

“Where am I supposed to find nice dresses?” he whined as she heard the shuffling that hopefully signified him putting on clothes. “I’m a dragon, they don’t exactly let me into stores.”

“So shift!” she said. “Go buy them. I am a princess, I need more than one dress.”

He groaned. “With what money should I buy these dresses, princess.”

If she’d been able to look at him, she would have shot him an exasperated look.  “You have me sleeping on a pile of gold, what do you mean with what money? You have nothing but money.”

“You mean my hoard? I can’t give up my hoard, are you insane?”

She scoffed. “Why does it matter, it’s not like you’re using it for anything.”

“Not using it for anything? I’m using it for being my hoard! It’s a very important job.”

She had half a mind to stop talking to him once again. “Whatever. Do what you’d like.”

“I will. You can open your eyes, by the way.”

Once again, he looked absurd, dressed in a horribly mismatched set of clothes. “You look like a madman,” she said, picking up the half forgotten bread she’d selected and taking a bite. 

“Do you want me to eat with you or not?” he asked with a huff. 

She gestured graciously towards the pile of food and he sat beside her and began to tear into it. 

He was a horribly messy eater but she figured that was a battle not worth fighting. 

“You could at least give me stuff for my hair,” she said, reaching up to touch her unruly curls. “I know it’s unsightly, I’m sure you’re tired of looking at it. I appreciate you not mentioning it, I really do, but I know it can’t be fun to be forced to look at it day in and day out.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Who told you that?”

“What?”

“Who’s been calling your hair unsightly?”

“What do you mean who? Everyone has, everyone since I was old enough to have hair.”

His nostrils flared, a puff of hot air wafting over her. “If you’d like to give me names I can deal with that.”

“What?” she practically squeaked. “Deal with- What does that mean?”

“Kill them. I don’t take kindly to people insulting beautiful things in my hoard.”

“Beautiful. You think I’m… wait, in your hoard? I’m not a part of your hoard!” she squeaked out. 

“Yes you are. You sleep there,” he said, sounding confused. 

“I am not an object.”

His head tilted to the side. “I never said you were.”

“I am not some piece of treasure you can hoard, how dare you.”

“Not a piece of treasure, no, but valuable. Priceless. And here, in my den. I don’t see how you could be anything but part of my hoard.”

“Valuable? Valuable as what, a tool of revenge? A bargaining chip? I am just an incidental victim in a war between you and my father, I do not appreciate the value that gives me.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not all you are.”

“What?”

“I was pursuing revenge all those years ago, I’ll admit that much. But it's been so many years and I’m the only one left. It’s been very lonely.”

“So I am also valuable because I am the first person who’s been willing to speak to you in decades? And you had to kidnap me to do it.”

“I didn’t kidnap you, we made a deal.”

“We did nothing, I think you will find. You made a deal with someone before I was even born that I had no say in. I think I will eat the rest of this meal alone, thank you so much for your kindness,” she spat out, scooping up a few pieces of food and stumbling her way back to her bed.

He was gone for hours after and she was more than content to eat her pastries in bed and very much alone. 

When he returned, he dropped a piece of fabric on her bed, one that looked suspiciously like a dress. 

“It’s for you,” he said, nudging it towards her. 

“Most people apologize with their words, you know,” she said with a huff

“Apologies, princess. It’s been some time since I’ve spoken to anyone, let alone apologized.”

“Have you really been alone all these years?” she asked, fighting to keep any sympathy out of her voice. 

“I tried to use my… less threatening form on occasion, go into the villages. It did little to stave off the loneliness, talking to people I know would try and kill me, should they know what I was. I gave up on that a long time ago, resigned myself to this life. I’ll see my people again in the next one.”

“Right. That sounds… unpleasant.”

“It does. I’m afraid it may help explain my behavior towards you, though. I’m deeply unaccustomed to having guests.”

“A guest.” She scoffed. “Is that what I am?”

“It’s what I’d like you to be,” he said, sounding almost nervous.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, certainly not when I cannot leave.”

“I will still try my best,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “At the very least, to not make your stay unpleasant. As I have told you, I have no quarrel with you.”

“And yet I am the one being caged.”

He sighed, dropping the dress on her bed and turning away from her. 

She leaned forwards to grab it, not wanting to let the only available change of clothes out of her sight. It was beautiful, the fabric soft and silky and glinting in the light. It also looked almost perfectly her size, which she had no idea how he managed, especially when his own clothes were so often misshapen and ill fitting. 

“Where did you find this?” she asked, running her hands along the smooth fabric. “It’s beautiful.”

“I bought it,” he said, turning back to her, a smug aura beginning to drift off of him.

“You… With your hoard? But you said you could never?”

“Well, I figured you’re part of my hoard now, so as long as it’s for you it's alright.” He sounded almost sheepish. 

“I am no such thing, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Thank you,” she said, and then leaned over to press a kiss atop his snout before moving off to change. 

“Can you turn around,” she called back to him, turning to see him completely frozen in place, his eyes almost looking a bit crossed, like he was trying to look at his own snout. 

Her words seemed to snap him out of it, head jerking up a little before he turned with a quiet, “Right, of course.”

She got dressed as quickly as she could, eager to show him. “Turn around,” she said, swaying her hips a little to see the movement of the fabric. “Isn’t it lovely!”

He stared at her, pupils blown wide. “Yes. Lovely.”

She grinned, giving him a twirl in the dress, the soft fabric billowing around her legs as she spun. 

The more time that passed, the calmer things became. She’d stopped refusing to take care of herself, and more than that stopped refusing to take gifts from Kadrin. She figured so long as she was here, she might as well try and enjoy herself. 

As soon as she gave herself permission to be happy here, it was like things began to fall into place. It was nice here, if she forgot their rocky beginning and how she’d found herself living in this cave. 

Despite earlier protests about using his hoard to buy her things, Kadrin seemed to have no issue with it now, running off to get her whatever she requested at a moment’s notice. She’d acquired a massive pile of books, a deck of cards, and her own small wardrobe of clothes, far more than her dragon had. She’d even managed to convince him to get her a small embroidery kit, one that she thanked him for by embroidering flowers along the collar of one of his nicer shirts. 

He began wearing that one a lot after that, though it never did seem to end up ripped to pieces like the rest of his clothes did in the midst of his transformations

He on occasion would say unusual things, though she wasn’t quite sure if they were attributable to him being a dragon or if he was just strange. 

Though he kept getting her dresses, he would occasionally push the issue, insisting that she didn’t need clothes, after all he didn’t wear any and dragons don’t care about that sort of thing. 

Even if he didn’t care about propriety, she was not a fool and caught the mischief in his voice, staring at him before asking, “Are you trying to see me naked?”

He answered no a bit too fast for it to sound convincing and never pushed the issue again, though she did catch him angrily staring at her dresses a few times.

For all intents and purposes, aside from some minor jabs, he seemed obsessed with making her happy and comfortable here, and it was working. 

One day he returned with some more gifts for her in his talons, his shirt also tucked beneath his claws, not ripped and abandoned like most of his clothes, and he got an odd look on his face, staring down at her where she lay, reading in her bed, some new romance novel he’d gotten her a week ago. 

“Would you like to go outside?” he asked, and she sat up immediately, eyes widening. 

“Can I?” she asked, sounding almost breathless. 

He nodded. “I didn’t even think about it, you should have asked me sooner.”

She cocked her head to the side, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “I didn’t think I was allowed. I am a prisoner here.”

Sadness flashed through his eyes, darting quickly away from her. “You can ask for anything,” he said, his voice soft, or at least as soft as it could be in his dragon form. “Now come on, let’s go.”

She stepped hesitantly towards him, unsure how exactly he was planning on transporting her down the mountain. 

His talons closed around her shoulders and before she could even process it, her feet were lifting off the ground and she was being flown. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked down at the ground far below her and she reached up to try and hold onto his talons as they flew. 

She shut her eyes, trusting Kadrin to get them there and not wanting to see just how high up they were any longer. 

Before she knew it, her feet were touching down on solid ground. She collapsed to the ground as soon as Kadrin’s talon’s released her, feeling the grass against her skin. 

“This is amazing,” she said with a smile, feeling the sun beating down on her face. “Thank you for taking me out here.”

He did not seem pleased by her enjoyment. Instead he looked more devastated than anything, staring down at her with sad eyes. “You should have asked to come out sooner, I would have given it to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop thinking about that. Now that I know I can, trust me, we’ll come out here a lot. Oh, do you know any fields with flowers? I could bring them back to the den, it would be lovely.”

He nodded, though his mind was clearly elsewhere. “I can get you flowers. I always would have gotten you flowers. I just didn’t know.”

She scrunched her nose up. “Can you stop being so strange? We are having a nice day out, don’t you ruin this for me with this bizarre mood you’re in.”

He did his best, trying and failing to conceal how upset he was.

To Ophelia’s dismay, this mood continued on long after their day out. He only grew more distant as time passed, still bringing her gifts but with few comments this time, barely so much as speaking to her. 

And then, after nearly a week of being practically ignored, when she was close to snapping and yelling at him, he came to her. 

He still was melancholy, his tail practically tucked between his legs. He avoided her gaze as he spoke, keeping his head down. “I think you should go.”

“What?” she cried out, wondering what she could have done to be sent away like this. 

“You should go home,” he said, his voice low. “I can’t stand the thought of you feeling imprisoned here, the idea that I’m making you miserable. I’ve been trying and I thought you were fine but then you didn’t ask to go outside like you were a prisoner and I can’t imagine how many other things you’re missing out on because I’ve trapped you here. I don’t know how I could’ve been so delusional to think you’re happy here. I kidnapped you, took you from your family, of course you couldn’t be happy. It’s about time I stopped deluding myself.”

She furrowed her brows. “What about your revenge? And your people?”

“Your happiness is more important than my revenge. I want to find another way to get that revenge but he’s your father. Anything I can think of would hurt you too and I don’t know if I could stomach that, not now. Not after all this.”

“And so what, you’ll just go back to being alone again?”

“Don’t worry about me. I was fine for decades, I will be fine now.”

“You’re not fine. You’re miserable.”

“Better than it being you. I can stand to be miserable, I cannot stand to watch you become everything that killed me for so long, watch you be the one taken from your people, you be the one stuck alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she said with a huff. “I’m with you.”

“It’s not enough.”

She paused, thinking through her words carefully before speaking, thinking about the food and the dresses, thinking about how he never seemed to mind her making a mess or the wild curls in her hair, thinking about how he was so eager to please her and how the thought of her being miserable here was enough for him to give up on this mission of his he’d held longer than she’d been alive. And then she said, “There is a way to get revenge without hurting me.”

He huffed. “And what exactly would that be?”

“You could just keep me,” she said with a shrug. 

“No,” he said, with a firm shake of his head. “I told you, you need to be with your people, I can’t be selfish and…Wait, what do you mean that wouldn’t hurt you?”

“I don’t know, it’s safe here. You take care of me, you don’t judge me. I’m happier here than I ever was in court or in my room as my handmaidens desperately try to tame my hair or when suitors turn me down for having too many thoughts to be a suitable wife. I don’t know, there’s worse places to be. And besides, you’re here, and against my better judgment, I think I would miss you terribly. ”

And then, his scales began to melt, a familiar human form appearing from the shifting black mass, pacing over to her and grabbing her, hands cupping her cheeks and pulling her close to him, lips pressing to hers. 

Her hands rose to his face, holding him close. 

She’d never been kissed before but she’d certainly imagined it, especially lately with all the romance books Kadrin had been getting her. Only then, with his lips against hers and his hand on the small of her back, his skin warm against her, did she admit to herself that she’d perhaps been imagining a certain dragon whilst reading the romance novels. Even the steamier ones. 

But not quite like this. 

“Wait,” she said, barely pulling away from the kiss to speak, still practically pressed against him. 

He pulled back, almost breathless. “This is too fast,” he said, pupils blown wide. “You’re a princess, you’ve never done anything like this before, I’m so sorry.”

“No,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “I’m a big girl, I can take it. Besides, I don’t have to worry about court propriety anymore, they’ll never see me again. I just… I don’t want you to look like this, I want you to be you. At least this first time. That is, if you’re amenable.”

He looked incredibly nervous at the suggestion. “Right. We can certainly try, but the last thing I ever want is to hurt you and I fear I’m quite a bit… bigger in my other form.”

She smiled at him. “Nothing stopping us from trying.”

“Certainly not.” And then he began to shift, shoulders broadening and scales seeping back through his skin. 

He was a sight to behold. She regretted that it had taken her so long to appreciate it, having spent so long being afraid of him. She should have seen sooner just how beautiful he was. 

She rose up onto the tips of her toes and he sunk his head down to meet her. As soon as he was within reach, she pressed a kiss onto his snout. “Kissing is certainly harder without lips,” she said, eyes raking over his face, really taking him in. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” his low voice rumbled, and then he leaned forwards and licked right up the side of her face. 

She squealed, pulling back a little on instinct before leaning back into him. “You have to warn me next time.”

“If you want me to warn you, you shouldn’t make cute sounds like that,” he said, and she could feel the rumble of his voice running through her. 

And then, as he stopped speaking, the rumble remained and her mouth fell open. “Oh my god, are you purring?”

He shrunk back a little, clearly embarrassed. “It happens when I’m happy sometimes, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, that’s adorable.”

He let out a little groan. “I’m not adorable, I am ferocious and horrifying and for very special princesses, occasionally handsome. Never adorable.”

She giggled into the scales on his neck, pressing closer to feel it more strongly. “Sorry, you don’t get to make that call, I do. And I say you’re adorable.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, before knocking her back into the pile of gold they were standing on, shifting over her so he was pinning her down, a playful look in his eyes. 

Her eyes darted downwards and widened as she saw his arousal, evident in the way his dick, usually absent in his dragon form, had emerged from somewhere inside him. 

She’d read about sex in her romance books too, although those women typically had more proportionate partners and she wasn’t exactly certain how much of that information she could transfer to dragons. 

“It might take a while. To get me ready for.. you know,” she said, face flushing bright red as she gestured vaguely at his lower half. 

He tsked at her softly. “Not this time, little one. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then what…” she stopped as he flipped her skirts up, his claws closing around her legs and he gently pulled them open. 

She’d been forgoing her bloomers most of the time she’d been here. There was no real reason to wear them, it wasn’t like she was riding or doing something dangerous and Kadrin so often forgot to bring new pairs, regardless of how many dresses he bought her. 

She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or upset at this fact as he revealed her core to him. He certainly seemed pleased, if the increase in the volume of his purring was any indication. 

“You’re enjoying this rather too much, I think,” she declared to him. 

He let out something resembling a laugh, low and rumbling. “Is that not the point?”

She shuffled where she sat, mildly uncomfortable in how exposed she felt. “Perhaps.”

He shushed her softly, echoes of a laugh present in his voice, and murmured, “Don’t be nervous, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

His head began to delve under her skirts, his face disappearing from her view. It was nerve wracking this way, not being able to see him, hoping she was doing everything right.  Her mind flew through all the books she’d read, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do, how to make this work. 

And then she felt a soft lick on her thigh and suddenly, she wasn’t thinking quite so much anymore. She squirmed, something warm building in her stomach at the sensation, unsure if she wanted to shift away to gather herself or to shift closer to him. Instead, she found herself simply writhing on the floor as another gentle lick from a broad tongue fell, even further up her thigh. 

A surprised little squeak escaped her and she heard a chuckle sound in response before a third lick was placed, this one right at her core. 

It was a light touch, almost teasing in nature, but it felt so good. She could feel a dampness between her thighs entirely separate from the hot wet tongue that had begun lapping at her. Instinctually she went to close her thighs, to try and abate this growing need that was building, but Kadrin’s head blocked her path, forcing her legs open. 

The soft, gentle licks commenced for some time, teasing and soft but building that warmth inside her that she’d never felt the likes of before. And then, with no warning, the tongue began to push inside. 

An odd noise escaped her, something strange and loud. It certainly didn’t seem attractive to her, but Kadrin seemed to enjoy it, redoubling his efforts, seeming to want to pull more odd noises from her. 

Her insecurities over the noises she was making faded quickly as he delved deeper inside, the sensation of him filling her so completely with his thick, hot tongue fighting off almost all thought. There was no room to be nervous or self conscious when she was bordering on brainlessness. 

The warmth in her began to build and build until she swore something inside her was about to break. Her squirming began again, unable to keep herself still under his attentions. She wasn’t sure what she would be warning him of exactly, but she felt the need to warn Kadrin of her current state. It was just so difficult to manage anything outside the pleasure consuming her now. 

She managed to squeak out, “I think…” before something inside her snapped and waves of pleasure went running through her, the likes of which she’d never felt before. All her muscles went taught and her vision got blurry, the gray roof of the cave fading out of focus.  

Kadrin dutifully worked her through it, his tongue shifting against her until the last waves of pleasure had washed over her and everything began to feel too much. Eventually, she huffed out a quiet, “I can’t take anymore,” that finally drew him out from under her skirts. 

As she panted heavily, lying, sated, on the floor, he laid his head on her torso. She found herself too content to complain about the weight.

And then she sat up with a start. “Oh goodness, I’ve forgotten about you.”

“There’s no need,” he said, shifting slightly above her. “I may have gotten… carried away, during.”

She broke out into a massive grin, looking down at him wide eyed. “You did?”

“Don’t get too smug, next time I’m going to make you do some work, mark my words. It’s not my fault you’re so pretty and soft and taste so good”

She let her head fall back with a giggle. “You’re absurd.”

No longer sufficiently distracted, she could now acutely feel the gold digging into her back. 

She clambered up to the bed, her legs a little shaky as she stood, a warm snout pushing into her back to help keep her upright until she managed to collapse into the sheets. 

And then warmth surrounded her, Kadrin curling up around the bed, the heat radiating off his scales blanketing her where she lay. 

She snuggled down into the blankets, although they were hardly needed with Kadrin’s body heat surrounding her, and drifted safely and happily to sleep. 

[falslibrary]

"Good Morning, Rose"

My short story for the wlw anthology GLIMM*R!

[falslibrary]

Masterlist Links

Went ahead and made a new doc for the masterlist, and posted it as a public post on Patreon.

[falslibrary]

I know for a fact that my stepmother loves me.

I know it for a fact because the vaccine for the sleeping sickness came out when I was ten, and she cried. When she was a kid, parents would have Sleep Overs whenever someone caught it, in the hopes of spread it around - children were statistically more likely to be woken up by "True Love's Kiss" from a parent or family member, after all, whereas if you caught it when you were older, things got more complicated and if you were old, you might be the last one in your family left.

(There’s more to it than that, I know, I've tried reading the papers, but I barely passed biocurse with a C+, and don't even get me started on organic curses. Those two classes were enough to kill any hope I had of becoming a fairy godperson.)

So, when the vaccine against the sleeping sickness came out, my stepmother cried, and my father got me on the list right away; I wasn't high priority, after all; I was young, there wasn't an active outbreak in my school district, and I was otherwise healthy. But they put me on the backup list anyway, so if there was one, just one available, I could get it.

When the fairy godperson's office called, my dad was at work, but my stepmother bundled me up and drove there so fast I thought we were going to be pulled over. (Later, I found out that she'd gotten an automated ticket from one of the red light cameras, a fact that she hid from both me and my dad.) They called my dad, of course, and he left work, but he also gave the okay for my stepmother to be my medical proxy in case he was delayed.

Vaccines don't last forever, and it was decided that I would be given it without him there. At 100 minutes, my stepmother would try kissing my forehead, and if it didn't work, the office would set me up for the 100 hours it would take before my dad could try.

Magic can't be ignored, but it can be tricked.

It didn't matter. At 100 minutes post-vaccine, my stepmother kissed my forehead and I woke up.

So. I know she loves me.

My mom would have been there, if she could, but she died when I was five. She'd gotten Rapunzelean cancer in high school, but she'd beaten it! She was one of the successes!

...Until it came back.

I don't remember much about her, but I remember that she loved me. Even as the golden tumors grew from her bare scalp and sucked the life out of her, she would sing to me, and she wrote me a series of letters for me as I grew up, just in case.

My stepmother took me to her grave sometimes. My dad does too, but it's nice that my stepmother is willing, you know? I had a breakdown one year when I couldn't find my mom's favorite flowers to take to her burial site, and my stepmom drove me all over town until we found one store that had them in the right color. (My dad was at the fairy godperson's office to get some pre-wards before we went to the cemetery. I found out later that his father had caught a curse shortly after my grandmother passed away, specifically geriatric onset donkeyskin, and my father was paranoid of following in his footsteps.)

My dad and my stepmom shuffled their shifts, so that one of them was with me in the morning before school, and one of them was there after, and then both were home for dinner. When I told them I wanted to study to be a fairy godperson, they took me seriously, even though I had wanted to be a pilot and a vet, and and a lawyer and and and - they always supported me, and soon I was being gifted books on the history of magicomedicine and cursebreaking. Some of them gave me nightmares - siren's disease freaked me out for a long time; something about the tongue swelling so much you would suffocate, and the agonizing images of ancient "cures" where the victim had to get their tongue cut out so they could breathe. I don't even know why! There were much worse ones! But something about that was so visceral to me. For the next month, any time my feet hurt even a little was convinced I was coming down with siren's disease.

I worried my parent's so much that they took me to Fairy Elena, my PCFP, and asked if she would be willing to go over how siren's is treated now. She gave me a quick rundown on intubation, pain medication, and told me about Prince's Blood Donations.

It was the first time I learned that magic can be tricked; according to legend, siren's disease could be cured by killing someone's true love and smearing their blood over the patient's legs. At least, that was one line of thought; another line of thought argued that it had to be the blood of royalty. Some fairy godpersons and magicoresearchers got together in the '80s and decided to research it methodically, going through every known case of siren's disease & what worked and what didn't. It turned out royalty was the key, but then it became a question of ethics. I didn't care too much at the time, that was all boring, grown-up stuff, but finally one researcher decided to just make a blood bank company, call it Prince's and see if that worked.    

And it did.

Magic can be tricked, and my mind was blown.

I also asked my dad if we could put that book away for a little, because it was too scary. He agreed, and we put it on the top shelf, where all the scary books went. I reread it recently, and honestly? I don't remember what I was so afraid of.

Things started changing when I turned 16.

For one, my hair, which had always been brown, started darkening to black. For another, I stopped being able to tan. It was like a light switch went off; magic was determined to turn me into something, and I hated it. My PCFP really went to bat for me, getting insurance to cover the cost of cosmetic glamours and professional tanning sprays. She wanted me to tell my parents, but I didn't want to, not yet, and she was bound by her oath to protect my privacy.   

She was right. But... I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to pretend everything was fine.

I didn't want to lose another mom.

And it worked for a while; managed to get to my senior year of high school before the world broke.

Stepmothers don't have the best reputation.

It fucking sucks, and it's not fair, but enough stories have been told about them that magic took an interest, and began manifesting curses that warp stepmothers until they follow the story.

We thought we were safe. My stepmother didn't bring any children into the marriage, so she was safe from the ash-girl curse variant, and I was a tanned brunette, so we were safe from the snow-daughter variant.

And she loved me.

She hid it too, I think. Not intentionally, but some of the symptoms are paranoia and anxiety.

I've done a lot of research. I don't think I'll ever be able to be a fairy godperson, but that doesn't mean I had to stop caring. I swapped my focus to researching curses from the history and literature side of things. I still work with researchers, we just come from different angles now.

Anyway, no one realized anything was wrong until she was french braiding my hair and the next thing I knew, she had locked herself in the bathroom sobbing while EMTs took me to the hospital for overnight observation. I don't actually know what happened. She turned herself over to the cops as soon I was loaded onto the ambulance, and she was taken to a hospital herself. She was sedated at first, as she was so wound up that she was hurting herself, and the hospital couldn't scan her for curses. Once she came out of sedation, she immediately called my dad and offered a divorce, he could take everything, she would leave immediately.

But we'd gotten the results of the scans, and I was fine. As best that the fairy godperson's could tell, the magic was frustrated that we didn't want to go down the snow-daughter route, and had lashed out in an attempt to force it. That was apparently what knocked me unconscious; magic poisoned the comb my stepmother was using in my hair.

That didn't mean she didn't feel guilty - but so did I. If I had told them earlier, would things have changed? If I hadn't tried to hide the signs that magic was fucking with us?

They don't blame me, and I don't blame her.  

She loves me. I know she does. We still talk, as best as we can. She can only hear my voice for ten minutes before the curse starts taking over. We can email, though, as long as the orderlies can prescreen the email for any curse triggers. She also can't hear about me directly, but my dad will go and visit her, and tell me how she's doing. He refused to divorce her. His insurance still covers her hospital stay. He says he's married, and wears his ring.

When I applied to college, I wrote about all three of my parents, and how much they had all taught me.

How much they all loved me.

Someday, my stepmother will get her curse lifted, I have to believe that. I've joined a multidisciplinary group of researchers based in the EU. Some of us are looking at ways to trick magic, some of us are looking at ways to rewrite the stories of the wicked stepmothers, and create a new path for the magic to follow. One group of researchers is looking into ways of simulating the punishments that stepmothers receive at the end of tales to see if "punishing" stepmothers would break the curse. Actually going through the punishments would cause any ethical review board to remove someone's license, and there's no way I would want my stepmom to dance in red hot metal shoes.

But lately she's been getting hot stone foot massages before I call her; that's how we got to ten minutes before the curse took hold, and next week we're going to see if holding her feet in a hot bath lets us video call. Maybe someday we'll be able to see each other in person again. Maybe I'll be able to take her home where dad and I can cook dinner for her, and we can be a family again. My family has an apple pie recipe, and we never made it - I understand why, now, but maybe someday we can laugh at this and all make it together. To make your own apple pie, you'll need...

[falslibrary]

Aid

You are eepy, and he does not understand. Luckily, he's rechargeable. Even if he's a little dumb.

Bingiplier x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 258

“I’m not sure I understand what purpose I am supposed to fulfill.”

Bing was used to charging overnight in his stasis pod, but you dragged him into your bed and decided to turn him into a very chatty mattress. He attempted to protest as not charging can cause problems, but you hooked up an extension cord so he could charge. Truly, it seemed like you had thought of everything to bribe him into sleeping in bed with you.

“Your purpose is to shush and cuddle.”

“I am unsure if I can complete the former task, but I can attempt the latter.”

“...I can deal with that.”

He awkwardly wraps his arms around you, but relaxes them as you sigh with contentment, snuggling right in. He knows you’ve been struggling recently, and attempted to help in any way he could. Even as a hospitality droid he was at a loss for words when you asked him for help and listed everything you already tried. On a movie night with you, he offered you a shoulder to lay your head on, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Since then, you have been insistent that he come at least sit with you so you can have some restful sleep. He’s slowly started coming around to the idea of it, but does get anxious that he won’t charge correctly and he’ll take a while to reboot once he’s offline. Bing really tries to aid in whatever way he can, and right now that means being a mattress for you.

“G’night, sparkles…”

[falslibrary]

Mixed monsters masterlist (txt/short)

Due the amount of links in the mixed monsters masterlist, the short stories and imagines are now here. You can check the long stories in this masterlist.

Shorts/imagines

Monster under the bed

Game night

Gargoyle

Librarian

Were cat

Tipsy

Merman

Shadow monster

Lamia

Naga boyfriend

Parasite

Goblin

Rattlesnake naga

Death do us (apart)

Sexless monster

Hole in the wall (lab2)

Robot boyfriend

Naga girlfriend (chubby fem!reader)

Pleasure slime

Sleep paralysis demon (fem!monster x gn!reader)

Owl harpy

Centaur vore (male!reader)

Zombie

Gnoll girlfriend (trans!fem reader)

Male!fairty

Merman (chubby fem!reader)

Tarantula-drider

Coming home (centaur)

Shape-shifter

I do not consent to have any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This includes reposting my stories on other websites, platforms, etc.

[falslibrary]

Finally now that the comic is fully public on comicfury, I get to share it with all of you here, too <3

If you enjoyed, please consider supporting by buying a PDF of the comic on itch.io: https://tawnysoup.itch.io/home-in-the-woods

[falslibrary]

Gift Box

I truly adore writing Bing, he's such a pure man.

Bingiplier x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 563

“Yo, like, what’s in this box?”

“You’ll see.”

Bing studies the box that rests in his hands, looking at you questioningly. It’s a soft orange with a shiny white bow tying it together, calling to him as a tantalizing surprise waits inside for him. But he doesn’t wish to ruin the surprise and joy that you’ll get from seeing his reaction. He sits down, resting his head on his arms as he stares at the box, trying to figure out what could fit inside. 

Could it be a puppy? No it’d move a lot more, and there’d probably be holes in the top.

Is it a toaster? Maybe, but he doesn’t have much use for a toaster other than using it for parts.

Maybe a bouquet of flowers? No, it’s far too small for that, unless you found a bouquet made for mice. And a mouse, he is not. 

When you step back into the room and witness him studying the box, you can’t help but smile at him softly. You walk up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder before moving it up his neck to ruffle his hair.

“Getting impatient?”

“It feels like I’m a kid on Christmas! It’s killing me to know what’s inside!”

“I promise you’ll get to have it, after dinner.”

Bing pouts up at you, but you simply meet his jutted lip with a kiss. He snakes his arms around your waist, holding you captive until you meet his kiss quota and he lets you go. He occupies himself with some minor repairs on his arms, improving the mobility of his fingers and fixing the circulation of fluids to his joints. But that box remains in the forefront of his mind, mocking him from across the table. You glance over at him from the kitchen as you prep the food for yourself and pour him some motor oil, proud of him for staying patient.

Yesterday he had gifted you a necklace with two interlocking gears on it, with your names engraved on them. Forever together, hanging around your neck. His eyes move to your neck on occasion, brightening when he notices you’re wearing his gift to you. 

You sit down at the table with your dinner and chat about your days, but you can tell he’s itching for you to get done with your food so he can open his gift. You sigh, shaking your head as you push the box towards him.

“Go ahead and open, baby.”

His eyes light up and his cheeks glow a more vibrant hue of orange, dragging the package closer to him. He goes to untie the bow, but somehow ends up entangling his hands together instead. You assist him with freeing him from his silky binds, wrapping it up in your hands as he lifts the lid.

Inside is a pair of custom sunglasses, with suns rays that glint in a metallic gold, and a message written on the inner part of the temples.

“I will love you for as long as the sun shines.”

His face softens as his blush spreads across his cheeks, taking his sunglasses off the top of his head and setting his new ones in their place. He walks around to hug you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Was it worth the wait?”

“When I have you for the rest of forever? Absolutely.”

[falslibrary]

A bunch of comics with Frederick (yes, he likes to chill in bars) 🦇🍷