Chapter Text
The summer sun escapes from sight as its blanket of warmth no longer graces my skin. The nighttime chill replaces its embrace, a true cherry on top of a terrible day. I walk the familiar beats out of the cemetery with nothing to show from my excursion but tear-stained cheeks and muddy knees. A deep bitterness runs through the cold and replaces it with an ache.
I trudge along, passing many happy people. Their laughs carry onward from the pubs and eateries along the dirt road. I only watch my feet pressing prints after each step. Merriment is suffocating on a day like this. I wish to join them all in their jokes, music, and drinks. The guilt reins me in when I drift too close to a modicum of happiness.
I deserve this pain.
I sigh and continue onward.
The walk is anything but long, yet I can't bring myself to hurry my pace. What is waiting for me back at my home? A husband? Parents? Friends? Just a dark existence based solely on my own actions.
A door opens ahead. I watch as a man fixes a torch near the front of his pub. The flames ignite quickly on the soaked rags. A glow stretches long shadows upon my path. Freshly dug up memories poison my already sour mood.
Disgrace.
I keep walking.
As I outpace the light of the torch, a commotion rings out from behind. A shout then a soft thud. I twist around to see a small figure lying flat in the dirt. A bottle of some kind has spilled, saturating the road shortly before it fades.
“Rat,” a man I had yet to notice barks from the doorway. Before I can get a better view, the door slams tight to block out the restarted excitement inside. I look at the spread-eagled humanoid.
“I'll show you what's- it's a- fuck you,” the man slurs. He struggles onto his elbows in very clear drunken wobbles. He lifts up his bottle for a sip but finds it lacking, twisting it upside down as the last drop falls. “Fuck-wit,” he cries as he tosses the bottle ahead. It doesn't make it far.
I observe the pathetic little thing in the torchlight. Long pointed ears are the first to notice. Then a hooked nose and wild hair. I gasp at the realization.
“A goblin,” I mumble to myself. His ear twitches my way before his eyes catch up.
“The hell are you looking at, human?” he growls. I straighten ram rod. Stupidly, I look around for another. “You,” he points,” Stupid woman.”
I watch him attempt to stand, only succeeding in stumbling forward and collapsing on his hands. A part of me instinctively steps forward to help, but his otherness keeps me at bay. A goblin is no good company. He tries once more to stand, which I take as my cue to leave. I have my own problems to deal with; I don't need to watch someone else struggling.
“Don't you walk away while I'm,” he hiccups,” while I'm talking to you!”
Something stops me that I can't begin to understand. I freeze in my spot without complaint. Curiosity? Cowardice? I don't know.
“You think you're better than me,” he asks,” All you humans, all the same.”
I double back a step and just observe. A single phrase blows through my head as I watch him stumble towards me.
Misery loves company.
“Look at you all high and mighty. Always looking down on people,” He rants,” Such scum.”
I let him get closer. An amusement I didn't know I could muster allows this interaction. Maybe not amusement, but something warm.
“You're the reason for all of this. A shit start to a shit night, and I gotta look at your ugly mug,” he kicks some dirt to emphasize whatever point he is trying to make. He stumbles but catches himself. His wobbly gait brings him closer than socially comfortable. I step back.
“I'm a nice guy. I only steal from rich people,” he slurs,” People like you.”
“I'm not rich,” I say. I scold myself for inviting his attention. He shoots a sour look up at me.
“Richer than me, you bitch,” he chuckles to himself. He follows his own path forward, checking over his shoulder every other step. “What's your problem with goblins anyway? Always kicking us around and robbing us blind. Screw the lot of you.”
I find myself trailing along, though he is walking on the same path as I. After another fall, he ends up behind me. I keep a close eye on him and his drunk ramblings.
“I hate humans,” he shouts. The words echo past the trees beyond the houses. “I hate you,” he points a green finger at me. I feel captured in his grasp. A vindicated part of me screams, ‘Finally’. Something about his ire sparks up that amused-but not amused- warmth.
“I hate your snubbed nose. I know you look down on me, don't act like you don't. I can smell it on you,” he sniffs loudly,” The human pride. You fucking pathetic bitch.”
I let him berate me the whole walk to my home. I don't know who is following who anymore, but I know he doesn't live where I do. I pause outside my door, hand on the handle. He grumbles to himself as I forgo turning the knob. I watch him start to make his way back to the street, having sensed the end of his fun. Yet, it's fun that I don't want to end.
“Do you want to come in?” I surprised both of us by saying.
That's how I found myself poking at a growing fire with a goblin sitting on my couch. It doesn't make any sense- though nothing in my life has. I watch the flames eat up the fresh log. Its heat begins to hurt, but I don't pull away.
“Ugly house,” I hear him spit behind me. I shut my eyes for a moment.
He picks at the couch cushion until the cotton becomes exposed. His long nails dig in until he produces a small ball. I stand in front of him as he tosses the ball at my face. It misses completely with no weight and drifts in the air.
“There's something wrong with you,” he says. I collapse onto the couch far on the other side of him, far from the burning heat of the hearth.
“No more than usual,” I shrug, dejected. His eyes drill holes into my head. I turn to watch him, thinking with a thumb on his chin. His face crunches up in thought. Before I can ask, a bulb goes off over his head.
The goblin slides over to my side of the couch, standing on his knees. My heart stills at the change of pace. I don't know why I invited him in. I don't know why I let him walk with me home. I don't know why a lot of things. Life hasn't been fair since that faithful night when I was 16. A lovesick teenager with too much on her mind, none of which is wit. Maybe I'm a glutton, maybe I don't find the goblin half bad.
He closes the space between us before I notice. He is gone as soon as it happens. My mind is blissfully silent as I match his shocked face. I greedily take in every detail. Wide eyes, raised brow, slight frown. I stare at his lips with focus.
We both meet with such ferocity that our teeth pinch our lips. Hands roam one another as we begin the dance of removing each offending article. We break long enough to remove our tunics but collapse onto the couch as we collide. So raw and electric, rivers of desire flood my insides until I can't begin to think straight. Only a primal need is left of me.
"Such a slut," he laughs. I breathe a little heavier. He sits up above me with a sneer. His eyes slither down my body to take in everything. He bares his teeth as he takes a breast into his rough hands. I can't help but want it, need it. Arching my back to meet his touch sooner. He scoffs.
"Are you always this excited to have anyone in your bed, or is it just for me? Tell me the last time you had someone here," He asks as he cups my cunt through my skirt. I have to force myself to exhale; it comes out as a grunt. I don't want to answer that question; it just makes this all more pathetic. He growls, claws digging into my chest. I can only moan in answer as the burn of his nails aches in my stomach.
"I can't tell what kind of slut you are," he furrows his brow. I have to look away. "No matter, you're going to let me do whatever I want to you." I can't deny it.
He leans in to nibble at my neck as I arch further away from his view. Shame rolls in my chest until it's in the air I breathe. I'm sure he can smell it, spurring him on as he lathers my neck in alcohol reeking spit. He palms me with those bony fingers. Stirring me up until I'm grinding into him. He only laughs, stoking the fire in my chest until I'm suffocating.
Satisfied with himself, he sits up to smile smugly down at me. He snatches my cheek in his grip to force my stare. I try to glare up at him, to pretend that none of this is my want. He only smiles wider.
"Tell me you want this, tell me you want to get fucked by me," he demands. My pussy aches to hear those words. I can feel the slick holding my underclothes close. My stomach clenches. His fingers dig in to purse my lips. "Say it."
My pride wins out, though I'm surprised I still have any. A social part of me acknowledges this vermin on top of me. His green leathery skin on display in my living room is enough to start a stir in the morning markets. Plenty of people to gossip about the whore and the goblin menace. I can keep those words for myself; I don't need to flatter this creature.
He sneers, getting close to my face. "Pathetic human. You can lie to yourself all you want, but your body reaches for me. I can smell your cunt like a thick perfume. You need me in you, and that's what you are going to get."
A relief goes through me as he flips my skirt to gaze at my clothed treasure. The hate I feel is barely skin deep when it's him pulling the reins. What is a poor woman like me to do against such a powerful beast? It's weak even as the thought rolls in my head. I can fight him off easily...but why won't I?
His nail grazes my lips with such care before he snaps the clothing in half. Anticipation is a drug. He watches me, leaving no room for escape. His knuckles pet my clit with a thrill of electric satisfaction. I shiver...because it's cold, of course. The shame strikes at my heart like a snake.
"Repulsive thing you are. Not enough tits, but a juicy peach to make up for it. I can't believe you are going to let me defile you like this. We just met," he laughs. His fingers are so slow against my swollen bud. Each word runs hot in my veins. " If I knew humans were so pathetic, I would have taken to this sooner."
I feel myself reaching my end embarrassingly quick. The whole situation muddles the mind, prime for abuse as long as a need is met. I try not to make it obvious, even biting my hand to forgo the echoes of my own moans. He watches with such focus and anger. He presses obscenely hard, pinching against bone. Despite the obvious punishment, I shut my eyes and leave another notch on my hand as I bite harder.
"Fucking slut," he growls," It's disgusting to watch you like this. Do you hate yourself for liking this? A goblin making you cum just from a measly touch? How your species has made it this far is beyond me. The lot of you should be dead, you specifically should be taken out back and put down."
I cum to both of our surprises. He pulls away as if I burned him. My thighs clench around his waist, tugging him close while I arch off the couch with a mighty keen. He snarls, reaching out to pin my chest down. His claws dig into my skin, grabbing me like a shirt collar. My skin pinches in his grip, though it drowns me in euphoria.
"You bitch," he barks," I didn't say you could cum! I didn't want you to cum before me."
I can't answer because it would just admit that I did cum from him. Even as I float on this cloud, I don't want to look down at the wanton woman sitting below a filthy goblin.
"You got yours, it's only fair I get mine," he huffs. With his hand still digging into my sternum, he pulls himself out of his pants. Curiosity beats out shame as I watch. A decent-sized cock for a goblin, though not grand in any sense. For my untrained pussy it's just enough to stretch comfortably. He strokes himself from base to tip. His eyes nearly shut, but his gaze doesn't break from the useless human below him. He presses his tip in. I startle as the reality hits me like a ton of bricks. I try to sit up, to think of some excuse to not partake, but my mouth is filled with ash. He holds me down with that damn smug smile.
"Will you tell me you want this?" he asks. I only glare. "Doesn't matter, you don't need to do you? Just feel how easy I go in." Then he slides smoothly in. Nothing to resist him, nothing to fight. To the hilt with only blissful fullness. I close my eyes to not remember his face in the morning.