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shadowtraveled · 10 months ago

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"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

#dungeon meshi spoilers #mithrun #dungeon meshi #this has been rotating for a while but i wanted to check my evidence before getting into it thanks user angelspenance for posting that meme #half of this is just the text and the other half i'm sure has been said before but it's making my brain [radio static] so here this is #someone did for sure mention this but i do find it very cute that in his fucked up conjured world meant to portray his ideal reality #his teammates came to visit him. like part of the fantasy was then explicitly that they cared about him and were his friends. even though #he says he tried to see the worst in them.#hm it does feel important to note that i do also believe 100% in mithrun suicidality--his desire to be eaten does seem to focus a lot on #wanting it to be Over. wanting not to be left incomplete and empty anymore.#but that loops back around a bit to the hole in your heart that appears when you feel unloved. it's many things and the same thing at once #snakes #long post #severe problems #meshy

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peachpitfics · 8 months ago

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Guilty as Sin

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton asks you to accompany him to his private studio, to show you some of the art he's been working on. You find a little more than you were expecting.

Length: 3k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving), Penetrative sex, Unprotected sex.

a/n: find pt 2 here!

Bridgerton master list

"Good evening, y/n," A proud voice echoed behind you, discovering your hiding spot in the darkest corner, admiring Lady Danbury's art to appear busy. You didn't bother to turn and greet him, he always seemed to find you at these social events, even if you weren't outwardly interested in him, he persisted. Benedict Bridgerton slid into the space next to you as if it were designed for him, cheekily scanning you face for a reaction.

You met at Lady Danbury's ball 3 seasons previous. Your brother was holding out hope for a match this season, ignoring your contentedness for your own company. Benedict had never shown any interest in any young lady - he did, however, find amusement in torturing you this way.

"Bridgerton," You barely mumbled a response, hoping he would find another to bother this evening. Yet there he remained, exchanging his attention for the painting you were looking at.

"There are far better paintings in this ballroom" He remarked, a little scoff sounding off.

"Yes, I am sure there are. However, this one is positioned perfectly" Still, you avoided eye contact and angled your body away from him. He was definitely not the same as the other Bridgerton men. Benedict was frivolous and artistic, lost in his own hedonistic world of luxury and pleasure. Perhaps it was jealousy that ruled your opinion of Benedict.

"Ah, yes. I truly have never seen a damp, dark corner without you in it, you know?" He chuckled, "Why do you pretend to be interested in art, when you could be watching whatever is unfolding behind you? I'm sure the numerous scandals and embarrassing events you would witness would be far more interesting" He asked, there was even a hint of genuine curiosity in his words.

You paused for a moment, contemplating even continuing this conversation or leaving to find your brother or mother.

"Actually, I rather enjoy art. I am more interested in sculpture or ceramics, but I will endure whatever I have to to get through this evening and every other evening like it this season" You spilled. Benedict was stunned, his eyebrows raised and his blinks steady in shock.

"I didn't know you had a like for such things" Benedict said serenely.

"Of course not, I am certain you thought my only interests were embroidery or pianoforte, like every other simpering mess in this ballroom" You thought your snarky remark was under your breath, but Benedict did manage to hear. He breathed a heady laugh through his nose and took a sip of his lemonade.

"Would you be interested in viewing some of my works?" Benedict pondered aloud, finally dragging your eyes to meet his. It seemed sincere - which was not something you often saw from him. Whilst he was a shameless flirt, you never indulged him like some of the other young ladies. It was obvious that he viewed you as some sort of challenge, but you would never give in.

"Is that a serious invitation?" You asked, taken aback.

"Yes, absolutely. Art is potentially the only thing I do take seriously. I would love to show you, if you would like to see it" He almost bowed, as if the pursuit of his art was the most noble thing about him. This shift in his personality made him less repulsive, it intrigued you. Turning to face him, for the first time in so many months, throwing off his balance slightly, you held your hand out for him to take.

"You would like to see it now?" His brow furrowed, eyes asking permission to take your hand and lead you out to the carriages.

"Why not? We've been to this ball numerous times before, it will not be getting any more interesting" With the softest of smiles decorating your normally sour face, Benedict took your hand and began walking outside with you, watching nervously as people ignored your presence.

"Will this not be damning to your marriage prospects?" Benedict leaned over to whisper in your ear, an element of concern riding along his words.

You gave him a pitiful smile, "What prospects?". Not a single soul noticed the two of you leaving the ball. Benedict held the carriage door open for you and held your hand as you stepped up into it.

"I've never slipped out of an event quite like that" He remarked, closing the door, sitting opposite you.

"Well, in truth, I thought perhaps someone might have stopped us, just because of you… But, I suppose, my power of invisibility is shared with the person I am escaping with" Your eyebrows flicked up. Benedict could not discern whether you were happy or not to fly out of the view of the ton. While it was a blessing most days, you were afforded your privacy and peace. Perfect silence. There were many other days filled with loneliness, the madness of having to hear your own voice in your head just to fill the quiet.

The carriage ride was slightly uncomfortable, the two of you had never had to be alone like this. You were delivered to Benedict's college where he had been studying art and he led you towards his private studio. Benedict's hand reached out for the door handle, stopping short, and spinning to look at you, back pressed against the door.

"I presume you understand I don't bring people here," He paused, his demeanour was soft and vulnerable, "Be gentle with me". He waited for acknowledgment on what he was saying, and with a nod of promise from you, he opened the door. You both walked inside in sweet silence as you took in the most beautiful sight. The room was littered with parchment, sketches, canvases. Drabs of colour, charcoal and lead lit only by low candlelight as Benedict struck the match. This was the most personal gesture of friendship you had ever experienced, it was like peering through window into Benedict Bridgerton's mind - a place he only has the keys to. Several desks were patterned around the room, a small platform in the centre of the room, drying racks on the far left. You were surprised by this unapologetically intimate space, and even more impressed by the immense talent you were witnessing.

"What are you working on currently?" You did not mean for the excitement of the room to fill you up so keenly. Benedict had such a hard time trying to read your reaction, your manner and tone were thrilling to him.

"Oh, please" He gestured towards a far table, where an easel stood facing the window, "I am learning about portraiture this semester. This is something I am doing for my youngest brother, Gregory, for his birthday" His hand sailed past your lower back, shuffling you both around. A deliciously electric pulse passed over your body, goose bumps erupting in a rolling wave quickly trailing behind.

"Benedict, this is incredible" You gasped, your hands covering your mouth with astonishment.

Oddly, he stepped back from you and placed his hand on his heart.

"What did I say?" You smiled uncomfortably.

His face softened, his eyes fluttering peacefully, "My name. That is the first time, you have ever said my name" A flash of teeth in his grin made your heart jump its next beat. There was a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks, your eyes flicked between Benedict's and the floor.

"I apologise" Admittedly, you had never given him a chance to show how utterly human he was. When he had asked you to come to the studio, you wondered whether the room would be filled to the brim of paintings of naked women. How wrong you were - finding yourself surrounded by paintings and scrawling's of every member of his family. You dug around, flicking through sketchbooks, diaries.

"Have you found a favourite?" He meandered around the room after you, hands tucked behind his back like a gentleman, observing.

"This one, is my favourite" You held up a side profile of Violet Bridgerton, done entirely in variants and shades of their family colours.

"I am yet to show her that one, do you think I should?" He asked, and you sensed he truly valued your opinion here.

"Yes! If I had half your talent, I would have filled my family's home with my work" You chuckled, laying the canvas down on the current desk you were visiting.

You moved around the other side of the room, noticing a section of the room more damp, and darkly lit, compared to the rest of the studio. There stood an easel with a large drape thrown over it, and several canvases stacked betwixt it and the wall. This struck a chord of curiosity in you that could not be contained, you almost dashed forward to pull the drape down.

"No! Wait, not those!" Benedict rasped, darting forward to try and stop you. It was too late, the cream-coloured drape had coiled to the floor and revealed what Benedict did not want you to see.

Brow furrowing, you stood back, taking in what you were seeing for the first time. Here, on the easel, an unfinished portrait, of you.

"That's -- That's private" Benedict cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Is this… me?" You didn't know whether to be flattered, impressed, or worried. Had he done this from memory? That was when it occurred to you to look down. Picking up, and flicking through the canvases, they were all you. There were maybe six or seven of them, all in different poses, of differing angles. Had he taken such notice of you to be able to do this from memory? The detail in your face, your hair and even dresses you had worn in past seasons.

"This is…" You shook your head, placing the canvases back. Benedict stood behind you, leaving a distance so as not to make this more uncomfortable than it already was. His hands were pressed together at his lips as if he were praying, wearily hanging on for your next words.

"No one has ever seen me like this, or rather, at all" You sighed.

"I see you as you are" Benedict replied too quickly.

"And how is that?"

There was a long pause, an internal struggle between what he wanted to say and what he should.

"I see… the raw soulfulness of your gaze. The divine sway in your walk. The sensual ruthlessness of your words. The confidence of your acceptance. I have watched, and waited, and wallowed in avaricious longing" Benedict heaved in a deep breath, "Every line, every curve, every shade I fear is a figment of my imagination until I see you again, just so that I might commit a little more to memory".

Benedict's eye cast low, his discomposure becoming more and more apparent. You were not to know that the one person you had been avoiding for the past several seasons had been perceiving you exactly as you had always dreamed. Perhaps it was not Benedict's personality that made you keep him at arm’s length, but rather your own.

You bound forward, slightly tripping on your gown, throwing yourself in the second Bridgerton brother's arms. In the instant he caught you, you planted the shyest of kisses on his unsuspecting lips. Benedict chuckled sweetly, lifting you to stand on your own two feet again, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into to a longer, more fervent kiss. His lips were much softer than you were anticipating, gentle and cool against your own. Benedict's tongue dipped into yours, his kiss still passionately intoxicating. You parted for a moment, both of you breathing a little heavier now. Benedict took a step back, straightening his dress clothes and composing himself.

"I apologise, miss y/n"

"Why do you apologise? I am the one who owes you" You stammered.

"I am just glad that no one saw us, I will not have you ruined. I will not be the one that ruins you" Benedict stumbled over his words, words filled with such consideration and respect for you and your standing in society.

Panting still, bosom heaving over the corset, you thought about what he was saying. You thought about your "prospects".

Taking one large step forward, pressing your body against his, you leaned up as if to kiss Mr Bridgerton's cheek goodbye.

"Ruin me" You breathed, begged, into his ear, hands wrapping around his neck, your breath hitching in your throat as Benedict swooped you into his arms, carrying you to the nearest desk. He placed your behind on the edge of the desk, moving to sweep every piece of art clattering to the floor before turning his attention back to you. Your legs wrapped around his thighs, his lips crashing into you, his tongue fiercely caressing yours. Much to Benedict's surprise, you slipped your arms out of your dress, pushing the fabric down around your hips.

Stunned and dramatic shock shot across his face as he looked upon your upper body in your corset. Benedict blinked furiously, as if trying to regain control of his sense.

"May I?" He took hold of the fabric around your waist, pulling it out from under you as you lifted yourself slightly, signalling a loud yes. Sitting in your undergarments, Benedict wrapped his arms around your body, expertly fiddling with the laces as you nodded fervently into his delectable kisses. You grinned into his mouth, feeling the corset loosen quickly – he had done this before. Your fingers fumbled along the seam of his pants, unfurling the tucked fabric of his dress shirt, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat.

Benedict stopped, throwing his coat across the room and removing his dress shirt as frantically as possible. It took only seconds for his eyes to widen at your naked body, sitting on the desk before him.

"Holy God" He exhaled, lunging forward, thrusting his hand into your hair, pulling you into a devilish kiss. His hands curved under your behind, lifting you forward to the very edge of the table before falling to his knees before you as if you were divine, and he, a devout worshipper at the altar. Littering kisses down your inner thigh, his nose nestling into the soft nest of hair at your mound, he breathed heavily, groaning with pleasure. Benedict's tongue slipped between your folds, circling the most sensitive spot on your body, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling gently as his pace quickened and steadied in a repetitive manner. Never had you felt so safe and yet so powerful, holding Benedict's head in place between your thighs. Letting out soft, melodic moans, tangling your fingers amongst his hair, finding your hips having a mind of their own as they ground against him. The sheer coarseness of Benedict's dawning facial hair and the soft, warmth of his darting tongue were plenty enough to push your mind to the edge of the human experience. Your head turned dreamy, light, whilst your body convulsed and squeezed Benedict's head between your thighs.

Panting softly, Benedict remained, placing delicate kisses where his tongue had just performed. As your body relaxed into him again, Benedict appeared from the floor, kissing you again, to lay you backward on the table, your own sweetness on your tongue now. He stood before you, bare torso, undoing his dress pants. Excitement pulsed through you, propping yourself onto your elbows to watch. You had heard other ladies discuss this in the depths of their personal conversations but had never really learned anything from them. It was a topic of great interest.

Freeing himself before you, your enlarging eyes took in his length as he held himself in his hand. "Allow me?" Benedict looked down at you, sordid passion aflame in his eyes. You gave a clear, concise nod. Benedict moved closer between your thighs, adjusting your legs, and placing himself at your entrance. With both hands sprawled over the space between your belly and your hips, Benedict slowly pushed forward, eliciting guttural moans from your lips. But he never looked away from you, he never closed his eyes for more than a half-second. His desire burned out of him, his eyes searing down on you and in helplessness, you exuded wanton need in return.

You wished this act were eternal, completely unending. Every thrust an indiscreet attempt at conveying his affections for you. His hand found its way to caressing your cheek, his teeth nipping at your neck as you moaned his name.

“Benedict” You sighed without inhibition. The sound of your voice sent Benedict into a frenzy, his thrusts harder now and full-fledged. His sinful grunts, echoing across the studio, came to a hot, explicit apex as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside of you.

He looked down at you dreamily, his eyes heavy with pleasure, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Benedict stepped away, reaching for his dress pants, and sitting on to the ground in front of you – you moved to sit next to him, surrounded by the tables previous contents.

“You are wonderful. I could never capture such an essence, in any art form. You are transcendent” Benedict’s words were slow, the ruse of his silly exterior worn away.

“I much prefer this version of you” You gave a smug smile, both of you avoiding eye contact.

“As I do you” He retorted, chortling alongside you. The long, comfortable tired silence between you was broken only when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” Benedict spoke up, “I think—No, I am quite certain, I love you” He admitted, holding his hand out, bridging the space between your mostly naked bodies, waiting for you to take it.

“I do believe I too am guilty of loving you” You responded, laying your hand gently in his. Leaning to meet in the middle, sharing a sentimental, sweet kiss and smiling into each other. Benedict jumped up, pants still undone around his waist, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come, I should like to draw you” He posed you naturally on the platform in the centre of the room. You watched him scramble about the room, looking for his implements.

“Like this!?” You gestured to yourself, completely nude on the dais.

“Yes, precisely like this” Benedict growled ardently, putting his pencil to his parchment.

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If you would like to be tagged in any upcoming Bridgerton fanfictions written by me, please let me know and I will add you to a taglist!

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usuallydyinginside · 8 months ago

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TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

#francesca bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 #john stirling #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton season three #Francesca is Autistic #Autism #Autistic

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 21 days ago

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THE PRANK THAT BACKFIRED (sort of?)

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: reader and drew decide to play a prank on the obx cast for her youtube channel. they do the “asking to have another girl over” prank, which results in a very angry obx cast who are out to get drew😅

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you asked for @xoxosblogsblog !! i had so much fun writing this and it was ADORABLE, i hope you like it :)) <3

WARNINGS: pure tooth-rotting fluff, slight angst (not really), like one (?) curse word, insinuation of cheating (the prank), chase & rudy threaten to “throw hands” with drew lmao. (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.25k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N adjusted the camera, angling it perfectly to catch the cozy backdrop of the apartment she shared with Drew during her surprise visit to the set of Outer Banks season four.

The faint hum of laughter and chatter outside hinted at the cast heading out to grab food, giving her the perfect opportunity to set her plan into motion.

"Hey, guys!" she began with a bright smile, wiggling her fingers to the camera. "Welcome back to my channel. Today, I've got something hilarious planned. You've seen those TikTok pranks where someone asks if they can bring another girl over while their partner's friends or family are listening, right? Well, I'm doing it today—with Drew."

She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've got the cast in on this. Well, not really in on it—they think I'm at a friend's place for the night, so this is going to be pure gold. Let's see how much they love me and how far they'll go to defend me from Drew's, um... betrayal."

She turned the camera to Drew, who sat beside her on the couch, half-smiling, half-shaking his head.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," Drew muttered, running a hand through his hair. "They're going to kill me."

"Kill us, you mean," Y/N teased, poking his side. "But it'll be worth it. Trust me."

"Uh-huh," Drew replied, arching a skeptical eyebrow. "When JD and Rudy show up with pitchforks, you're taking the blame."

Y/N laughed, her grin widening as she leaned into him. "Oh, come on. You know they love me too much to actually hurt me. You, on the other hand..."

Drew sighed dramatically but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

A few minutes later, Y/N tucked herself behind the camera, keeping it trained on Drew. Drew pulled out his phone and dialed JD's number, putting the call on speaker. The phone rang twice before JD answered, his voice lively with the sounds of clinking plates and background chatter.

"Yo, Starkey!" JD greeted. "What's up, man?"

Drew exchanged a quick glance with Y/N before diving in. "Hey, would you guys mind if I invited someone over?"

The line went silent for a beat, then JD's confused voice came through. "Uh... sure? Who?"

"Just a friend," Drew said casually.

"Cool, yeah," JD replied, his tone nonchalant. In the background, Madelyn could be heard asking, "Who's he inviting over?"

"Oh, she's just someone I met recently," Drew added, making his voice as nonchalant as possible.

Madelyn's voice sharpened. "Wait, she? Did he say she?"

JD stammered for a moment, then said, "Uh, Drew, man, what are you talking about? You have Y/N—why are you inviting another girl over?"

"It's not that deep," Drew said smoothly, earning a wide-eyed stare from Y/N as she struggled to keep from bursting into laughter.

"Not that deep?" Madelyn's voice rose an octave. "Are you fucking insane? Y/N is literally the best thing that's ever happened to you. You're just going to, what, throw her away for some random girl?"

"Yeah, Drew, what the hell?" Rudy's voice chimed in. "Y/N's gonna find out, dude. She always finds out."

"She's not even here," Drew argued. "And I just want some alone time with this girl. Is that so bad?"

Madelyn's voice was nearly a shriek now. "YES, IT'S BAD! You're in a relationship, Drew! A really amazing one, with an incredible person who, by the way, loves you more than anything!"

"And we love her!" Carlacia added. "You're crazy if you think we're not calling her right now."

"Right?!" Chase's voice joined the chorus, sounding equally appalled. "Drew, what is wrong with you?"

JD sighed loudly. "Man, I'm so disappointed right now. Y/N's, like, the nicest, funniest person ever. She's practically family. I don't even know what to say to you."

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth, tears forming in her eyes from trying not to laugh. Drew, ever the actor, kept his tone neutral but shot her a playful glare.

"You guys are overreacting," Drew said, feigning exasperation. "I mean, Y/N doesn't have to know, right?"

The collective gasp from the group was loud enough to make Y/N choke on her laughter.

Madison started a rant so fierce it almost made Drew break. "First of all, how dare you? Second of all, Y/N deserves so much better than this! She's gorgeous, sweet, funny—literally the whole package! And you're just going to throw that away? For what?!"

"I can't believe you right now," Rudy chimed in. "If you're serious about this, I'm calling her. Like, right now."

"No, don't—" Drew began, but Y/N couldn't hold it in anymore.

Her laughter burst out like a dam breaking, echoing through the room. Drew immediately broke character, laughing along as he waved his hands at Y/N’s camera.

"Wait, wait!" Y/N called out, coming into view of her camera. "Guys, relax! It's a prank!"

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a cacophony of voices.

"Are you serious?!" Madelyn exclaimed. "You scared the crap out of us!"

"You both are the worst," JD groaned.

Rudy's laugh boomed through the speaker. "I was about to knock some sense into you, man."

Chase chimed in with mock indignation. "I was ready to drive back and throw hands, Drew!"

Y/N giggled, holding her stomach as she leaned against Drew. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't resist! I saw it on TikTok and knew you guys would freak out. And you did not disappoint."

Madelyn groaned dramatically. "You two are so lucky we love you."

JD sighed. "I'm not speaking to you for a week."

"Okay, that's fair," Drew said with a grin.

Eventually, after more playful scolding and laughter, the group hung up, leaving Drew and Y/N alone again. Y/N turned off the camera, still giggling as she leaned back against the couch.

"That was amazing," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Drew shook his head, his expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You're lucky they love you. If it were just me, they'd probably disown me."

Y/N smiled, sliding closer to him. "Well, can you blame them? I mean, look at me. I'm kind of a big deal."

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You really are. They adore you, you know that? It's one of the things I love most about us—how easily you fit into my world."

Her teasing smile softened as she gazed up at him. "It means a lot to me, too. They're like family. And so are you."

Drew leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "You're everything to me, Y/N. I hope you know that."

Her heart melted as she cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his jawline. "I do. And you're everything to me, too."

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other. The laughter, the teasing, the chaos—it all melted away, leaving just the two of them in their shared little world.

"You think they'll forgive us?" Drew asked after a moment.

Y/N smirked. "Oh, they'll forgive me. You, on the other hand..."

Drew groaned, burying his face in her shoulder as she laughed.

"Totally worth it," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so so adorable and so much fun to write !! i hope you all enjoyed, and please please please like and reblog, it means the world when you do <3

my asks are still open so please don’t hesitate to send any in !! i’m in the mood to write some angst, hurt/comfort if you have any requests for drew or rage <3

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #fluff #obx #outer banks #angst #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey outer banks #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

1K notes · View notes

saintrosalyn · 18 days ago

Text

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths.

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep.

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him.

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room.

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself.

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine.

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge.

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift.

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside.

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you.

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst.

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate.

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels.

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver.

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence.

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him.

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in).

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone.

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again.

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong.

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.”

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments.

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head.

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall.

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach.

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon is such a meanie #He's gonna give reader an ulcer fr

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celtrist · 3 months ago

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This was the piece that I had started before my extensive vacation (of coughing). Once again, Alastor is consistently the bane of my existence with his... well everything.

No matter! Anyway, this is something I like to call the Obsession AU. To sum it up real fast: Everyone is yandere for Alastor. I think it would just be apart of his punishment in Hell, being consistently forced into or desired in romantic/sex which he's never had much interest in. I would describe it as a dark comedy thing, but it can be as comedic or as dark as you want here. With that said, please be on guard with any mentions of darker content that treds towards a certain dead bird territory when I get a bit into how I imagine some of the characters. Again, it doesn't have to go that far if you're interested in this premise of an au and wanna focus on the more light hearted stuff, feel free.

This au is just poking a bit of fun at how everyone in the fandom wants to put Alastor in romantic situations constantly (whether it be with themselves or the other characters) despite Alastor probably being the least interested in the subject in the whole show. This is by no means a hate train or making fun of people who do enjoy shipping Alastor, it just more of a funny thing I think comes off as pretty ironic for his character and hopefully, others can enjoy that too. In this au he leans pretty much on the clear-cut side of aromantic and asexual with no interest in romantic affections at all. With that said, if you want to explore Alastor genuinely being interested in one of the other characters romantically or something similar, feel free to explore that! I can see some interesting dichotomies there. It's just within the actual "canon" of this au, he's not at all interested with that sort of thing. And just with a last final reminder to get into some character things I have in mind, some of the content mentioned does get pretty dark, particularly with Valentino but I don't think anyone's surprised there. But there might be some triggering content of the following mentioned here with characters but no crazy details really: Manipulation/Gaslighting, forced feminization, Non-con, Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning, Possessive, Drugging, Love bombing And I will be sure to give a quick warning to each character it might apply to, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Rosie (Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning): Rosie has 100% poisoned Alastor before to make sure he relies on her. They started off as good friends but at some point Alastor began getting ill and Rosie offered to take care of him. This leads to Alastor staying in bed for full days, only really seeing Rosie who took care of his every need from food, clothing, washing, and so on. At some point, Alastor caught on that Rosie was putting something in his food to make him sick and he managed to escape with their friendship tarnished much to his dismay. He's often uneasy around Rosie but is upfront about his knowledge of Rosie's deeds. Rosie, in turn, acts like it is a lighthearted situation and often offers Alastor over for lunch, which he often denies. Any food he gets at his doorstep from a secret admirer or a lunchbox he finds at his seat in an overlord meeting goes straight into the trash. Alastor will still use Rosie's assets to his benefit of course, but is always careful as to what she might try to get in exchange. He has had more awkward lunches with her with his homemade meal versus the buffet she catered for the occasion, with the two gossiping like old times. Alastor is still uneasy during these times, but he also revels in the false pleasantries due to not having many others he's able to associate himself with due to the curse.

Lucifer (Controlling, Possessive, Manipulation): So I'm not 100% clear how I wanted to approach Lucifer. He and Charlie are probably the most similar I suppose? He wants Alastor as his queen (either alongside him and Lilith or only with him, he doesn't mind either way). He doesn't force him into dresses or anything, but Lucifer does consistently make doting moves and talks about how Alastor would make a good father to their children. Marriage is one of the mind and Lucifer probably gets a bit possessive with him. He also tries to guilt trip Alastor a lot, or manipulate situations in one of their arguments to get Alastor to say something he doesn't mean.

Charlie (Controlling, Possessive): Probably the most tame of everyone quite honestly. Charlie can be a bit controlling but does step off when Alastor expresses his dislike of her doing so, even if it takes a couple times. She likes doing things for him, is super affectionate, and daydreams about her, Vaggie, and Alastor all getting married. She can get pretty possessive with him, not being pleased when anybody does anything against Alastor's will or hurt him. The only exception to this rule is Vaggie, to which Charlie sees it like two cats getting along and finds it very endearing.

Vaggie (Forced Feminization, Controlling, Murder): Depending on how you look at it, Vaggie's one of the more fucked up obsessions or one of the more funnier ones. Because she's automatically inclined to like Alastor quite a bit with the curse thing but her personality doesn't jive with his for her own taste (in terms of their first meeting), she both hates and loves the guy. She's obsessed with trying to murder Alastor with traps around the hotel or outright standing over him with her spear. The hatred comes primarily from not wanting to feel the way she does about him, I guess like a fucked up tsundere if you wanna go that route. At the same token, however, she does want Alastor to be involved with both her and Charlie romantically. There's just one little problem: Vaggie has about the same amount of interest in men as she does in canon. So to sort of "fix" Alastor, she consistently tries to force him to be more feminine in clothing, offering different feminine names, and even trying to force him to get a sex change. Alastor is pretty slippery though, so it never quite works out in Vaggie's favor aside from the occasional dress or skirt being worn, which solidifies her attraction to him. Then he takes it off and looks more like a man again, and it solidifies her frustration/hatred for him.

Angel Dust (Drugging): To start, while I think Angel would love to have sex with Alastor, he 100% would not force it. Wouldn't even do touches or anything. Potentially he could just like as a coping (to be in a situation where HE'S the one in control), but that is a darker route that I don't think will be exactly true for this AU. However, he very much enjoys drugging Alastor similar to Rosie. Not only just as a bonding thing since Angel would also do the drugs WITH him, but just to get the not-quite-lucid compliments from Alastor and maybe a snuggle then and there. He wants to dote on Alastor with him drugged out in his bed saying nice things to Angel. Admittedly this one's a bit of a workshop as I just knew I didn't want Angel to be focused on sex like somebody, but wasn't sure what to do here.

Valentino(Non-con, LoveBombing): I mean... it is Valentino, what did you THINK he'd be trying to do with Alastor? There's really not much to say here, Valentino essentially tries pulling all the stops trying to get Alastor in bed while also love-bombing the hell out of him. Which really doesn't work. Valentino is pretty open with sharing Alastor, but again, does this surprise anyone? As long as he's participating in some way, he really doesn't mind.

Vox (ALL warnings): Pretty much the worst version of himself that people make him be sometimes for those darker stories in the fandom. While more interested in having an enthusiastic partner, I don't think Vox would be opposed to forcing himself onto Alastor. He consistently tries to manipulate and gaslight, while enjoying both the suffering and pleasure of Alastor. Much like Vaggie, Vox is obsessed both being in love with Alastor while also downright hating him to the core. He's possessive and likes the idea of being both sweet and heinous with Alastor. He pretty much is every other character wrapped up in one fucked up TV man. Vox acts the most well-adjusted of the characters here, but he's probably got the obsession the worst.

And of course, pretty much every other conceivable ship is up for grabs here. I did think about maybe unfallen angels are able to resist the obsession curse, which would possibly make a funny team-up of Alastor, Adam, Lute, and Emily. Alternatively, I thought maybe the other canonically asexual characters in the show wouldn't be affected instead, meaning another oddball team-up of Alastor, Octavia, and Mammon. Then there is of course the "nope, there's no escape for deer man". Not sure yet, maybe I'll workshop it. I have more normal things in the works rather than this messed up little au, but darker content is a guilty pleasure of mine.

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