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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Imagine being sacrificed to be eaten by some giant eldritch monster by your village due to being human and him just deciding you'll be the mother to his half breed babies and gently picking you up while carrying your face infront of the village who sacrificed you and the mosnter treating you as if you were glass and assuring how good of a dad he'll be

Yay more eldritch beasts! ^_^'

Eldritch beast (Castor) x female reader

Word Count: 1.5k

W: sfw monster fluff, some breeding talk

“Hurry up!” the mayor of your town snarled as he dragged you behind him.

“Please! Please don’t do this!” you howled as the sacrificial altar that had been newly built at the base of the mountain came into view.

You tugged and pulled, trying to get away, but your hands were tied and they’d thrown a loop of rope around your neck, choking you whenever you pulled too hard.

“Stop sniveling, (Y/N),” he snapped, “you’re a hero! Show some pride! Your sacrifice will bring prosperity to the village. We’ll raise a statue in your honor!”

You didn’t want a statue, you wanted to go home and for your town to stop all this nonsense. Since they’d had a bad year, the crops failing and winter coming far sooner than they expected, somehow they’d gotten it into their heads that a sacrifice to the mountain spirit would bring them good fortune. Of course, you knew it was all superstition, but the rest of the town agreed with the mayor. Being the only dissenter at the meeting they’d held to announce their plan, you were chosen to be the sacrifice.

Tears leaked down your cheeks as you were tightly strapped to the stone altar while the rest of your town gathered around to watch.

The mayor cleared his throat and stood in front of you facing the mountain.

“Oh great mountain spirit we come to you with this humble offering! We see the error of our ways and present to you the fairest maiden from our village as penance for our mistakes! We honor you with this gift of flesh…”

His speech went on and on, full of apologies, lies, and pleas for a good harvest.

–

Castor’s ears perked as he made his way through the woods on his usual hunting route. He hardly paid attention to the village at the base of his mountain, humans were annoying and noisy so he avoided them at all costs, but this time there was an odd scent on the wind. It was a sweet scent. A scent he quite liked. He crept down the mountain on his many thick tentacles and peered through the trees to find an odd sight.

The townspeople were all assembled at some strange stone table they’d erected. His eyes focused on you, strapped to the table, while a man stood over you squawking about something or another. He blinked at you, examining you from afar with his excellent eyesight, assisted by his many eyes.

He usually didn’t bother in human affairs, but as he sniffed the air he discovered it was you that smelled so nice. What were the silly humans doing to you? When the stocky man yelling into the forest pulled out a bejeweled blade and waved it at you he found himself barrelling through the trees, flattening them as his bulk plowed through. He couldn’t let them hurt you!

The mayor’s eyes grew huge as he took in the massive beast looming over you, his large teeth bared and shining claws raised, and he froze where he stood.

“STOP!” Castor boomed in an ethereal and very deep voice that shook the leaves on the trees and made the mayor drop his sword with a clang.

While the rest of your town trembled and watched, he turned his attention to you, your cheeks streaked with glittering tears. You were so incredibly frightened your scream was caught in your throat and you only let out a miserable whimper.

The beast examining you was massive, moving on a tangle of thick tentacles. His torso was like a man’s but with a large mouth filled with dripping teeth in the center. There was no mouth on his face, only ten eyes blinking down at you with a look that might be…gentle?

You found yourself a bit stunned and confused, searching his eyes as he studied you.

“Oh great mountain spirit!” your mayor broke in with a shaky voice, “p-please accept this sacrifice of fresh, beautiful meat to sate your hunger and soothe your anger! Bring us a good harvest and spare us game for our hunt!”

Castor almost laughed. Sate his hunger? Bring a good harvest? He had no idea what the man was talking about. As you had suspected, Castor had nothing to do with the weather or the harvest. He simply lived in the mountain because it was a nice home away from humans.

The last thing he wanted to do was eat you. You looked so pretty lying there, your hair fanned out around your face. He drifted closer to you, exploring you with his sensitive tentacles. Your skin was soft and smooth, feeling quite nice when he touched it and you smelled incredible. Like a mate. Your town watched eagerly with anticipation. They were sure if he killed you and ate you all of their problems would be solved.

You felt his curious tentacles wind their way around your limbs, the little suckers exploring and tasting as they moved. Though your heart pounded in your chest, he didn’t seem to want to eat you. For one, his large gaping mouth was closed and his eyes were examining you very carefully…but not like food. His look was a different kind of hunger.

“You’ll make a pretty wife, little human,” he said with incredible softness.

“W-what?” you heard yourself squeak.

He didn’t answer, but very gently snapped the straps holding you to the table and lifted you up into his two clawed arms, cradling you like you were fine china.

“She’s for me?” he asked the mayor, still curious what exactly the town had been planning to do with you.

“P-please! Gorge yourself on her tender flesh and gift us your favor!” the mayor went on.

Castor opened his big mouth and laughed heartily, making everyone in the area tremble.

“Foolish humans,” he boomed, “I have no interest in your petty problems, but I will accept your offering. Best of luck!”

With a chuckle he hurried off into the woods, with you tucked in his arms, much faster than anyone could follow, leaving the townsfolk staring after him, their mouths agape.

You peered up at him from around his biceps.

“Y-you’re not going to improve the harvest?” you asked.

“I’m not a god, that’s not within my power,” he snorted, “but I am very happy with their sacrifice.”

He booped you on the nose with one of his claws and you blinked.

“Th-then what are you going to do with me?” you questioned.

A huge smile appeared on his large mouth, exposing his jagged, shiny teeth.

“I’m going to make you my mate and fill you with my babies,” he explained.

Your face blanched and he frowned.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said, a tentacle stroking your head reassuringly, “I’ll take the very best care of you and be very gentle. You are my precious darling. I’m going to dress you in the warmest furs and keep you nice and cozy in my den. While those silly humans starve, scraping around in the dirt, I’m going to make you perfectly plump with the tenderest cuts of meat and the ripest fruits.”

You considered the monster carrying you. He wasn’t exactly handsome in a normal human way, but he did smell nice, a bit like pine and moss, and his tentacles were very gentle. You certainly were in no danger if he was protecting you and being fed by a skilled hunter sounded much better than starving in your village.

“O-okay,” you murmured as another tentacle lightly pinched your cheek, “my name’s (Y/N), what’s your name?”

“Castor,” he said, preening with your interest in him.

“I-I’m flattered you chose me,” you started, “but I’m not sure I’ll make a good mother to your babies.”

A snort escaped his lips and the random tentacles he had wound around your limbs squeezed you just slightly.

“You are sweet and small,” he assured you, “you’ll make a wonderful mother and I’m very responsible. I’ll help you through it. You won’t be alone. We’ll raise our children together…one big happy family.”

While he carried you up the mountain, the snow started to fall silently around you signaling that winter had truly started and as you chatted with him about his life you felt yourself grow more and more relaxed in his warm arms. Finally, the adrenaline from the events of the day draining from you, you drifted off to sleep. When you woke up again, your new life would begin.

#monster fluff #eldritch horror #monsters #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #x reader #eldritch oc #eldrichcore #eldritch abomination #monster #monster oc

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lets-try-some-writing · 6 months

Text

Successors

Bumblebee knew he was different from the cycle he first began to comprehend the world around him. Where others of his age would play, he observed in silence. Where they screamed, Bumblebee merely allowed a hint of discomfort to emanate in his posture and his Sire would soon come to him. Too quiet, too composed, too quick to learn. But Bumblebee never doubted, nor did he question his Sire.

The others looked at him in concern, but Bumblebee saw no reason to worry about his situation. Why should he? They simply did not understand.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Bumblebee's earliest memory was one of a place of darkness and gloom, with many blue optics gazing down on him. He recalled arms and raptorial legs running over him, tending to him from where he resided in a cradle of primordial developmental fluid. It was comforting, peaceful even. The form that loomed above him was safety, it was love, and it was protection. Often he heard songs that resonated with his very core, usually accompanied by those many optics shining through the casing that contained him. That time of his life was hazy and distant, but he never forgot the blue of the optics that observed him.

He recalled his chamber of warmth being cut open and the chill of the cavernous space assaulting him. His first cries echoed in the damp air before he was soothed by servos that were familiar and yet so different from the appendages he was used to touching his place of gestation. He could not see, he could not hear, however he could feel the steady thrum of the powerful being that held him as he was taken from the gloom and to where the wind blew harshly and the air grew dry.

Distant memories, echoes of something that felt right.

The one who held him became a constant in Bumblebee's existence. He was small, weak, and underdeveloped. Instinctually he knew this as his tender cradled him and marched through what he could only assume was dead land. There was no smell of life, no scent of anything moving or mechanical. The sting of what he would come to know as plasma miasma was everywhere, but aside from that, it was simply him and his strangely familiar caretaker. This lasted for a time, but his memories were not very clear regarding all that occurred during that time. All he could say for certain was that when his optics finally achieved full functionality, he knew immediately that his situation was precarious at best.

He was brought to the Autobots in the arms of the one and only Optimus Prime, and for that reason, Bumblebee was quick to learn his place. Instincts told him to act, to do... something violent. But Optimus always knew, and when Bumblebee reached to activate coding hidden within his subsystems on instinct, the Prime would stare down at him with frigid optics, calculating and demanding. Very rarely did he need to say a word, but when Bumblebee was handed off to other mecha to be tended to for a time, Optimus always spoke to him first. Over and over the mantra was repeated whenever he was given to Ratchet for examination or to Jazz to be watched over during Optimus's absence.

"Restrain yourself and blend in. Remain in control and maintain this form. Do not succumb to the hunger and do not question. We must not be discovered so soon."

Bumblebee knew the optics that gazed down upon him, he knew the voice that spoke with the same deep hum that comforted him. Optimus was his Sire, and he would obey. He did not know why nor did he feel the need to seek answers. Even as a sparkling, he could follow the orders of his maker. The hunger that burned within him was pushed down and the urge to escape what was quickly feeling like a too-small shell was overcome. He had his orders, and he refused to disobey. Deep in his spark, he knew death would await him if he failed, and another part of him was quick to come to the conclusion that his Sire could easily to replace him. There was no need for communication for that truth to be revealed. Whatever he and his Sire were, they both were well aware of the unspoken rules.

"Obey or perish."

That was their shared command. Bumblebee obeyed his Sire, and Optimus in turn followed orders that he did not see fit to reveal. Whatever the case, it was none of Bumblebee's concern. When he was with Ratchet, he kept still and quiet, watching and adjusting his behavior to match what he saw around him. His coding and mental state changed, no longer controlled by instinct and instead by the growing persona that was taking root in his processors. From Jazz he learned to be energetic and hopeful, from Ratchet he learned seriousness and duty, from Ironhide he gained strength, from Preceptor knowledge, from Ultra Magnus strategic training... the list went on. Vorns passed by and he played his part. Bumblebee did not question, nor did the Autobots around him comment on his eerie levels of maturity at such a young age. There was a war to be won and no room to consider.

With time, Bumblebee learned to think as those around him did, he acted liked them, spoke like them, and carried himself as any other youngling. And yet despite parading himself as if he were a completely normal Cybertronian, there was forever the nagging sense deep within him that he was something other. The death around him did not bother him. While he did grow angry over the lost lives, the carnage itself had no influence over his mind. Combat came to him naturally, and often he found himself inclined to his denta and claw over blade and blaster. He did not fully understand it when the request to activate dormant coding periodically appeared on his HUD, but whenever he so much as looked at is a klik too long, his Sire almost always appeared by his side in short succession.

"Ignore it. The time has not yet come. Continue to live as you have, you will understand when you are required to."

He obeyed.

There were only a few times where he failed to follow the orders given, and he was always put back in his place. The instincts he was carefully told to ignore occasionally made itself known. Sometimes his jaw ached to unhinge, to widen and expand when he gazed upon the dying calling out for aid. Optimus never failed to cuff him in those instances or even harshly pull on his door wings to return him to reality. Occasionally his plating itched and he had the overwhelming urge to shift, to unfold and escape the confines of that which held him. It was worst on the battlefield when the rush of conflict flooded his processors with sheer euphoria. In such situations, Optimus was always there and ready to beat him into the ground should he fail to follow the order to restrain himself. While rare, there were even times when Bumblebee found himself starting to hoard energon, consuming more than he needed to and scouting out potential safe havens. He did not understand why he did so, but Optimus hauling him deep into the underground portion of the base and locking him up for a few cycles got him out of his strange moods quite quickly.

"There cannot be any more of us right now. Too many will draw attention. There can only be two. A hierarch and an heir."

After such treatment, Ratchet tended to tend to him and gently ask if Bumblebee was safe, if he required removal from Optimus's care. Bumblebee always said no. Ratchet did not understand, he never would. He was a good mech, a kind individual with a gentle spark, and thus he could not even come close to comprehending the unspoken connection Bumblebee had to his Sire. Jazz asked sometimes too, usually when he brought Bumblebee additional energon after his lockups. Ironhide slipped him a map with marked routes to a transport leaving Cybertron for a neutral world a handful of times. Even Ultra Magnus pulled him aside and took extra care to send Bumblebee off on missions that kept him from his Sire for extended periods of time.

They thought they were helping. Bumblebee could see why. Compared to the records of regular sparklings that he read and watched, the treatment Optimus subjected him to was straight up abuse. But of course, that was simply because there was a lack of understanding. It was the way of whatever it was Bumblebee and his Sire were. Their kind, whatever they happened to be, were a race that needed no words, needed no excess emotion. They knew their duty, and thus when Optimus struck him down and dragged him back into place, Bumblebee understood and held no ill will toward his maker. He could see Optimus faced similar treatment from whoever his maker was as well.

"Why are you hurting?"

"I am not externally injured young one."

"No, but inside you ache. I can see it, how you contort yourself to match this image of Cybertronian perfection."

"It is required."

"Why?"

"It is for the same reason you too must keep that shell little one. Our time has not yet come... and it may never arrive."

"What do you mean?"

"It is not your place to understand, such is my duty. I am the first, you are the second. I molded you to perform better than me, to overcome the trials that leave me in agony with minimal discomfort instead."

"You suffer in your frame."

"Yes, but I was the first. I was the test. You are better than I am, perfected and altered as much as I could manage to walk among this people without fear... that is so long as you keep yourself in control."

"Then... when will our time come?"

"When all save for us are dead... or when the time is right to spread unimpeded. These fragile creations are so advanced they have forgotten the core truth, the unity of one shared goal. When this war ends in their extinction or their restoration, we shall rise from their ashes or follow in their shadows."

Bumblebee did not understand, but as his Sire said, it was not his place to. Optimus was a comfort, one that Bumblebee relied on greatly. The Prime was his maker, that much he knew. Thus he dared not question when Optimus spoke to him in the humming song that he knew from his development. Ratchet, Jazz, and the others did not see what Bumblebee saw, nor did they ever witness the affection Optimus gave him in a positive light. They did not see the scratches Optimus left on his armor as a mark of affirmation of a job well done, but instead viewed it as abuse. They did not see how Optimus's constant reminders and glares were a kind reminder of their shared orders to remain hidden. Instead they saw only malice where Bumblebee knew there to be stern but true love. They could not witness the subsonic song that Optimus sang and Bumblebee returned at all times. How could they with their unaugmented audials?

Optimus cared for him, although he never said so aloud. Not in the traditional Cybertronian manner at any rate. The one time Bumblebee asked if his Sire did love him earned him a response that those who might have been listening were sure to see as dark.

"Sire... do you love me?"

"Into you I put vorns of my effort, attention, and care. Millennia of accumulated protomatter that I molded with my own limbs with utmost devotion. I spend every waking moment considering and contemplating, thinking of your future. I give my spark to your development and my mind to your rearing. No longer could I dare to create another. You are my one and only heir."

That was all he needed to know for certain. His mind recognized the emotional undertone and his instincts accepted the offered truths. Nothing else mattered. Optimus loved him, and despite the efforts of the ignorant Autobots and their plans to keep him away from his Sire, they always reconnected soon enough. Usually Bumblebee tried not to worry over the reactions of the Autobots to his and his Sire's interactions, but there were times when it was hard. More than once he heard Ratchet cursing Optimus out, yelling about him being a horrible Sire. Several times he noted Jazz working Optimus into a corner and calling him a monster. And while only once, there was a time where even Preceptor pulled his sniper rifle on the Prime, threatening to make him "keel over from and unfortunate accident in the labs" should he fail to improve.

They did not understand. But Optimus was always there to reassure Bumblebee and comfort him after such things. They would not be separated. Optimus was always in control, always so composed and possessed a far greater sense of duty. He never fought with his instincts, at least not that Bumblebee could see. The Prime blended in all but perfectly socially, befriending all and performing as a perfect leader. The only ones who were on his case were those who fought in Bumblebee's "defense". However even they remained amicable to toward him.

The singular time Bumblebee ever saw Optimus lose control was the cycle Megatron tore out his vocalizer. There was no time for his instincts to react or for him to break from his shell, but as he fell to the ground and bathed in his own energon, he saw his Sire enraged for the first time in his life.

He leapt through the air, limbs too long to be proper and his face all but split in half to reveal a maw of fangs and mandibles. Bladed limbs extended from his shoulders and his legs were crooked and out of place as he charged with a scream to make even the dead quake. Wrath and fury never before seen had Optimus charging with wild abandon, his shell transforming away more with ever moment and terrifying all those in the vicinity. All Bumblebee could do as Megatron fled and Optimus came to his side was silently convey the order they were both bound to.

"Blend in, do not be seen. Our time has not yet come."

Bumblebee was taken to the medical ward where he was stabilized. He felt true grief at his lost vocalizer, but it was partially drowned out by the relief that came from seeing his Sire back within his shell, even if he was expressing emotions far more openly than usual. As the Prime tended to him in a more Cybertronian manner during his recovery, Bumblebee heard the stories. A monster of red and blue charging at Megatron, a spark eater or a ghoul, a creature of legend to be eliminated on sight.

As soon as he was able, Bumblebee was quick to silence any witnesses who actually believed that what they saw was Optimus Prime. There could be no one to reveal them. They had their orders. It was not their time. Accidents happened, and while it brought him no joy, cleaning up a few loose ends was better in the long run. The Autobots needed their Prime, and Bumblebee refused to see his Sire exposed for trying to protect him.

"Obey or perish."

Such was their reality, even as they headed for Earth.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #eldritch abomination #slight angst #hints toward abuse but not really #jazz #mystery #slight at any rate #this idea has been chillin in my brain for a while #I fully intend to expand on it if there is any interest

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