Mothman Boyfriend: Shiloh (complete)

Female Reader x Male Monster

There is a small lake near your home, and decades ago your grandfather took a photo there that became the basis for a legend in your hometown. He captured something coming out the lake, which became known as the Carvey Lake Merman. The legend turned the town into a tourist destination where merchandise was sold and tours conducted. The ‘monster’ he snapped became a local celebrity, and ever since the lake has become a hotspot for cryptozoologists, kooky scientists, and pseudointellectual fanatics. Some days you watch them from your porch, setting up equipment and cameras on the lakeside in the hope of capturing the elusive Merman.

Your grandfather has remained tight-lipped, enjoying the chaos his single photo produced. He’s been interviewed so many times, he has an entire wall dedicated to the articles he’s been in over the decades. He even receives gifts and cards from fans he’s gotten close to over the years.

“You think you’ll say anything?” you ask him one day, handing him an iced tea as he gleefully watches the circus around the lake.

“Nothing important,” he replies.

You smile at him. It’s never been important to you to know what he saw, or even did to capture such a lucky image. It’s always been about the joke, which is exactly what your grandfather sees it as. Your quaint and sleepy town had woken up because of this picture, and dedicated all their effort and resources to keeping the legend alive. Your grandfather shook the status quo and is quite smug about it. You’re just happy he’s enjoying himself.

Your grandparents raised you, so you didn’t hesitate when they needed you back home. After your grandmother died, you decided to move home permanently to take care of your grandfather. Even though he was quite capable of taking care of himself, he lived in fear of falling, as he had already replaced one hip. You keep up the photo business he started, even renting out the darkroom to others who still enjoy cameras. Your grandfather has taught you everything about photography and film, and your shared passion helped you start a business of your own before you moved back.

The darkroom is one of only a few left in town, and some of your grandfather’s old students still enjoy coming to use the facility. Film cameras are a dying art, but your grandfather is adamant about keeping it alive. In most of the interviews he gives to the cryptid fanatics, he goes on about the virtues of these cameras. He gives history lessons, and even manages to wrangle some interviewers into classes about the development of film. It always amazed you how he was able to wrap these people around his finger.

One day, someone comes for an interview who doesn’t buy into your grandfather’s charm. You research him before he arrived, and find his website is more about debunking the legend than lauding it. You try convincing your grandfather not to talk to him, but your grandfather has a mischievous glint in his eye. The man arrives, and pokes and prods his way through the interview. But your grandfather doesn’t relent, and this only seems to pique the man. He starts turning red and sweating, hoping your grandfather will give away some clue about the true origins of the Carvey Lake Merman.

It comes to such a boil, you have to step in and ask the man to leave. He becomes aggressive, but luckily you’re able to subdue him. You push him out the door and warn him to never come back. He posts nasty articles about you and your grandfather on his website, but your grandfather just laughs. “Let him. If he’s dedicated enough, maybe he’ll find the truth. But no one in this town wants that,” he says with a shake of his head. “The Merman is too important.”

“He was so angry,” you murmur. “I figured he’d try to press charges before he did something stupid.”

“Stupid hurts. Remember that.”

A few nights later, you awake to a commotion outside. Your grandfather is at the door even before you and pushes you back, intending to take the lead. “Sounds like it came from the darkroom. I’ll go have a look.”

“What if it’s that asshole from the other day? Let me call the cops and have them investigate.”

“Nonsense, let me talk to the boy. Probably never had a good talking-to.” He opens the door and heads outside.

“You’re too old for this shit!” You chase after him, but he keeps trying to push you back. More noise rises from the dark room, followed by a painful cry. You grab hold of your grandfather in shock. “What was that?”

A thoughtful look crosses your grandfather’s face, pinching his thick brows together. “Sounds hurt. I don’t think it’s that boy, darling.”

You both approach the door cautiously and your grandfather opens it, placing his cane before him. Whimpers float through, followed by another scream. Your grandfather turns on the light, and lying on the floor, tucked beneath the tables, is a creature you’ve never seen before.

“Look at the blood,” your grandfather murmurs. “It’s hurt.”

“What is it?” you hiss back at him.

“Doesn’t matter. We need to get the poor thing calm. The emergency kit is right over there. Get it and I’ll try to talk to the poor thing.”

He approaches the creature, which screams and hisses, tucking itself further back into the corner. “It’s okay, we ain’t gonna hurt you. You came to the right place.” Your grandfather waves you over, taking the kit from your hands. You kneel beside him, glancing under the table and finding blood.

“Look,” your grandfather points. He points to the red legs of the creature, one of which is wrapped in metal. “It got caught in a trap.”

“Those traps are illegal around here,” you whisper.

“Does that stop people?” Your grandfather continues to try and coax the creature to let you help him.

“Not you,” a gravelly voice breathes. “You get out. Leave her here.”

Both of you are in shock. You hadn’t expected it to talk at all, let alone in a language you could understand. “No men,” it growls. “Get away from me!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get out.” You help your grandfather rise, and he goes to the door. “But I’ll be out here. I’m not leaving her alone like this.”

The creature growls again, and your grandfather closes the door just enough that he can still see inside. The creature slouches, going limp and crying in pain. “It’s okay. Let me see.” You approach, gently touching the leg, which elicits a whimper. You inspect the trap to find a way to release the thing. “This is awful. I’m so sorry.”

The creature breathes raggedly. You introduce yourself with a gentle tone. “What’s your name?”

“Shiloh,” the thing rasps.

You finally manage to get the trap to release, and remove the horrible metal thing from Shiloh’s leg. He cries, twisting in pain before slumping again. You see he has giant wings in shades of soft brown and white, and a furred body that is mostly red with white patches. “Can you get up?” you ask. “I’ll take you to the house.”

He lashes his arm out at you. “If you try to move me, I will scream!”

You stop his hand and grab it. “You’ve broken a lot of glass in here. It isn’t safe! There’s all sorts of caustic fluids on the floor you don’t want in these cuts!”

Shiloh goes still, whimpering in pain with each breath. Then he slackens, falling unconscious. You manage to get him up onto your back, and with your grandfather’s help you take back to the main house and put him into the guest room, making sure to keep the windows covered.

“That’s not a merman,” you whisper.

“More like a mothman,” your grandfather marvels. “Who knew?”

“Should we call the cops about the trap? Try to find the others so no one else gets hurt?” you ask.

Your grandfather sighs and murmurs something under his breath. “We need to protect Shiloh first. If we report the trap we’d have to report what got caught in it. too. For now, we’ll keep our heads low and see if anyone comes asking about it.”

“What if it’s that asshole from before?” you grumble.

Your grandfather grins. “Leave him to me. Shiloh won’t let me near him, so you should be the one to take care of him. We need to keep him safe and out of the public eye.”

You furrow your brow at this. “Grandpa, is the merman fake?”

His smile fades. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is a different situation,” he says cryptically. “Go check on Shiloh. I’ll start us some coffee.”

You go back to the guest room. Shiloh’s leg is bandaged, but still bleeding, and he’s lying on his belly so his wings cover his body. He’s quite big, taking up the twin bed with little room for even the sheets. You always expected something to come out of the lake, but never anything like this.

Shiloh shifts in bed, his wings flutter then fold tightly against his back. He looks up at you, large dark eyes exhausted and wet with tears. “Where am I?”

You kneel down beside the bed. “You’re inside, safe.”

He tries to sit up, but winces from the pain in his leg. He buries his face into a pillow and wails in pain. “Do you need anything?” you ask. You touch his arm, but he pulls away from you. “Water? Food? Anything?”

He breaths raggedly and lifts his face from the pillow. “If anyone finds out about me...”

“They won’t,” you quickly reply. “No one is going to see you except my grandfather and me. So rest.”

Shiloh looks at you through dark eyes flecked with gold and green. His glare loses focus as he sinks back into the bed. “Leave me alone.”

“If you need anything, just...”

He almost hits you as he spreads his wings. “Leave!”

You jump up and go, closing the door behind you, and join your grandfather in the kitchen. He hands you a cup of coffee. “How is he?”

“Hurt,” you sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”

“He’s defensive. Give him time, and he’ll eventually learn we mean him no harm and he’s safe here. Besides, if he is a moth, once daylight comes he’ll want to sleep.” Your grandfather sighs deeply. “I still can’t quite wrap my mind around it. A mothman!”

“Doesn’t a mothman bring some sort of tragedy?” you ask.

“Well, maybe,” he sits down. “The one in Point Pleasant, I believe, was a warning. Maybe this one is a warning too.”

“Shiloh doesn’t look like that mothman, though.” You slouch in your chair.

Grandfather chuckles, a smile blooming on his face. “Who's to say we know what any of these legendary creatures looks like? We could be all wrong.”

Shiloh sleeps the rest of the day, just like your grandfather said. That evening, you hear noises from the guest room and go to check. Shiloh is hobbling from the bed, going to look out the window. He turns abruptly as you enter, his eyes wide and completely black.

You raise your hands defensively. “I came to check on your bandages.”

Shiloh’s wings close, and he appears to relax. “It’s fine. You don’t need to touch it.”

“Sit back down,” you urge. “I need to check if everything is okay. Make sure there’s no infection.” You hold up a bottle of water and a bottle of apple juice. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want.”

Shiloh sits on the bed and cautiously extends his leg towards you. The feathery red antenna on his head wave as he looks at you. He snatches the bottle of apple juice, sniffing it before he opens it. You inspect his leg, taking off the bandages to see it’s healing well, but everything still looks raw. You apply some disinfectant, making him hiss at you, but he calms as soon as the pain subsides.

“It’ll be okay.” You apply fresh bandages. “It’s healing well.”

Shiloh quickly pulls his leg back. “Just show me the exit.”

You glare at him. “What? No! You shouldn’t be out on your leg right now. You could end up making it worse.”

He thrusts the empty bottle back at you. “Let me out.”

“No!” you insist.

His eyes narrow. “Why do you care?”

“Because I do. I don’t need a reason.” You stand back up. “Now, do you need anything else?”

“The water, please,” he grumps.

You hand him the bottle. “Okay, then.”

He sighs heavily. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just…”

“You’re scared. It’s okay.” You sit down in a chair. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Shiloh drinks the water and sighs. “There have always been people at the lake. I’m used to that. But the other day, someone was in the woods near my home. I saw him setting traps...”

“Short guy? Hair combed over to one side?”

Shiloh’s eyes narrow. “You know him?”

You grimace. “I had a gut feeling. We met with him a few days ago. Go on.”

“I wanted to get rid of the traps. Lots of animals could have gotten hurt. Well...” He motions to his leg. “Ta-da, I guess.”

“I’m curious. What else is in the woods?”

“What do you think?” he laughs. “Deer and rabbits.”

Your face turns red. “Oh. I thought you meant...”

“Werewolves and unicorns?” He scoffs. “That’s a town over.”

You look over Shiloh, his red fur and giant wings. His face is sharp and angled, with high cheekbones that suit his large eyes. His mouth is small and irregularly shaped, mostly black from the looks of it. He’s quite large, but when you had carried him he wasn’t that heavy.

He notices you staring and extends his wings, which startles you. You sit up in your seat. “Sorry, I’m still kind of in awe. I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

He grimaces. “You’re not supposed to.”

You blush, slightly embarrassed. “I know.”

The next morning, that asshole shows back up at your door. He looks disheveled, as well as red in the face. “Welcome back, young man,” your grandfather greets him. “How can we help you?”

His eyes dart past your grandfather, and he focuses on you and seethes. “I’m looking for something of mine.”

You hold your breath, wondering if he knew his trap wound up here. It’s still in the darkroom, because you were afraid of touching it while cleaning up.

“Like what?” your grandfather asks. “Maybe we can help you look for it.”

The young man shakes his head. “Seen anything?”

“Oh, lots of things since my cataract surgery.”

He grimaces. “If you see anything, tell me.” He leaves in a huff, kicking rocks as he goes back to his car.

That evening, Shiloh is able to walk a little, and you take him out to the screened-in porch so he can get some fresh air. He sits in the swing and gazes at the moon. “Thank you, for helping me,” he murmurs quietly.

“Don’t worry about it.” You pat his hand, which he takes to hold. His touch is soft and fuzzy, almost like velvet. Your heart skips a beat, and you grip his hand in return.

You hear movement, coming from the direction of the darkroom. You jump up and turn to Shiloh. “Stay here,” you tell him as you run off the porch. Already your grandfather is approaching the darkroom, but as he approaches the door he’s knocked to the ground.

“Hey!” You rush to your grandfather. The asshole from before is standing there with the trap in his hand, which he’s using to smash up the darkroom. You lunge at him, pushing him back against the tables, but he strikes you across the face with it and makes you stumble. “Where is it?” he bellows. “What was in this trap?”

You’re holding your bloody nose, but you’re willing to break it off entirely to hurt this piece of shit. You lunge again, punching him in the eye, and he swings again, only to miss and stumble over a table. Glowing red eyes appear in the window. He screams, jumping back. A scuttling noise travels across the roof, and the man runs through the door, tripping over your grandfather before he’s snatched away from above.

You rush to your grandfather’s side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I landed on the fake hip.” He struggles to stand as you help him, but after a moment he seems okay. You look out towards the lake. A dark shape flies over the surface, and the man is dropped from the mass into the water.

“That Shiloh is a nice fella,” your grandfather remarks.

You get him back inside, and by that time Shiloh is back. “Take care of this one, I’m fine,” your grandfather says.

Shiloh takes you into the kitchen to wash your face. “You poor thing,” he whispers.

You chuckle. “This isn’t my first bloody nose,” you say. “I’m fine. Really.”

Shiloh helps you take care of yourself, and already you can tell you’re going to have a bruised eye or two. Shiloh gently touches your cheek, smoothing his velvet fingertips along your skin. “I’m fine,” you assure him. “Thanks for the help earlier.”

He smiles. “No problem at all. Kind of fun, really.”

You wake up the next morning to find yourself snuggled against Shiloh’s fluffy chest. You want to linger, but the need to check on your grandfather prevails. You find him in the kitchen, happily making breakfast. “Oh dear god, look how ugly you are!” he chuckles. “Come here, darling. Let me see what happened.”

“That asshole broke my nose. I’ll go to the doctor today to make sure it’s not gonna pierce my brain or anything.”

Your grandfather smooths his hand under your eyes then rubs your nose, which is sore, but not horrible. He sighs. “I don’t think it’s broken. That jerk wasn’t strong enough. I’ll be going to talk to the cops today, and hopefully they’ll chase him off. Your cousin is still the sheriff, right?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles. “He seemed awfully concerned about you last night. Do I need to have a talk with the young man?”

A smile blooms across your face. “Oh, come on.”

“You come on. A fella knows when another is sweet on someone. You’re my pride and joy, and I need to have a talk with him if he keeps wanting to play the knight in shining armor to your distressed damsel.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “If really must.”

“I must.”

You go back to the bedroom, where Shiloh is sitting up in bed. His antennae rise as you come in, and he holds his hand out to you. You take it, gently holding it until he pulls you in close and wraps his arms around you.

Shiloh is eventually able to return to the forest, and you go into the woods to visit with him. He lives in an old hunting cabin which has become so overgrown with vines and moss it looks like a small hill. Inside there are signs someone lived there before. “I was raised by a woman who lived here. She found my abandoned egg and kept me safe.” He looks around the old cabin and hangs his head. “She died in town. I never even got to say goodbye.”

You hold his hand, and he pulls you into his embrace. He holds you affectionately, cupping your face before he kisses you. You wince, and he pulls back. “My nose is still sore,” you chuckle. “It’s okay. Come back.”

He comes close again, kissing you while being cautious of your nose. You wrap your arms around him, stroking down his body so you can feel how soft he is. He shivers and moans as you touch his hips. “Careful.”

“Ticklish?” you smirk.

“Sort of,” he smirks. “In a different way.”

You smooth your palms over his fur, watching his expression as it becomes seductive. He steps from your grasp and lays you on the kitchen table before kissing you, pressing your back against the cool wood. He spreads your thighs, placing himself between them.

“Shiloh,” you whisper. “Your leg.”

“It’s fine. Are you?”

You nod. “As long as the table can hold up.”

Shiloh kisses you, moving his hands down until he takes off your pants. You feel something nudge against the fabric of your panties. Shiloh licks your lips with a black tongue, slowly moving down until he’s kissing your belly. He moves aside your panties and rubs his fingers across your vulva. The velvet of his touch becomes damp, feeling silky against your skin.

“Still fine?” he pants.

You nod. “You?”

He lies over you, kissing you deeply. His shaft presses between your folds, rubbing there until he places himself within. His shape is strange, bulbous in the middle, while the tip curves up at a sharp angle. His thrusts are shallow at first, moving slowly as he breathes into your ear. His wings spread out, covering your vision as you cling tight to him. You rake your hands down his back, arching your back of the table at his movements. He moans into your ear as he drives himself into you, and the table rocks as his wings shudder and twitch.

You hold him tightly, locking your legs around him and urging him to move harder. The shaking of the table intensifies, but at this point you’re too far gone in ecstasy to care. Shiloh pulls you closer to the edge, angling your hips up as he drives down. He kisses you, whimpering as he twitches inside you. You hold his arms tight, gasping for breath before throwing your head back, hitting the table a little harder than you mean to, but it doesn’t stop the waves that crash through you. You catch your breath eventually, laughing as Shiloh cups the back of your head.

“Why did you do that?” he chuckles.

You smile at him. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Shiloh smiles in return, still catching his breath. “I will, because I care.”