[monsters] Sweetheart

You are a ray of sunshine. A warm, golden light in a town that often seems caught halfway between memory and myth. Beloved. Bright. You are the first one to show up when needed, always armed with a kind word or a laugh that makes even the grumpiest crack a grin. Whether it's organizing something for Grimbrook or staying long after the others have gone home to clean up, you are there. Always there. Steady, dependable, and full of quiet joy.

You are the town's darling. Their lovely one. Their sweetheart.

And they do not hesitate to show it.

You are at the entrance of the pub. One of your hands is braced against the old door to keep it from slamming shut in front of you. The night air, smelling like approaching summer, is still fresh on your skin when the unmistakable bulk of one of the bikers steps into view. He looks like sin craved in leather and arrogance.

He is a mountain of smoke and swagger, grinning as he prowls towards you. "Darling," he croons. The velvety purr of his voice brushes over your skin, and before you can even catch your breath, a large, calloused hand cups your face. Its warmth floods you, and then, a second later, his mouth captures yours instantly, stealing the ground from under your feet. The kiss is easy and thoughtless. His tongue slides against yours, tasting and teasing, but just as your eyes flutter closed, the demon pulls away, his smile is smug and dangerous.

"Go on in," he says, nodding toward the pub as he keeps the door open for you. "Before I drag you home instead."

"You're not staying?" you manage to ask, still blinking up at him, dazed and tingling all over.

"Not tonight," he replies, one leg already out of the door. "Have fun, though."

And just like that, he is gone, swallowed up by the night, leaving you under the dim buzz of bare bulbs and the heat of his kiss still burning on your lips.

Inside, the pub is alive with the easy thrum of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses. Familiar faces turn toward you, lighting up with welcoming smiles, and warm greetings trail in your wake as you weave through the tables while Vellar is already waiting for you at your usual spot at the bar.

The naga leans forward at your arrival, his hands splayed on the wooden surface of the counter. "Good to see you, Y/N," he says. "The usual?"

You nod, mirroring his smile. "Yes, please. How was the book club?"

"We missed you," Vellar replies warmly, reaching under the bar for a fresh glass. "I'll get you a copy of the next read. Mrs. Ackers swears it's the best detective story she's ever laid her hands on."

"Better than Agatha Christie?" you ask, raising a playful brow.

The male chuckles, rich and easy. "I said the same thing."

You had invited Vellar to the library book club months ago after he had confessed how hard it was for him to make real friends. The pub offered plenty of fleeting company and pleasure, but connection? It's more difficult to build when you are new in town, and you wanted to help him.

"I mean, she is a vampire," you reason. "She probably knows things."

"Vampire? Who knows what?" Eva's voice cuts in as she slides up behind you. A tray is balanced effortlessly on one hand while her free arm wraps around your shoulders in a casual, affectionate hug. You grin at the vampire woman, then tilt your head just enough for her to press a lipstick-red kiss to your cheek.

"Mrs. Ackers," you explain.

Eva gives a nod. "Oh, she is old. She knows everything." And with that, before you can even think of an answer, she is on her way to the tables, leaving you with Vellar, but only just for a moment because a second later, a familiar figure slides into the space beside you.

Rust leans in, elbow brushing yours as he orders another round for his table, then turns to you with a grin already tugging at his lips. "How's your little bicycle?"

You huff, pretending to be annoyed, but you can't help smiling at him. "It's fine. Thanks to you."

It was the goblin who had helped you a few days ago when your chain slipped. He grumbled the whole time but fixed it anyway.

"You know," he says, dropping his voice as he leans closer, "you'd look better on a real bike."

"Don't listen to him, darling," a low hum slides in from behind you, and then a large hand wraps around your throat, firm but careful. Your breath catches deliciously as you are pulled back against a solid chest, Riel's body heat soaking into you. He tilts your head up and catches your mouth in a brief kiss that tastes like whiskey and smoke. "You look perfect on your bicycle."

Rust tuts at the half-orc's words while his hand tugs at the neckline of your dress. The fabric slips with ease, baring your breasts to the warm air and his hungry, and just as warm, gaze. "Imagine her in one of our jackets," he tells his friend, and without any hesitation, his mouth is on you, tongue curling, lips pulling, teeth scraping.

"Alright, alright, at least let her get her drink," Vellar cuts in, laughter threading through his voice while you sit caught between them with pleasure crackling along your spine.

"Fuck," Rust groans, pulling away from your nipple that shines with his saliva.

"Later, pretty girl," Riel sighs reluctantly, and when they leave, you can't help but sag against the bar, already dizzy and breathless.

Your dress is still slipping dangerously low, but you don't even bother fixing it. Instead, you grab your cocktail and hum with the straw between your lips. "It's good. I bet Boss is glad he hired you."

And just like that-

"I heard my name."

"Oh hey," you chirp, twisting around to see the minotaur looming over you with a grin that is enough to make your knees weak all over again. "I just said you must be glad you hired Vellar. He makes the best drinks."

"Hey!" Eva yells from across the room, where an elven hand has already found its way under her skirt. "I heard that!"

Boss laughs. "The girls get distracted easily."

You hum, eyes skimming the crowd and catching a few women not-so-subtly eyeing Vellar like he is their next dessert. "Looks like Vellar's got it good, too."

"No complaints," the naga chimes in with a wink a few steps away, cracking open another bottle.

Boss watches you for a few silent seconds before reaching out to cup your jaw. "Wish I could stay," he mutters while his thumb brushes over your swollen bottom lip, and your mouth opens just enough to let him slide the thick finger against your tongue.

"Then do." You pout when he pulls away, but he only presses a quick kiss to your lips, already regretting his decision.

"Paperwork," he explains. "Be good."

"You should hire someone," you call after him as he turns. "I could help with that!"

"I'll think about it," Boss replies with one last glance over his shoulder.

And then, you are left there at the bar, drink in hand, throat kissed, tits still bare, and the ghost of half a dozen touches still tingling on your skin.

For a while, it's just you and Vellar at the bar. Well, whenever the naga has time for you while gliding up and down behind the counter, mixing drinks and handing them off with a nod, a wink, or, every now and again, a sly brush of his tail.

Drink in hand, lips still tingling from the earlier attention, you let your eyes roam over the slowly unraveling night. Rust has his waitress bent over a table. The wet slap of skin on skin is barely masked by the low thrum of music. On the other side of the room, Eva doesn't even bother dragging her meal somewhere private. She just pulls the girl close with a purr, her fangs sinking into her neck while her fingers work in a restless rhythm between her partner's thighs. Even Vellar starts getting busier. One of the girls from the earlier group is now hanging over the bar, whispering filth into his ear, daring fingers trailing down his chest.

And there you are. Still perched on your stool, legs pressed together like it might keep your need at bay.

But it doesn't.

By the time you catch the gleam of familiar amber eyes across the room, watching and waiting, you are already squirming in your seat, desperate for a familiar touch.

"Anar!" you call out, the ache in your core forgotten the moment you see him.

The rakshasa welcomes you with open arms when you reach his table, gathering you up and lifting you effortlessly into his lap. His muzzle buries against your neck and breathes you in like it's been weeks. It probably has.

"Sweetheart," he rumbles. "Been too long." His big, warm paws roam your body, holding you close. His touch is hungry, skimming over your sides, your hips, brushing over your still-sensitive breasts with a teasing graze of his thumb that makes you shiver.

"Staying long?" you manage to ask, breath hitching as he circles your nipple.

"A few days," he murmurs, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. "You free tomorrow?"

You nod, nuzzling closer, your nose brushing the soft fur at his throat. "I have a new cake recipe. You'll be my taste tester."

He chuckles, and you can already imagine the lazy mornings, the way he will lounge in your kitchen and steal spoonfuls before they are ready. It's nothing new in your friendship. The back panther is a truck driver, always on the road, yet still visiting you whenever he is in town.

"Hey, love." A familiar rough voice cuts in, causing you to lift your head and grin at the wolf-shifter who is already palming his cock in one hand.

"Bessi," you laugh, still curled up on Anar's lap but straightening to meet the wolf's heated gaze. "Couldn't find the right one?"

"No time," he says. His voice is barely more than a growl of need. "And you..." He gestures to his cock, already hard and pulsing in his grip. "You always take such good care of me."

There's no hesitation. No second-guessing. You lean forward and take him into your mouth, eager and unashamed, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Bessi's hips stutter at the first hot, wet pull of your lips. His hand finds your hair, threading through it gently, guiding you but never forcing. He watches and groans deep in his chest as your tongue swirls and your cheeks hollow around him. The taste of salt and musk fills your mouth, thick and heavy, and you can't help but moan. The vibration running across his spine makes him shudder with another growl.

Behind you, Anar's paws never still. He strokes your sides, your waist, one hand fondling your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he watches you pleasure the other male.

"She spoils you too, huh?" Anar rumbles.

"Fuck yes," Bessi pants, his grip tightening on you for a heartbeat. "Takes it like a fucking dream."

You hum around him, pride and lust mixing in your veins while your tongue traces the head of his erection.

"Can I-?" the shifter chokes out, raw and clearly on edge.

He only needs your nod and the press of your lips to spill into your mouth with a broken moan. His hips jerk helplessly as you swallow him down eagerly, enjoying every twitch of his cock on your tongue.

When you finally pull away, lips slick, Bessi leans down. He cups your cheek with surprising tenderness, brushing his thumb across your damp bottom lip, and steals a soft, lingering kiss.

"You're coming to the next horror night," he murmurs. "I'm not watching that trash without you."

"Heard it's so bad it's good."

"Will text you about it tomorrow," the shifter says after one more kiss as a goodbye, leaving you cradled on Anar's lap.

The rakshasa doesn't miss a beat. One paw stays splayed possessively over your chest, kneading and teasing, while the other slides lower, parting your thighs without ceremony. His touch is hot, sure, and greedy.

"What movie?" he asks, voice lazy against your ear.

"Remake," you pant, hips twitching as Anar's fingers trace the damp outline of your panties. The thin fabric clings to your folds like a second skin, utterly soaked through. "Shitty one," you manage to add.

Anar's nose brushes along your neck, inhaling the scent of you, of sweat and sex and need. "You're fucking soaked."

You nod, biting your lip to hold back a whimper as he drags two fingers up and down your slit through the drenched cloth. Your legs kick uselessly, followed by a desperate little wiggle of your hips as your body tries to chase his touch.

"You gonna let me fix that?" the male asks, nipping on the soft skin of your neck while your fingers rake through his thick, black fur wherever you can touch him.

"Please," you breathe, aching and impatient.

Anar hums approvingly, nosing at your temple as his fingers trail along the seam of your panties, pushing the fabric aside until he can press right into your dripping center. "Look at this mess," he croons. "Greedy little thing," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. "Always so sweet for me. Just the way I like you."

And then, he slides a thick finger inside.

The stretch punches a gasp out of you, your thighs clenching around his hand as he sinks deep with a delicious, unhurried pressure. You clutch at his arm, at his shirt, at anything you can grab as your body trembles.

"Gods," Anar groans into your ear, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit as he bottoms out. "Tight as ever. Like your sweet little cunt missed me."

Your walls flutter and pulse around him in answer, and he grins into your neck, dragging his rough tongue up the side of your throat like he is savoring every tiny tremor.

"She did, didn't she?" he purrs.

You can't answer. Not when he curls that finger just right, nudging against that spot that makes your toes curl and your vision blurs at the edges. Your body jerks on its own, hips grinding down on his hand, desperate.

"That's it, baby. Take it," he murmurs, slipping in a second finger with agonizing slowness.

Around you, the room sways and hums. Among the sounds of fucking and laughing, you are just another beautiful ruin lost in the noise.

"You hear yourself, sweetheart?" Anar growls. "Those filthy little sounds you're making... Fuck. I could sit here all night just listening to you fall apart for me." He scissors his fingers, opening you up while you tremble and moan in his arms, lost in your own pleasure and the restless rhythm of his thrust into your fluttering pussy. "And there it is," he chuckles. "That little twitch. You're gonna cum for me, aren't you?" He curls and grinds mercilessly against your sweet spot, thumb circling your clit in tight, dizzying flicks.

"Yes-" Your orgasm shatters through you, making your hips buck wildly against his hand, riding every wave of release as you cry out while the panther holds you through it, murmuring low praise into your hair, coaxing every last pulse and flutter from your clenching cunt.

"That's it," he purrs, kissing your flushed cheek, your ear, your temple. "That's my good girl. So fucking pretty when you fall apart for me."

You sag back against him, and he eases his fingers out of your wet heat only to lick them clean, savoring your taste with a hum deep from his chest. "Tastes like heaven," he says. "Gonna need to get my mouth on you later, sweetheart. Properly." You shiver at the promise, but before you can even catch your breath, Anar's attention flicks to the side. "But I think someone is waiting for his turn too."

You follow Anar's gaze, breath still shaky, and find yourself locking eyes with the familiar figure of your goblin neighbor.

Barbatok sits comfortably just a few tables away. His lips glisten, wet with the taste of another woman, while the girl gets tugged away by a giggling friend.

"Come back when you're done," Anar murmurs into your ear before releasing you with a final squeeze to your ass. His fingers linger for just a second longer as he tugs your panties down on your legs, slipping the drenched fabric into his pocket without you even batting an eye. "I'll take you home."

You nod, cheeks flushed, heart skipping as you slip from the panther's lap.

"Hey, darling," Barbatok greets you, hands already reaching to steady you as you climb into his lap. "Knew I'd see you tonight."

You grin, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you settle atop him, causing both of you to groan the moment your soaked heat drags against his cock. You roll your hips in a slow grind, teasing him and teasing yourself.

"Did you?" you purr, shifting just enough to feel the blunt head of him nudge against your entrance.

"Saw you in the garden the other day," he murmurs, one hand trailing up your spine, the other gripping your hip with rough, affectionate possession. "Those little shorts you had on... damn near dropped the watering can. Couldn't take my eyes off that ass."

The goblin had come to Grimbrook after his divorce, quiet, reserved, and a little rough around the edges. You coaxed him open slowly, and you were the first to introduce him to Boss's bar.

With a sly smile, you slide your dress up, flashing him the slick, bare heat between your thighs. "Not shorts," you say, voice low and wicked, "but will this do?"

Barbatok's breath shudders out of him. "Always so fucking pretty for me," he groans, voice gravelly with want. His hand slides between your thighs, spreading you open while the other wraps around his cock, guiding you down onto him.

"Fuck," you both groan at once.

"Every damn time," he grits out, "feels like the first."

The room around you dissolves into a blurred hum of bodies and pleasure while your world narrows down to him. To the way his cock rubs every sensitive place inside you, and his hands map your body without pausing even for a second.

"Come on, sweetheart," he pants, slipping a hand between you to circle your clit with his thumb, rough and perfect.

You whimper, clutching at his shoulders as you start to move faster, hips snapping down in quick, desperate rolls. Every thrust grinds your clit against the rough press of his finger, every bounce drives him deeper, hotter, harder inside you.

"That's it," he growls, deep and rough. "Just like that, ride me, sweetheart. Ride me nice and deep."

And you do, chasing the heat that coils tighter and tighter in your belly. The wet, filthy sounds of your cunt sucking him in echo between your bodies, drowned out only by the low, broken noises he drags from your throat.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight," he groans, forehead pressed hard against yours. "Cum for me. Wanna feel you pulse around me. Wanna feel you make a mess on my cock. That's it. That's my good girl."

You nod frantically, tears stinging your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, your body frantic and greedy.

"Come on, baby," he pants, thrusting up into you, meeting every bounce with a hungry grind of his hips. "Wanna feel you soak me- Wanna feel you cum all over this cock. Give it to me."

And you fall.

Your second orgasm rips through you, brutal and breathtaking. Your whole body locks up before shuddering apart in pleasure. You sob his name into his skin as you clamp down on him, clenching and fluttering wildly around his cock.

"Fuck, that's it," Barbatok groans, gripping your hips hard as he bucks up into you once, twice-

-and then he is cumming too, spilling deep inside you with a broken, wrecked sound muffled against your neck, his crooked nose brushing along the soft curve.

For a while, you cling to him while he holds you close. Satisfaction and exhaustion settle deep in your body, and you are sure that in a few minutes, you could fall asleep despite all the noises around you.

"Go home, sweet thing," he says eventually, voice low and coaxing. "Need me to walk you?"

You sigh, stretching a little, feeling the night catch up with you. When you stand up, his cock slips from your wet heat, and you feel his release trickle slowly down your thigh.

"No," you murmur with a sleepy smile. "Anar already offered."

Barbatok nods. "Good. Sweet dreams, darling."