Modern Monsters

Ellis the Gargoyle

Female Reader x Male Monster

You knew you were on the downswing of this relationship. He was making excuses, breaking dates. The phone call you just received had only just proved that. It was only a matter of time to dump or be dumped. So you decided it was time to dump. You never enjoyed being dumped over a phone call, but in this case you had absolutely had it. You told him not to worry, that he needed to never worry again. He didn't need to make excuses anymore. You only wish you could slam your cell phone down to get your point across.

You were alone now, but you weren't going to waste a good outfit and good makeup. You went to the bar down the street to get a drink. You were still all dolled up for your date. You were running on a high but knew a low would be coming soon if you didn't act fast.

You were glad that that bartender served you quickly. You grumbled your order, feeling the high begint ow ear off. You ordered a whiskey. Someone else had taught you to like whiskey and you found yourself missing them.

Your wish to see him was granted as if by magic. His laugh was husky and cut through the din of the crowd. He was there with a cute blonde across his lap. He always seemed to prefer blondes, or perhaps blondes always prefered him. He was an old friend, you had known him longer than you cared to admit. Also, on more than one occasion you had ended the evening drunkenly clamoring on top of one another.

He bit the blonde's neck and you knew that pleasure. You knew all too well how his teeth worked. You smiled seeing him. Had he been alone you might have clung to him like the blonde girl did. You would let him whisk you away and fuck you delirious. You rubbed your temple, a little confused as to why you were suddenly so pissed, wanting to rip the blonde's obviously bleached roots out. You finished your drink and ordered another.

Ellis had a man's man appeal, not a player, but word had got around about his beastly tendencies in bed. Lots of ladies liked to feel like Beauty for a night. You had felt like that with him. He always made you feel something more.

"It's bad luck to drink alone," his voice growls into your ear.

You look up at him and a warm smile spreads across your face. "What makes you think I'm alone?" You flourish your hand down your body, showing him the nice new dress and fuck me heels. "My fella could be in the bathroom." You then pat the barstool beside you for him to take.

"Fuck pissing," he snarled as he took the offered seat. "He'd be too hard if he were here with you," he grinned, showing off those teeth again. He was tall and dark. Long tentacles cascading down the back of his head like sleek dreadlocks. His face was long, features smooth until his mouth which parted into rows of pearly teeth. He had tree sets of eyes, descending in size along each side of his face. They were pitch black but warm. His tail whipped around, stroking up your leg and coiling around your ankle. His wings we tucked around him, claws clasped at his neck.

"I'm sure you won't be alone for long." He inches closer to you. "Soon as the crowd here spots you you'll have to beat them off, literally and metaphorically." He was slightly tipsy, it seemed, by his crude compliments.

You shook your head and laughed at him. "I'm going home after this drink. I don't feel much like beating anybody off." You roll your eyes and take a sip. You then slid your hand up his thigh. "I don't feel like doing anything for anybody tonight."

He eyes you, a long, purple tongue darting out between his teeth and licking them. "I get your point," he murmurs. He slips his fingers under your chin and tips your head up. "Plenty can beat themselves off later."

You snort and smile wide. He could always make you smile.

"Don't tell me," he sits back and studies your face, your body. "Not another break up?"