#male kelpie x reader

[monstersandmaw]

Male kelpie (dad-bod, single father, biker) x plus size f. reader - Part One (sfw)

Background info post on the Full Moon Motorcycles group here Oats Appreciation post here

Featuring a plus-size, bisexual, not very confident reader, and a divorced, Scottish, single-dad, biker kelpie with a soft-dad bod and a heart as big as his bike’s engine (possibly bigger).

CW: there is a very brief moment where a character (not Oats!) insults the reader for her size and uses some fat-phobic language towards and about her, unaware that she can hear him. If you’re sensitive to that, it is brief, but you can skip from “…you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.” to the paragraph beginning, “After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror…”. Also, if you squint, there’s a passing moment that could possibly be interpreted as the reader having some potential issues with food, but it’s not intended to be a big deal and it’s only for about two sentences. Still putting it in here too, just in case. 

Wordcount: 7562

You pushed open the glass door of Full Moon Motorcycles and willed yourself not to feel self-conscious or out of place.

Having both an older brother and a mother who rode motorbikes had at least given you a fair bit of familiarity with bikes and the general ‘biker culture’, but it was mostly the fact that almost all the ‘biker girls’ you saw posing on social media were slim and toned, which you were decidedly not.

From the utterly foetid takes in the comments section of the one post your brother had shared on his page with you in it, you’d also got the impression that the biker community was not particularly kind to any woman with a waist over 25 inches. It probably wasn’t the case, but your one experience with it had been enough to make you very wary.

And yet, as you made your way towards the bike shop’s counter and the older man with floppy, greying hair and warm brown eyes looked up, you were greeted with an open, welcoming smile.

“Hi there,” he said, standing up with a grunt from the comfy chair where he’d been sitting in the corner near the shop’s antique cash register. “What can I do for you?”

You smiled shyly and glanced along the wooden countertop before returning your gaze to him. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m kind of on a budget…”

“Gotcha. We’ve got some silly key fobs there,” he said, indicating a rotating display rack at one end of the counter, with mottoes that ranged from funny to explicit, “But if they like working on their bike themselves, you can’t go wrong with some maintenance supplies… Not the most glamorous but I promise they’ll be grateful to you all the same.”

“Could always tie a festive ribbon round it,” you said, and he chuckled and nodded.

“That’s the spirit.”

You eyed the reasonable price of the fobs with some relief, and then followed his gesture towards the various bottles of chain degreaser and the like, and a few other useful tools and kits that were stacked on shelves on the back wall to the right of a door that presumably led into the back and store rooms.

The right hand side of the shop had the counter and some shiny, new bikes that had been parked in a row around the perimeter of the space, and the left hand side was more open with a bench or two against the brick walls, and some red, mechanics’ tool-chests tucked against the back wall. A number of leather two- and one-piece suits hung in racks at the furthest end though, with helmets on shelves and a few rows of t-shirts, jeans, gloves, and boots displayed too. There were oil stains in the centre of the polished concrete floor, and you suspected that tinkering took place there outside of the shop’s usual opening hours.

The whole vibe of Full Moon Motorcycles was friendly and cosy, with a slightly industrial, grungy note for some flavour.

In short, you loved it.

“There are also some fun helmet covers –” the older man chuckled, and added, “A number of the regulars here have them, and there are also some earplugs, or perhaps a tough phone case and mount? A chain care kit? There are some vinyl stickers too, and t-shirts, socks, neck warmers, balaclavas, mugs, helmet care kits, thermals…”

Laughing, you held up your hands for him to stop, and he started to chuckle too.

“I’ll let you browse in peace, sweetheart,” he said, his whisky brown eyes twinkling. Even his un-looked-for endearment came across as kindly instead of creepy, and not many men could pull that off. “You just holler if you have questions and I’ll be happy to –”

The door opened behind you and he broke off as his attention was snagged by the arrival of a heavy-set guy in dark jeans and a softly-worn, black leather jacket. He held a black helmet with a tinted visor in his large hands, and he looked more than a little wind-blown and rumpled.

Incongruous with his rather roguish-dishevelment, a lock of his long, thick, slightly grizzled, black hair was held back by a little hair-clip with a Barbie-pink, fabric bow. It didn’t fit with the dark scruff of stubble on his jaw or the piercing green-blue eyes at all, but he seemed completely unfazed by its presence.

“Oats!” the older man exclaimed with obvious joy, clapping his hands. “It’s been a while, my boy! How was the trip to Scotland? You make it round the NC500 this time?”

The ‘boy’ looked to be in his mid to late thirties…

“Ach, no’ a chance this time, Hank,” the man chuckled with a heavy, Scottish accent lacing his rich, rough baritone. Exactly where in Scotland he was from, you couldn’t tell, but it was lyrical and attractive all the same.

“Ah, next time, next time. And is Natalie well?

“Oh aye, my wee Loch Ness Monster is doing just fine. She’ll be terrorising her mother for the Christmas holidays. I came straight from the road though — clutch started playing up just south of Birmingham.” He grimaced, but even that looked charming somehow. “Sort of hoped you might find a minute to take a look at it for me if I left the Old Girl here. No rush though.”

“No problem, Oats. We’ll get her running properly again in no time. Bet you’re missing little Natalie already,” Hank added sympathetically.

“Ah, you have no idea,” the man, peculiarly-named ‘Oats’, sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“See she left you with a parting gift though,” Hank snorted, pointing at the bow hair clip.

With a slight frown to his dark eyebrows, Oats reached up and patted at his head until he found it, and then he laughed. It was a loud, delighted, full-bellied sound that reverberated through the space while it lasted, and he left the hair clip where it was with no trace of self-consciousness as he lowered his hand again. “Aye, that she did. Surprised it survived the journey down with my lid on and everything. Oh –” His unusually pale green eyes landed on you, watching him and lurking near the rows of t-shirts on the back wall, and he went still.

Those sea-grey eyes raked you up and down, clearly noting the way your black leggings clung to the curves of your thighs and hips, and the black hoodie, which maybe went some way to hiding the softness of your stomach a bit, and he swallowed visibly. He looked… hungry. That was not the usual reaction you had grown accustomed to from men, and you let the flare of heat lick up your insides for just a moment, daring to hope that maybe he did find you attractive.

“Sorry,” he said in your direction, with a soft, dusky smile. “Didnae mean t’interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” you managed to croak back at him before returning your attention, however reluctantly, to present options for your brother while the older man, Hank, hobbled out around the corner of the wooden counter to chat amicably with the man. You couldn’t hear what was said as the two chatted in lower voices, but it was evident that they were good friends. While they talked, however, you couldn’t help noticing that he stole occasional sidelong glances in your direction, and you felt your face warm pleasantly.

‘Oats’ was certainly an unusual nickname, but then again, almost everyone who rode with your brother also had their own nicknames for one reason or another. As you browsed, you wondered what Oats had done to earn that one. He certainly looked like a snack to you, but you vowed not to let your attraction to the stranger show. Awkward situations (or worse, silences) tended to arise when you let that happen.

He had a tanned, outdoorsy complexion, and longish, black hair that was tied back in a low ponytail that brushed below the collar of his black leather jacket. It looked like it had a tendency to flop into his face when not restrained by that out-of-place pink bow. He filled out the jacket very well, and clearly had a soft paunch, and his thighs looked frankly delectable in those thick, indigo jeans. You prayed you wouldn’t have to see him fully from the back if he turned around, to witness the way he filled out the seat of his jeans too.

Fuck. Concentrate.

Bike gifts for brother, not delicious-looking stranger you’re never going to see again.

“Well, I shouldnae hang about, I suppose.”

Oats’ voice cut through your musings in front of chain degreasers and you jumped a little. Glancing back over at him, you offered him a smile when he too turned to look at you one last time, and a slow, charming smile crept onto his handsome face.

“See you,” he said with a dip of his head. Before he strode from the shop though, he let his eyes roam once more down the length of you and he bit his lower lip, almost regretfully, then turned away abruptly.

Oh yes. He absolutely did fill out the ass of those jeans beautifully.

Quite honestly, you weren’t totally sure what you ended up getting your brother for his birthday. You took whatever it was to the counter in a daze, your mind replaying over and over the way he’d looked at you.

“Must say,” Hank said conspiratorially as he fished your change from the antique cash register and slid it across the polished, wooden counter towards you. “I’ve never seen Oats quite so taken with someone, miss.” He chuckled, his kind, whisky-brown eyes glinting. “You take care now.”

Swallowing, you nodded and left the shop, hoping perhaps to find Oats waiting for you outside on the street, leaning against his motorcycle, but life was not a movie, and wherever he was, he was not lingering in the hopes of seeing you. In fact, the street was completely deserted, so you crossed, clambered into your little hatchback, and drove home with the feeling that you’d let a pivotal moment in your life pass you by.

Your sour mood persisted like a raincloud for the whole week, but by the time you were driving over to your brother’s on Saturday for his birthday ride, you were trying to pull yourself out of it. You had your own helmet with you, secured in the back of the car, and beside it was (now wrapped) the present you’d got him. In fact, it was a chain care kit, and, although you hadn’t noticed at the time, Hank had thrown in a free keychain that said ‘In my defence, I was left unsupervised’ which was very on-brand for your brother. You had planned to go back and thank him for the freebie as soon as you could, but your brother’s birthday ride had been planned for that Saturday, and work had been hell that week, so you’d not had the chance.

Predictably, Alex wasn’t in the house when you rang the doorbell, so you followed the sound of metallic clinking and laughter, and went round the side to find him tinkering with his mad little Honda Grom in the garage, while his two best mates — Eggs and Sparky — were lounging around and either making unhelpful suggestions or lewd comments.

“Yo!” Sparky grinned when he saw you, sitting up straighter and almost falling off the mechanic’s tool chest he was leaning his weight against. At Sparky’s exclamation, your brother sat up and banged his head on the handlebars of the short little Grom with a curse.

“Hey,” you mumbled in Sparky’s general direction. “Happy birthday, Alex.”

Alex scrambled upright and came over to hug you, probably smearing grease and dirt all over your armoured jacket, but since it was black anyway, you didn’t mind too much. Alex was about as opposite to you as it was possible to get — straight up and down like a beanpole, and tall. You took after your mother, inheriting all her thick curves and soft edges. Soft heart too.

“Thought this might come in handy,” you mumbled when Alex released you and you held out the brown paper bag stamped with the logo of Full Moon Motorcycles.

His eyes lit up when he saw the logo, and he tore into it like a chipmunk after a peanut, grinning in delight when he’d dismembered it, and in particular he showed off the keychain to his mates. Eggs snatched it and tried to claim it for himself, but Alex was having none of it, and the three of them scrapped and goofed around while you sat down on an old, metal stool in the corner and waited for the other two of your small party to show up, with a cool, curdling kind of dread in the pit of your stomach when you heard one name in particular. Nooner.

Within an hour though, you were all out on the road.

You took the pillion seat behind Alex, and warded his mates off at red lights when they came for his killswitch to immobilise him. A while later though, Alex zoomed off down the open road that would take you all out of town and towards the somewhat famous biker cafe, ‘Elusive Neutral’, that sat nestled amongst the fragrant heather of the rolling hills surrounding the old market town.

The sky was a gorgeous, autumnal blue and the weather was perfect, neither too hot nor too cold, and as your brother’s Yamaha flew along the winding A-road that was every biker’s dream, you cracked a smile and gently tipped your head back. As much as it had scared you when you’d first ridden behind your mother all those years ago, you did love the feeling of being out on a bike. Not that you were actually brave enough to want to try and learn yourself though. Something always held you back, made you wary and unsure, and then you inevitably felt down about that too. God, you wished you had Alex’s wild confidence.

Nothing good ever seemed to last for you though, and when Alex’s R1 had purred into the car park behind Eggs and Sparky, and you’d hopped off to let him reverse more easily into a space, you caught the conversation drifting over from the other guys who’d arrived just ahead of you.

“…if he didn’t have his fat sister with him, we could have fucking ripped it up along those twisties.” That, of course, had come from Nooner, named for the fact that he rarely stuck to two wheels and always pulled wheelies, or ‘nones’, whenever he got the chance. Out of all of your brother’s friends, he was the one you liked the least, for… obvious reasons.

“Talk about killing the vibes, huh?” Eggs replied, trying to suck up to him, as ever. “More like ‘crushing’!”

The reason Eggs had earned his nickname was that he’d lost a bet and shaved his head when they’d all been about sixteen, and he’d looked like a boiled egg til it grew back. You wished you had the sass to remind him of that every time his spine seemed to crumble in favour of earning a half-hearted snicker out of Nooner.

When Alex joined you, he caught the crestfallen expression on your face and frowned, but you shook your head and walked away from them, heading for the cafe alone.

“Can’t wait to shove some cake in her fat gob already,” Nooner added as an aside to Eggs, and your vision blurred as tears welled along your lashes. Why did people have to be so cruel? To trample all over someone else just to feel a little taller themselves?

You vaguely heard what sounded like Sparky’s voice countering the comment, but you didn't stick around either way. If you mentioned it to your brother again, he’d just say it was banter with the guys and not to take it to heart. Easy for someone who's never been on the end of that kind of comment to shrug it off, after all.

You ducked straight for the toilets when you got inside the airy, modern cafe, not even bothering to look around or find a table first.

After some deep breaths and a check in the mirror to see that you hadn’t turned your eyeliner into a panda cosplay, you headed out again and made for the little bar that doubled as a counter for people who were there solo to sit and eat instead of taking up a whole table to themselves. None of your brother’s friends joined you, and when you glanced back over your shoulder, you saw that they’d settled themselves around a table in the far corner and already had a number for a server to bring their food order over. They hadn’t even waited for you.

“Fuck them,” you hissed through gritted teeth, taking a seat at the bar instead. The stools were made of old tractor seats, and they were surprisingly comfortable, and as you leaned your forearms on the countertop, the young woman behind the counter came over to you with a smile that made you feel a little better.

“Hey,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

You ordered a hot drink, and then took out your phone while you waited for her to make it for you.

For half an hour or so, you sat scrolling through social media and sipping your drink and telling yourself this was your brother’s day and not yours. He did come over a couple of times, but you declined to sit with his friends, and because he’d never had any real reason to doubt you before, he took you at your word when you told him you were happy enough where you were. “I don’t want to get in the way,” you said, and he believed you.

Patting you on the shoulder, he left you for the third time, and you looked down into the dregs of your drink with a heavy sigh. “This sucks.”

Outside, the sound of more bikes arriving made your ears perk up, and you wondered idly what they rode. Elusive Neutral had once been an old cattle barn, but it had been completely redone and the walls on two sides had been replaced with vast picture windows that showed the sweeping expanse of moorland beyond, and a small sliver of the car park at one end. Craning your neck, you saw a group of maybe five or six bikers draw up, some on hipster looking cafe racers and others on racy sports bikes. There was even a Ducati Panigale among them, and behind them followed an old, battered, blue pickup truck.

The door opened a little while later, and you glanced over, eyes drawn instinctively by the movement.

Above the general chatter and merry chinking of china in the room, the energy of the new group of bikers rose like a cloud of dizzy mayflies; buzzing and excited and full of joy. You watched them all with interest from your perch at the counter.

The first through the door was an absolute Amazon of a woman, with her long black hair restrained in a thick braid, and shoulders the width of a barn door. She was lean and tall, and in her biker gear she looked… incredible. Her face was strikingly handsome, but until she glanced down at the woman walking beside her, her features were hard and glowering and unspeakably stern. She held the door open for one of the others to follow her inside, but when she locked eyes again with the brunette by her side, her whole expression melted into unguarded adoration. Your gut twisted briefly with jealousy.

It wouldn’t matter to you who looked at you like that, if only someone would.

You looked away, and by the time you glanced back at the bikers, the whole group had filed in from outside. There was a guy with golden-brown skin and beautiful dark brown eyes who had his arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a pale, skinny guy in black jeans and a moth-eaten, black jumper, with his long hair tied back in a bun, and behind them came a strikingly attractive guy in a manual wheelchair, flanked by a very short biker with slightly anaemic looking skin. You wondered fleetingly if the guy in the wheelchair had ridden a motorbike there, and if so how, before you realised he was probably the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, with long, flowing red hair and dark green eyes, and the kind of mouth that was made for laughing, and for kissing.

Jesus, was it an unwritten rule of being a biker that you had to be unfairly attractive? Even Hank, who you recognised with a start of surprise coming in behind the guy with red hair, wasn’t unattractive, in a bulky, older man kind of way.

The guy walking with him though… he truly made your stomach swoop.

It was Oats.

You looked away before he could spot you, sitting alone at the bar like some pathetic creature waiting for cocktail hour to begin. It was lunchtime on a sunny, autumnal Saturday though, and there you were sitting alone because you didn’t fancy sitting with your brother’s loser mates.

God, the way Oats had looked in his tough-looking leather jacket, with his eyes crinkled mid-laugh at something the guy in the wheelchair had shot back at them over his shoulder… You bit your lip and stared into the bottom of your cold, empty mug like it would divine some kind of solution to your situation for you.

The new group didn’t seem to notice you while they filed up to the counter, jostling and joking, and when they drifted off to another corner of the cafe, you turned back to your phone, trying desperately to resist the almost overwhelming urge to keep turning over your shoulder to watch them.

Before too long however, you startled at a soft tap on your shoulder, and you looked around to find Oats himself stepping back to a polite distance and smiling down at you like he’d found a treasure in an unexpected place.

“Hey there,” he said in that rolling, Scottish accent that did unspeakably indecent things to your insides. “Sorry if I’m intruding, but you were at Full Moon last week, right?”

Mute for a moment, you nodded, and mustered up a slightly dazed smile for him.

“You… here alone?” he asked, eyeing the currently-empty seats to your left and right. In fact, someone had only just gathered up their belongings and left.

“Kind of?” you croaked, letting your eyes slide over to the table where your brother and his friends were hunched over one of their phones, snickering at something. “It’s… It’s my brother’s birthday today. I… tagged along as pillion, but… you know… I’m kind of a spare part really.”

At that, Oats’ dark eyebrows knitted into a scowl and he looked across the room at them before returning his attention to you. Then, his unearthly, almost prismatic, silver-green eyes took in your empty cup and he grinned. “Can I get y’a top up?”

Your instinct was to refuse, but you bit your lip. This didn’t feel real. A cute, handsome, courteous guy was actually taking an interest in you.

“Sure. Thank you.” And the smile that spread itself across your face telegraphed your delight in a way that was impossible to disguise with any kind of suave grace.

Oats, however, seemed equally delighted, and nodded. The barista came back over and he leaned his weight on the counter to talk to her. He seemed to have that enviably easy manner with everybody, and he even charmed a free slice of cake out of her too with what felt like no effort at all.

“Chocolate? Or something else?” he asked you.

“Pardon?”

“Cake.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” you said, but he frowned.

“You sure? I’m gonna have a bit of their chocolate cake. It’s so good, it’s practically a sin.”

“I…” you faltered.

He didn’t pressure you though and shrugged easily, turning back to the barista. “Gimme two forks with that, love. Just in case.”

“No problem,” she beamed back while she bustled about, and Oats eyed the empty bar stool next to yours.

“May I?”

You swallowed your nerves and nodded. “Please.” And then, because apparently a demon of confidence had temporarily possessed you, you eyed his slightly helmet-flattened forelock and said, “No pink hair clips today?”

He guffawed loudly enough that your brother actually glanced over and frowned when he saw you talking with a stranger.

Oats snorted and shook his head. “No, not today. My daughter is still up in Scotland with her mother.” He fixed you with a more serious look and said, “She and I divorced, before you get the wrong idea about me flirting like this with a beautiful woman.”

The compliment caught you so off-guard that you just froze for a moment, but when the heat of a blush filled your face, you looked away and he chuckled.

“I’m not normally so forward, but I’ve been kicking myself for not talking to you when I first saw you in Full Moon. Hank was telling me just this morning what a muppet I’d made of myself for walking away like that.”

You looked behind you at the group of his friends and then turned back to him. “Won’t they think you’re being rude, ignoring them like this?”

He shook his head and smiled. “They’re probably all taking bets on how quickly you’ll shoot me down.”

“What? I’d have to be an idiot to do that.”

At that, his face split into a huge, handsome grin and he shook his head just a little. “Lucky me,” he said. “You ride?” he added, eyeing your jacket that was obviously a motorcycle jacket.

You shrugged. “Pillion. I’ve never ridden myself, but my brother lets me come out with him sometimes.”

Oats nodded, and then, as the barista set down his coffee, your top-up, and the plate of decadent chocolate cake with two forks, he said, “I’m Euan, by the way, but everyone calls me Oats.”

You introduced yourself, and then said, “Oats?”

He snorted and nodded. “Not the worst nickname, for sure.”

“Can I ask where it came from?”

Oats nodded and shunted the plate towards you first before leaning his elbow on the bar and watching you while he spoke. “I think it’s because I’m a dad, but I’m always prepared for most situations, and when it comes to my Natalie, she’s always hungry. I’ve usually got about a thousand granola bars stashed away about my person —” he said, cutting himself off to pat conspicuously at his jacket pockets. Pulling a slightly dog-eared crunchy bar from his breast pocket, he wielded it like a magic wand at you and said, “Case in point.”

“Hence, Oats,” you said, eyeing the healthy brand name on the packet.

“Exactly. Like I said, it could be worse. See the tall lass over there with the dangerous scowl?”

You didn't need to turn around to know which of his friends he was talking about, but you did anyway. “Yeah.”

“We call her Pixie.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” he chuckled, stowing the granola bar back into his pocket and taking a huge scoop of the chocolate cake with his own fork.

“What do you ride then?” you asked.

“Triumph Bonneville T120,” he said with almost exactly the same intonation and fondness as he’d just said ‘because I’m a dad’, and you couldn’t help smiling. “Can’t be doing with all these glitzy sports bikes and the like,” he added with a laugh, setting his fork down and blinking slowly. His lashes, you noticed, were thick and dark and enticingly long.

Laughing, you smiled. “Don’t say that too loudly — my brother rides an R1.”

“Nice,” Oats grinned back. “But nothing could entice me away from my girl.”

“I’m surprised you’re here, flirting with me then,” you said. Evidently that confidence demon was still lurking.

Again, Oats laughed, though it was more of a low whicker this time, and it rolled right through you and lit you up all over. God, how long had it been since someone had laughed like that for you?

“There are… exceptions,” he said in a rumbling murmur. “Tell me about yourself?” he asked, and you did.

You spent the next hour at least talking in an easy back and forth with him while he charmed a few more refills from the barista and a lot of answers out of you, before one of his friends sidled up shyly and waited for a lull in your conversation.

“Sorry to butt in,” the small, unbelievably beautiful woman said. She was the one who’d been on the receiving end of the adoring look from the Amazon, ‘Pixie’. She had chocolate-brown hair falling in thick ringlets around a gorgeous face, and, you were pleased to note, she had wide hips and a softness to her that a lot of the biker chicks you’d seen online didn’t have.

“Coco,” Oats beamed. “Meet my new friend.” He introduced you by name, and Coco smiled at you, holding out her hand.

When your palms connected, you felt a warmth rush through you and you felt like your heart skipped a beat. The feeling like you could tip forwards and drown in her endless, dark brown eyes almost unseated you, but she let go of you and stepped back with a pretty smile on her Cupid’s-bow lips. “Pleasure to meet you. Just wanted to tell Oats that we’re thinking of heading off soon. Ariel has a photoshoot he wants to get to in an hour or so, and Demon’s keen to get going as well.”

Oats nodded, and you tried not to let your stomach drop down to your boots at the thought of all this coming to such an abrupt end.

Coco turned her head sharply to look at you just as the feeling hit, and she smiled faintly. “You could always stay here though, Oats,” she added with a pretty smile. “We’re only going back to Full Moon, and Demon clearly has no intention of lingering there…” She shot a meaningful glance back at their table. Demon, the guy with dark hair and tanned skin, was seated with the guy he’d entered with now draped in his lap, his skinny legs dangling as he sprawled languidly back against the guy’s muscular chest. Demon whispered something into his ear before he clearly bit the shell of his boyfriend’s ear, which made him sit abruptly upright and flush a vibrant pink.

Oats laughed again and shook his head. “Fuck me,” he chuckled privately. “Never thought I’d see the day. You guys go on. I’m… I’m very much content here.”

“I can see that,” Coco smirked, and walked away.

When she was out of earshot, you turned to Oats with a hot flush of your own in your face and said, “Don’t stay if you don’t want to… I’m sure my brother will be leaving soon anyway…”

Just as you said that, and before Oats could reply, Alex reappeared at your side and jutted his chin in Oats’ direction. “You good?” he chirped at you.

“Fine,” you replied. “This is Oats. I met him at Full Moon Motorcycles when I was buying your birthday present.”

“Oh,” Alex replied, holding out his hand for Oats to shake. “Good to meet you, man. You tell her what to get for me? If you did, it was a good choice.”

“No,” Oats said carefully, his grey-green eyes sliding back to your face even while he shook your brother’s hand amicably. “No, whatever she got you, it was all her.”

“Oh, cool,” Alex said. “Listen, sis, we’re gonna hit the road in a while. Nooner and Eggs want to hit the twisties for a bit, but I can’t really do that with a backpack, so Sparky said he’d give you a ride home, if that’s ok.”

You swallowed. “Um…”

“I can give her a lift,” Oats replied after a swift glance in your direction. “She’s already got her own lid, and there’s room on the Bobber’s double seat for both of us.”

“I don’t know, man,” Alex said with a wary frown.

“Your choice,” Oats shrugged easily, looking at you and holding his hands up just a little.

For a fleeting moment, you weren’t sure, but the idea of wrapping your arms around Oats’ thick middle and sitting astride his gorgeous bike kind of decided it for you. Besides, it was a long time since you’d done anything truly just for yourself; simply because you wanted to. You nodded at your brother. “It’s fine. You go ahead.”

“You sure?”

Nodding to reassure him, you smiled again and Alex backed up a pace. “Cool. Text me later, ok?” he said as he retreated towards his friends, clearly trying to hide his excitement at not having a passenger for the great, twisting section of A-road they were heading for.

“Will do. Have fun, and don’t crash!” you called after him. “Or get a speeding ticket!”

He waved a hand over one shoulder without looking back, and you laughed and returned your attention to Oats. “Brothers.”

“Bikers,” he replied. “You try telling that to any of that lot though —” he gestured towards his own group of friends who were now filtering out of the door. “You ready to head out too or do you want to stay?”

You did want to stay, but the seat wasn’t that comfortable anymore, and you wanted to move around a bit. “No, I’m good to go,” you said and prepared to slide off the stool, but Oats stepped down first and held out his hand to you. You didn't need helping down, and his playful little smirk told you he knew as much, so you rode out the last of that demonic possession and let your fingers slide across his palm and he steadied you off the stool.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Pleasure.”

You picked up your helmet from where you’d stowed it on the floor at your feet and straightened to find him waving casually across the room to the good-looking guy with the ethereally pretty boyfriend. Before he stepped away from you and made towards the door though, you cleared your throat and said, “Oats?”

“Mn?” Looking down at you, his entire attention honed in on you, like you were the centre of the universe, and you swallowed back a sudden welling of emotion.

“Listen… Thank you… for… coming over to me today. Like I said, it’s my brother’s birthday, and he was here with his friends, and he only included me so I didn’t feel completely left out, but…” Accursed tears washed over your eyes for a moment but you blinked them away furiously and ploughed on regardless. “I’m really glad I came along today anyway,” you finished rather pathetically.

His full, beautiful lips curled into a gentle smile and he blinked softly and exhaled. When he spoke, his voice was low and his words private, as though you weren’t standing in a busy cafe surrounded by people and the cheerful clatter of coffee cups and laughter. “I’m really glad I did too. I wasn’t going to, you know? I was going to stay at home and edit a boatload of raw photographs for a client, but Demon convinced me to come out. I guess I owe him.”

“‘Demon’? For… For the speed?” you asked, wondering how he came by his nickname.

“For the horns,” Oats replied in deadpan humour. “Have a look if he’s still there when we go outside. You ready?”

You followed him out of the cafe with a nod, and just as you took a deep, indulgent breath of fresh, heathland air, Oats’ group of friends filed out past you on their bikes. The one named Demon was in the lead, and the nickname made immediate sense. Sitting astride a blood-red Panigale, with his boyfriend clinging on behind him like a limpet, the guy had pale, curving horns fixed to the crown of his helmet.

“Yeah, that tracks,” you said, and Oats waggled his dark eyebrows.

The Amazon had a Yamaha R1 like your brother’s, but hers had a pearl-white wrap that made it look almost spectral, and riding out in front of her was Coco on a yellow and black Honda Hornet.

The telltale red plait told you that the guy in the wheelchair was on a modified Kawasaki, with unusual struts at the back that looked like they would come down when he stopped to stabilise him instead of having to take his legs off the foot pegs, where they were currently Velcro-ed in place. Watching the whole group file out was Hank, standing beside a battered old pickup. In the bed of the truck, you could just see that the red-headed biker’s wheelchair secured in place.

Hank waved the last of them off, then glanced over at Oats. The older man lifted his nose just a little, as if he too was enjoying the fresh, moorland wind that whipped across the car park, and he nodded once at Oats, and then at you to your surprise, before clambering stiffly up into his pickup and closing the door. It shut with a raucous yelp of rusty hinges.

You stood there and watched Oats’ friends all file out, all waving at Oats as they passed, before they set off down the road in a roar of revving engines to leave a lonely looking Bonneville waiting patiently near the stone wall of the car park nearby.

“Yours, I presume?” you said, nodding at it.

“Yup.”

“She’s a beauty,” you mumbled, self-consciousness prickling at the sides of your neck for the silly comment.

Oats beamed though, his sea-foam eyes lighting up as the crinkles around his eyes and the slight dimples in his cheeks creased under the force of his obvious pleasure. “Thank you. She’s my pride and joy. You ready? Oh, wait, you should put your address into my phone before we get going,” he laughed.

You nodded, taking the offered phone from him. Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you took it, and a tiny thrill passed through you that you did your best to quash. With your address plugged in and a route home waiting to be followed, you handed it back to him and looked up into his handsome, rugged face as he smiled.

“Cheers. Let’s go,” he said, and you trailed along beside him over to his bike, heartbeat thudding in your ears with your nerves.

He swung a leg over and turned the key, then pushed the bike upright and nudged the side-stand in with his left foot before flicking the switch and bringing the bike to life. She growled beautifully, the low, thundering rumble of her engine sounding far more visceral and primal than your brother’s sports bike did. Perhaps it was the design of the lower-slung Bonneville, with its visible parts that made you think of a Steampunk aesthetic, but you instantly preferred it. Plus, the double seat looked way more cushioned — and less precarious — than the one you’d perched on to get to the cafe that morning.

Oats got himself comfy while you slid your helmet on, then he looked over his shoulder at you and nodded, so you took that as your cue and got settled on the pillion seat behind him. The footpegs were already down. The pulsing purr of the machine beneath you was almost enough to distract you from the fact that you were entrusting your life to a relative stranger, whom you’d never seen ride before, and as you climbed on and rested your hands politely on his shoulders, you felt a shiver travel through your whole nervous system.

“Do whatever’s comfortable for you, obviously,” Oats said over the noise of his bike, “But if you want to hold my waist — if you can actually get your arms around my middle, that is,” he chuckled self-effacingly, “— feel free. Totally up to you.”

“Thanks,” you yelled back, and, because apparently that pesky demon of confidence was still kicking around, you hugged his torso.

It was wonderful.

Slowly snaking your arms around his middle, you felt your chest press against his back and you caught the way he inhaled slowly and tried not to wonder what it meant. It felt so good to hold him that you had to remind yourself it wasn’t a hug. It was to keep you in place while a gorgeous stranger drove you home on his equally gorgeous bike. With a final thumbs-up to check you were happy, to which you replied with a nod of your head and tried not to clack your helmet against his, he pulled away and your heart leapt for the sheer joy of it.

Where the R1 was built for sleek speed and bursts of power, the Bonneville was build to be enjoyed, and oh gosh, did you enjoy every curve.

And not just the curves in the road, either.

Oats was soft, but he was solid, and the urge to rest one hand on his thick thigh was almost overwhelming, until he took the corners at just the right pace to be exhilarating without you having to worry about your safety, and you clung on instead and laughed behind the safety of your visor.

It was all over way too soon, and as the Bonneville chugged into your road like a steam train and halted outside your poky, terraced house with its quaint little kitchen garden out the front in the postage-stamp of space between the pavement and the house, your heart squeezed painfully in your chest. Please don’t let this be it, you thought desperately.

You went through the motions of getting carefully off the bike without staggering or falling, and again, Oats held out his hand to help steady you. You gripped his fingers gratefully and when you gave an extra little squeeze to his hand at the end, you could have sworn he answered with one of his own and a throaty chuckle.

He dismounted too, which surprised you, and you wondered if you were going to have to ask him inside. As much as you wanted that in principle, you desperately didn’t want it to happen today because the house was a mess: laundry was still hanging up all over the place, and you’d cooked a curry the previous night and it was definitely still lingering in the air.

Oats took off his helmet but left his bike idling, which went a little way to reassuring you, and when you looked more closely at his expression, you thought you saw a hint of something familiar lingering in the corners of his eyes. Was he nervous?

Swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing behind the thick, 5 o’clock shadow that looked like it lingered pretty constantly no matter the time of day, Oats took a deep breath, held it, and then smiled at you. “Fuck,” he exhaled, and laughed. “I’m… very rusty at all this.” He held his helmet in both hands before him, toying with the strap.

“If I gave you my number, would you maybe like to meet up again?” you asked, taking pity on the man.

“Very much,” he said softly. “Like I said, Natalie is with her mum for the holidays, and apart from a wedding I’m covering next week, this is a pretty slow time of year for me. I’m free… mostly whenever.”

The reminder that he had a daughter with someone else did make you wonder what you were letting yourself in for. Children weren’t really something you had any expense of, since neither you nor your brother had shown any parental inclinations yet, and you weren’t particularly close to your cousins who had small kids.

“Ok, let me give you my number and we can figure something out.”

That done, he slid his phone back into his pocket and zipped it up, biting gently at his lower lip for a moment. “I know it’s bold,” he said, “But may I kiss you?”

Your heart skipped and soared. Breathless, you looked up at him and whispered, “Yes.”

His tiny, gentle, lopsided smile heralded the kiss’ approach, and he took your jaw delicately in one, leather-gloved hand as he leaned down and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft but insistent against yours, and you answered with a little moan as your eyes fluttered shut.

He groaned, pulling you closer with a low growl so that you were pressed flush against him for a moment before he stepped back and exhaled roughly. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Thank you. I’ll… I’ll see you soon?”

You nodded, feeling like you were floating inches above the ground.

You watched him re-mount his bike and adjust himself a little once he was settled, then he revved it playfully for you, and rode away after a final look back at you. He flipped his visor down as he pulled away, and you watched the bike and its rider disappear down the road.

‘Soon’ couldn’t come soon enough… 

__

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[flowersandbigteeth]

How would you feel about a doing something nsfw of a Kelpie taking a human mate? In myths they usually turn into beautiful women, but what if one was a beautiful man or even an androgynous/enbie person? Instead of being a horse with a human visage, they’re a hot fae with a horse visage (not mythologically accurate, but makes so it’s less horse-fucky and more “kidnapped by a hot fae who turns into a horse to lure people away”). Here are some Pinterest pins of what I’m trying to describe :)

Horse visage- https://pin.it/5QX3bnc , https://pin.it/4bpFPDH , https://pin.it/4X2syHn

True (Fae) form - https://pin.it/421p4lO , https://pin.it/X4ZMkhH , https://pin.it/6djHdvf

I was so excited to do this one and then it took me three tries to get to where I was happy 😵 so sorry it took a while ^_^

Kelpie (Vylkas) x female reader

Word Count: 2.5k

🌶️ NSFW MASTERPOST 🌶️

W: some degrading name calling, vaginal and oral sex, many implied murders, light dubcon

You sighed and smoothed your hand over your friend Vylkas’ shoulder. He was a little damp and cigarette smoke curled around you from the one in his hand. “I’m sorry you can’t drag people into the lake anymore and consume their corpses, but you’ll find other things to do with your time. You got off easy. I mean the judge accepting “cultural differences” as an excuse for murder is remarkable!” 

He glanced up at you and glared, looking offended. The two of you were sitting on a bench, he’d built specifically to place his victims where he wanted them to be when his horse form emerged from the water to dazzle them. 

“Easy?!” he snarled, “(Y/N) dragging people into lakes and drowning them was my life’s work! Do you know how many bones I’ve collected at the bottom of this lake? What am I going to do with it now? Swim?! I was ten for ten! No one can resist me! Cut me down in my prime is what that judge did. I'm too beautiful to be treated like this!” 

You pouted. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re right,” you acquiesced, unsure if you really meant that, “but what I’m saying is, you have to reinvent yourself. Come up with a new passion!” 

He huffed, glaring at the brand new mega mansion neighborhood that had been built around his lake. As a Kelpie, he’d never bothered to buy the land around the lake he was living in and now it was a corporate housing project. Of course, that had been great for him, for a while. He’d been gorging himself on joggers, but eventually the law caught up to him. 

He drew in a long drag of his cigarette and looked at you. Vylkas hardly looked like himself. His normally sparkly, gray skin was sallow, his pointy ears were drooping. What was normally a thick head of shiny black hair looked dull and a bit dry and he had bags under his pretty green eyes. You’d always thought he made a beautiful man as well as a lovely gray stallion, the only thing marring his perfect face, a scar slicing across the right side of his lips. 

“Whatever,” he griped. 

As if to taunt him a fit, handsome jogger came bouncing up in nothing but a pair of tight blue shorts. 

“New to the neighborhood?” he asked you, glancing at Vylkas with distaste. 

“Eh…no,” you said, feeling the familiar tension build that always tightened when men approached you in public, unsolicited. 

Vylkas looked between the two of you and his frown deepened. 

“Pretty lake,” the guy went on, doing some stretches in front of you, “thinkin’ of buying?” 

“Look, we’re having kind of a heavy convo here…” you said, trying to give him a hint to get lost.

“Oh really?” he asked, completely oblivious and looking at the clearly despondent Vylkas, “going through tough times, are ya? You gotta change your outlook, man. Depression is all in your mind! Drop the cigarettes and hit the gym. It’ll change your whole worldview. I used to be like you, skinny, shriveled, pale... spent my time playing video games in the dark. I had to completely change my life! I’ll tell ya who you should be listening to, And-”

You stood up. Vylkas was not skinny, shriveled, or particularly pale and this guy was going to give your vain friend a complex talking like that.

“Hey, can you find somewhere else to be?” you asked directly, annoyed. 

He grimaced at you and regained his jogging posture. 

“Step one is drop the bitch,” he snapped and took off. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, but when you looked back at Vylkas he was looking at you. 

“What?” you asked, unable to read his expression. 

He gave you a small smile and took another drag of his cigarette looking you up and down.

“Why are you friends with me (Y/N)?” he asked suddenly. 

You grinned at him and sat back down. 

“So you don’t murder me,” you answered and he laughed, his face brightening up and sparkling a bit. 

–

It was a dark and stormy night. You were curled up on your couch reading a book, trying to ignore the lightning and thunder cracking outside. Rain came down in sheets, pounding on your metal roof. Pulling a blanket around you, you got up to go make yourself some tea, filling the metal kettle at the sink. 

You shrieked when you glanced up and a dark horse was standing in the middle of your back yard staring at you. You took a deep breath, pressing your chest to slow your heart before putting the kettle down and hurrying outside. 

“What are you doing out here, Vylkas?” you asked the horse when you approached him.

You’d seen him in his horse form many times. You’d become friends because you trimmed his hooves when he needed it done. The gray stallion had the same scar over the right side of his lip.

His large dark eyes took you in and he took a step to follow you to your back porch. By the time you made it to your back door he was in his more human form. He looked a lot better, especially since he was damp. He was the sort of guy that looked best wet, but you weren’t referring to his physical attractiveness. His skin looked healthier, the natural iridescence back and his green eyes were bright as they followed you across the kitchen to your laundry room. 

Pulling out some towels you handed him one. He was so much taller than you. Looming over you a droplet of water from his hair splashed your hand.  

“Everything okay?” you asked, looking up at him. 

He was smiling down at you, his eyes full of warmth. 

“Of course,” he said, lifting his hand and pushing a lock of wet hair behind your ear, “I just wanted to see you.” 

“You don’t need a trim for another two weeks…” you said, confused as to why he would want to see you. 

“I’m not here for that,” he said, taking a step closer to you, his eyes focused and intense. 

You blinked at him and blushed even though you weren’t entirely sure why. Your heartbeat picked up in your chest. 

“Then why-?” 

“I found another passion,” he said before he captured your lips with his. 

You were surprised, but not upset when his mouth moved over yours. Yes, Vylkas was attractive, but he was more than that. He was otherworldly beautiful, like a fairy, but he was a Kelpie. The idea that he would ever be interested in you was so far fetched, you’d never even considered it. You pulled away from him. 

“Teasing your friends?” you asked, your lips an inch from his mouth. 

He smiled.

“This is not a tease,” he said, grinning, “and you’re not my friend anymore.” 

You frowned and cocked your head. 

“No? Are you breaking up with me?” 

He kissed you again, then scooped you in his two large hands, trailing kisses down your neck, his words punctuated by each kiss.

“No…I’m…claiming…you...my mate.” 

You didn’t want to believe him, but part of you did. Most of that part was being convinced by the sparkling kisses he was peppering on your collar bone as he pushed your shirt out of his way. 

He’d always thought you were pretty, but he’d taken for granted just how attractive you were. Other men saw it too. When you were out together, he got so much attention as a gorgeous kelpie, he hadn’t noticed the looks you got. 

As he’d put the energy he usually put into stalking and luring his victims into creeping around after you through your day to day activities he’d grown more and more enraged at the number of men who’s eyes followed you. When you giggled at a lame joke or someone absently brushed your arm he was thrown into a murderous rage. More than one man who’d only committed the sin of touching you was hidden at the bottom of his lake. Since his arrest, he'd gotten a lot better at hiding his murderous activities.

Your hands went up to his, which were holding your shoulders in place. 

“Vylkas…wait…we should talk about this…” you gasped even as you panted. 

“No,” he growled, pushing you against the wall behind you and jerking your sweatshirt over your head, “I’ve been waiting. You’re mine now and I’m going to have you.”  

He’d made up his mind. It helped that, that very morning he’d watched you go riding with one of your other clients. You hadn’t thought much of it. One of the perks of owning a stable was that you got to go ride with your clients all the time.

It was something you did frequently with almost anyone who asked if you had the time. You usually just gave them tips on their riding skills and talked about the horses. But Vylkas saw it as a threat and while he seethed and consumed the flesh of the hapless rider, he decided what he needed to do.  He knew you would accept him, of course, he was gorgeous after all.

“Oh.” you said, your eyes going wide, but Vylkas wasn’t looking at your face to see it. He was tearing your bra straps with his teeth and snarling at you, while his clawed hands tore at your sweatpants. It was entirely unnecessary to rip them, but he did and quickly you were standing naked in your kitchen in front of him. He stopped long enough to take you in, appreciating your form. 

He dragged his sharp claws over curves ever so lightly, tracing your figure from your breasts down to your hips. 

“You’re more perfect then I imagined,” he purred at you, his eyes eating you up.

“Y-you imagined me?” you asked and he nodded, his eyes predatory. 

Lowering his head down to your neck he whispered just close enough that you could feel the brush of his lips on your skin. 

“Want me to show you what I thought about?” he asked, his voice rough as he held himself back from mauling you. 

You whimpered your ascent and he swept you up in his arms, splaying you across the closest thing to you, your kitchen island. He murmured to you, smirking as he spread your legs with his big hands. 

“I’ve dreamed of a hundred different ways to make you my little slut,” he groaned, looking at you pink pussy and placing dragging kisses on the insides of your thighs. Your hands found his damp hair and you thread your fingers through it unintentionally tugging him to where you wanted him to be, but he wasn’t in any rush.

He pulled away, pulling you up to him to meet his lips again, pushing his tongue into your mouth to play with his. Large, warm hands cupped your breasts and he kneaded them, enjoying the feeling. 

You were utterly overwhelmed. This was completely unexpected, but not disturbing. Putty in his hands you let him suck your nipple into his mouth to circle it with his tongue until it was a stiff point. 

His hands were all over you, gliding over your hips and your thighs, squeezing the flesh. This was the closest thing to being eaten alive you’d ever experienced as he worked his hot mouth over your breasts and down your stomach, leaving little love bites in his wake. 

Marking you up gave him endless pleasure, knowing you would see the spots later and be reminded of who you belong to. 

You cried out loud and your back arched up off of the cool counter when his burning tongue touched your clit. He chuckled, lapping at your sensitive spot. You could have sworn he was spelling his name on it with his tongue, but it hardly mattered. Your hands were buried in his hair and you were crying his name out loud, the sound echoing in your kitchen. 

“Please! Please!” you screamed, not sure what you were begging for as you were thrust over the crest of a blissful orgasm. Your mind was completely static, but you felt so empty. Pussy spasming on nothing you brainlessly ground your hips into his face, asking for more. 

“My eager slut,” he said, pleased. 

He loomed over you, pinching your chin between his thumb and four fingers. 

“This pussy is mine,” he informed you as he sheathed himself inside of you, looking you in the eyes to make sure you understood. It didn’t matter, your eyes pinched shut on their own at the invasion. He was stretching you to your limit, making you wail, drool slipping down your cheek. 

“Look at me while I fuck you,” he growled and your eyes popped open at the command. 

You tried as hard as you could to keep your eyes on him while he pounded into you with no mercy. His face was focused and full of passion, like he was trying to make a point. Your head jerked on your neck with each thrust and your eyes were rolling back. 

Vylkas was savoring watching you struggle. He pressed your legs behind your head, folding you in half so you were utterly helpless. Your inability to make eye contact didn’t really piss him off, he just wanted you to try so he could see how utterly brainless he was fucking you.

Scrabbling the counter unsuccessfully for purchase, you tried your best to stay present, but when Vylkas started using his body weight to pound you into the counter all your thoughts were scattered. He was going so deep, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. 

“Good girl,” he slurred, stretching your legs a little further apart so he could get a good look at his cock splitting your cunt, “takin’ me so good. I’m gonna fuck y’stupid.” 

He licked his thumb and started stroking your clit in languid circles while he slammed into you, grunting with each thrust like a man possessed. You drifted up and up, getting wound tighter and tighter. His scent, like fresh rain, was all over you, enveloping you in a haze of him. You could hear his ragged pants and animal noises as his thrusts got more wild and less precise. 

“Fu-Vylkas! I’m cumming!” you screamed. You didn’t need to tell him. Your pussy clamping down on his cock as you flew over the edge was like heaven. He grabbed your hips, totally feral, and slammed into you a few more times, wishing he could stay pumping into your tight, wet channel endlessly. Finally, he exploded and you felt his hot cum drenching you. You were limp as he looked down on you, loved up and spent. 

He didn’t want to pull out, but he couldn’t stay hovering over you on the counter, so he slowly slid out of you, followed by a wave of your mixed fluids. Looking at you slack body, covered in his marks, with him leaking out of you, his cock got hard. 

“We’re gonna do that again,” he informed you, betting himself could fuck you unconscious. 

Arranging you in his arms so he had a hand free, he grabbed some water bottles out of your fridge and an apple, taking a big bite to restore his stamina, before he carried you to your bedroom to start all over again.

[astraxxei]

Hello! I'm here to provide a request for the drought of Lyney x male reader content.

I had an idea where the reader could be a Kelpie that serves as a guardian of a lake in Fontaine and was loyal to the old Hydro archon. Some Fatui were polluting or destroying his lake and he became angered and fought them. Lyney and Lynette would come in and help him repel the Fatui which is how they meet each other.

You could write more about how the two bond as friends, idk anything is fine.

Thanks!

Hello!!! This is a really interesting prompt imo, so I'll do my best! Feel free to point out any misunderstanding or mistake <3

Lyney x Kelpie!m!reader

Fluff/sfw - no warnings!

Reader uses he/him pronouns.

A/n: I feel like I kinda did Lynette dirty here, This escalates a little quickly help, I'm sorry if it's short I tried.

❝ I was bound to meet you...↝

Y/n was sleeping soundly in his lake. Trouble wasn't really common in this, almost abandoned, though elegant thanks to the wonders of nature, place.

Despite the peace and quiet in y/n's sleep, something was clearly off.

He heard sounds of laughter in his sleep. Y/n's eyes opened and he felt something land on his head. It was an empty can. He looked at the can, angered, determined that whoever had the audacity to throw trash into his lake would pay. He took on his human form, hair falling to his shoulders and a beautiful gown made of water. He rose up to the surface of the lake, an angry look on his face, his beautiful eyes shining. Y/n saw the four fatui members, who were throwing trash in the lake, engaging in a conversation and laughing to each other. Furious, y/n stomped his foot on the surface of the water, yelling at the fatui.

"You dare pollute my lake, ignorant mortals?!"

Y/n and the fatui soon got into a fight, the sounds of the battle echoing in the distance. Lyney and Lynette soon approach, startled by the sounds. Lynette turns to Lyney.

"Do you think the fatui are causing trouble again?"

"Let's find out." Lyney replies, as the two approach the location of the battle. They see y/n slightly injured, still trying to hold the fatui back. Lyney bursts into the battle, dragging his sister along with him.

"I'm not going to let this happen! Come on, Lynette!"

Y/n soon drives away the fatui with the help of Lyney and Lynette, the fatui running away defeated.

"Do not approach my lake again."

Y/n turns to the siblings.

"I am very thankful for your aid. Could I repay you in some way?"

Lyney shakes his head. "You must be a Kelpie. It's our pleasure and honor to help someone as powerful and graceful as yourself."

Y/n blushes lightly at Lyney's compliments.

"Very well. I can assure you I will return the favor." Y/n turns his head to Lyney, smiling. With a nod, he turns to Lynette. "Excuse me, miss. Could I ask you to leave me alone with the young sir for a moment?"

Lynette nods and steps aside, heading to a nearby log and sitting there. Y/n turns at Lyney, lifting his chin up with his fingers.

"I must admit you've caught my attention. Tell me your name."

Lyney smiles and introduces himself, a faint blush on his cheeks. Y/n smiles, looking down at him, speaking in a flirtatious tone.

"My, my. Lyney, huh? What a beautiful name. It certainly matches it's beholder's energy."

Lyney nods, trying to stay calm despite blushing a little brighter now.

"Thank you. What's yours?"

Y/n introduces himself, looking into Lyney's eyes.

"You know," Y/n coos, walking around Lyney slowly, smiling warmly. "I don't have a lot of friends despite the creatures of the lake. It would be relatively nice if you'd like to come here more often."

Lyney smiles and nods, giggling quietly. "Of course I will...after all..."

He looks into y/n's eyes.

"...You caught my interest as well. The first time I looked at you earlier, it felt like I was bound to meet you."

With a smile, leaving y/n slightly surprised, Lyney starts walking away, towards his sister.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you again very soon, y/n."

Y/n turns around to head into his lake again and chuckles.

"Very well. I promise you will not regret any of our future encounters, Lyney."

With that, the two part ways, smiling to themselves. Lynette gives Lyney a teasing push with her elbow.

"Don't you think he's very attractive for a Kelpie?"

Lyney blushes and giggles nervously.

"Oh, shut up Lynette~"

[that-one-rat-in-the-cupboard]

18+ content!

Ok, hi, hello everyone. So, I have a few stories I've been working on and need help deciding which to post first. Most of them have at least the prologue complete, and some are just ideas I have. However, they are all Stranger Things fan fictions and all but 1 are Cannon Character x Oc because I SUCK at x Reader's. Anyway, here we go.

Get Isakied Bitch(Steddie x female Oc): Main character is a huge Stranger Things fan and gets sent from our world to the world of Stranger Things. (Prologue needs MAJOR editing but chapter 1 is complete)

Don't Be Gay in Indiana(Billy Hargrove x male Oc): When a new kid around Billy's age moves to Hawkins and becomes the new freak of the town and starts tutoring Max, Billy can't tell if the tension between him and this new kid is sexual or not. (It is. It very much is. Prologue and chapter 1 are complete)

Louisiana LuLu(Eddie x Oc, Wayne x different Oc): A girl turns up on the doorstep of Berri Love's trailer. Berri recognizes the girl as Luane, a girl she once babysat until 3 years ago. What was she doing here, and why was she so terrified of Berri's closest friends, Eddie and Wayne Munson. (Based off the song Leave Luane from 35MM, except she survives and escapes. Prologue and chapter 1 are complete, chapter 2 in the works)

Now for the ones that are just ideas.

Gotta Keep Her Happy(18+ Eddie x reader, Jason x reader): Jason Carver, for the life of him, could not get his girl to cum. He's tried every way he can, but he just can't. However, he's heard the stories of Eddie 'The sex god' Munson. Jason wants to keep his girl happy, but is letting his rival fuck her really worth it? (This is a one-shot, possible 2-parter if the first part goes well. Mostly complete)

Pandora's Box(Enzo x Oc): Enzo and Hopper meet a new prisoner the night before they fight the Demogorgon. When the time comes to fight the beast, this new prisoner is able to distract it. Apparently, she is not entirely human, partly a different creature from the Upside Down, and can communicate with other creatures from there using growls or chirps or other animalistic noises. Enzo wants to learn more about her now, curiosity grabbing him by the throat, but he knows she's dangerous and he isn’t sure if that’s a box he’s ready to open yet. (None of this one has been written yet, but I have plenty of ideas)

Polaroid Princess(Rockstar!Eddie x Oc): Once Corroded Coffin finally made it big, they took the world by storm. Their concerts were fully booked and hundreds of women(celebrities and your average Joe alike) were practically on their knees and begging for at least a touch from one of the band members. Eddie was the most sought after, but he always rejected any advances from women. People began to speculate he was gay. Then a picture from his high school days starts circulating. It's of him and an unknown girl making out at a party. Everyone starts asking Eddie who this girl is, and even though he denies ever knowing her, the next two albums he releases are jam packed with love song after love song, something Corroded Coffin had never written before. Who was this girl, and why was Eddie suddenly so in love with her?(no chapters are written for this one either, but I have plenty of ideas. Even if another story gets chosen, I might just start writing this one between the others)

Beware the Human in the Cottage(Platonic! Various Fae!Characters x Oc/Reader): The old wooden cabin just over the hill and bordering the river had been left abandoned for centuries, yet never crumbled. Any time someone new moved in, the kelpie in the lake quickly ridding of any human to come near the house. However, this new human seems to be smarter than the others he has seen. They have more control, more knowledge on the 'supernatural'. He just hopes this human doesn't find out about the fae that live deeper in the forest. (This idea was inspired by @pastel-pillows Stranger Things Fae head cannons. I loved the idea and I'm probably gonna write this even if it isn't chosen. If you think the idea is cool please go check out their head cannons, I personally love them a bunch!)

Alright, so, there's the main ideas I have so far. I have plenty more but I need to edit them and figure out plots a bit more. I'll eventually post all of these, I just need help choosing which one to post first. Let me know which one you think should be first, thank you!

Az, signing off <>

[delldarling]

the muddy shore | winsome i

male kelpie x gender/body neutral reader 1725 words sfw | lost memories, mild body horror, a kiss that leaves you breathless, part i of ii 

“You lured me here,” you say, barely understanding the words tumbling out of your own mouth. It almost feels like you’re speaking from somewhere far away, partially disconnected from all of your senses, because… Because you can still barely believe what it is that you’re seeing. 

You half want to blame it on the surge of bitter adrenaline, fight or flight zipping through your veins until your hearing is off, until all you can make sense of is the steady ringing overlaying every word the creature says. All you can do is stand here, frozen as he comes up out of the water. Watching him change though- watching is both frightening and utterly entrancing. You would have sworn he was a horse when you first pushed through the reeds, drawn by the buzz in the back of your skull. He is a pale horse still as he moves through the water, eyes reflective and gleaming in the fast fading light, mane twined with water weeds and flotsam. The cattails seem to part even before he reaches them, giving him a clear line to the shore. To you.

As soon as a hoof crests the shore though, as soon as he lowers it to the ground, a long fingered hand is splayed in the mud. A strange cracking fills the air as his face becomes humanoid - though far from entirely human. He smiles when he sees you watching, sharp teeth drawing your gaze before your eyes dart to his ears, still shaped much like a horse, drifting to the side of his head before they settle. When he straightens, when both his hands are human-like and his skin is pearly blue and strange, he’s eerily tall and thin. Wet hair hangs around his face, catching on his shoulders and the sharp angles of his cheekbones. Water weeds still hang from the locks of his hair, and around his hips hangs a lovely belt, heavy with trinkets and holding up some kind of loincloth. Otherwise, he’s bare, hands and shins and feet painted with dark mud. 

“You lured me here,” you say again, knowing the words are true, even if you don’t quite understand what they mean. You… Have half a memory of saying “No. No, you’ll take mine or none at all,” fierce and sharp to someone’s face, but… You have no idea when you would have said something like that. 

“Regretting your choice?” He asks, and his words are watery and jeering in tone, but- But his eyes are sad. “They always do,” he says softly, just barely loud enough for you to catch. “They warned me,” he follows it with, biting at his lower lip as he traces you with his eyes from head to toe. “But the lot of you humans-” He scoffs, though the derision breaks in the middle, and the sad tone of the sound makes you cringe. “I thought,” he says, taking slow, steady steps towards you, apparently impervious to the sucking mud trying to slow his progress, “that you would be different though.”

“I don’t even know what you are,” you bite out, still fighting with your own nervous system. Part of you wants to blurt that you are different, that you’ll prove it, but you still feel like there’s a huge gap in your memories. It’s as if you’ve forgotten something terribly important, though seeing him again, the scent of water on the air, the chill breeze weaving through the weeds… You can almost recall it, can feel it resting, just out of reach. “Let alone what choice you’re talking about.”

He pauses, just before his hand touches your face, pursing thin, wide lips as he examines your expression, your gaze. He crouches, corded muscles shifting so he’s closer to eye level, though his hand stays where it is, impossibly long fingers hovering just over your cheek. His fingernails are short, you notice, though darkly tinged, but even up close, the strange pearly blue shade of him doesn’t change or shift. You aren’t imagining it, then. 

“I made sure that memory was left with you,” he insists, tilting his head to make sure you’re looking him in the face. “Have you tampered with that? Bargained it away?” He sucks in a short breath through his teeth, glancing away for a heartbeat. “Was it too painful still?”

“Bargained my memories?” You ask, sharply, feeling your eyebrows raise. Your pulse is starting to slow, even though the back of your mind is still telling you to run, run, run as far from him as you can. As frightening as he looks, as eerie as it is to have him tower over you when he’s at full height, he’s being gentle, hesitant to fully invade your space.

“Does the name Winsome mean nothing to you?” He demands, finally taking the flesh of your cheek carefully between his fingertips and pinching. He moves his hand, making your head jostle from side to side and then lets go of you with a look of disgust. He snatches up your hand and your pulse speeds in fear again when he bares his teeth, slapping your hand against his damp cheek. “That’s me, if you haven’t realized. You don’t recall giving me the name? The crown of bulrush?”

“Winsome?” You ask, and.. It sparks a thought. Not a memory, nothing clear, but like a story one of your relatives told you about your own childhood, one that you know is missing the punch line, but can’t recall well enough to correct. “I… There was- two?” You murmur, unable to look away from Winsome’s large sideways pupils. 

He breathes out, fingers spasming in their hold on yours. “Yes,” he rushes to say, and then his long arms are slipping around you, taking you completely off your feet - though your shoes stick, sucking into the deep mud - as he presses you against his bare chest. He doesn’t seem to care when you kick, making a noise of surprise when your shoes are left behind. “You traded your memories of them,” he says, and this high in the air, your feet have nothing to do but dangle. You try to balance yourself, hands on his chest, and then you can see over his shoulder to the lake behind him. Your jaw drops. There are more horses in the water. Not many, three or four, but eyes and ears and wet manes float in the water, perfectly still but for blinking eyes. All of them are focused on you and Winsome. Watching. Waiting. 

You clutch onto Winsome purely due to fear, but his damp hand stroking down your back is comforting. You don’t care about the mud he’s surely streaking down the back of your clothes, you’ll take his arms around you, the strength in them, over getting any closer to the horses waiting in the water. 

“Of who?” You find yourself asking, and your heart aches when Winsome laughs. He leans back enough to look you in the eyes, another sharp toothed smile growing on his face when you don’t struggle, when you chance a small unsteady smile of your own. 

“Does it matter?” He asks, and that watery voice has you blinking, trying to reorganize your thoughts. “You found me again,” he adds. Winsome’s smile melts into a frown after a moment though, realizing that you’re not quite as exuberant as he is about finding one another after an indeterminate amount of time. 

“I still… I still don’t know who you are,” you tell him, holding tighter in the fear that he might drop you. You don’t know how far you are from the ground, and it’s likely that your brain is exaggerating, but the drop seems far and you have an incessant voice in the back of your mind telling you to stay well out of reach of the horses behind Winsome.

Winsome’s frown fades away, leaning close until his long nose is brushing against the crown of your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead, cool but warming the longer he lingers. “Kiss me,” he suggests. “Kiss me, and find out. Isn’t that what all the stories say?”

There’s a sharp whiny from the water, shrill and piercing, but before you can voice your doubts or pull away, Winsome is capturing your mouth with his. His lips are tepid, like kissing someone that’s been swimming for too long, but his tongue is hot and wide and after less than ten seconds of an overwhelming kiss, you have to wrench your head back to breathe. As soon as you do, there’s a sharp prickle at the back of your skull. The whiny grows louder, echoing around your brain and bouncing around your skull until your vision is hazy and- And then you see. 

Years ago, you traded away your memories of playing at the lake. You’d been young, small, too small to make a momentous decision, but all children felt that the world rested on their shoulders. You’d felt like a hero in a storybook, saving someone.. Someone from drowning. You traded away the memories of that playmate and… And part of you thinks that they might have been fae, just like Winsome is a kelpie. It makes sense, even if you’re still trying to process, even if your head feels hot and your vision is misted with stars and there’s a glaring emptiness in all the memories, pounding, pounding, pounding against the inside of your skull- 

“Winsome,” you choke out, clawing at his shoulders, pressing yourself as close as possible. He’d been smaller than, of an average adult height instead of this towering, fierce looking being. He’s always been thin, coltish legs and sharp elbows, but you remember twirling a lock of his damp hair between small fingers, of his cheeks turning purple when you asked what his name was. The three of you had spent multiple summers together, hunting bugs at sunset, making up games and laughing on the shore. None of you had cared about the thick mud always clinging to your clothes, not when you had each other, and- And the memories focus, and a face rises up, clear and cold as winter sunshine. Winsome’s family, his brother, had urged him to... bring you home.

And bringing a human home to kelpies? 

There was only one way that would have ended.

[kim-monsterlings]

Cathair - M Kelpie x F Human (Reader) // NSFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: NSFW/Lemon; childhood friends, mentions of inflicted harm to reader (near drowning, scar on left upper arm), minor angst, allusions to death, growing fluff, hugging and intimate embraces, kissing, receiving oral, fading out/allusions to more NSFW - if there is anything else anyone would like added, let me know <3

Wordcount: 5292

Faebruary Summary: after abandoning your childhood home, the memory of your kelpie and your feelings for him draw you back

Notes: apologies for this being so delayed! I had some time off at the beginning of the year, but the lovely Cathair is finally here. I hope you love him! <3

Masterlist // Faebruary Masterlist

Gentle embraces left dark impressions on your back from grieving family; grieving in anticipation, as you travelled the miles to your hometown. Their farewells - certain they would be an eternal goodbye, rang as your only company the closer you came to your abandoned house near the valley.

 Crowded by the creeping tree line, it rested abandoned for years. Only faint memory beckoned you through brambles to the smallest clearing, a far way from the closest bus stop, that itself farther from the train station.

 Packing light hadn't eased the burden of returning, though you wouldn't stay long. The guise of wanting to pack up your old things would wane after several days, and if that hadn't yet exhausted you, the trial of rekindling what you remembered as more than friendship with the woodland kelpie would.

 If he hadn't drowned you by then.

 Somehow, your home still stood. Neglected and damaged but there all the same. Untouched without your needing to check: this land cursed by folk wasn't sought after. It had always been your family's, no matter how disputed by the creatures rarely emerging from their murky rivers.

 Yet you went in the hopes of finding the kelpie. Your sister's wishing for your wellbeing manifested in delicately crafted charms. Blair's wards were useless against the likes of man-eating creatures, and only somewhat effective against true fae. It hung all the same, like the silver bridle fell at your kelpie's throat across the clearing.

 It was only right for Cathair to guard his territory.

 Standing before you like a daydream, the dark horse pawed with gnarled hooves before your old home. Too far to see the unforgettable glow in his blackened eyes, the glinting moss tangled in a thick mane danced in the soft wind. The sense of unease at being so close to him twisted your navel, though not from fear like it once had; from pain at seeing him after so long, and now wanting to flee.

 With a deep dig at the damp earth, Cathair moved. Faint sunlight glinted along his flank, an eerie sheen forcing your stare down. Today, you wouldn't challenge him. Not so soon, with a low breath close enough to chill through to your bones.

 Jagged teeth snapped not far from your shoulder: a warning, and one you wouldn't heed. He passed with a scent so familiar you nearly reached out, desperate for the rush of warmth his thin frame could bring when curled around you.

 Instead, you settled for looking back when he left to the trees. "I missed you, Cathair."

 With the swish of his tail, the faint scar on your left arm ached. The light of the clearing vanished into the woods too, away from you and nearer the body of deep water a short walk away; close enough someone could run off unnoticed. How cold it was rushed back to you. The emptiness beneath the surface drove you into the untouched house, onto old floorboards creaking with every step.

 You had given yourself three days. Optimistic, Blair said. She gave you an hour, whispered onto your shoulder as she saw you off.

 If he came near enough to question why, after so long hiding, after years of silence from disappearing late in the night, your excuse would be the same you told your family, though nobody believed it. You wondered if he would cling to the lie and hope you left again.

 The same mess waited indoors, of scattered possessions too insignificant, left behind while the mark of a kelpie stung fresh on your arm, and his kin, your friend, chased you away as you ran.

 If he came closer again, you would tell him the truth. That Cathair's brutality in defending you as you nearly drowned hadn't forced you away, but his family had. It was the fault of his brother for seeking you out and dragging you down the banks into cold water. Cathair saved you.

 The fresh bedsheets almost smelled like him.

 Coming home brought a sleep long into the morning. Even as a lie, you still began sifting through old diaries, some with handwriting far harder to read than the delicate script from your family. This curled and looped inconsistently, signed by the little boy with dark hair, always your shadow in photographs pinned to the pages.

 The photos told the same stories of the friendship you remembered, while your sister preferred the safety of indoors until night, when the child with a smile wider and brighter than yours returned to the woods. They told of you both growing up, just out of reach of Cathair's family - before his brother came from the waters in his footsteps.

 By the time your back ached from leaning over faded pages, it was late afternoon. The groove deep outside the threshold hadn't been crossed. Even left untouched, the figure lurking in the forest darted closer. Out of view, but there.

 Here.

 The empty bag on your shoulder swung when you reached for your phone, unsurprised to find the call from Blair. You'd told her of your arrival, reassuring her - and everyone she would then turn to, that you hadn't yet been stolen by fae folk.

 Surviving the night was different, and her breath caught on the other end when you answered with, "I'm alive and unharmed. You can stop checking on me."

 "Never," she said, her small, light laugh rushing over you. "Is it still standing?"

 "Barely."

 The doorframe held beneath your shoulder. Blair replied, something quiet and nonsense. This was all padding until she could pester for more and as she fretted, you looked to the sheen of moss along the kelpie's mane, cautiously stepping from the trees.

 "Hello?"

 "Sorry. I'm here," you said, and your sister cleared her throat.

 Blair spoke softer, as though knowing where your focus drifted in the pause. "His necklace," she said and even through the trees, the slight reflection of the bridle glinted low on the kelpie's chest. "Have you broken him?"

 "He doesn't need breaking. He never has." Her sigh followed yours. Cathair held steady among the trees as you came to stand further from the door, and a part of you hoped he heard as you said, "I trust him."

 "You trust the kin of the kelpie who tried to drown you?"

 His ears twitching may have been coincidence before, but the rising of his head couldn't be. Your stare held. "With my life."

 There was little more to say to one another. They disapproved and you didn't care. The impasse was as old as you, so you promised to speak later - to reassure her that you were still alive with a promise you would be home soon, before shrugging your bag right and drawing in a breath.

 "Cathair?"

 Hooves stepped forth. Still not the form you wished for - not the sweet embrace, the lilting charm inherent in folk - but the dark horse revealing himself completely now still tripped your pulse.

 "Hi," you whispered, quiet, but he heard as well as he heard your call, his tail whipping. "Is it just you? Not... not your family?"

 His muzzle twisted. With the inherent threat, you had to swallow a laugh. It only lured you further from the safety of your home. This creature, this gentle kelpie responsible for saving your life, wouldn’t harm you, and still, the land hadn't disturbed your rest. A family of kelpies would've sought the first trespassing human out in a night, or less.

 Cathair's head fell low. Yes. Only him.

 Nothing betrayed the fate of his family, even as his ears continued twitching back. However they came to leave their land, whatever chased them or otherwise, it was well-deserved. Your deep scar ached as you reached to scratch it, drawing sharpened eyes before the shadows embraced enshrouded again.

 Branches parted for his wide form and created a path you followed. It veered down to the water, the path well-trodden - one you remembered clear enough, from only one journey down - but you turned away.

 Unfamiliar faces watched you walk through the town you once called home. The few you remembered, friends you thought of as family, like distant cousins, had followed yours in moving away from land plagued by folk, and you busied yourself in buying the supplies you needed for the rest of your stay, if not a little extra, too.

 You were home within the hour, bag weighed down by fresh food, a small first aid kit - as a precaution, and a heavy bundle of meat in your arms. If there hadn't been a curled horse before your home, the fresh scent would've enticed him from the water.

 "Did you miss me?" His head lifted, only enough to narrow at the bundle. The trembling energy tight in your stomach pulled you closer. "Did you think I'd leave so soon?"

 Cathair rose, though you held steady; you had to. Muscles locked as the creature with unnatural jaws crept closer, your throat tight. Hot breaths fanned across your face, the kelpie standing well over you. Like this, the allure of his bridle made your fingers twitch.

 If he were human, nothing would have stopped you from leaning into him.

 Instead, you lifted your chin. "Want an apple?"

 Dark ears twitched forward, a faint green to his coat enough for your fingers to curl against reaching for him. This close, even looking at his chain was a feat itself; any other kelpie would have reared back from the looming threat of subjugation. Extending your hand never made you fear an extra nip to your fingertips, but still, your breath caught. Only a slight lean closer and you would be near enough to snatch the bridle away, trapping him as he was now.

 You wanted him back, not trapped.

 One huff and the apple lifted from your palm, snatched by a jaw opening too far, flesh jagged like his teeth.

 "You're welcome," you teased. His tail twitched but he didn't move. When his head lowered, you couldn't help smiling. Cathair nudged his muzzle against your empty palm, nickering softly. "If you come back later, there may be spare meat for you."

 Reaching out had been ambitious. Cathair darted back before you could stroke his long mane and when he faded without turning, the constriction in your chest drew tighter.

 Banishing him from your thoughts wasn't so easy now you were no longer far from him. Out of sight perhaps, but only minutes from where you fretted over long-settled dust. It passed the time, to trace old etches into walls from hours playing with your sister, until it darkened enough outside that a faint glow from beyond the door beckoned you.

 That same glow haunted your nightmares after leaving, but soothed you again when you woke, finding comfort in the kelpie who had drawn you from the murky waters rather than sacrificing you to his kin.

 That need for comfort ached through you and it had been long enough after forcing yourself to eat something that you reached for a jacket. Not one breath from closing the door at your back, Cathair distanced himself. Water clung to his coat with a tangling of water reeds, knotted and thick. His tail swished at your approach but the unmistakable flaring of his nostrils brought you closer, beginning to smile.

 "Sit with me." Without looking to affirm what the coil in your stomach told you - that every scuffle of hooves was another further from you, the two wrapped bundles captivated him. "Please."

 Before you, he wouldn't eat. Not like this and not the meat remaining bundled in its wrapping. Cathair joined you, though. Remaining a fair distance and so far your fingertips tingled, forced into your lap and busied by reaching for your snack, in the hope he would join you not like this.

 Faced with a kelpie now, heat crept along your cheekbones. That Cathair came at all held you from retreating.

 "My sister says hi," you began, picking at one half of the sandwiches, the one intended for you. His ears flicked. "They all do."

 And it wasn’t a lie so much as a twisted truth. They missed being here, not necessarily him. Had the rush of hot air not been enough to signify his irritation, the short whinny was plenty. Best not to inform him of their predictions for your improbable journey home.

 You pushed the bundle to your back and inched closer. "Have you been alone all this time? Is your family... are they gone?" Head lifting, he nickered as he had that afternoon and even quieter than him, you whispered, "thank you." For saving me.

 Whatever laid at the bottom of his territory - whatever was left to, was none of your concern. The kelpie unsettled was, who only shivered worse at your nearing again.

 "I wanted to visit. Often. If you had chased me away again," your jaw locked against the words. "It would have broken me, Cathair. Did you miss me, too?"

 Not one twitch appeased you. Not one turn to his ears nor stretch of his torn muzzle eased the pang in your chest, thudding like a rib had cracked. The press of your fist into your stomach didn’t lessen it, either.

 The curl to your lips wasn't much a smile, reaching your cheeks but not your eyes. Every forced breath scratched your throat. "It's late. Don't you ignore me, okay?"

 He remained still while your muscles barely held beneath you. The bundle rested nearer him with every step towards the cabin.

 And with every breath taken further from him, the truth in Blair's pleas for you to stay throbbed in your temples. How could you know if Cathair had wanted you to return? If the same kelpie who ensured you left his land longed for you, too, then his snapping jaws wouldn't have mirrored the jaws of his kin when dragging your drowning body under the surface.

 If it was nothing more than a wilful fantasy, the soft groan at your back was a hallucination. Rougher pants and deeper grunts spurred your heart into a flurry. While he underwent a change so torturous you could only imagine, you clutched the doorframe with white knuckles for support.

 Without an audible footstep, heat pressed to your back. Hastened breaths nestled against your hair, lips pressing to your crown. It strained your senses when he whispered your name, with his arms creeping around your waist and drawing you to him, back from the door.

 Grooves to his palm tickled brushing to yours. Cathair slid his fingers down, and swayed when you softened to his chest. Turning as far as his shoulder, your kissed the pale skin, gently first, before returning the favour and stealing a breath of his scent.

 Kelpies hardly changed far from humans, and he had been so alone. The embrace eased your tremors to little more than a whisper at his chest. "Will you come inside?"

 He only hummed low, breathing, "no."

 So simple, yet one syllable broke you. He held you from turning completely, his fingertips stroking the backs of your hands. "Why not?"

 "No," he said. Large palms fell to run down your thighs and against your hips, binding you to him. Familiar muscle from his bare frame tensed and the press of a chain dug into your back. "Not alone with you."

 Before you asked again, his touch flitted against your upper arm. The tracing of your scar left you paralysed long after his return into the woods.

 No matter how far you dared venture along the same path he followed, no flitting shadow rose. No prints from hooves or bare feet led you to him but that scar ached how it never had before.

 The softest touch from a window left open along your arm cradled you in your sleep, tricking you into believing he finally came to you. Old nights of the window opening wide enough for a slender frame to sneak indoors came to mind and the wind mimicked his embrace, careful, and always cold.

 But he hadn't come inside. He wouldn't.

 Little remained to sort through. Meaningless and pointless now to complete, yet you wasted the day sifting through them. Some - sketchbooks, usually - settled with smeared prints, like someone had traced where you had before leaving. You ran over the jagged edges left from torn pages, matching the paper you had rushed to carry away; portraits of him, old messages passed in notebooks. More pages were missing, though.

 Maybe the faint scent lingering on old bedsheets hadn't been just wishful thoughts.

 Only for fresh air, you cracked the door open late that night. To find bright eyes fixated on you frightened you back, staggering against the frame, forgetting in that second who watched.

 He never faltered.

 Guilt gnawed at you the longer you stood in the doorway, but you wouldn't go further with his heavy tail swishing, no doubt his sharp teeth bared if you approached now, so late.

 "Cathair," you whispered, and his dark form moved with a trembling shudder. "I'll leave soon. Just... just come in, and sleep warm. I feel bad enough as it is." When fae folk made no move to come closer, you sighed and let the door close, calling, "goodnight."

 Collapsing onto the cushions in the dark living room was followed by chills creeping over you. With the land of a kelpie came an unease, a familiarity haunting every sight. Not every night could be so peaceful and you tossed restlessly, until the first rap of the door felt more like your thoughts taunting you than reality.

 For one, slow step indoors, your intended bed for the night hadn't been within his line of sight, but Cathair turned only to you. The door closed at his back and he crept closer, bare from the hips up - clad only in torn fabric hanging from his thighs, hardly covering him. Soft light cast a gentler glow on him now, along the dark hairs of his chest, the impression of bone ghosting his thin frame. You longed to touch him where you used to, along the curve of his collarbones, where you once toyed with his necklace without ever contemplating breaking him.

 Blair would tell you to snatch it from him, to bring him to his knees. You would have him, your Cathair, then, but he wouldn’t be the same - not trapped and enslaved.

 You couldn’t move. When he fell before you to his knees, a hand rising slowly, you relished in the familiar heat leaning over you. Moss-thickened hair framed sharp features, clinging to his pale flesh. Beneath that silken hair, thin slits to his neck flattened now on land. He touched your cheek with slow, deep breaths.

 Then he softened, fingertips running down your throat. "You are too comfortable around me."

 It was too late for an argument, any debate - and it would be a fight. You wouldn't stop until Cathair welcomed you like he used to, with his smile unnaturally wide and long arms curling you close, but now was too late, too dark in your moon-lit lounge.

 This may have been the first time Cathair came through the door in your presence. It was unheard of for a kelpie to pine after a human, but to follow through; to slip into your bed and kiss you, careful to hide his daggered teeth, only enticed his family. It made you a challenge.

 The cushion became your pillow after you kissed his palm and his touch fell back. With the room dark and your trust implicit, you closed your eyes. As hesitant as to your cheek, his fingertips fell down your waist.

 "There is room for two here," you whispered. "Room for two in the bed. In our-"

 His chest warmed beneath your cheek and with each careful stride nearer the bedroom once shared in secret, his heart beat harder under your temple. The weight of his bridle tucked near your crown, hanging heavy from his throat but you rested by his shoulder rather than risk hurting him.

 "I do miss you," you said quietly. Your hand stroked down the slope of his chest, hugging him closer. “I really do.”

 His breath warmed your cheek. "You're tired."

 "Tired of wishing you stayed."

 Cathair stiffened around you for the slightest moment. "I never left."

 The first bend to his knees came and you made to lean back, only for a rough grunt to choke in his throat. He held you close until the bedsheets made space before laying you back, lingering only to tuck back your hair.

 "Cathair-"

 "Goodnight."

 The lithe muscles to his back rippled at your fingers on his wrist. His arm to your lips made him swallow hard, the kiss softening just below his elbow, where the scar forever wounding your arm rested.

 "Will you stay? Stay on the sofa."

 He turned, a kiss returned to your palm, a hint of a small smile, before the bedroom door closed. The fleeting skim of teeth warmed your stomach in a rush of everything but fear.

 You woke at the front door closing.

 Blair, in the least, didn't approve. Your parents wouldn't be told of your late night visit, and you couldn't promise your sister it wouldn't happen again. Not as you tightened your coat around your chest and followed the path laid by hooves.

 Thick boots couldn't steady you over damp earth and fallen leaves. With every step from your home, the woods quieted. Bird songs softened until your steps alone rang in the air.

 That pool left you frozen, the creature within looking so much like another pale-bodied being that strength escaped you. Several years before, that cold water rushed into your lungs. How he could swim in it, live in it, reminded you of the nature of the man wading deeper.

 And still, you would give anything to be with him again.

 The figure waist-deep tilted his head. Thin hair floated with the murky water, rippling against the shadows of his lithe muscles.

 "When will you leave?"

 The invitation back indoors fell silent at your lips. Cathair held his palms where water ran, a glimmer from his chain against the surface. He strode deeper in your silence, up to his shoulders blades. Following him even into deserted waters, no matter your trust, couldn't happen today, and he crept to his throat.

 "You said you would leave me again. Soon. So," he murmured, head tipping back, moss clinging to his crown. "Go."

 Before he fell, before he returned to pretending you weren't here, you dug your feet deeper into the ground. "I'm here. You forced us out, too," you called, harsh and unsympathetic to the sudden locking of his muscles. "I wanted to be with you, Cathair. I want...” When your words trembled, the sting rose to blur your vision. "Send me away. I won't come back again."

 Halfway home, your foot fell from a loose stone. The soft whisper of your name on the wind beckoned you back, though you continued until you could collapse on a bed he used to lay beside you on, aching to call Blair, though her patronising would worsen your suffering. Either you drowned or returned miserable and all you wanted was the kelpie hiding from you.

 If he wouldn't come to you within the next days, you would be home in less than week. The fresh air walking to town spared you the time to torment yourself with thoughts of him, busy feigning passing smiles, hoping nobody would recognise you as the girl who nearly became a kelpie's prey; the girl who still wanted one.

 Before dark, you rested surrounded by disorganized possessions that ought to be burned, lest you turn to them again for comfort. Some things you posted home that day, old scraps and photos, but there was nothing more you could do to busy yourself.

 Nothing more to do than close your eyes against the trick of light nearing your home.

 Still, he knocked, as though you would refuse him. You didn't answer, either way.

 "Bags?" Hardly a step through the open bedroom door, he whispered and stilled. Careful touches flitted over the straps, following the abandoned pile of clothes for the journey home beside them. His body fell with all the grace of something other, cradling your loose scarf and bringing it to his face. When his eyes closed, your heart lurched.

 "You're forcing me away again."

 His shoulders hunched. The scarf muffled him before he clutched it in a tight fist, stroking the material. "This coming morning?"

 As you intended, he flinched when you said, "I have no reason to stay."

 Cathair came closer in the dim light, and you struggled to sit up faced with his sudden decision to cross the distance. He was bare, the pale of his body tinged, bar the necklace dangling down his chest. Your scarf fell now you were within his hold. When he reached out to you, his fingers were cold on your cheek, slender and running back to lift your head.

 "I wanted you to have my bridle." Breath left you on a sharp rush, and Cathair pressed himself closer. He cradled your face and when his seemingly empty eyes found yours, he held you there. They glistened. "Before you left, it was to be yours."

 The last time you had seen him, in the thick of night and holding back a cry, he hadn't spoken. You told yourself it must have been the same pain at being apart, that he would miss you just as much, then he never reached out, never replied to letters delivered here, so you fought to move on, too.

 But looking at him now, fallen onto his knees and offering servitude, your heart broke for him. Cathair curled his fingers at your waist and clutched the thin slip when you turned, and he bowed his head to lean against your thighs.

 "I don't blame you for that night," you said quietly. His shoulders rose with a sharp breath. His raven hair had the same shimmering to it as his body when you brushed back the thin strands, careful to avoid jostling him. "I trust you. I chose to befriend you, Cathair, and you saved me when your brother-"

 "You left."

 The scar on your arm throbbed with a phantom pain at the memory of sharp teeth catching at you. No human could dismount a kelpie, and Cathair swung to help, to fight off his brother, but dislodging you would leave you helpless again in a river of kelpies unable to swim with a wound so deep. Saving you from drowning first then protecting you, he had nothing to guilt himself for.

 Then you left.

 That same night he whinnied and rose from the riverbed as you ran. He followed not far behind, tail swishing fast until he turned and left you fleeing.

 Cathair hardly reacted when you touched the thin bridle, but he lifted his head, eyes round and shadowed. "It is yours. Take it."

 "I don't need the bridle to trust you. Unless you... unless you want to leave, to live out your life in that form, then I won't take it."

 "Why?"

 "I don't want to enslave you!"

 His thin lips rose in an eerie semblance of a smile. "Why do you trust me?"

 "Cathair," you whispered, and it was you reaching to frame his cold face, brushing your thumbs beneath his eyes. His lips turned to your wrist. "Why wouldn't I? I've loved you my whole life, and you've never once abused my trust. You've never once hurt me, tried to drown me or eat me-"

 His teeth nicked at your wrist, though he was fast to kiss the soft skin again, a warmth in his voice when he spoke. "I could."

 "You could. Do you want to?"

 His body rose, leaning on his knees with large hands gentle on your thighs, before pressing his lips to yours. Tenderly, without moving for a breath when you held still, desperately trying to hold yourself back from scaring him away.

 Cathair fell back with a soft thud. The brush of his hands upwards made you soften, but you mistook it for a way to hold you, not the question it was when his thumbs dipped and pressed your legs to part. He bowed low and brought his lips to your inner thigh, drawing in slow, steady breaths, before his lips softened on the thin fabric barring him from your body.

 "Do you trust me?"

 "With my life."

 "I want to taste you."

 With his touch guiding you, Cathair laid a warming hand to your stomach. He ushered you back, fingers tugging at your underwear until you were bare, your slip thrown away.

 He trembled and lifted your thighs up to his shoulders, breathing deep, and the first kiss was experimental. He watched you tighten, your legs coming to press at his head until he returned low, guiding his hot kisses down before letting his tongue slip against you, and you cried his name. As you gasped now, it came different to when you spoke to him in the woods, with such power he himself groaned, and when he tasted you again, ran his nose up to nudge against your flushed nerves.

 "You taste divine."

 Rougher breaths flushed against your bare heat, awakening the heat molten in your navel. Like he knew, Cathair looked up, holding your desperate stare before his lips came around your flushing clit. Your hips bucked and he sucked, drawing a rough cry from your throat.

 "That's it," he murmured. "Let me have you on my tongue."

 Too flustered, too lost in the gentle touches, his hand running up your stomach to run against your breast made you arch into him. Cathair's soft laugh made you keen, his fingers teasing your nipple and rolling it beneath his thumb. The other hand, though it slipped your attention, too, began to stroke low, and his middle finger curled itself to the knuckle. Each crook of it had your stomach flipping, and he eased another, stroking against your tight walls until you whimpered.

 "Please- I'm close-"

 "I know, love," he whispered, and his fingers pressed you wide for his thick tongue to dip up, to taste you there. Tension tangled heavy in your stomach and he curled his fingers once more, the cold touch of a chain against your thigh a stark difference to how hot his breaths were, lapping with fire. "Show me how much you love me," he murmured, and his lips caught your bud of nerves as you screamed his name and your vision blurred. His sharp teeth grazed where you were most sensitive before chasing your release, kissing up your thighs and still moving his fingers in a way that had you unable to breathe properly. Cathair settled back and with your eyes on him, brought his slick fingers to his mouth, groaning. "You taste like heaven."

 You fell back with a heavy head, and he came to lay by your side, soft lips to yours. The taste of you was thick on his tongue, and he laid over you with a hand smoothing back down your stomach. He held you close, his own body hot and pressing into yours.

 "I want to stay," you whispered, and reached to bring him impossibly closer. "I want to stay here and be with you again."

 Cathair's small smile warmed your heart. As you both curled back against the bed, the kelpie lost in touching your smooth skin, he took your lips again and promised, "I'll always stay with you."

[yourlocalorcishbandit]

I finished my first story “An Orcs Promise”

I hope those of you who have read it enjoyed it!! Im going to be working on a few other ideas I have rattling around in my brain one of them is another orc and the other two involve a werewolf and a polyamorous selkie and kelpie! (I can’t remember who posted the polyamorous selkie and kelpie before but they helped inspire my own take on something like that. !! ) Until I post again have a good weekend everyone !!!

[drabbles-mc]

Christmas Party

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

For Day 5 of Bethany & Jo’s Christmas Calendar: fake dating at the Christmas party

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of creepy male coworkers, EZ being just the absoulte best

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This fic has been haunting me for the last week or so and I think I’m finally mostly happy with it? I’m not sure, but I also don’t know what else to add or edit at this point, so I’m setting it free out into the universe for you guys haha. Hope you enjoy!

EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelysomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04​ @mijagif​ @frattsparty​ @winchestershiresauce​ @bellisperennis0​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @mveggieburger​ @thanossexual​ @xeniarocks​ @choochoo284​ @beardsanddetectives​ @bruxasolta​ @i-love-scott-mccall​  (if you want to be added just let me know!)

“You gotta promise me that you won’t be mad,” you told him over the phone, trying your hardest to contain the laugh that was building in your throat.

“That’s…not reassuring,” EZ chuckled on the other end of the line.

“I might need you to give up your Saturday night for me…” your voice trailed off, not wanting to tell him everything that had been happening.

He sighed, not because he actually had a problem with blowing off plans for you, but because telling the club that they could shove it was easier said than done, especially with his patch-in vote coming up so quickly. Still, there was so little that he wouldn’t do for you, and the least he could do was hear you out.

“What do you have planned?” he finally asked after a stretch of silence.

“My work Christmas party.”

“Okay…” his confusion was palpable.

“Look, I know the parties you guys throw are much more fun than what this is gonna be, but I really need you to go with me.”

“I mean, I’ll see what I can do?” he sounded genuinely uncertain, “You know I’ll always help if I can, but the club—”

“I need you to be my date,” you cut him off, blurting out the information.

“Your…your date?” he couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice. It wouldn’t be the first time you were each other’s plus one to things, but for some reason he could feel that this situation was different.

“Yea,” you sighed, running your hand down your face as you tried to muster up the courage to tell him, “So, um, you remember that guy at my office who was hitting on me?”

“Bryan,” you could envision the way he rolled his eyes as he said it, “Yea. I remember the story.”

“Well. He…he wouldn’t leave me alone. Kept pressing me trying to get my number or a date or whatever. So I panicked and said that I have a boyfriend. And you…you were the first person I thought of.”

He hated that you were put in that position, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t surprised at the fact that you had said that he was your boyfriend. The two of you had always been close, and between him and his brother you had ample protection at bars to ward off unwanted suitors. But pretending to be your boyfriend was an entirely different play.

“So now Bryan thinks that you and your boyfriend are gonna be showing up to the Christmas party together?”

You hesitated before answering, “Y-yea,” silence stretched on the line between you and you felt yourself faltering, “I’m sorry, EZ. I know I should’ve told you, or just not have thrown you under the bus to begin with, but I just—”

“Stop apologizing,” he laughed quietly, “I’ll, I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure if I explain the situation to the guys, they aren’t gonna tell me no. Or at the very least, Angel will cover for me.”

Your voice brightened noticeably, “Seriously?”

“Seriously. They love you, you know.”

You chuckled, “But you love me most, right?”

It was a shame you couldn’t see the grin on his face as he replied, “Of course.”

For the rest of the week, whenever you had a spare moment, your mind wandered to what the party was going to be like. EZ had so easily agreed to be your fake boyfriend for the night, but did he really know what that entailed? He was a bit of a flirt by nature, even if he wasn’t always as obvious about it as his brother, but could he really fake being in love with you for the night? You felt like it was a big ask, at least if you wanted to pull it off successfully. Just to be safe, you checked in with him a couple times to give him a chance to back out, but he always came back with a reassuring, and slightly comical answer.

You knew that you should’ve mentioned to him that it wasn’t just Bryan at work who assumed that the two of you were dating. Word spreads fast, especially in an office where there isn’t much more to talk about. So more than a couple of your coworkers had asked about him. A few of the women had asked to see pictures of the two of you together which, thanks to years of friendship, you actually had. To say they were enamored with the idea of you being in love with a big bad biker boy would be an understatement, but at least they bought into it.

So many thoughts were flying through your head as you put the finishing touches on your outfit and makeup. Red had always been your go-to color for more formal events, and the fact that you were going to a Christmas party just made it all the more fitting. The dress was one of your favorites—it fit you like a glove and went perfect with your gold jewelry. Slipping into a pair of small black heels, you gave yourself a last look in the mirror and decided that you were as ready as you were ever going to be.

EZ offered to drive the two of you, since he was supposed to be your date and all, and you didn’t have it in you to say no. You were nervously pacing the length of your living room when you saw headlights stream through the front windows of your house. You didn’t want to admit to yourself why there were so many butterflies in your stomach, but you knew full-well why they were there.

There was a light knock on your front door and you laughed, like EZ hadn’t let himself in a million times before. Walking over, you grabbed your purse on the way and pulled the door open. EZ was leaning against the doorframe, nonchalant as ever.

“Here to get my girlfriend for a party?” he smiled, laughing.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t try to hide the grin on your face, “You came to the right spot.”

Both of you took a moment to take the other in. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw EZ so dressed up. He had on black slacks and a white button-down with a red tie that matched your dress almost perfectly, which was impressive since he didn’t know exactly what you were planning on wearing. You fought the urge to bite down on your bottom lip, reminding yourself that he was your fake boyfriend for the night, not a real one.

“You look great,” his eyes were a little wider than usual as he looked you over.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Reyes,” you flashed him a smile.

He held out his hand for you to take, “You ready?”

You laughed, setting your hand in his, “I feel like I should be asking you that.”

As the two of you walked to the car, EZ gave your hand a light squeeze as he shook his head, “I spend every day with Angel and Gilly—nothing your coworkers say is gonna shock me or hurt my feelings.”

You chuckled, stepping back as he opened the passenger door for you, “I guess that’s true.”

On the drive over, you told EZ all about the people he was going to be seeing. He listened to you rant about your coworkers pretty frequently, so he already had a basic idea of who he was going to be dealing with. Honestly, if you’d asked him, he was excited to finally be able to put some faces to the names he’d been hearing for so long now. He fought the urge to keep looking over at you as you rambled—he could’ve listened to you forever.

EZ rolled into the parking lot and looked over at the building for a moment before returning his attention to you, “This is the place?”

You shrugged, “Yea, I guess they have some swanky rooftop reception area, and my boss had to blow through the last of our budget for the year,” you laughed.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Swanky, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder a light shove, “Shut up.”

“What are the chances of this place letting the club throw a party here?” he chuckled as he parked the car.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Please, if you call, make sure I’m there to eavesdrop on the conversation.”

The two of you made your way towards the front doors of the hotel, EZ effortlessly linking his arm with yours as your heels clicked against the tile floors of the extremely nice lobby. If he was nervous, he was incredibly good at hiding it. You just hoped that you could hide it as well as he seemed to. Your heart was pounding inside your chest and your face felt hot—you hoped that it was something only you could notice.

The doors to the rooftop swung open, and you looked over at EZ just in time to see his eyes widen in wonder. It was more upscale than the places the two of you usually went, even when you were going to other parties or weddings together. There were already a good number of people from your job there milling about, making small talk and sipping on what you assumed was their first drink of the night. EZ’s arm tightened against yours for a moment as you both stepped forward, letting the door shut behind you. He gazed around at the whole setup, the lighting, the firepits, the lounge areas and tables.

“What do you do for work again?” he asked quietly with a laugh, “Because I might have to start.”

You chuckled, leaning against his side, “Better brush up on your notes if you’re gonna pull off being my boyfriend.”

He looked over at you, a smirk spreading across his face when he saw you dramatically batting your eyelashes at him, “Don’t worry, I got this. I’ve basically been training my whole life for this.”

“Training? Your whole life?” you laughed as you made your way towards the bar, “To be my fake boyfriend?”

“Yea,” he snaked his arm around your waist, leaning in close to your ear, “you’re gonna be blown away by how good I am at it.”

You laughed, and you hoped that you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt. You tried to check yourself, remind yourself that he was just being Ezekiel, trying to get you riled up and make you laugh. It wasn’t serious. He wasn’t serious.

The two of you were standing there waiting for your drinks when one of your coworkers walked up, a curious smirk on her face as she looked at the two of you standing there. She was clearly trying to get a read on the situation, see if things were really as good as you’d told her they were in the past when she’d asked. You reached and gave EZ’s arm a light, almost imperceptible squeeze letting him know it was showtime.

He turned, his drink in one hand and yours in the other. The smile on his face was as charming as you’d ever seen it. He didn’t say anything, allowing for one of you to make the first introduction.

Your coworker was all too happy to speak up first, “Well, well, well, so nice to finally meet you! Was starting to think that your girlfriend here was never going to bring you around,” she nodded towards you as she held out her hand, “Julia.”

EZ handed you your glass so that he could shake your coworker’s hand, “Nice to meet you, although something tells me that I don’t really need to tell you my name.”

She shrugged, smiling, “I guess not,” she turned to you, “I’m glad that you made it though, really,” she stepped in and gave you a brief hug, “I’m sure I’ll touch base with you again before the night is out.”

You smiled, and you hoped that it looked more genuine than it felt, “I’m sure you will.”

She looked back at EZ, “Enjoy the party!”

He chuckled, nodding, “Thanks, you too,” he watched her as she flitted off to another group of people before turning his attention back to you, “So is she actually that bad at reading people, or does she really not know that you think she’s annoying?”

It got you to laugh as you shook your head, “I really don’t have a damn clue,” you took a large sip of your drink, “I’d like to believe that maybe she’s really just that clueless.”

The smile didn’t disappear from his face as the two of you wandered a little closer to the groups of people who were there, “Alright, so that’s Julia,” he scanned the crowd over the rim of his glass as he drank, “Have you told me about any of these other people?”

You nodded, “Yes,” you tugged him towards a table so that you could set your purse down, also giving you a little distance so you could gesture towards specific people without seeming overly obvious about it. He nodded, taking in everything that you were saying. Upon seeing everyone, a lot of your stories made a lot more sense, and certainly became much more entertaining once he could put faces to the names.

As the evening wore on, you were surprised at how easy it all was, how natural it felt. You had no idea that EZ was such a good actor, seamlessly adding onto whatever stories you were telling as he nodded and laughed along with you. There were moments where you felt light, fleeting touches and you’d spare a glance over at EZ, but he would still be talking with your friends, acting like it was all the most second-nature thing in the world to be close to you like that. The heat from his palm would radiate through the fabric of your dress against your back, or the outside of your arm if he looped his arm around you. Each touch was something that you leaned into with no hesitation, figuring that if you were only going to get one night of it, you might as well milk it for all that it was worth.

You could tell that all of your coworkers were enamored with him—he still had an air of mystery about him in their eyes as your biker boyfriend who cleaned up so nice to come to this party with you. You wondered if he found it all to be a bit much, but there was an amused glint in his eyes, a tiny smirk on his face, that let you know that he was eating it all up. Sure, it was a performance by the two of you but what was the point if you didn’t have a little fun performing?

“So did you guys come here on the bike?” one of your friends asked with a laugh.

You laughed as you shook your head, “Not in this dress,” you took a sip of your drink, “Next party I’ll put together an outfit with pants so we can, though.”

You were all laughing together when EZ’s hand, that had previously been resting idly on your hip, gripped onto you slightly. His body tensed up just enough for you to notice, and you turned to him, immediately wondering what put him on-edge like that.

It only took one scan of your surroundings to see what had caused the shift in demeanor. It was actually surprising to you that you’d gotten so far into the evening without crossing paths with Bryan, the person responsible for your “relationship” with EZ. Despite the fact that EZ didn’t know what the man looked like, he didn’t have to. He could tell by the way Bryan carried himself, by the way the man was looking at you as he walked closer. EZ had no use for anyone looking at you like you were their next meal, and it struck the worst nerve with him.

“Y/N,” Bryan called out, not even looking at EZ who was as glued to your side as he’d been all night, “was worried that I missed you.”

You sighed, clenching your jaw despite your best effort not to, “No such luck.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he laughed, despite the fact that no one else seemed even the slightest bit amused by him, “if I’d missed you, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to meet the famous boyfriend,” he finally turned and looked at EZ, “What was your name again?”

“Apparently I’m not that famous, then,” EZ had a tight smile on his face, and you could feel him forcing himself to hold his hand out for Bryan to shake, “Ezekiel.”

Bryan raised his eyebrows, nodding as he shook EZ’s hand, “Ezekiel. Quite the name. I’m—”

“Bryan,” EZ cut him off as he pulled his hand back, “I know.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen Bryan squirm under the weight of someone’s gaze. You were trying to bite back your smile but you didn’t know how successful you were, and truthfully, you didn’t care. There was something satisfying about not just seeing Bryan be put in his place, but for EZ to be the one to do it, and on your behalf nonetheless. His face might’ve been neutral, but the protective grip that he still had on your hip let you know that just because you were satisfied with the interaction, didn’t mean that he was.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Bryan locked eyes with EZ, but it was clear in his body language that he wasn’t happy about it. You were expecting him to follow up with a bad joke, or a slightly inappropriate comment the way that he usually did, but there was nothing.

EZ nodded, “Yea, I’m sure it is.”

“Alright, well, uh,” Bryan awkwardly tucked his hands into his pockets, “I’ll catch…catch up with you guys later.”

That was the only time you saw EZ give a genuine smile throughout the entire interaction, “See ya.”

Once he started walking away, you could feel EZ’s body start to lose some of its tension. His hold on your hip remained, though, and you wonder if he even noticed it. The two of you sat with your friends for the rest of the night, the evening from that point on passing without incident. EZ was sat next to you, leaned back in his seat with his arm draped around your shoulders. Every so often while he was listening to the group of you all talk, his thumb would lightly trace back and forth along the outside of your arm.

As the party was finally starting to wind down, a few of your coworkers invited you both to go out with them since they were going to head to a bar, but you weren’t going to put EZ through that. He’d already given up enough of his night for you.

The two of you said your final goodbyes and walked in the opposite direction in the parking lot, heading back to the car rather than towards downtown with everyone else. EZ’s hand was still interlocked with yours as you got closer to the car, both of you laughing about the entirety of the night.

“Thank you for this,” you let out a sigh of relief, “It wasn’t that bad, right?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “It wasn’t bad at all. Your work friends are fun.”

“Very different from your work friends,” you smiled.

He looked over at you, smiling, “Yea, thank god.”

You leaned back against the car as he got the keys out of his pocket. You found yourself running your teeth along your bottom lip as you looked at him. “I gotta admit,” you said with a slight shake of your head, “I think I’m gonna miss being your fake girlfriend.”

He laughed as he opened the driver’s door and looked over at you, “Oh yea?”

You could feel the heat creeping up into your face, and you knew that without the liquid courage in you, this conversation would definitely not be happening, “Yea. I mean, you were right, you are pretty good at it,” your breath caught in your throat as he leaned against the car next to you, “Your real girlfriend is gonna be real lucky.”

He drummed his fingers on the hood, “Yea, guess we’ll see, right?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, “Right,” you tried to get your thoughts in order, “So can I keep you on the hook as my fake boyfriend for the foreseeable future? Or do I have to start planning a big, dramatic, fake breakup?”

EZ laughed as he loosened his tie a little, “No, not the fake breakup. Not after I just met all your friends. I thought things were going so well!”

Neither of you could contain your laughter. Sliding closer to him, you leaned against his arm, “Alright, alright. I think we could make things work.”

His laughter quieted and his smile softened as he looked at you, “Well that’s good.”

The two of you stood there like that for a moment, with you leaning against him. To say that you were gazing at each other felt so dramatic, but you wouldn’t have been able to describe it any other way if someone had asked. Neither of you said anything for a minute, just soaking up the moment.

You both started speaking at the same time, each stopping and laughing at the same time as well. EZ shook his head, gesturing for you to continue, “Go ahead.”

As much as you wanted to say what you were really thinking, you just didn’t think that you had it in you to be that honest. Because what if it all went wrong? You took a deep breath, “This was really fun.”

He nodded, “It was.”

He watched your expression for a moment, and he could see it in your eyes that there was something more that you wanted to say, wanted to do. He would’ve been lying if he said that he didn’t have the same exact feeling all night, that things just felt too easy and too right.

“Hey, EZ?” you finally said.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, “Yea?”

Taking a leap of faith, you leaned in and kissed him, barely brushing your lips against his but still getting your point across. Your entire body trembled as you pulled away, trying to see if you just ruined everything. But, before you could get too far, he turned and pulled you to him by your hips, pressing his lips to yours as he leaned into you, guiding you and pushing your back against the car in the process.

You couldn’t deny that you were surprised, but not surprised enough to not give into it. Your hands came to rest on his shoulders for a moment before sliding up and resting on either side of his neck. You felt the way that his fingertips gripped tighter onto your hips as your lips continued to move against his, and you all but melted completely into him.

When he pulled away to catch his breath, you couldn’t stop the surprised laugh that slipped past your lips. You looked at him, your thumb tracing along the side of his throat as you smiled, “Way to really commit to the act.”

He smiled, shaking his head, “That wasn’t an act,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “None…none of it was. Not really.”

You could feel your face heating up and you fought the urge to break the eye contact that you had with him. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss against your lips, and you felt yourself going weak in the knees. The entire interaction had you kicking yourself for not telling EZ that he was your office boyfriend a long time ago.

“So,” he cleared his throat, a smile creeping across his face, “I can…take you home?”

You laughed, nodding, “Yea, I guess we can’t stand here in the parking lot all night,” you toyed with the end of his tie, “You can stay if you want?”

His face lit up, “Yea?”

You nodded, “Yea, I mean, if you want.”

“Are you asking me as your fake boyfriend or a real one?”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove, “Take me home, Reyes.”

[momolady]

Kelpie Boyfriend: Ciaran

Female Reader x Male Monster (both cis)

Your grandfather was a secretive man. He often vanished for days at a time, sometimes months, only to return with a fortune in his pocket. He used to tell all sorts of stories about how he came up with the money, but no one ever believed him. His family regarded him as a gambler who wouldn’t come home without the jackpot.

When he died, it was something of a shock. Everyone had figured he would die during one of his trips and never come home, but he died in his bed. Lots of relatives who had written him off came out of the woodwork, hoping for a piece of his jackpot. You and your brother were worried, but you knew the will was ironclad. Your grandfather had made sure of that after your grandmother died. To your surprise, your grandfather left everything to you and your brother - each one of his properties, which you had no idea about, and his financial holdings, split right down the middle.

In the tumult following the bequeathal, you and your brother slip out one night, heading for the property your grandfather called the Loch House. You have to drive down an overgrown road to get to it, which goes from concrete to rough earth. The Loch House is built on stilts near the water’s edge, and there’s a marker for parking the car so the water from the lake can’t reach it. The Loch House looks nice, but it’s evident the place needs repairs and remodeling. It looks like your grandfather only ever used the place to fish from the porch.

Your brother decides he should go see his property, just in case. If it needs work, he wants to get started on it now. He helps you get started on renovations, and a few days after meeting with the crew, he leaves for his own place. You’ve not lived alone since you and your brother moved in to help take care of your grandfather, so it’s a bit strange being on your own.

You start cleaning and going through the house. Everything is so out of date, and you’ve brought only the bare necessities with you. Luckily, with the money your grandfather left you, you’ve made a giant online order for new amenities. You pack up things into boxes and begin taking them down to your car. The constant effort of going up and down the stairs is exhausting, and at last you sit on the bottom stair to take a breather before you have to go up again. You sigh heavily, looking out over the lake that stretches before your house.

That’s when you see him outside - a tall, gangly man, slightly slouched, with long dark hair, looking up at the house while standing nearly hidden by one of the beams. Jumping up in alarm, you prepare to run upstairs. “Hello?” you squeak.

The man turns, and his face looks very exhausted. He tilts his head to the side. “Hello?”

You swallow and take a step back. “Are you one of the contractors?”

The man looks around, blinking slowly. His hair is very curly and voluminous, falling off his shoulder in clumps of curls. “Nah, I live nearby.”

You take another step up the stairs. “I wasn’t aware there were neighbors nearby.”

He yawns, covering his mouth with a long-fingered hand. “Close enough. It’s been a while since someone was here.” He scratches at his cheek. “I got curious, that’s all.”

You still feel nervous about this stranger on your property. “Well, I’m kind of busy. Maybe we can talk more another time.”

He looks up at you and the sun catches his eyes, making them sparkle bright green. “Do you know Stanley?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say in surprise. “He was my grandfather. How did you know him?”

“Was?” He turns to face you fully. “That’s not good. What happened?”

“He passed away,” you say simply. “How did you know him?”

The gangly man sighs and puts his hands into his pockets. He has poor posture, slouching as if he’s too tall for the world. “I knew him when I was young. Sometimes he let me spend my summers here when my family was...” He drifts off, looking out towards the water. “Well, I kept the place safe for him while he was away. It’s been a while since I last heard from him.”

“Oh.” You take a tentative step back down the stairs. “Is there anything in the house that’s yours, then? I’m cleaning up and getting rid of things.”

“Nothing, really. Most of that stuff was there when he won the place.” He blinks slowly, heavily. “I’m Ciaran, by the way.”

You introduce yourself and smile shyly. “Nice to meet you. What do you mean, he won this place?”

“He won a fight. Wrestled someone and beat them.” Ciaran shrugs. “Pretty normal.”

“That’s not normal,” you scoff.

Ciaran smiles. “For your grandfather, it was. Well, have fun making your castle a home.” He taps his ear. “I have pretty good hearing, so if you ever need anything, just whistle.”

This guy’s kind of cute, in a Tim Burton sort of way. “Sure.”

He waves his long fingers, then turns and walks along the shore. You go back inside, locking the door behind you just in case, and continue clearing out the house, finding things shoved into closets and corners. You start to move the mattress in the master bedroom, and when you take it off the frame, you find cash shoved under it. “Jeeper creepers, Gramps,” you huff. “Winning houses in fights, money under the mattresses. What sort of shit were you doing?”

You gather up the money, shoving it into a plastic bag. Then you move the box spring, and find metal boxes lined up beneath that, as well. You scowl as you look at them, counting at least ten. “I swear to god, is this all gold?” You pick up a box, finding it heavy, but not heavy enough to contain gold.

When you open it, you find rolls of film. It’s been years since you’ve seen those little canisters and weed hasn’t been inside them. “Please don’t let there be nudes on these,” you grumble. You look up a place to send the film to have it processed, and find that a nearby pharmacy can send the rolls off and have the film back within a week. You send in the first box full of film, paying with the mattress money.

Once work begins on the place, you spend some time outside picking out a spot for a garden. There’s a patch near the parking area where you figure the rising water won’t be too awful for plants. You find some gardening tools in the house, so you figure now is as good a time as any to start a new garden.

“I just saw a fucking horse in the lake!” you hear one of the construction crew blurt from a window.

“What?” one of the others shouts. You see one of the younger crew members hanging out of a gutted window.

“A horse! In the lake!” The first worker swings his arm towards the water. “Big black horse, swimming around and shit.”

“How fucking high are you?”

“Not much. That's what’s freaking me out.”

“Dude, shut the fuck up. The client is right over there. In fact, go home. I don’t want you screaming every five minutes about the Easter bunny.”

You look back out to the lake, and see ripples in the water, but nothing to suggest a horse could have been out there.

The next day, as you’re getting up to have coffee, the sheets of plastic on the windows are flapping from the breeze. You go outside onto the porch, happy to see the repairs made to it, and as you’re pulling out a chair to sit, you hear splashing. Looking over the railing, you see signs of something dipping under the water. The surface is choppy, and there are bubbles rising from below. You hold your coffee in both hands and look around, trying to justify the disturbance as a catfish, or waterfowl. Then you go back inside.

A little later you drive out to pick up the developed film, and are so excited to see the pictures that you start going through a packet in the car. The first images look blank, completely black with maybe a red streak in the background. But the more you go through them, the more an image resolves in the successive photos. You see the sun rising in the background, and a silhouette rising from the black. It looks strange and thin, with long stringy hairs hanging from what must be its head. In the final photo, you see a flash of white teeth as the thing lunges for the camera.

“Motherfucker, Gramps,” you whisper.

You return to the house to find that the crew has started installing the new windows, and go around to the deserted back porch to look through the rest of the developed film. The next pack of photos consists of images of your grandfather standing beside something big and hairy, then holding up what looks like a baby sea monster.

“Hello, up there!”

You nearly spill the photos and jump up. Looking over the edge of the porch, you see Ciaran below. “Oh, hi again,” you wave to him.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he chuckles. “I mean...” He looks at his bare arm. “I’m not far off, so I apologize if I spooked you.”

You stuff the photos back into the bag. “No, it’s okay.”

“I was just wandering around and heard all the commotion.” He looks off at the workers hauling off the old windows.

You remember that Ciaran said he knew your grandfather, so maybe he knows something about these pictures. “Can you come up?” you ask him.

“I don’t know, can I?” He laughs lamely at his own joke. “Never mind. Yeah.”

You stand in a place where the construction crew can see you, but can’t hear your conversation. Standing next to Ciaran for the first time, you finally get the measure of how tall he really is. “I found some film under my grandfather’s bed...” you begin.

“No nudes, I hope.”

You smile. “That’s what I said! But… no, no nudes.” You show him the picture of your grandfather holding the baby sea monster. “There are tons of photos with my grandfather near things that look like monsters.”

Ciaran looks over the picture and scratches his chin. “He was always doing weird things like this.”

You frown up at him. “Like what?”

Ciaran looks at the crew. “Can I talk to you later? Being around people makes me nervous.” He hands you the picture. “I’ll come by when it’s quieter.”

You place the photo back into the packet. “The tide will be in then.”

“That’s fine. I prefer the water.” He heads to the steps before turning back and looking at you. “It’s nothing bad, by the way.”

Once it starts to get dark out, the construction crew packs up and leaves for the day. You sit out on the porch, still going through photographs. You hear splashing again, and you look over the railing to see something coming up from the water. Long black hair floats to the surface. Then you see ears, and then a horse rises from the depths.

You gasp, and the horse looks up. “Hello there.”

You just stand there, jaw slack and eyes wide.

The horse steps from the water, thin and gangly. Its rib cage is showing, and its legs look skeletal. It shakes off, and its long black mane and tail drape like veils. It vanishes under the porch, and you race to the other side, but when you get to the stairs you see Ciaran making his way up.

He pushes his wet hair out of his face and smiles. “I feel like I keep scaring you.”

You just stare at him. “The horse...” you whisper.

“See, that’s part of what I need to explain.” He stands at the foot of the stairs and smiles shyly. “I’m a kelpie.”

You furrow your brow. “A kelpie?”

Ciaran nods. “Your grandfather saved my mom, you see. He helped her give birth to me.” He rubs the back of his head. “He did that for lots of us.”

“Who is ‘us’?”

“Monsters. Your grandfather was a cryptozoologist.” He smiles shyly at you. “Mind if I come up?”

You let him up, and he tells you the full story. Your grandfather had been all over the world hunting monsters, and then his interest turned to protecting them. Your grandfather had to keep it secret, or it could have wound up hurting his family, but Ciaran knows all about your grandfather’s exploits. “He kept all those photographs as proof.” He takes out the picture of the black silhouette with teeth. “Wow. Guess there was a picture of my dad.”

You look at Ciaran in confusion, still letting everything sink in. “Your dad?”

“The asshole, as my mother called him,” he sighs. “My mom is human, but my dad...” He frowns at the picture. “My mom told me she had loved him, but he got scary and possessive, so she had to run.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ciaran chuckles. “I never met the bastard. Thanks to your grandfather, we were able to stay safe.” He looks out over the lake. “He let me stay in the lake, and he helped my mom build a new life here. She married my stepmom when I was young, so I always had a pretty good family.” He shuffles through the pictures again and shows you one of a strange serpent-like creature hanging from the trees. “That’s my stepmom. She’s really nice. Makes good bread.”

“Ah.” You lean back and hold your head in your hands.

“I know it must be a lot,” Ciaran sighs. “He really never said anything?”

“Our family just assumed he was a gambler,” you grumble. “Not… Indiana Jones with monsters!” You sit up and look him dead in the eye. “My brother has a place that’s a few towns over. Do you know Hearthway Hollow?”

“Sure. I know he had a hunting cabin down that way.” Ciaran glances up into the night sky. “It’s getting late.”

“I can’t sleep.” You stand up from your seat. “I’m going to make coffee. Want any?”

“Sure, sounds nice.” Ciaran stands and follows you into the kitchen. He looks around at the remodeling you’re having done while you set up the coffee pot.

“You don’t have to stay. You look tired,” you sigh.

“Oh, that’s just my face.” He picks up a framed photo of you, your brother, and your grandfather on a roller coaster, taken during the summer he surprised you both with a vacation. “It’s funny, I never even knew he had grandkids. I just knew he had family somewhere.”

You scoop ground coffee into the filter. “What was he like around you?”

“Funny,” Ciaran says. “Goofy. He was never too serious except when he had to be.”

You sigh with relief. “Good!”

He looks up, setting the picture down on the table. “Good?”

“I was worried for a second,” you sniffle. “That he was faking things around us.”

Ciaran comes up to the counter and leans over it to smile at you. “He used to tell me jokes, and helped me learn to like the other side of myself.”

“He used to watch cheesy chick flicks with me, because no one else would. I grew up in a house with only guys - him, my dad, my brother. So he took the time to make sure I didn’t feel left out.” You wipe your eyes and smile. “I miss that.”

“I like chick flicks,” Ciaran says.

Days go by, and the house is remodeled. Ciaran becomes a constant fixture, coming often to share stories about your grandfather, and listening to your stories as well. You’ve begun to really like him, and your time with him is satisfying. Gradually, the remodeling project comes to its resolution.

One afternoon, as you’re coming home with more packets of developed photos, you see Ciaran in his kelpie form, standing on the shore. You set the bag of film on the stairs, then walk up to him. “What’s this?” you ask with a smile.

“Let me take you out into the lake,” Ciaran says.

You shake your head. “Oh, I see!”

His ears stand on end. “See what?”

You wag your finger. “I read up on what kelpies do. You’re gonna drag me to my death as soon as I get on your back.”

Ciaran whinnies. “No! I would never! I’m half kelpie, remember? Only half!”

You giggle and grin. “You had to realize I’d have to look up kelpies.”

“But I’m really not going to...” He whickers and trots up to you. “This was supposed to be romantic, not murderous.”

You stop laughing. “Romantic?”

Ciaran’s ears twitch. “Yeah. Like a date.”

“I was only teasing. I never would have thought you would...” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Really? A date?”

Ciaran tilts his head to the side and flicks his long tail. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah of course,” you say hesitantly. “But...” You purse your lips as you try to word what you want to say.

“What’s the matter?” Ciaran dips his head, his long mane falling down in his face.

You reach up, brushing his hair aside. “The idea of going into the water like that makes me a little...” You look down as you pull your hand back.

A pair of hands take hold of yours and Ciaran’s human form smiles warmly at you when you look up. “We don’t have to go into the water. I guess after reading up on kelpies, it would make you a bit nervous.”

“It’s not that exactly,” you say with a soft smile. “But thank you. I can make us something for dinner, though.”

Ciaran’s smile brightens. “That sounds good, too!”

You invite him up, and he sits at the counter while you cook. He looks sleepy, but he keeps his focus on you, watching you work and telling you bad jokes. You feel bad for not going along with his date idea, but right now, while the relationship is fresh, you want to stick to things you know before you dive in further with Ciaran.

“All ready!” you announce when you finish plating the meal. “Nothing special, I’m not a fancy cook or anything.”

“Looks good to me.” Ciaran smiles at you. “Thanks for the treat.”

You sit beside him at the counter. “If you want to call pasta a treat.”

He dips down, kissing your temple. “For me it is.”

Your cheeks grow red, and you smile goofily down at your plate. After dinner, you watch movies together. You start out on opposite ends of the sofa, but move closer and closer until you’re curled up against Ciaran with your legs in his lap. Midway through the movie, Ciaran falls asleep, resting his cheek on your head. You leave him there, tucking him in with a cozy blanket before you go to bed.

In the morning, you wake up to find Ciaran still asleep on the sofa, his gangly legs draped over the side. His arms are skimbo with one hanging above his head. He sleeps peacefully though, with his long hair splayed out all over the pillow. You walk over to him, taking in how pretty he is. He may be as long and spindly as Ichabod Crane, but there’s something charming in that. His lashes flutter, and he sighs, rubs his eyes and looks up at you. “Where am I?”

“You fell asleep last night, so I just let you be. Coffee?”

Ciaran stretches and yawns, joints popping all over. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. I was having a good time.” He rubs his eyes again as he sits up.

You smile shyly. “It’s okay, really.”

Ciaran pouts. “I had plans, though. I wanted to kiss you goodnight and stuff.” He rubs the back of his head, smoothing out his hair.

Your cheeks grow warm. “You could kiss me good morning.”

Ciaran’s pale cheeks redden “What about morning breath?”

“It’s up to you,” you chuckle.

Ciaran laughs in reply and holds his hand out to you. “May I?”

You dip down, closing your eyes. Ciaran’s fingers brush along your jaw as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. It’s almost too brief, but he comes back, more eager. He sighs dreamily, pulling away as you open your eyes. “I must still be dreaming,” he whispers.

“I’ll go make coffee,” you giggle.

You have a few more dates with Ciaran, taking things easy. You enjoy staying in, so you’re often at your place, watching movies and hanging out. Bit by bit, you open up more. Ciaran enjoys being near you, he loves being touched and hugged. One night, you never even watch the movie, you just make out until the film ends.

“I should go,” Ciaran pants, pushing his hair back.

You’re pinned under his body, locking him in your arms. “If you have to.”

“I don’t have to, I just…” He kisses you again. “I don’t want to fall asleep on you again, or stay awake all night.”

Your face burns at the insinuation. “You can stay the night. Have a sleepover.”

He smiles. “I want to, believe me. But I know you want to take things slow, and I want to behave like a good boy.”

You giggle. “We can just sleep. It doesn’t have to lead to anything.”

Ciaran kisses you again. “You’re very right. It would be nice to wake up and cuddle in the morning.”

You chase after his kiss, but he gives you a small peck. Then he rises, helping you up. “I’ll get a shower,” you tell him. “You can go ahead and tuck in for the night.”

“Sounds good. Do you have a hair tie I could borrow for my hair? It’s easier to sleep in a braid than wake up and deal with a bird’s nest on my head.”

Ciaran follows you to the bedroom, where you point to a pile of hair ties on your dresser. You gather your pajamas and take your shower, and when you come back, Ciaran is lying in bed on his back, eyes closed. You admire him as you crawl into bed and lie down, turning so you can see him. You smile as you close your eyes. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Ciaran says sleepily.

In the morning, you’re pressed against Ciaran’s chest with your feet tucked between his thighs for warmth. He’s holding your hands to his chest while he dozes, and you smile, enjoying being the big spoon. You sniff his hair and kiss the back of his neck softly.

“Careful,” he whispers.

“Does it tickle?”

Ciaran turns his head to look at you. “In too good a way. Did you sleep well?”

You nod and snuggle against him. “Did you?”

“Too well.”

You kiss his neck again, and when he moans you feel emboldened. You kiss him harder, opening your lips and dragging them along his skin. Ciaran sighs, clutching your hand tighter. “Careful,” he whispers again.

“Ciaran,” you breathe into his ear.

He turns and looks back at you seriously. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Only if you are too.”

Ciaran sits up, moving on top of you and running his eyes over your face and down your body. “If we do this,” he breathes, “will you go swimming with me afterwards?”

You stroke your hands up his bare chest. “Of course.”

He takes a deep breath and smiles. Then he dips down, kissing you softly, moving his lips along your jaw. He runs his hands under your shirt, pushing it up until your breasts spill out for him. He stares at you, eyes becoming lidded as his breath shudders. You bite your lip and shrug up your shoulders. “They’re a bit saggy.”

Ciaran cups a breast, pushing it up and squeezing it. “Not when I hold them.” He cups the other in his hands. He kisses between them, moaning against your skin.

You whimper softly, pulse picking up as his hands make you tingle.

“Mine aren’t big at all,” Ciaran teases. “I know I’m all bone.”

You open your eyes and sit up, pressing kisses to his chest, his pronounced ribs. “You’re still very pretty,” you murmur. “Your skin is very soft.”

You kiss down his concave stomach, and his hand slips under your chin. “I should warn you about something before we go further. I want to, and I think you want to as well, but my anatomy below the belt...”

“What’s the matter?”

Ciaran frowns and looks away. “It’s just that I… Being part kelpie… This is so mortifying to say out loud.”

You look down at his lap, then back up at his face. “Is it shaped differently?”

“You could say that,” he clears his throat. “I just don’t want to scare you with it. It’s not something I want to come across as bragging, but it’s kind of… big.”

“Oh, a horse cock?”

Ciaran’s face burns, and he covers it with his hands. “Don’t say it like that!”

“I’m sorry! Um…” You think for a moment. “Can I see it, then? If it’s too much, there’s still lots we can do together.”

Ciaran exhales slowly. “Are you sure?”

“Lie down,” you say lovingly.

Ciaran lies on his back, wiggling out of his pants and underwear, and looks away shyly as you kneel beside him. His cock rests against his thigh, quite large but still soft. It’s mottled black and pink, and the head is flattened and tilted. There are ridges along the bottom and a flared circle near the base. It’s certainly big even in its flaccid state You kiss his hip, moving so you straddle his thigh. Then you slowly rub your palm along his shaft, and Ciaran whimpers softly.

“It’s okay. Nothing to be afraid of.” You can feel him getting harder as you stroke. “It’s actually kind of pretty.”

Ciaran chuckles nervously. “You think?” He looks up at you.

“I do.” You take him in both hands as he begins to rise. “You’re getting really warm. Does that feel good?”

“It’s...” He moans. “I like you touching me.”

You dip down, licking his shaft gently. He moans louder, jaw hanging open. He certainly is getting longer, but his thickness doesn’t change. You kiss his glans, licking around the flat head.

“Come here,” Ciaran pants and waves his hand to you. “Sit on me.”

“What?” you sputter.

“It’s only fair,” he says with a soft smile. “Put your legs above my head.”

You feel burning hot all over. “I don’t want to suffocate you.”

“I can breathe underwater, so it doesn’t bother me.” he chuckles. “Don’t worry about me. Come on. It’s only fair.”

Slowly you place yourself over him, and he rubs his hands up your legs, easing you down onto his face. He kisses your thighs, and then your vulva. You breathe shakily and dip down, kissing his cock. You lick along his shaft as his tongue pushes between your labia. You gasp, and he moans. You drag your lips down the side of his shaft, and he uses his fingers to pry you open. You’re growing delirious with each touch, and you try to keep up with him. You take his glans into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as he eases his fingers inside you. You feel his thighs begin to tremble. You stroke him faster, feeling his pulse race through the shaft. His kisses and touches became more intense, and you feel his moans, his ragged breathing. His fingers squeeze tightly around your thighs, and you buck your hips, rubbing against his face. He moans more deeply, and then both of you erupt.

Your eyes are blurry as you lick his semen from your cheeks, swallowing it. You move slow, falling off him and lying at his side, your cheek against his thigh. Ciaran chuckles giddily and helps you to sit up. He kisses you, laying you back down on the bed and nuzzling between your breasts. “That was...” you whisper. “Oh, wow.”

“Thank you.” Ciaran kisses your cheek. “I was worried, but you made me feel so safe.”

“You have nothing to be worried about. I was happy to...” You giggle again. “It was fun. Thank you.”

“After breakfast, I can’t wait to take you swimming,” he breathes. “I can’t wait to show you my world.”

[lord-explosion-baku]

Tempting Tempest

Shark!Bakugou X mer!reader (+more)

Warnings: mentions of noncon/dubious themes, slight violence, sexual themes

A/N: this wasn’t even one of the big ideas I had for mermay, but I started writing it at work and it just sort of happened. I plan on writing scenarios for both option one and option two (see the end of the fic), and if I get inspired, I’ll write scenarios for more characters too! I love mermaids so it would just be wrong if I didn’t post something for mermay.

Peering over a large lump of pink, spindly coral, your eyes narrowed in on an octopus, languidly scuttling its way through the sand. You licked your lips and heard your stomach rumble: octopus wasn’t the most tantalizing meal in the ocean, but at the moment, it was the safest when your food sources were so scarce. That, and a couple of its legs could satiate a few of your sisters who, like you, have not been mated as of yet.

It was May, which meant that it was time for the more male-dominant pods from the south to migrate up to the central waters to enjoy the warming waters. Both your sisters and other pod-mates alike had been snatched up by these tail-hungry mermen, either by being wowed and wooed by different trinquets and talismans the males had created for special bonding occasions such as these, or for the more stubborn and jittery merfolk such as yourself, being captured and forced to mate. Wooed or not, you wanted nothing to do with it, and the repercussions of avoiding the frenzied scuffle was lack of food and resources.

So that Octopus was yours.

Your tail swished back and forth as you slowly pulled your dagger out of your side pouch. Tasty or not, you and your sisters were going to feast. But just as you were about to pounce, a dark shadow loomed over the octopus. You looked up to see a marlin and your dinner-plate eyes only grew that much larger.

Mine.

You swam, fast and furious towards your prey, jetting through the water with smooth finesse. You were the swiftest in your pod, something you pride yourself on—even still, that marlin saw you coming a mile away and darted quickly in the opposite direction. That didn’t stop your pursuit. You chased the giant fish under large, rocky arches and through a tall, kelpy forest, determined to make the fish your meal.

It took you far too long to notice the second shadow that had been falling over you throughout your fishing endeavor. Missing a beat, you slammed yourself into a rock the marlin used to scale to get away. Goosebumps appeared on your arm when you heard snickering from above you.

Looking up, you could see only his silhouette. You couldn’t tell who it could have been, but you knew he was male by the sharp point of his fluke; he was a shark—possibly one of the most violent breeds of merfolk around. A short glance out into the abyss and you saw the marlin miles away. Your hungry brain told you that if the merman was in pursuit of the fish as well, and that if you were to fight him for it, you would undoubtedly lose, but looking back at the silhouette, you could tell by the tilt of his head that the merman had no interest in the marlin. But he had his own dagger in his hands. He was hunting and you were his game.

Before you could get another moment to think, the merman curled down in a beautiful arc and dove down straight for you. You inhaled through your gills and bolted away in an entirely new direction in an attempt to throw your pursuer off, but with a deliberate flick of his tail, he made the sharp turn and was trailing behind you in no time.

You stayed low, hoping you could lose him after swimming around around large stacks of sediment, but whenever you could steal a glance back he was right there, grinning wickedly, advancing on you even more.

“You can’t swim forever, little guppy,” you heard him snarl behind you, his tone half-amused with a note of agitation. You felt fingers curl around the base of your fluke, and though you tried to jerk him away, his grip was vice.

You descended, skidding along a sandy seabed, scratching your arms and torso on absconded rocks. You hissed in pain, but managed to keep a tight hold on your dagger throughout your entire fall. Large hands grabbed a hold of your tail and flipped you over with ease, pushing you back down against the seabed where pale, glittering sand pushed up off the floor and floated around you. Finally able to see your attacker up front, you had to hold your breath to keep from gasping.

Despite hating him on sight, there was a moment where you thought to yourself that he was the most gorgeous creature you’d ever seen. Ash-colored hair swayed gently with the easy ocean currents. Hungry, crimson eyes were a beautiful, stark contrast to the incessant blue that flooded your everyday life. And the way his bronzed abs flexed as he caught his breath had liquid heat rushing through your tail. You wanted to reach out and touch the hook-shaped scar on his left peck. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did. Merfolk were curious creatures, and most of you found that the easiest way to satiate their curiosities was through touch.

So you did. You lifted your free hand and drew your fingers along the rough edges of his scarred skin. He bristled at the contact, but didn’t stop you, opting to eye you with equal interest. You felt the beat of his two-chambered heart thrumming against his flushed skin. It was mesmerizing—almost as much as the gentle rumbling that reverberated from his chest—the tell that he was ready to mate.

The tips of his fingers touched your bare shoulder, slid up your neck, and found their home on your chin. He tilted your head once to the left, once to the right to check your neck to see if you’d already been mated. He let out a content hum and placed his hand on the back of your neck. Fluttering excitement buzzed down your spine to your fluke, and you slapped your tail against the floor to try to ease your sudden fervor. It didn’t help, and by the look on his face, he knew he had you. You thought for a moment that maybe you could mate; there really was no reason to be so stubborn. It was only natural and you were of age. The alluring rumbling from his chest was obviously getting to you, but why would you let yourself be mad over being picked by a very attractive suitor. You could mate with him. You could…

But then he had to go and speak again.

“Not so keen on fleeing now, huh?” The triumphant tone he kept had your scales flaring. “And here you had me thinking you were gonna put up a bit of a fight.” He flashed a toothy grin. Sharp. Dangerous. You didn’t want those teeth anywhere near you.

You swung your dagger at him. He caught your wrist with ease. His grin only grew wider as he pinned your arm back against the ocean floor. You hissed at him, grabbing a fistful of sand and flinging it at his face. He coughed and sputtered, so you used that opportunity to sweep your tail up and across his stupid, beautiful face. He let up and you were able to kick against the floor and swim up in a desperate search for an escape.

From the view, it seemed you had three options.

Option one: you could brave the sea cave you spotted miles away. The contents of the dark were unknown to you, but you figured you could brave the unknown and wait until this merman loses interest. You probably wouldn’t be able to eat for the rest of the day, but it sure as hell beat being mated to some arrogant, two-pricked shark. (Octo!Aizawa—noncon)

Option two: fight the arrogant, two-pricked shark. You might’ve not been the strongest fish in the sea, but you were fast and, at times, cunning. Your pride was on the line anyhow and if it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he was going to get. (Shark!Bakugou—dubcon)

Option three: swim away some more. The ocean was vast, but you were bound to run into something or someone that could help fend this fiend off of you sooner or later, if he doesn’t get tired from the chase first. Swimming away would surely open a few more paths for you too. But you’d have to be fast. (Other mer!character scenarios that may come up)

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza1987 , @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello 

[monstersandmaw]

Oats the kelpie (single dad, dad-bod, absolute softie sweetheart) is now up on Patreon on early release! You can read it right now for $3, or for $5 you can have access to everything pre-2020 mothballing.

Background info post on the Full Moon Motorcycles group here Oats Appreciation post here

Featuring a plus-size, bisexual, not very confident reader, and a divorced, Scottish, single-dad, biker kelpie with a soft-dad bod and a heart as big as his bike’s engine (possibly bigger).

Wordcount: 7562

Preview:

You pushed open the glass door of Full Moon Motorcycles and willed yourself not to feel self-conscious or out of place.

Having both an older brother and a mother who rode motorbikes had at least given you a fair bit of familiarity with bikes and the general ‘biker culture’, but it was mostly the fact that almost all the ‘biker girls’ you saw posing on social media were slim and toned, which you were decidedly not.

From the utterly foetid takes in the comments section of the one post your brother had shared on his page with you in it, you’d also got the impression that the biker community was not particularly kind to any woman with a waist over 25 inches. It probably wasn’t the case, but your one experience with it had been enough to make you very wary.

And yet, as you made your way towards the bike shop’s counter and the older man with floppy, greying hair and warm brown eyes looked up, you were greeted with an open, welcoming smile.

“Hi there,” he said, standing up with a grunt from the comfy chair where he’d been sitting in the corner near the shop’s antique cash register. “What can I do for you?”

You smiled shyly and glanced along the wooden countertop before returning your gaze to him. “I’m looking for a present for my brother, but I’m kind of on a budget…”

“Gotcha. We’ve got some silly key fobs there,” he said, indicating a rotating display rack at one end of the counter, with mottoes that ranged from funny to explicit, “But if they like working on their bike themselves, you can’t go wrong with some maintenance supplies… Not the most glamorous but I promise they’ll be grateful to you all the same.”

“Could always tie a festive ribbon round it,” you said, and he chuckled and nodded.

“That’s the spirit.”

You eyed the reasonable price of the fobs with some relief, and then followed his gesture towards the various bottles of chain degreaser and the like, and a few other useful tools and kits that were stacked on shelves on the back wall to the right of a door that presumably led into the back and store rooms.

The right hand side of the shop had the counter and some shiny, new bikes that had been parked in a row around the perimeter of the space, and the left hand side was more open with a bench or two against the brick walls, and some red, mechanics’ tool-chests tucked against the back wall. A number of leather two- and one-piece suits hung in racks at the furthest end though, with helmets on shelves and a few rows of t-shirts, jeans, gloves, and boots displayed too. There were oil stains in the centre of the polished concrete floor, and you suspected that tinkering took place there outside of the shop’s usual opening hours.

The whole vibe of Full Moon Motorcycles was friendly and cosy, with a slightly industrial, grungy note for some flavour.

In short, you loved it.

“There are also some fun helmet covers –” the older man chuckled, and added, “A number of the regulars here have them, and there are also some earplugs, or perhaps a tough phone case and mount? A chain care kit? There are some vinyl stickers too, and t-shirts, socks, neck warmers, balaclavas, mugs, helmet care kits, thermals…”

Laughing, you held up your hands for him to stop, and he started to chuckle too.

“I’ll let you browse in peace, sweetheart,” he said, his whisky brown eyes twinkling. Even his un-looked-for endearment came across as kindly instead of creepy, and not many men could pull that off. “You just holler if you have questions and I’ll be happy to –”

The door opened behind you and he broke off as his attention was snagged by the arrival of a heavy-set guy in dark jeans and a softly-worn, black leather jacket. He held a black helmet with a tinted visor in his large hands, and he looked more than a little wind-blown and rumpled.

Incongruous with his rather roguish-dishevelment, a lock of his long, thick, slightly grizzled, black hair was held back by a little hair-clip with a Barbie-pink, fabric bow. It didn’t fit with the dark scruff of stubble on his jaw or the piercing green-blue eyes at all, but he seemed completely unfazed by its presence.

“Oats!” the older man exclaimed with obvious joy, clapping his hands. “It’s been a while, my boy! How was the trip to Scotland? You make it round the NC500 this time?”

The ‘boy’ looked to be in his mid to late thirties…

“Ach, no’ a chance this time, Hank,” the man chuckled with a heavy, Scottish accent lacing his rich, rough baritone. Exactly where in Scotland he was from, you couldn’t tell, but it was lyrical and attractive all the same.

“Ah, next time, next time. And is Natalie well?

“Oh aye, my wee Loch Ness Monster is doing just fine. She’ll be terrorising her mother for the Christmas holidays. I came straight from the road though — clutch started playing up just south of Birmingham.” He grimaced, but even that looked charming somehow. “Sort of hoped you might find a minute to take a look at it for me if I left the Old Girl here. No rush though.”

“No problem, Oats. We’ll get her running properly again in no time. Bet you’re missing little Natalie already,” Hank added sympathetically.

“Ah, you have no idea,” the man, peculiarly-named ‘Oats’, sighed ruefully, shaking his head.

“See she left you with a parting gift though,” Hank snorted, pointing at the bow hair clip.

With a slight frown to his dark eyebrows, Oats reached up and patted at his head until he found it, and then he laughed. It was a loud, delighted, full-bellied sound that reverberated through the space while it lasted, and he left the hair clip where it was with no trace of self-consciousness as he lowered his hand again. “Aye, that she did. Surprised it survived the journey down with my lid on and everything. Oh –” His unusually pale green eyes landed on you, watching him and lurking near the rows of t-shirts on the back wall, and he went still.

Those sea-grey eyes raked you up and down, clearly noting the way your black leggings clung to the curves of your thighs and hips, and the black hoodie, which maybe went some way to hiding the softness of your stomach a bit, and he swallowed visibly. He looked… hungry. That was not the usual reaction you had grown accustomed to from men, and you let the flare of heat lick up your insides for just a moment, daring to hope that maybe he did find you attractive.

“Sorry,” he said in your direction, with a soft, dusky smile. “Didnae mean t’interrupt.”

Read the whole thing right now over on Patreon, as well as everything else in my exclusive masterlist, plus February's story involving a holiday romance with a naga in Starfall Springs...

[flowersandbigteeth]

Can we have another kelpie story Like one the day after where he like explains himself??

This one is sfw and is just some Kelpie fluff 😊 Vylkas is an absolute hot mess and I adore him...

Kelpie (Vylkas) x female reader

Word Count: 1.5k

🌶️ NSFW MASTERPOST 🌶️

A/N: please, please don't smoke it is so, so bad for you. Vylkas can do it because he is a Kelpie and has magic or whatever and he thinks it looks cool

W: some bullying, sfw kelpie fluff, yandere vibe, smoking

You woke to Vylkas rummaging around in your nightstand. The sun was shining through the windows and the rain had cleared. Birds chirped outside and little, glittering drops of water dripped down your windowpane from the gutters. He glanced at you and shot you a frown. 

“Don’t you have any cigarettes?” he asked.

You blinked at him and narrowed your eyes.

“No, of course not! Get out of there!” you said, crawling over and slapping his hands away from the drawer where you kept your private toys and a box of condoms that neither of you had bothered with the night before. 

Giving up, his eyes traveled over your shoulders which he’d covered in love bites and he smiled, circling one with his finger. You blushed and looked up at him through your ruffled hair. 

“So can we talk about last night?” you asked and then sank back against your cushioned headboard, your blanket pressed to your chest to cover the sensitive bits.

He flopped his head into your lap and looked up at you, playing with a tendril of your hair. 

“What do you wanna know?” he asked, innocently. 

You twisted your lip and cocked your head at him. 

“Oh I dunno, what the fuck any of that was…declaring me your mate? I mean…were you joking? Was that a line to get me into bed? Just tell me straight,” you said, rubbing your arm. 

You suddenly felt very naked and vulnerable. Vylkas had to have been playing with you. It wasn’t a nice game, but you were an adult. If that’s what this was, you could handle it. 

He frowned at you and looked wounded. 

“Why would you think I’d be joking or feeding you lines?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow. 

You blinked at him and waved your hand between the two of you. 

“I mean look at us. You’re you and I’m me. We don’t exactly match,” you said. 

He furrowed his brow. 

“Who told you that?” he asked. 

You snorted. 

“No one had to tell me. Everywhere we go everyone is drooling over you. I’d figured you’d go for a fairy or a siren or something...er someone…pretty, I guess.” 

He looked dumbfounded, as if you’d said something utterly ridiculous. 

Cupping your cheek he gave you a small smile. 

“(Y/N), you’re the most beautiful woman I know,” he said, “I’ve always thought so. I don’t make a habit of spending my time with ugly people and I certainly wouldn’t make one my mate…though if hypothetically you were to be horribly disfigured in a fire, I would still love you and seek vengeance on your behalf, so don’t worry about that.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if you should really be flattered by that compliment, but your heart fluttered anyway. 

“Anyway, stop trying to talk yourself out of it. You’re my mate now,” he pouted, tapping your cheek, “do you have any coffee?”

His mood shifted like the weather, as usual. You blinked at him. 

“You love me?” you asked, trying to keep him on track. 

Again, he looked at you as if all this should have been obvious to you. 

“Of course,” he said, “that’s why I’ve mated you. Come on, let’s go get some coffee and cigarettes. You’ll have to drive, I walked over here.” 

Coffee sounded like just what you needed. Trying to talk to Vylkas was like pulling teeth with your brain foggy with sleep. You pulled yourself out of bed, your body aching just a bit. 

After dressing and making yourself halfway presentable, you loaded Vylkas into your car and first stopped at the gas station so he could pick up cigarettes, finally ending up at a little coffee shop you liked. To your surprise, he pulled out his wallet and paid for your drink. You didn’t know he could carry stuff with him when he transformed. 

Taking a table outside, you sat in the sun while he smoked watching the people go by. 

“So I was thinking we could have a pond put in our backyard,” he said, looking through his phone as he leaned his long body across the table so your heads were touching and showing you pond pictures from Pinterest, while his cigarette hung out of his mouth, “nothing huge, just enough room for a few bodies.” 

“What-?” you started, but you were interrupted by a pretty fairy approaching. She had perfect pink hair that you’d die to have, but could never hope to maintain and a cute button nose. 

“Hey there,” she said, smiling, and trying to catch his eyes, “I saw you from across the street and I was wonder-”

“We can put it right by the apple tree so you can see me from the kitchen when I'm wallowing…with the water lilies and the rocks done up like they did it here. I think I’ll look best with irises too to compliment my eyes, they are darker in my horse form," he said, then glanced up at you, “are you listening (Y/N)? This is important!”  

“Okay, okay, this one is perfect!” he said, leaning back across the table to you and showing you the screen of his phone. How he didn’t get it soaking wet when he returned to his lake you had no idea.

Of course, you really didn’t understand a lot of things about Vylkas, like how he was completely ignoring the beauty that was trying to pick him up. 

You looked over his shoulder at the woman standing there awkwardly and he finally followed your eyes. 

“Oh, no thank you sweetie we don’t want to buy any cookies,” he said to her and then turned back to you, “See how they put in the waterfall? We should do it-” 

She looked offended and cleared her throat at him. 

“Actually,” she said a little louder, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Ah!” he shouted, throwing her hand off while he patted himself down, looking around a bit frantically, “do I have a spider on me?!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle a little into your coffee for this poor woman. Vylkas was incredibly good looking, but he could be a handful. She appeared to be composing herself. 

“No!” she huffed, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?!” 

He frowned at her and put his hand on yours. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little trashy and tasteless to ask a guy out in front of his mate?” he snorted, shaking his head and laughing to himself, before he went back to Pinterest. 

“So here they did this cool thing with the rocks-”

She stiffened, offended, and her cheeks turned pink. 

“Well I couldn’t tell by looking at her!” she snapped. 

You blushed and looked down, your cheeks warming and your eyes prickling. Of course it was obvious you didn’t belong together. He glanced at her. 

“I can understand how it would be hard for someone so blind they thought pepto pink and piss yellow were a winning combination,” he snorted, “have you had your eyes checked recently? You're dressed like a four year old who needs glasses.” 

She looked like she might pop from clutching her pearls and stormed off. 

You couldn’t help but bark out a little laugh. Your dimming mood brightening just slightly.

“Vylkas,” you chided, “that was mean!” 

He shrugged, ashing his cigarette. 

“Whatever,” he said, his green eyes flicking up to yours with unexpected seriousness, “don’t listen to women like that. She doesn’t value herself and wants a stranger on the street to tell her what she’s worth by pitting herself against other women. It’s pretty sad, really. The Goddess promises us our fated mate and I found mine.

"No one else will ever be good enough. No other woman is ever going to be pretty or interesting enough because the woman I want is you. It always has and always is going to be you. Tomorrow, five years, one hundred years. If you were a worm that I had to carry around in a box of dirt. I’m always going to choose you.”

He looked down at your hand and played with your fingers a little, brushing them with his larger ones. 

“If I have to be honest with you, I took you for granted…when we started hanging out we were such a good fit, I thought you’d always just be there following me around…but I’m starting to see that’s a dangerous game I’m not willing to play. If I don’t make my intentions clear, I could lose you.” 

A small smile was forming on your face at his warm words, but his eyes narrowed. 

“I can’t live without you and I will murder anyone who dares try and get between us,” he snarled, searching your eyes. 

“Woah, okay,” you said, “let’s just maybe…go back to looking at ponds…” 

“So you like the idea? I was also thinking we could put fish in it, but not Koi. I hate those rude fuckers…they think they're prettier than me...” he went on. 

He beamed at you and showed you his phone again, making sure your foreheads were touching together and his hand was stroking yours as he shared his ideas with you. If you needed a constant reminder that you two belonged together he had no problem providing it in a million different ways.

He'd tell you, touch you, kill for you until you understood so well these random women couldn't hope to touch you. The pink haired was on borrowed time for hurting your feelings.

You listened to him review his plans for your, now his, backyard while you sipped your coffee, wondering if mating a serial killer was really a good idea and if you really even had a choice. Determining you probably didn’t, you started looking for landscaping companies to hire to dig up your lawn while you squeezed Vylkas' hand back.  

[fandom-go-round]

Original Monster Masterlist

Scarecrow x Chubby!Fem!Reader [smut]

Succubus x Reader (Fem Dom, Sex with Demon) [smut]

Reader x Shark!Mermaids (Vore, Noncon) [smut] {dark}

Plague Doctor x Chubby!Reader (Medical Kink) [smut]

Ghost x Chubby!Reader (Yandere, Noncon) [smut] {dark}

Types of Love: Drider x Reader (fluff, modern setting)

Orc x Reader [praise kink, choking]

Fae x Reader (Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Fae Magic) [smut]

Fenrir x Reader Belly Rubs (fluff)

Incubus x Fem!Reader (Yandere, Soft Dom, Noncon) [smut] {dark}

Lamia x Male!Reader Rim Job [smut]

Magnus (Vampire OC) x Fem!Reader (Lactation Kink) [smut]

Sam the Sandown Clown x Reader Hanging Out (fluff, platonic)

 Dullahan x Fem!Reader Stuck In the Wall [smut]

Werewolf x Reader Bunny Petplay HCs [smut]

Werelion x Reader Outdoor Sex Shenanigans [implied smut]

Vampire x Fem!Reader Dominating in Bed [smut]

Reader x Werewolf Fucking in the Woods [smut]

Kelpie x Reader Dub Con Outdoor Sex [smut]

Medusa x Reader Immunity Part 1 (fluff)

Medusa x Reader Immunity Part 2 (fluff)

Hunted for Sport: Manticore {dark}  

[cozycryptidcorner]

Masterlist

All stories and monster matches will be on my Ao3 page in case things with tumblr go even further south. I also have a Masterlist for the Monster Matches, and if anyone is interested in commissioning me, here’s some info.

Riaghan the Kelpie/Female Reader, Part One (sfw), Part Two (nsfw), art by me 

Kalil the Naga/Female Reader (nsfw), art by me, art by illustrariane

Adham the Infected/Female Reader (nsfw)

Ciarán the High Fae/Female Reader (nsfw), art by me

Alesdair the Changeling/Female Reader, Part One (sfw), Part Two (nsfw)

Noor the Siren/Gender Neutral Reader (sfw)

Sela the High Fae (wlw) (sfw), art by me, art by thatweirdoneintheback

Mark the Selkie (sfw)

The Nøkken, Part One (sfw), Part Two (nsfw- female reader)

Aleksander the Naga, Part One (sfw) Ten Word Ko-Fi Drabble (sfw)

Hikaru the Kitsune/Female Reader, Part One (slight nsfw), Part Two (nsfw)

Winter, Chapter One (sfw), Chapter Two (sfw), Chapter Three (sfw), Chapter Four (sfw), Chapter Five (sfw), Chapter Six (nsfw- female reader), Chapter Seven (sfw), art by lukeios, art by puddimilk 

Winter Ficlets: Fantasies (nsfw), Adoration (sfw), Morphine (sfw), Poison (sfw)

Tisiphone the Erinyes (wlw) (sfw), art by me

Alien Android/Female Reader (nsfw)

Merikh the Incubus, Part One (nsfw- female reader) Part Two (sfw)

Raúl the Centaur (sfw), art by thatweirdoneintheback

Eòin the Kelpie (sfw)

Fylkir the Selkie, Part One (sfw), Part Two (nsfw- female reader)

The Spring Sacrament (nsfw- gender neutral reader)

Ronan and Sally’s Story (not a reader insert), Chapter One (sfw), Chapter Two (sfw)

Nayda the Selkie (wlw) (sfw)

Intertwined (wlw) (sfw) (not a reader insert)

Yavid the Demon (sfw)

August the Infected (mlm) (sfw)

Savannah and Remembrance (not a reader insert) (sfw)

The Mad Prince, Chapter One (sfw), Chapter Two (sfw), Chapter Three (sfw), Chapter Four (sfw), Chapter Five (sfw), Chapter Six (sfw), Chapter Seven (sfw), Chapter Eight (sfw), Chapter Nine (sfw), Chapter Ten (sfw), Chapter Eleven (sfw), Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen (nsfw-ish), Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen (tba)

The Mad Prince fanart (all sfw): art by me, art by lukeios, art also by lukeios, art by thatweirdoneintheback, art by ghoullin

Barriers (not a reader insert) (sfw)

Kanoa the Shark Merfolk (sfw)

Secretary to the Prince (sfw)

Sarakh the Gallu Demon (sfw)

That Which is Written in Stone, Chapter One (sfw), Chapter Two (sfw), Chapter Three (tba)

Xarrak the Orc (sfw)

Úlfa the Orc (wlw) (sfw) 

Ryota the Kitsune (sfw), Chapter 2 (nsfw)

Starfall (not a read insert), Chapter One (sfw), Chapter Two (tbh)

Tadao the Kitsune. x Female Reader (slight nsfw)

Ihsan the Naga x Female Reader (nsfw)

Enoch the Troll (sfw)

Fiore the Genderfluid Kelpie (sfw) 

Abel the Asrai/Female Reader (slight nsfw), Chapter Two (very nsfw)

Caspian the Mershark/Female Reader (nsfw)

Bat Monster/Reader (sfw)

Werewolf/Reader (nsfw)

Potamoi (Greek River God)/Reader (sfw)

Avery the Fae/Female Reader (nsfw)

The Merchant Prince, Chapter 1 (nsfw), Chapter 2 (nsfw), Chapter 3 (sfw), Chapter 4 (nsfw), Chapter 5 (nsfw)

Unamed Horny Rope Bunny Fae (nsfw)

Unamed Merman (sfw)

Vasily the Raksha (sfw)

Changling (sfw)

Aurel Kane the Elf (sfw)

Torin the Keplie (sfw.... for now)

Cadán the Fae (nsfw)

Unamed God (sfw)

Jameson the Fae (sfw)

Eldritch Abomination (Sfw)

Meikha the Peacock-like Alien (sfw)

Unknown Male Species (slight nsfw)

He’s just some guy tbh (nsfw)

Unhinged Bisexual Ruination of Classic Media:

Bates

Erin

Jahzeiah

Theo

Pride Month Prompts:

Fiona the Kelpie (wlw) (sfw)

Medeia the Forest Spirit (wlw) (sfw)

Bill Cassidy the Werewolf (trans mlm) (sfw)

Sora the Yuki Onna (wlw) (sfw)

Kinktober Prompts:

Autumn Fae/Consensual Somnophila (nsfw- female reader)

Vampire/Biting (nsfw- female reader)

Naga King/Praise Kink (nsfw-female reader)

Dark Elf/Orgasm Denial (nsfw- female reader)

Harpy/Doting (nsfw- female reader), art by me, and here’s a prequel 

Demon/Pegging (nsfw- female reader)

Kelpie/Outdoor Sex (nsfw- female reader)

Vampire/Rimming (nsfw- non gendered reader)

Fae/Dry Humping (nsfw, female reader)

Naga/Semi Public Sex (nsfw female reader)

Do you like what you’re reading? Please consider leaving me a tip with Ko-Fi!

[delldarling]

the woodland fort | winsome ii

looking for part i? male kelpie x gender/body neutral reader 3.4k words lemon | oral, size difference, riding, implied stomach bulge and subsequent mess

“Surely you’re tempted by sweet flesh?” Winsome’s brother asks him, pinching at your ear. His words, as much as his presence, startle you into moving. You dart to Winsome’s side, glaring back at the kelpie you’ve secretly taken to calling Blockhead, if only in your own head. Winsome hadn’t been fond of you giving the nickname to his brother, no matter that it was unflattering, and you can understand his reasoning, at least a little. Every name a fae is given is a gift and all that. But you have to have something to call him though, and fae don’t share their names idly.

“Why are you here?” Winsome asks, petulance heavy in his tone. He curls a protective arm around your shoulders and shares a rough grin with - with your friend? Your eyes slide over the vacant spot where someone should be sitting. You focus back on Blockhead and his tense frame.

He’s older than Winsome, though you don’t know by how much, and already he towers over all three of you. He’s not as eerie looking as the glimpses you’ve caught of Winsome’s mother, but he would be halfway there - if he didn’t take such care braiding his long hair into model worthy plaits. He’s not even looking at Winsome though, his eyes are still all for you. 

“Tempted by sweet flesh,” Blockhead repeats, grinning. His sharp teeth do him no favors either, no matter that Winsome has them too. Winsome doesn’t bare them at you like a beast though. “You aren’t?” He asks Winsome, again, finally turning his attention to his younger sibling. 

Winsome’s cheeks flush purple and- and your friend laughs, the noise bouncing off the copse of trees and echoing out over the lake. 

“His stomach isn’t,” your friend had said, sprawled in your hand-made fort, and Blockhead had scowled, had snapped at them, told them to stay out of-

You breathe in, and the memory tries to settle. Pain flashes behind your eyes, head adjusting as your memories reorganize themselves. It feels like trying to cram a too large book into an already full shelf.

You recall that Winsome hadn’t been around one afternoon. You and your friend had been killing time, trading stories near the water, and then Blockhead had you by the ankle, trying to drag you into the depths. Your friend had stopped Winsome’s brother, had kept you safe from drowning. They’d saved you, had fulfilled a.. life debt to you? But it had broken a kelpie rule. Your friend would need to forfeit something precious for interrupting the business of kelpies. Winsome’s mother had seen your friend stop Blockhead. Had insisted on recompense. Your friend’s precious item- you have the feeling it was your memories of them.

The vague outline of your friend, the absence of them in your memories, is all you have now. Losing your memories of Winsome though? That happened later, when it was just you and Blockhead. He’d caught you unawares and held you by the wrist until you agreed.  

“You remember?” Winsome asks in the present, and his smile is savagely pleased, fingers pressed tightly into the middle of your back. Before you can confirm it, before you can ask any questions, Winsome is kissing you again. Your eyes flutter closed, fear all but gone as heat and want fill you up near to bursting. For a moment, you forget entirely about the kelpies in the water, about the memories still trying to settle. You hook a leg around his torso, a small noise escaping your mouth, but then a sloshing sound reaches your ears and Winsome yanks his face away. He takes hurried steps away from the shore, whirling to face the kelpie still half submerged in the lake. 

“Was it you?” Winsome demands, lip curling in a sneer. “You took the memories of me-”

“Yes,” you whisper, recognizing the dappled flank of Winsome’s brother. “If I didn’t give them up,” you say, heart racing as the truth finally spills from your mouth. “He said he would finish what your mother started. That you would be punished for spending time with a human. For not-” 

His brother's eyes widen, but he doesn’t move, just starts to shake in the shallows, and the three kelpies still in the water make snorting, angry noises. 

“You see?” Winsome asks his family. He says a name that you can’t seem to understand, that feels and sounds like rushing static to your ears. “-made no claim, mother never needed to take any memo-”

“We cannot lie,” his brother says, the words slightly garbled in his horse form. Rage blossoms in your chest, heat coursing through you like lightning. He hadn’t lied, but he hadn’t offered reasoning to his mother, hadn’t told her about who you were to Winsome. Part of you is still amazed that the frightening matriarch let you go, had accepted your memories as payment. “You would have been punished, sparing every human who fell prey to our charms.” 

“But not for sparing this one,” Winsome bites out, cheeks tensing as his teeth clack together.

“Cease,” one of the kelpies, Winsome’s mother, says from further out. Her curling mane floats on the water like froth. “A sacrifice using my name was wrongly claimed, my son. Come underneath, leave them be or you will be the one to forfeit something precious.” 

Winsome sucks in a breath, eyes gone wide with- with fear? And in that split second of you glancing his way, and then glancing back- all the kelpies but his mother have vanished. You and Winsome stare at her, frozen. 

“Will you give the memories back?” Winsome asks, though his tone says he doesn’t dare hope for that much. Her eyes roll to your face and then back to her son.

“You know that I cannot. Squander your time here again, if you must. I will not stop you. Humans… Are charming, and have so little time as it is,” her eyes dart to you again and you have to swallow. That… That was the strangest ‘have at it’ declaration from a parent that you’ve ever heard. She isn’t finished though, and her gaze stays on you as she speaks. “He will not be punished for chasing his pleasure, only for denying his nature. We cannot be anything but ourselves,” she tells you, and the words are forceful. A reminder. “And you would be wise to hold fast to this memory in particular.” You blink and then she too, is gone, leaving nothing behind, not even a ripple on the surface of the water. 

Both of you are silent, staring out over the still lake. 

“How… How did you lure me down here?” You ask, recalling the strange feeling that had made you pause on the road to the lake. The pull that had reeled you in until you knew without a doubt that you weren’t moving your own feet. 

Winsome smiles at you, but his eyes are sad. He doesn’t answer your question, and that gives you the feeling that it must have something to do with your friend. “Are you angry?” He asks instead and-

It’s terribly strange, trying to reconcile the young face from your memories with the older one in front of you. You’re both grown now, and the childish fancies of a 13 year old wanting to kiss the kelpie with sharp teeth- It’s almost embarrassing, knowing they’re still there.

“Maybe?” You find yourself answering. He’d frightened you at first, but… You don’t want to lose him again. “I would appreciate my shoes back though, at some point. Aren’t your arms getting tired?”

Winsome shifts you in his arms, but doesn’t let you down, just leans in close until the mist of his breath is condensing in the fast cooling air, mingling with your own. “No,” he says, quietly, tipping his face until his lips are brushing against yours. “I’m not human,” he teases, and the tone, the way his thick eyelashes fan against the curve of his cheeks- it’s an old joke. They would both tease you about it. It had come up in conversations about adventure, about spending your lives together. All the impossible things that feel only a step out of reach to a child or a young teen. But kelpies aren’t exactly talented with human-like glamour, and Winsome… Winsome will never pass for human. 

"Human enough," you joke back, heart thrilling. 

"I do have arms," he says, but it's his mouth he uses, slanting his lips over yours for a kiss, and then another, and then his tongue is curling against yours and arousal is building in your frame. If Winsome didn't have hold of you, even with your legs wrapped around his torso, you would fall. Your thighs are growing tired, and it's all too tempting to let your legs dangle, to settle yourself in his grip and let him move you where he will. 

You break the kiss so you can breathe, laughing when he complains about human lung capacity. "You also have legs," you remind him. "Should we take a walk so, uh," you clear your throat, nodding your head towards the water. 

Winsome grins, and though you can see the echo of his young self in it, it's… it's another reminder that so much time has passed. "No audience for you? Are you sure you want-" Winsome stops, eyebrows drawn together in thought, licking at his lips and glancing away. “We’ve… made a hundred jokes about it. But I am not human,” he says, as if this whole ordeal isn’t fresh in your mind. For as long as you’ve known Winsome, for as lovely as you’ve found him over the years - even during the time you couldn’t recall him - you never would have assumed he was human. His being a kelpie was never what kept you apart. It was your age, all those years ago, pre-teen nerves and self awkwardness. And then all the memories of him taken from you in the interim.

“How about you let me have my shoes and we can take that walk?” You ask, heat burning the back of your ears and neck. You’d much rather have this conversation far from potential listeners. Never mind that the kelpies are probably deep beneath the water now.  

After a moment, Winsome’s expression brightens and he, slightly unwilling, lets you lean down to grab your shoes from the muck and wrestle them on. “I could carry you,” he insists, and memories want to push to the surface again. It seems impossible that you could have forgotten so much. He sets you down, and then leads you through paths you haven’t walked in years. Most of them are overgrown now, filled with debris from storms  or overgrown plants, but the path to your little fort area is still clear, still trampled down- You have to clamp down on the emotions swirling through you. Winsome must still visit regularly. 

The copse of trees is almost exactly how you remember it. Overgrown and shaded from most of the lake and filled to the brim with items all three of you had brought here. All the trinkets and blankets are still in strangely good condition, and the arch you’d built for the fort is still standing strong, tied with- You glance at Winsome, embarrassed to find him watching you. The length of water weeds he’d plucked from his own head is still growing, still green, twined about the arch to keep it up. He takes a few long steps ahead of you, taking out the blankets and laying them over the ground for padding. When he bends, you blink. You’d… You’d forgotten about his tail, about your friend braiding it once when Winsome had fallen asleep in the fort. 

“I remember that face,” Winsome says archly, drawing you out of your thoughts. He snags hold of your wrist and tugs you into his arms, letting momentum pull him entirely over. Winsome falls onto the blankets, with you caged carefully against him to keep from jostling, and settles his face against the hollow of your throat, breathing in deeply.

“I’d forgotten so many things,” you say, almost confessing, like it’s a secret. You sit back so you can see his face, legs bracketing his middle. You reach out to tug at a lock of his dark gray hair, brandishing it at him with a small, startled laugh. “Like your hair! I forgot that it dries perfectly, that you don’t need to comb it.”

“Those memories will return,” Winsome murmurs. “And we can make others, now, if- if your feelings haven’t changed.”

There are a thousand things you could tell him. There are years worth of conversations you haven’t gotten the chance to have, but- he’s right. As a child, as a teen, trading away the memories had seemed like an easy choice to make for his safety. As an adult, you likely would have done the same, but- with more regret. Memories are sometimes all we have, and you want them. You want to make new ones.

“They haven’t changed. It’s like… It’s almost like they went to sleep. But I do,” you say, heart beating faster as a faint tinge of lavender crawls up his throat and over his face. “Want to make new ones,” you add, and then you lean back down. You kiss Winsome until you’re breathless again, until you’re starting to rock against him, thighs tensing, but his torso is too long. You aren’t even close to his hips at this angle, and if you move back, you won’t be able to reach his mouth. Winsome laughs, sensing your dilemma, and carefully moves you to the side, pushing you until you’re laying on your back and his long fingers are helping you unbutton and unzip every article of clothing he touches. His mouth follows his hands, teeth leaving behind faint bruises that you know will ache, tongue trailing over the worst of them before he sucks at the skin, leaving you trembling. 

It’s when he settles between your thighs that you have to fist your hands in the old blankets though. His tongue is wide and long, and the first stroke of it has you tensing. His hands curl around your thighs then, to keep you from moving, to keep your knees from closing around his sensitive ears. He teases, slow and steady and then starts sucking as soon as you relax. You’re fairly sure he’s just enjoying the way you arch into his mouth. Winsome hums when you start to whimper, clutching tighter to you, drawing you closer and then dips his head so he can press his tongue into you, as deeply as he can, eyes flicking up to watch your face and your panting mouth. He’s strong enough that he moves you, pulling you onto his tongue and letting you ease back and then repeating. You have to bite your bottom lip to keep from making noise, but after the fourth time you can’t stop yourself.

“Okay,” you gasp, “okay, okay, that’s- Pause, or you’re going to make me-” You start to shake when he laughs, pulling his tongue out of you to lick his lips. You are… You’re an absolute mess, aching and wet with his saliva and Winsome looks extremely proud of himself. Slowly, he lets your legs settle back against the ground and then gets up to adjust himself. His loincloth and belt are hiding... next to nothing

“Isn’t that the point?” Winsome asks, fumbling at his hip until his belt comes loose and the loincloth follows. He sets them to the side, stalling, arranging them just so. You’re fairly sure he’s doing it so you can have a moment to react before he sees your expression. Winsome finally breathes out and chances a look at your face. You… You had kind of expected him to be on the large side, but large side doesn’t quite cover it. “Earlier,” he starts, reaching out to stroke a hand up your calf. “This was what I meant. About being not human.”

Before you can think on it, before you can rein yourself in, you blurt: “You’re human enough,” and then your mouth snaps closed. He is large, and you can’t deny that you’re breathing faster and you’re slightly nervous, but- You search the memories, still blinking from the pressure of them. Winsome has always respected your wishes. “If I say stop-”

“Of course,” Winsome says, and then his cheeks are dark purple as you get to your knees and carefully crawl into his lap. This, you realize, was why he used his mouth for so long, why he left you wet and eager, because as soon as you take his cock in hand, you’re having second thoughts. “You can say no,” he says softly, hands stroking up over your thighs, “I won’t be upset.”

“I want to try,” you say instead. Using his shoulders for balance and letting him guide seems the smartest way. He follows your directions, eyes tracing over your lips and every minute expression that crosses your face. A rough breath is forced from your mouth when you press yourself down, but as soon as your lips start to twist, Winsome is surprising you with a kiss. You forget what you’re doing for a moment, lost in the way he cradles your cheek, the soft noises he makes when you nip at his lip- and then the stretch of him inside you has you gasping. He swallows the noise, hand sliding from your face to the back of your neck and then grabs hold of your thigh with his other, keeping you steady when you start to straighten. It takes work and time and by the time you feel you’ve taken as much of him as you can, your thighs are straining from the effort. You feel ridiculously tight and full and then Winsome is raising one of his legs so you can rest against it, the small of your back pressing against his knee. 

“I think,” Winsome says, voice low and rasping, hand sliding down the middle of your chest and pausing over your abdomen. “I think you’ve done a bit more than try.” He presses with the very tips of his fingers, freezing when you whimper at the added pressure. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” you gasp, embarrassed and turned on, and you seriously want to curse because your thighs feel as strong as jelly right now. “But I’m not sure I can- I can move.”

“Shall I?” He asks, one hand curling around your hip. When you nod your head, the barest whisper of a yes following, Winsome listens. Holding tight to your hip and taking your thigh in his other hand, Winsome rolls his hips and then pulls back. There’s barely a rhythm, you’re both moving so slowly, hot breath misting in the cool air, but every thrust is pushing you closer and closer to the edge, your fingers digging into his pearly shoulders. It’s almost unexpected, how fierce the pleasure is when you come, thighs quivering and arms tense. Winsome’s grip on your thigh becomes uncomfortably tight, and his face is flushed again and then he’s pulling himself free of you, coming over the blanket and his own thigh. You hold yourself up until he’s finished, not wanting to collapse into the mess, but you do collapse into his arms, laughing against his chest, still shaking with aftershocks. His hand cradles the back of your head and he presses a single, breathless kiss to your temple before he’s groaning, tension vanishing from his shoulders. “I thought I would never see you again. Even if you did come close to the lake. I thought-”

You stroke a hand over his damp shoulder, eyes falling closed. You think you might have to nap soon after the roller-coaster of emotions, but you hope he’ll stay with you through that. It… It almost feels like some kind of strange dream, that you might be waking from it at any moment. “We would never have another adventure?” You tease, nuzzling into his skin. 

Winsome hums, reaching down to tilt your chin, to make you look at him. “For a while,” he admits. “But now I have a new adventure to undertake with you.” For a moment you think he’s going to make jokes about sex, or maybe even about Blockhead, but then his smile turns shy. “I say we gain back your lost memories, and track down --.” The name is still nothing but static in your ears.

[crazycat-88]

Stories in progress:

(In no particular order)

Modern monsters -

Male owl avian Latham x female reader

Female Harpy x ? reader

Kelpie x reader

Medieval Monsters -

Male Naga - ? Reader

Male Dragon - Female reader

Most of these stories don’t have a specific direction yet and I’m not sure if they will be SFW or NSFW.

So feel free to jump in and give your thoughts on what you would like to see. Suggestions/ideas/requests are all welcome. You can do this by commenting or through asks. (I’m also accepting the above for any type of monster.)