OkCryptid: The Monster Dating App

Bosede (Male Gnoll x Female Reader)

You didn't... date. You didn't go to bars or clubs. You bought most of your clothes, books, and groceries online, so unless you met someone at 4 a.m. who liked people who wore bunny slippers to get ice cream, it was unlikely you'd meet someone at a shop. You were a freelance editor for various magazines, and as such, worked from home, so you wouldn't be meeting anyone at work. Your friends, all two of them, were married and didn't have anyone they could set you up with.

You were a homebody who didn't like change, but you couldn't deny that you were lonely and tired of being alone. That really only left one option.

So you'd done it. You'd given in and made an online dating profile. And not just any dating site, either. You'd chosen OkCryptid.

Humans could use it to find other humans, too, but you knew most people used it to date monsters. And if you were going to try something new, you might as well go all out.

There was a whole quiz you had to take just to get started; what you were looking for, your orientation, your thoughts on politics, books, music, even what types of monster you were prepared to to meet, humanoid or... not. It was surprisingly in-depth.

It took nearly two hours to fill out your profile and do the questionnaire, but it was three a.m. and you decided that you were satisfied enough with it, and would check if you got any matches in the morning over breakfast. You hoped it would be worth the time you spent on it.

The next morning, you saw you'd gotten a few messages already, but they were either two word greetings (hey sexy), or you had nothing in common with them. A little discouraging, but you decided to look through the suggested matches list. A gargoyle, a troll, some guy visiting from Michigan you'd likely never meet. Nothing there.

There was one caught your eye. Under "species," it showed "chose not to say," and there was no profile picture, just the site's default male silhouette icon, only with horns to denote that he was non-human.

You clicked it on your phone as you set up your work computer at the kitchen table and read his bio. Nondescript and vague. His "looking for" section literally only had three words: "Must love dogs." All you could glean from his profile was that he living in the area, was male, didn't smoke, and worked in the food industry, but he didn't specify in what capacity.

However, he had answered a ton of the optional personality questions, and was an 91% match with you, which so far was the highest match percentage yet.

He did, enigmatically, have one photo in his pic folder, but it was a group of people at a river, fishing, and he wasn't tagged. You had no way of knowing which one he was. There was a werewolf in the picture, full-shift and sopping wet, and you thought maybe it could be him, but there was really no way to tell. Most werewolves you knew could shift at any time, though it was harder to maintain human form during full moons, so anyone besides the obvious monsters in the picture could also have been a werewolf.

You were so drawn in, trying to decipher which he could be, that you were compelled to send him a message.

>So, I can't tell which one is you in the pic on your profile.

You kind of weren't expecting a response, given how lazily his profile was set up, but halfway through editing your first article, you received a reply.

>There's a reason for that.

You expected something more, but he didn't continue.

>Which is? You asked him.

>I took the photo, He replied.

>OH. That makes more sense.

>Is that why you messaged me?