#and then like this big shadow of a man comes out behind a wall like tall as hell and super burly too

[fadeintoyou1993]

woke up again. had another nightmare AGAIN

[wintaerbaer]

bottle up old love (jjk) (m)

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff

word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)

prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)

warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol

MASTERLIST

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.

“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”

“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.

“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”

The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”

“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.

“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.

There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.

And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.

Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”

Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”

Then he spins and takes off running down the street.

Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.

He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”

“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”

“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”

“So I should be worried about you then?”

He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”

You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.

It’s how he broke up with you after all.

You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.

“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”

But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”

“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”

Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.

Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.

“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”

And you close the door in his face.

The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.

You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).

The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.

Or so you think.

After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.

And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.

Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.

Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.

“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.

“He might come back.”

“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”

He shrugs. “If I have to.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”

He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”

You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”

“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”

If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”

Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.

Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.

“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.

There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.

Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.

You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.

“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.

You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.

“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.” 

It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.

Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.

“I’m sorry.”

Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.

“What?”

He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”

You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.

“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”

Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”

“Yes.”

He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.

“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.

“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”

This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.

“So then why?”

He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.

The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.

“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”

It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.

Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.

“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”

You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”

Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”

“No, shit.”

“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”

The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.

“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”

His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.

So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”

His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.

“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”

He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”

And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.

You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.

Speaking of.

The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.

“Beautiful,” you whisper.

“Just like you.”

You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.

“You left.”

“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”

“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”

“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”

And it’s all you need to hear.

You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso. 

“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.

You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”

Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes

“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.

“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”

A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.

“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.

You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”

“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.

Like you said. Insane.

He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.

“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”

He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.

“Fuck, me neither.”

You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.

“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.

“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.

So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.

“You?”

It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?

You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”

This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”

A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.

“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”

“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.

“Ride me, baby.”

You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.

“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”

You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.

He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.

You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.

“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.

Hard.

You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.

It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.

The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.

“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.

“I missed you.”

You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”

He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”

“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”

A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”

“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.

“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”

a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

[grugruel]

His Little Killer

Pairings: Cooper howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: in reluctant companionship with a ghoul, which turns out to be exactly as dreadful as you'd thought. You find yourself in a shoot-out where–post battle–one of your usual fights end way more pleasurable than usual.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: (violence, blood, death, in typical fallout manners), enemies to lovers, choking, pinv sex, rough sex, fingering, creampie, pet names (darlin', honey, killer, sweetheart), praise, a pinch of degradation.

AN: not yet proofread! Hope yall enjoy! (Yes, I'm unwell.'

Wood shattering, explosions booming–and charging footsteps heading straight for me. 'At my right!' I shout, gesturing in the direction of the steps. My voice barely registering above the racket of the fight.

Nonetheless, he heard me, I knew he did. Because bullets suddenly whizz past my makeshift cover in every direction except to my right.

The ammunition creating sick squelching noises as they collide with their targets, bloodsplatter spraying the walls a horrifying deep red. Meanwhile, in my corner. The heavy footsteps were left wide open to plough through the old wooden barrels I was hiding behind, 'Holy shii-' I squeak as im tackled to the floor with enough force to knock the breath out of my lungs. I try to cough, try to make my lungs open up as the man grabs hold of me. I hit my chest hard, desperately hoping it would do something–

He grabs my boots, pulling me toward him and finally- I get a breath of air. 'Stupid, fucking asshole.' I mutter through clenched teeth as I lunge and wrestle my attacker, our quarreling bodies kicking up a cloud of dust to swirl around us.

The man was big and foul-smelling, maybe it would've been better refered to as an it, considering the animalistic growls, snapping teeth, and fraying lips that bit and lunged at my face. He attempted to pin my arms to the ground while aiming its teeth at my jugular, but I was quicker. My knee smashing into his balls before he had a single thought of defending himself. He cried out in pain and I took my chance to roll him over, pinning him down with my weight instead, and I began throwing a wave of punches to his face, over and over again. 'I said MY right!' I shouted over my shoulder, weeks of fury and frustration bubbling up inside me as it fueled me into beating the ugly mut unrecognizable–when a second force slammed into my back, knocking me onto the ground once again. Another man, now climbing on top of me, his dirty fingers slithering around my throat and-

Another splatter, this time it's his blood–the second man's, and its sprayed all over me.

'Finally. . .' I exhale heavily, thudding back against the floor, splaying out with relief.

'Were really polishin' up on our teamwork.' A gruff voice announced, words coming out slow and steady with that self-satisfied tone which never failed to get on my nerves.

I heaved myself up on my forearms, angling my body so what remained of the man slumped off of me, and the source of the voice appeared like a specter from the dead man's shadow. 'You're a real pretty sight when ridin' a man like that.' He said, nodding to the guy with a bashed face.

I rolled my eyes, unbelievable. 'You mean while beating the shit out of him?' I ask, my voice pitching higher as I couldnt quite fathom the nerve of that man, despite forcing myself to get used to it over the past few weeks.

He hummed. 'Mhm, really got me goin' for a sec.'

My face scrunched up in disgust. 'Fucking cowboys.' I spat, renouncing the idea loudly. But, quietly, inside my mind, the thought had my core purring unwillingly.

'I shot right, just like you asked.' He shrugged, stalking closer, the drawl in his voice washing through the barren and now battered bar.

'The hell you did!' I hissed. He stopped at my feet, looming over me with his tall frame, frayed coat swaying around his chins, and that stupid cowboy hat covering half his face just like always. We'd been forced travelling companions for a while now, and I could say a lot of nasty things about him, but it was hard to deny- he was a real fucking apocalypse cowboy. Pretty cool if you cut his personality out of the picture.

'I said my right, what the fuck else do you think I ment with "my"?' I kick the lifeless body with my boot, emphasising my point.

'Well. . .' He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. '. . .my, right.' He smirked.

I shook my head, shooting him daggers. 'Not even you are moronic enough to get that wrong, ghoul.'

'Well, you're right.' He admitted, shocking me for a second. But then, the problem I've always had with him, inescapable and always the same–he never shut his damn mouth. 'You need to work om your phrasin', honey.'

I shut my eyes, screwing them together so tight I began wishing I could disintegrate from annoyance and seep through the cracks between the weathered floorboards like a corn of sand. But no, I was stuck with him, and had to lay there listening to his idiocy. 'How–?' I sighed a heavy, exasperated sigh. '–is it possible for a man to be so full of himself, yet- never talk about himself?'

'Tricks of the trade, sweetheart.' He winked, clicking his tongue while those forsaken eyes roamed my body like a predator sizing up it's prey, and extended a hand toward me as if it were no big deal.

Exhausted as I was, accepting his help seemed sorely tempting to my tired body. After a moments hesitation, I decided–once, wouldn't harm my morals. So, I grabbed his hand with reluctance and let him pull me to my feet. 'I could've died, I hope you realise.'

'Yes. . . But you didn't.' His lips pulling into a grin. 'I wouldn't let that happen'.'

'You're a real bastard, y'know that?' the words left my lips with an unintentional drawl, damn that man.

The ghoul cocked an inexistent eyebrow. 'If I didnt know any better, I'd say im rubbin' of on you, honey.'

Another scoff from me. 'The only thing you're rubbing–is me the wrong way.' I spat, this time making a point of speaking as plainly as possible.

His eyes lit up suspiciously, filling with mischief as his widening smile creased them. 'Well, tell me how you like it then and I'll do it the right way.' He smirked, his voice gravely as it scraped along my spine with a shiver. He always did this, He'd call me nicknames, flirt with me. All cause he knew I hated it. But now he's just bordering on harassment. It did however, not, stop the heat from rising to my cheeks, or for a blush to seep through my skin. He'd staggered me, I truly didn't know how to react. What happened next was purely instinctively driven–

The palm of my hand made contact with his cheek, a crisp slap sounding out through the room. I even confused myself for a moment, almost as I was the one who'd been hit. But I would've been furious, how he reacted, well. . .

'There you are. . .' He purred, his tone lethal. '. . .my little killer.' A grin spreading across his face as he took a step closer.

He was pure poison, somehow both hot and cold as he ran through my veins. 'I ain't yours.' He wss the only person- ghoul, who could get on every nerve I possessed, lighting it ablaze with frustration.

'No. . .? You ain't?' He chuckled, 'You're sure startin' to sound like it, sweetheart. I see the way you look at me, the way you blush when I call you pretty little names.' He nodded toward my eyes, his hat tipping with the movement as he took another step, gaining on the precious distance between us. I feared he was right, too, my cheeks burned in a way I'd never noticed before. Had I always reacted like this? Before I knew it–I'd flung my palm for his face a once again-

Only this time, he caught my wrist. 'Tsk tsk tsk, you can do better than that, killer.' He let go off me, forcefully shoving my arm back to my side with a scoff.

But now, I'm the one stepping closer, pushing him away by the chest simultaneously. 'I hate you.' I spit, taking another step and push again, but this time he doesn't budge, and I was left standing mere inches away from him, my hands pressed firmly against his chest as my own heaved with frustrated breaths, strands of hair hanging over my face from the ordeal.

'Good. . .' He whispered, brushing wild strands of hair from my face. '. . .Now, show me how much you hate me.'

I could've slapped him again, pushed him again, done anything else than what I actually did. But my body acted on instinct, again-

I crashed into him, my hands grabbing his face as our lips met in a battle for control. He released a breathy moan, his trigger ready hands finding my waist impossibly quick to pull me flush against him, our bodies clashing together in a thud. He hummed. 'That's right, killer. Show me.' He whispered in the air-swallowing gasps between our kisses.

I put pressure behind my hands, walking him backward while my fingers found the buttons of his vest. Undoing them along with the shirt, then slid his coat and vest down his shoulders in one go, right before his back collided with the bar top. My hands found themselves making their beneath his shirt, feeling the dents of his scarred chest as I sucked his lip between my teeth, and bit down. A sharp hiss escaped him, quickly being replaced by a wide grin. 'Naughty girl.' He breathed.

Smiling, I pushed myself off of him. 'You bring it out of me.' I panted, pulling my shirt over my head and unhooking my bra, letting it fall to the floor.

He leaned back against the bar, bracing himself on his elbows as his eyes roamed over my bare chest and flushed face. 'Those are the prettiest fuckin' tit's I've ever seen. . .' He spoke in a low voice, too filled with lust to allow him anything else. 'Now, would you mind.' His hand gestured below my waist, his index finger sliding through the air as he traced the buttons of my pants from a distance.

And an idea struck me, suddenly feeling like I wanted to indulge myself in a little torture. Turning around, I did as he told me and began unbuttoning them, slowly. Terribly, terribly slowly. Sliding them over my hips and down my thighs, bucking my knees and bending over slightly as I pulled my panties down along with them. Just as I stepped out if them and looked over my shoulder to give him a coy little look, perhaps revel in the feeling of his pained expression–I was in for a surprise.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I came fave to face with him, but he wasn't just standing there- no. He collided with my back, his arms already wrapped around ny front to catch me. His shirt bow nowhere to be seen. 'Enough.' He growled, one strong arm wrapping around my breasts as the other wrapped around my waist. He raised me off the floor, held tightly against his chest. I squeeked, giggling as I pulled my legs up. Completley overcome with the anticipation of what was about to befall me–then I all of a sudden found myself pushed over the bar top, chest against the smooth luke warm surface. The quality off it telling me it hadn't been bought when fitted into this weathered building.

Then, the clanging of metal, leather groaning, friction, and his belt hit the floor. Gruff hands ran over the swell of my ass and down the arch of my back, taking his time to feel all of me. 'Been thinkin' 'bout this, how you'd feel falling apart beneath me, on top of me–' he leaned over me, hand wrapping around my neck as he pulled me flush against him only to whisper in my ear. '–around me. . .' He breathed, dragging the words out. '. . . All wet 'n messy with my cum fillin' you up.'

A moan left my lips. 'Show me.' Was all I could get out, a silent pleading to make all those thoughts a reality–and so he did.

Before I knew it, a hand had disappeared to line himself up with my entrance, pushing inside me without as much as a warning.

'Fuck!' I cried out, my voice breaking as my breath left me. It felt never ending, he was huge. But oh, he felt so good.

He groaned, finally stopping as he'd sunken all the way into my core. 'So wet for me already.' His hand slid over my back and shoulder, molding itself to my throat as the other grabbed my hip. Already flush with my back, he inclined his head, leaving trail of kisses along my spine and neck.

'Fuck me, please Coop-' it was the first time I'd called him by his name, and I realised it the second it left my lips.

His lips curled against my skin, a smile-

He thrusted into me, again and again. My back arching into an angled I had no idea it was capable of, helping him hit my core at every rut of his hips–not that he needed it. The 200+ years of experience really showed, and they were definitely felt.

The bar was dead silent, no noise except for our joint breaths of pleasure and the sound of slapping skin. It was lewd and brutal, and It made me absolutely delerious. His low, pained grunting in my ear did nothing to ease the matter. He'd created an aching so strong within me I wasn't sure It'd ever be able to be tamed.

'Harder, harder, please.' I stuttered, the words barely coming out between my heavy pants. Fuck, he made me feral. Without even trying, that's just what he was capable of. It annoyed me, he managed to annoy me while fucking me senseless. Oh, how I wish I could hate him, but there was no going back now.

Coop left little love bites all along my shoulder, and up the side of my throat, nipping and kissing in equal meassure as his breathing warmed my skin deliciously. Doing it all with such precision I couldnt understand, his thrust were rocking my emtire body, his chest rubbing againdt my back, yet he could be so delicate. I side ive never seen before. 'Little killer ain't so tough no more, is she?' He whispered, placing a kiss behind my ear before biting the lobe, tugging in it gently.

'. . . Mmh- 'm not, I'm not.' I got out. I was whatever he said I was while he delivered this type of pleasure on a silver platter. I didn't care, my morals had been thrown out the window the second his lips touched mine.

'Well, look at that. Admittin' defeat already?' I could feel his stupid grin again, his pace slowing- still ruthless, but it did enough for that feeling of building pressure to wain inside me.

I shook my head, shutting my eyes hard as I tried to focus on his member moving inside me, desperate not to lose that red string that'd lead me to climax.

'Words, sweetheart. Use em'. .'

'Dont fucking care.' I cried. 'J- just- Fuck. Me. Harder.' I ground out, my teeth clenching real hard from a mix of desperation and frustration for the pressure to start rebuilding.

'That'll do.' He groaned, squeezing my throat. All the while his other hand slid down to my cunt, starting condensed circling around my clit. And just like that, he'd made me into a whimpering mess for him to steady, falling apart beneath him just like he'd thought. Then he simply took up right where he left off, without missing a beat he thrusted so ferociously I was sure I'd be bruising on every single part of my body from the vibrations that rumbled through my muscles alone.

The darkness of my lips were specking with white, a wall of pressure building brick by brick in my abdomen. 'Close, so fucking close.' I whimpered.

'Good- Good job sweetheart. Doin' so good for me.' He burried his face in my hair, nuzzling his nose into its scent, inhaling it as he too approached climax. And there it was, that sudden softness. It was almost unsteadying my senses more than his touch, more than his thrusts, but only almost. 'You sound so sweet for me, honey. Let me hear ya'. . .' He moaned, exhaling warmth against the nape of my neck.

I obliged, of course I did. 'Feels so good, Coop- so close. . .' I panted, tears burning my eyes as they began rolling down my cheeks.

He slid his hand upward, keeping it between me jaw and throat, still choking me as he angled my face over my shoulder, enabling him to kiss me properly. And I've never been more thankful because I was about to cry myself dry as the wall broke. Pleasure flooding through my body in tidal waves, my knees bucking beneath me. 'Good girl.' He praised, voice muffled against my lips. Fingers stopping to instead cup my aching cunt. 'My good fuckin' girl, my little killer.' He moaned softly, my lips vibrating from the roughness in his voice as he caught me, delivering a final few ruts of his hips before he too came. Doing just as he promised, filling me up with his cum.

He loosed his grip around my throat and slit, letting me depend on the counter for support while he held me. 'Still hate me?'

'Yes.' I didn't, but it'd be a long time before I admitted that to him.

'Good.' And then there was silence, our lungs catching up with our breaths. 'Still wanna see those pretty hips ride me.' He murmured as he hugged me from behind, his hand sliding lower, pinching my hipbone.

'Ow! Asshole.' I yelped, and he kissed my shoulder to make up for it. But the thought was alluring nonetheless. I wriggled in his embrace, looking around at the destruction we'd caused, at the- dead bodies. And a pang of guilt hit me. 'Fine, but not here.' I agreed, actually wanting nothing more than to get out of there and sit in his lap, maybe ride his thighs too.

We redress, and share a kiss before leaving. 'Can't wait to taste that cunt of yours, killer.' He murmured suddenly. Leaving me staggered once again.

Ugh, I'm done for.

[gilverrwrites]

Meet Cutes Uglies Ft. Bruce, Dick, and Jason

GN!Reader, ≈500 words each

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, slut-shaming (but not really), swearing.

Bruce

The chances of bumping into a celebrity not once, twice, thrice, but four times in one day are low, but not impossible as you’re finding out.

It was kinda cool realising you’re stood behind him in line at the coffee shop, but not spectacularly cool or anything. Almost everyone you knew had a story about meeting Bruce, or another member of the Wayne family out in public so you weren’t overly excited. You just kept your head down, scrolling through your socials and wondering whether his drink was the iced cold brew, the fudge brownie hot chocolate, or the three pump vanilla no foam cappuccino. Your friend Jade was right, he is far ‘hunkier’ than the media gives him credit for, his piercing eyes really are that blue, and he smells good too, like bergamot and cedar.

It became somewhat more exciting when you'd headed to the library on your lunch break to return a book, only for him to already be there, chatting-up the librarians no less. Your friends were not going to believe this. He must sense you staring at him because he turns to look at you, when you make eye contact you smile, wondering if he might recognise you from the morning. He did not smile back.

Upon returning to work, the rest of your shift had been gruelling, job after job being piled onto your shoulders with minimal time to get them all done. You hadn’t even had the chance to tell your co-workers about your unlikely encounters with Gotham’s richest man. By the time you got off for the night, you were exhausted, the thought of having to cook dinner and wash the pots once you got home looming over you like a rain cloud until you decide to grab some take-out on your way home instead.

You’re barely out of the doors of Big Belly Burgers, a handful of fries hanging from your lips when you see him for the 3rd time. Bruce Wayne, on the sidewalk across the street, engrossed in what seemed to be a very intense telephone call. Weird.

You don’t have to wait long for the fourth encounter, it happens just a few blocks from your home. He’s much closer this time, a little too close for comfort maybe. You hadn’t seen it coming, one moment you’re rifling through your bag, looking for your keys, the next you’re suspended a few inches from the ground by a pair of strong hands fisted into the collar of your jacket. Instinctively you paw at him, one hand wrapping around his wrist, the other bunching up in the fabric of his sweater for faux support.  

You think for a moment you’re being mugged, until the familiar smell of wood and citrus hits your senses. Bruce Wayne is pressing you against the cold, damp wall of an alleyway, handsome face marred by its stern expression.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?”

>[Continued]<

Dick

The only thing worse than the feel of the uneven, filth-trodden pavements of Blüdhaven against your bare feet, is the thought of putting the torturous pair of dress shoes you’d worn last night back on. Perhaps you should have asked your hookup for something to wear, but that would almost certainly guarantee your having to see them again in order to return it and you’d happily walk barefoot across Tartarus before you let that happen.

Careful to avoid stepping in anything less than savoury, you keep your eyes glued to the floor, so focused on the things below you, that you don’t notice the things in front of you. The person in front of you, until you plough right into their admittedly firm chest.

The person in question reeks of stale alcohol, his shiny hair is a mess, there’s a shadow forming on his striking jawline, and the half-undone shirt he’s wearing is clearly wrinkled and stained from the night before. A fellow walk-of-shamer.

You stare at each other for a long moment before you realise you had bumped into him, therefore you should be the one to speak first.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” You murmur, voice hoarse.

“No problem.” He replied, far too chipper for his current predicament. His eyes rake up and down your body, and you might be vexed by it if you had not just been doing the same to him. “Why aren’t you wearing your shoes.”

“They hurt my feet.” You shrug, taking a cautious sidestep around him as you speak. “Just want to get home, they were slowing me down.”

That should be the end of it, but the sound of his dress boots tapping against the sidewalk follows you down the street. You can’t be certain, but you were pretty sure he’d been walking in the opposite direction prior to your collision. You cast a glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, he’s just a few steps behind you, offering you a striking smile that almost makes the grey morning feel brighter.

“Proposal?” He asks, and you stop to listen. Possibly because you’re genuinely intrigued, probably because your brain isn’t awake enough to tell your heart that you shouldn’t talk to strangers. “If I can get you home without you having to use your feet, will you go out for breakfast with me?”

“You’re really asking me out during a walk of shame?” You snicker, impressed by his audacity.

“We don’t shame in 2024, I prefer to call it a stride of pride.” He informs you, and he has a point. “Besides, might be fate that we walked into each other this fine morning, gotta give it a chance, right?”

“Right.” You agree, but your raised brow and puckered lips might suggest some scepticism. He doesn’t seem put off however, still beaming that brilliant smile at you. “And how do you plan on getting me home?”

“Easy.” He shakes his head, conveying his confidence as he beckons you closer by curling two fingers towards himself. You follow his direction and before you can comprehend what’s going on he’s crouching before you, threading his body between your legs and lifting you on his back, piggy style.

“So, where do you live?”

Jason

The coffee shop is that perfect level of busy that's not overwhelming but isn't too quiet as to be unsettling. Your drink is the ideal temperature, and the evening sun is seeping through the windows at just the right angle to warm your skin and add a golden glow to the atmosphere. By all accounts, this should be the perfect, relaxing moment, except… this book sucks.

You’d thought after years of recommendations from friends, many critically acclaimed adaptions, and its general status as a must-read classic that it was high time you picked it up, but you were about two-thirds in and thoroughly not enjoying yourself.

“Excuse me.” A low voice draws you from the pages of the book. You hadn’t noticed the 6ft+ mountain of tattooed muscle casting a shadow over your table until you looked into his eyes. Oh wow. You don’t know why he’s approached you, but whatever it is; he can have it. “Are you reading Lady Liatris?”

“I am.” You confer, lazily tilting the cover to show him, despite your reading choice already being apparent.

“Nice to meet a fellow bibliophile out in the wild. What do you think of it so far?” He smiles at you, reaching out a hand, your heart sinks as his strong fingers wrap around your own for a handshake.

“Well….” Handsome, well-read, confident enough to approach you, and you were about to blow it with your brutal honesty. “I haven’t finished it yet, so I won’t commit, but so far I am not impressed.”

“What?” He actually flinched. “No way. Where are you up to?”

“I just finished the bit where Claude professed his love for Florance at the flower show, which was the drollest thing I’ve ever read, and it went on and on for far too many pages.” It was probably impolite for you to be venting so quickly to this stranger, but you just couldn’t help it, the words just kept coming. “Not to mention its total lack of realistic feminism, you can’t just unveil your fencing champion to secretly be a woman and call it a day, every other woman in this book is either a two-dimensional gossiping villain or a two-dimensional love interest for the male side characters.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” The mystery man shakes his head at you in disbelief as he situates himself in the chair across from your own. “First of all, it was a product of its time, and is widely considered to be one of the greatest pieces of feminist literature despite its origins, secondly, did you not read any of Evie’s subplot?”

The conversation continues that way, back and forth. He emphasises his points with big sweeping, passionate movements of his arms. He nods his head and purses his lips when you make arguably good points and grits his teeth when he disagrees with you. Neither of you notice when the sun goes down, or your drinks going cold until the barista informs you both that they’ll be closing in a few minutes.

Shit. You’d been debating classic-lit with this guy for at least 2 hours, and you didn’t even know his name. The sentiment appears to be shared because he offers you a comically confused frown as he puts his jacket back on and offers you a hand standing from your seat.

You exit the café into the cool night air together. You’re not sure if you should ask his name and invite him over, or say goodbye, fortunately, he removes the need to decide by handing you a napkin with his name and number jotted onto it in black marker. Jason.

“Call me when you’ve finished the book.” He instructs, and then he gone.

[6esiree]

Sleazy Thoughts With Human Alastor

I can’t stop thinking about Alastor hastily pushing your front against the wall in the back of Mimzy’s club, bunching your dress up and pulling your panties aside. One hand’s clamped over your mouth, the other’s holding your leg open as he pushes past your folds with his cock, biting down on your shoulder to stifle his pleasured groan. It’s the dead of night but thankfully, the dim flickering streetlights do not illuminate the back of the building, your bodies obscured by the shadows.

Plus, the music and the distant sound of people laughing and chattering drown out the pats emanating from Alastor’s feverish thrusts, including the rude jingling of his belt. For a long time, you were a friend and nothing more, your advances always declined in the most gentle of ways. But tonight? He took somebody’s life, unable to shake off the adrenaline despite the amount of whiskey churning in his bloodstream.

“Now, now, you must hold in those pretty little sounds of yours,” Alastor lets go of your shoulder, his teeth etched onto your skin, the sight making his cock throb inside of you.

“I’m trying, Al,” You mewl from his palm, tossing your head back onto his heaving chest, your gaze riddled with pure, raw lust. “But your cock is just so big and—“

Alastor quickly replaces his hand with his mouth, his lips gliding against yours and swallowing whatever filthy words you had to offer him. You reach up and thread your fingers into his hair, your orgasm creeping up on you. You never thought he’d ever take you behind Mimzy’s club, the tall, handsome man always so proper and gentlemanly. But, Hell, you weren’t going to complain, glad to have his cock spoiling your cunt.

“Such filthy, whorish words coming out from a young lady such as yourself,” Alastor tsks as he pulls back from the kiss, his lips smeared with your lipstick and glasses fogged up from your labored breaths.

“But you like it, old man,” You move your hand to his jaw, thumb generously wiping away at the lipstick on his brown skin. “I can feel it deep inside of me,” You add sultrily, making him chuckle.

“I won’t argue against that,” Alastor thrusts up into your particularly hard, a rather loud moan escaping your throat at the unexpected act. “Now, be a good girl and keep that mouth of yours shut, do you hear me?”

You eagerly nod, teasingly fluttering your lashes at him before sinking your teeth into the inside of your cheek. That only earns you a smack on your ass, however, your cunt clenching around his cock in response. Rest assured that that won’t be the last time Alastor spontaneously takes you behind Mimzy’s club, filling your hole up till it’s squelching and his cum is trickling down your thighs, glad to have you to satiate him after a successful hunting.

[trulyumai]

Looking Past the Fire

Paring: Messmer x Reader

Synopsis: Between the shadow lands, laid Messmer. And between that? His darling wife.

Warnings: Talk of Death

A/N: Ive officially began the DLC and I am WASHED. Also this big nosed fella has been taking over my mind please send help. (I love it)

Enjoy!

For whom could ever love him as much as his wife once did? 

She would be there, to carry his heavy soul, kiss the bruised skin and wipe away the rotting blood. 

His wife was ever so patient; wiping at his dirtied frame carefully, cautiously. Like he was someone who deserved it, needed it. He got used to such loving touches, it was dangerous. His family scoffed behind his back- mumbled about his newfound weakness. But between his own blood was a wall of fire, and between that was her. 

In truth, he craved coming back home, to her, and her adoring frame and sappy expressions. 

He would always call out to her. 

“My love?” His voice was so soft, much more than one would ever guess a man like him would- could carry. 

A man of death and flame. 

“Over here, darling!” And he would see the back of her head, peeking up from the windowsill that laid just in front of their kitchen. 

She would always be in the flower filled garden, tending to each plant with care until her fingers were overtaken with blackened dirt.

She’d lift herself high then, peek over at him with blinking lashes. A serene expression always to be seen when gazing upon the red haired man. 

Messmer without thought would walk forth, to her, and her sun kissed cheeks. 

As if in a daze the man wouldn’t dare avert his eyes; for the goddess in front of him was enough to hold the attention of such a man of power. 

His head ducked under the wooden back door. His back would crack loudly almost every time, and sometimes a groan of protest would leave the pale man’s lips. 

And he would reachout, gently coaxing the woman to him once more, he wanted- needed to feel her soft skin against his rough and war torn body. 

She’d listen of course, and would press her frame to his without further delay. 

Messmer would allow his arms to wrap around her, with his nose digging into her neck to smell the sweet scent of sweat sticking to her damp skin. 

“Husband,” she giggled, hearing his sighs of contentment. 

“I’ve missed you, has the trip fared well?” 

The wind picked up, the giant yellowing trees swayed with the breeze and Messmer could no longer subdue his mind to the stress it was in mere moments ago. 

Right before he placed himself in his wife’s presence, the worries of the palace laid upon his shoulders. 

His command, his power, his reign- 

“Husband?” 

How would she react to the bodies littering the field, the broken families, the hierarchy?

Her fingertips grazed his cheek.

“Hm? Oh, yes, the trip was easy, my wife,” 

The knight picked a fallen leaf that had laid upon her hair carelessly. 

“I’ve established safe perimeters. None shall lay harm to the south for quite some time.” 

She smiled. 

“Of course you did, my strong Knight. For who could be more of a protector than you?”

Bile reached up to the man's throat, it burned his insides with spite and regret. 

His wife was ill informed, she hadn't heard of the burning castle walls- with its soldiers laying crumpled and burnt in his wake. 

In fact, he hadn’t been a knight for the order in many moons, his siege had taken over much of the shadowlands, in which he was close to winning.

For none could stand the fiery ambition held between his sword and gaze 

He was a protector yes, but only for her. 

Messmer let out a deep laugh, it was short and muffled by his lips. 

The knight leaned down and began to trail kisses down his wifes temple, to her jaw, then finally, her lips. 

With a tilt to the head their mouths met, he placed a pale hand on the back of her head, pushing her to meet his lips with more strength. 

Nipping lightly the girl's hands fisted upon his armor, lightly trying to push herself away from the man- most likely for air. 

He complied, and smiled as she let out a gasp for air with pink cheeks and lidded eyes. 

Taking his thumb he brushed it upon her chin, clearing up the saliva that had dribbled down. 

She leaned into his palm, and Messmer once more felt the bite of regret nip at the edges of his mind. 

“Are you staying the night?” Her voice, barely above the howling wind, brought him back. 

Messmer hummed, his hand found the back of her waist. 

“I have dinner going, i'll make your place at the table.”

He only nodded his head as she padded off, not taking his eyes off the darkened clouds approaching their vicinity. 

From the corner of his eye, Messmer eyed the rising smoke. 

The south let out a plethora of darkened fumes, the village there laid in smoldering, blackened ash. 

Of course the south laid safe and ill of enemies; for he had cleared its population down to nothing. 

The land may never return to its original state with its burnt hills and mountains.

“It's ready, my love!” 

Messmer turned back, meeting the gaze of his lover by the doorframe. 

Little drops of rain plopped onto his loosened hair, no longer did light shine through the gray skies, but muffled streams of sun. 

He turned his back to the village, the smoke and bodies. 

For a more important matter was at hand now; the happiness of his wife.

[librababe99]

Echoes of Her: Part Two

A/N: I originally intended for this to be a standalone BUT was inspired to continue on! I hope this lives up to the first part <3 How would we feel about a third part? Potentially concluding this mini series! As always comments and feedback are appreciated! My asks are also open! CW: Angst, hurt no comfort, love triangle Word Count: 1232

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You had become a ghost in your own life, haunting the corridors of the mansion with a hollow heart. Days passed in a blur of meaningless routine, the vibrant colors of your world now faded to shades of gray. You threw yourself into training, missions, anything to keep the pain at bay, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape it. The memory of that night, the way you’d left Logan standing in the dimly lit room, haunted you relentlessly.

But what hurt more was the silence that followed.

Logan had kept his distance since then, retreating into himself as you had done. The mansion was a big place, but not big enough to avoid the constant threat of running into him, of catching a fleeting glimpse of the man who had once been your everything. When you did cross paths, the tension was suffocating, neither of you willing to break the silence that hung between you like a shroud.

You knew it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down. And tonight, as you sat alone in your room, the quiet too loud, the walls too close, you felt the dam begin to break.

A knock at your door pulled you from the edge of your thoughts, and your heart stuttered in your chest. You didn’t need to ask who it was. You already knew.

“Come in,” you called out, your voice trembling.

The door creaked open, and there he was. Logan stood in the doorway, the dim light casting shadows across his rugged features. He looked as exhausted as you felt, his eyes dark with something that looked like regret. But there was something else, too—something that made your breath catch in your throat.

Pain.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, unable to find your voice. The silence stretched between you, heavy and oppressive, until Logan finally stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“I’ve been trying to stay away,” he admitted, his eyes locked on yours. “But I can’t. I can’t keep doing this, kid.”

The old nickname, once a sign of affection, now felt like a knife twisting in your gut. “Logan, why are you here?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Because I’m tired of pretending. Tired of acting like this doesn’t hurt like hell.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and you sucked in a sharp breath. “What do you want me to say? That it doesn’t hurt me too? That I don’t think about you every second of every day?”

Logan’s eyes softened, the vulnerability in them nearly breaking you. “I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Maybe you can’t,” you replied, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Maybe some things are too broken to be put back together.”

His face fell, the defeat in his eyes shattering what little resolve you had left. “Is that what you want? To just give up on us?”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” you confessed, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to keep loving you when I know you can’t give me all of you.”

Logan’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his frustration boiling over. “It’s not that simple. You know it’s not. Jean… she’s in my blood, in my bones. But you—you’re in my heart, and I don’t know how to make sense of any of it.”

His words cut deeper than any blade ever could, and you felt the tears you’d been holding back start to fall. “Then what do you want from me, Logan? What do you expect me to do with that?”

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, his hands gripping your arms, his touch burning through the fabric of your shirt. “I don’t know,” he growled, his voice thick with desperation. “I don’t know, and it’s driving me insane.”

You wrenched yourself free from his grasp, your tears flowing freely now. “You don’t get to do this, Logan. You don’t get to come in here and tell me you care, only to turn around and break my heart all over again.”

“I’m trying,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “I’m trying to be what you need, but I’m so goddamn scared I’m going to fail you.”

The rawness in his voice made your heart ache, but it also fueled the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface. “You already have,” you spat, the words venomous. “You failed me the moment you made me fall in love with you, knowing you could never fully love me back.”

Logan flinched as if you’d struck him, the pain in his eyes almost too much to bear. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I hate myself for it?”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls pressing in as you struggled to breathe. “Then why are you here, Logan? Why now?”

He took a step back, his gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of your words was too much. “Because I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Not you. Not like this.”

Your heart shattered at his confession, the pieces cutting deep into your soul. You wanted to believe him, to believe that there was a way out of this mess, but the reality of it all was too overwhelming.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the effort to hold yourself together. “We’re stuck in a cycle of hurting each other, and I don’t know if we’ll ever break free.”

He looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Then tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it.”

But you didn’t have an answer. There was no easy fix, no simple solution. Love was messy, complicated, and in your case, it was laced with an impossible choice that neither of you knew how to make.

“I don’t know if we can,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “And that scares me more than anything.”

Logan reached out, his hand trembling as it cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears. “I’m scared too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’d rather be scared with you than lose you.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a freight train, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to hope. Maybe you could find a way through this, together. But the fear of being hurt again, of loving him only to watch him drift back into the shadows of his past, held you back.

“I need time,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s face fell, but he nodded, his hand dropping to his side. “I’ll wait,” he promised, his voice hoarse. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

You wanted to believe that time would heal the wounds between you, but as Logan turned to leave, the door clicking shut behind him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that some scars might never fully fade.

And as you stood there in the silence of your room, the tears still streaming down your face, you couldn’t help but wonder if love—no matter how deep—was enough to bridge the gap between your fractured hearts.

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Tag list: @sasuke-kun0 @littledebbieinabigworld

(Part three)

[whatswrongwithblue]

Alastor Headcannons

Fem cat demon reader in a relationship with the Radio Demon

SFW

Rosie introduced him to you. Maybe not necessarily with the idea that you two would be romantic, but she saw similarities between you two and knew you would eventually hit it off.

Once you stopped constantly arguing, that is.

The man had been an Overlord for so long and had sworn off attempting romance for an even longer period, that he genuinely did not recognize his feelings for you as romantic inclinations at first.

He knew he liked you. Admired you. And enjoyed your company. Could talk to you for hours about anything and everything. So obviously that meant he wanted to own your soul.

That blew up in his face – almost literally.

He quickly found out there was nothing he could offer you, or do to you, including putting you in harms way, to force you into making any kind of deal with him. He couldn’t make himself do a damn thing to you. And that scared him and made him avoid you for a long time after that.

But when you two did eventually reunite, it was a lightbulb moment for him, and he pretty much immediately started pursuing an actual relationship with you.

PDA isn’t really his thing, besides hand holding and possibly a hand on the small of your back if he’s feeling extra possessive or wanting to show you off.

The biggest exception to this rule is dancing. He loves to take you dancing.

Surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind others knowing you two are an item.

Some might think he’d want to hide it, worried that others would see you as a weakness to exploit but honestly? Who would dare go after something the Radio Demon held in such high regard. Let them try, my dear.

In private, if he’s in a good mood, he’s quite the sweety.

His love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.

He’ll want to start each day relaxing, enjoying coffee and breakfast with you. He cooks. And throughout the day he really enjoys just being the same room with you, even if you’re both absorbed in your own tasks.

In private, if he’s in a bad mood, he’s very distant.

Don’t touch him and try not to interrupt his work.

He’ll still unconsciously show his affection for you by letting his guard down in these moments.

He’ll let his mask slip a little, show you how upset he is when he would never let anyone else know what’s capable of actually getting under his skin.

He’ll be in some disheveled state. Have his jacket off, or bow tie undone, or hair tied back. He’ll have his microphone across the room. Little things to show he’s still comfortable being vulnerable with you but still . . . best not push it because then he’ll get a little mean.

If you’ve accidentally hurt his feelings in some way, then the insults will start. He’ll call you annoying or dramatic, but he won’t raise his voice unless you do first. He rarely swears so when he does, you know he’s completely at his wits end with you or with whatever else has upset him.

He would never ever lay a hand on you.

If he’s really pushed to the edge, his power might be harder to control. Lights may break, his shadow will go nuts on the wall around you, and he’ll even take on a more demonic, imposing form, but you’ll still feel completely safe in his presence.

Have I mentioned how rare these arguments are? There’s a reason why he’s comfortable enough to be in a relationship with you, because 99% of the time, you understand each other perfectly and can calm the other one down.

At the end of a “no touch day” he’ll usually come find you and initiate some type of cuddle. Usually once you’ve already gone to bed.

He’ll slip under the sheets behind you, probably still a little damp from a shower, and either be the big spoon or, if you’re awake, rest his head on your chest while you stroke his ears.

Those ears are mighty sensitive. Not in a sexual way, but it always sooths his exhausted nervous system when he allows you to touch them like that.

That, and your purrs. No lullaby in the world is as potent as the mesmerizing sensation of your purrs when his body is laid close against yours.  

It took him a few months to admit it, but after the first time he told you he loved you; he says it all the time. His mother always told him you couldn’t overuse that phrase if you meant it, so you tend to hear it multiple times a day.

He isn’t fluent in Louisiana Creole, but he knows a few phrases, and will slip into the native accent of his youth and whisper them in your ears when he’s trying to sooth you if you’re the one upset.

He took decades to propose. You never pestered him about it, but Rosie did – and that probably made him take even longer to get around to it than if she had just let it alone.

Neither of you were super into the idea of a big ceremony but then word got out and half of Cannibal Town was asking about Save the Dates so you two decided that while the vow exchange would be short and sweet, the reception would be a fucking party.

NSFW

Sex had not been a part of this man’s life for a very long time.

He’d only been in two brief relationships, once as a teen, and once later to appease his mother, and neither one exactly went well.

Even his rut, which makes most other demons sex-crazed, used to just make him more aggressive and territorial. The physical aspects of it were easy to take care of in private, so he never had to seek out other outlets.

But then you came along and while it still wasn’t as much of a priority for him as it was for you, he still found himself enjoying and even desiring that kind of intimacy with you.

For the first time in . . . well, ever . . . he found himself initiating sex with someone, rather than the other way around, and you found yourself pleasantly satisfied whenever he was in the mood.

Don’t get me wrong, he could still be - and was often - very touch adverse, especially after a difficult day.

But if he’s happy and relaxed and you’re around . . . you two are going to end up under the covers.

He used to hate his tail. He’d even cut it off more than once, but it always grew back. But you liked it and he liked anything that pleased you. And then you started touching it during intercourse and he really liked that.

If the guy has one cum button, it’s you stroking his tail while he’s inside you.

It also really helps that you are so comfortable with your tail and you constantly let him touch it.

He’s definitely a top. Sex is just not interesting to him unless he knows you’re getting off, so it’s either mutual pleasure or your pleasure, but he doesn’t care for anything that involves just his body.

You enjoy going down on him, and it’s okay for him, at least for starters, but he rarely lets you do it for very long. It’s just . . . boring, for him. He’ll compromise and 69 if you’re really in the mood for that kind of thing.

He gets very excited when you’re in heat.

It’s the only thing that can -almost- always override his touch aversion on a bad day.

The idea of you wanting him that much, to the point of it being a near constant physical need for him to be inside you, really gets him going.

He wears out faster than you do, but even after he can’t get it up anymore, he has a multitude of other appendages (fingers, tongue, tentacles) and even some toys that he thoroughly enjoys using on you until you are finally sated.

He’s not one for dirty talk. It makes him uncomfortable, and he finds it distracting. He stays pretty quiet himself during sex, but he loves the needy little moans and whines you make.

He does bite.

And slap your ass.

He’s not usually one for restraints or whips, but he does enjoy marking you with his teeth and claws. Again, this man wanted to own your soul, so he’s going to enjoy leaving physical reminders all over your body that you are his.

His rut is much harder to handle now that he’s sexually active.

And he’s very different in bed when he’s in a rut.

That’s when he dirty talks.

And that’s when he really gets rough.

You have on more than one occasion been face fucked to the point of choking and tears.

And those shadow tentacles really come out to play during that time of year.

They’ll be wrapped around your body, your neck, limbs, etc. They’ll fuck your mouth, your ass, any part of you that his cock isn’t in. He wants you completely controlled and filled up by him when he’s fucking you in his rut.

And he can go for a very long time. Multiple times. You learned after the first year to just plan on taking a vacation that time of year because really, other than eating and sleeping, he pretty much demands that’s all you two do.

He can sometimes lose control of his power and his bodily form during sex.

You’ll know when he’s close to climax because those antlers get massive and his eyes tend to go black. And if he’s in a rut, he can get a little  . . . big.

Like, all of him. His entire body. But also yes, his dick gets larger then, too.

One time, you were just about to say you were getting stretched a little too much down there, and his weight was starting to crush you, when he literally broke the bed. That’s all hot and steamy in romance novels, but you just about broke your tail that night and ended up nearly impaled by the bed frame.

Another time, he got his antlers stuck in the backboard of the bed and that was even more embarrassing for him than breaking the actual bed had been because it took him so long to calm down enough to control the size of those things and meanwhile you had just been pinned beneath him and laughing hysterically at the very horny, very frustrated, very stuck husband of yours.

He’s a self-inflicted insomniac and doesn’t let himself sleep much, so after sex, he tends to pass out next to you and when he finally wakes up, he usually insists you join him in the bath or shower for some aftercare.

He’ll help clean any wounds that haven’t already healed, massage your overworked muscles, and verbally check in with you that he didn’t take things too far. Especially since after a rough rut-induced session, he gets awfully insecure about the things he did to you in the heat of the moment.

Of course, you’re always happy to ensure him that you really enjoy that side of him and you’ve never felt like he’d taken anything too far with you.

(P.S. These are some ideas I worked through on what this ace-spectrum Overlord man would be like in a committed relationship for my new OC wife x Alastor fic. I’ve been working on it for weeks now and am just about ready to start posting. It’s been very difficult writing him truly in character while also navigating meeting my OC, coming to terms with his feelings for her, and how he would behave as a partner/husband. For this post - so that it can be its own standalone work - I’ve changed all the wording to Y/N, with the only specifics being that Y/N is a cat demon. But if you really enjoyed this, I hope you’ll stick around for The Fire in the Sin. It’s going to essentially be all of the above turned into a novel, that’s half prequel and half current events for Hazbin Hotel.)

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ SPARKSTONE

tw. blood kink, noncon, pain play, lashing/whipping, toji’s foul n mean, degradation, prostitution, daddy kink, kinda size kink as always w me heheghe wordcount. 4.6k

a/n. thank you a million to the loveliest friends who always keep me goin when i'm having a hard timEEE rhi, wil and dymmiEE thanK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR betaing ily so much ♡ i hope i did the big man justice he is so yucky n i love it,, also extra shOutout n love dym bc she gave me the vision i saw i came i had to have it so !! iLY ILY ILY

fushiguro toji x fem!reader

If you know one thing from your years hiding in the shadows of the more powerful, it’s that danger has a taste. It sticks to your skin, longing for an opening. And tightens around your organs as you swallow it down, setting your hairs on end. Instinctually, humans know danger when they sense it, and by that same measure, they’re usually smart enough to hide before they get found. You might be simple prey in the eyes of the strong, but you hate the feeling deeply, and avoid it where you can.

You’re always aware of eyes that trail you, and you can smell it in the air.

The burgundy walls and nice chandelier bloom like a flower when it gets dark out. It fits the business. Like moths to a flame, that warmth lures men with a promise of a warm body and expert secrecy, and usually that’s plenty. Luckily for you, most of them leave before their wives start to wonder, which means you don’t have to deal with the drunk and impatient by the time you come in for a shift by early morning. Your days are easy, if you pretend you don’t know what types of people stumble home from their rooms in the seedier back of the building. Smelling of booze and body fluids and most of all, sex. That’s how it is.

Sorcerers are people too, by your cousin’s words. He’s not wrong. By the types of people that come in and out of the doors day and night, he made a smart investment starting this place a few years ago, and you’re grateful to get to work here. There’s no place for small-fry cursed energy users out in the daylight— and you’re not exactly dying to lay your life down for others in the first place. It’s this, or even less savory jobs for those people like you, who see things that others don’t. You’re more than happy with a simple life sitting behind the front desk, and going home to crash before the grosser individuals have a chance to harass you.

Which is why your skin itches a bit when the soft cling of the bell sounds so late it’s early. You’ve barely had enough time to open the doors. For not the first time, there’s a soft buzz of a warning sign that greets you as you sigh. Isn’t 5 in the morning a little early for even the more degenerate types? You get up to hang your jacket in the back room as you hear heavy steps make it into the foyer, and swallow. The slight pulling of cold under your skin has your lips pressed tight, swallowing. They don’t ring the bell, don’t yell or break things, don’t even talk. But they also don’t turn to leave.

So you smooth your hands down your pants, and eventually walk back to your spot behind the counter. It’s still dark out, still has the uncomfortable pressure that lingers as you cast a quick glance around the room.

And all you see is eyes that pull a cold shiver up your spine so quick it freezes you in place. The dark figure is splayed out with his arms over one of the couches, but those sharp eyes don’t move an inch from you when you meet them. Narrowed in their cold, metal blue darkness, and all-consuming. The man is not young, not old - but definitely older than you, scarred and quiet, and you can’t help it- when that foul, dangerous taste wells up in your mouth in the form of saliva.

After only a few seconds, you grab the phone and ring a number one, taking it off the horn for your own safety. It rings as the man gets up with a sigh and walks towards you, only leaving the space of the desk between you two. There's a soft mumble on the other side of the call, but because the horn is pressed to your desk, you can’t make out exactly what’s said before the customer - you assume he’s a customer, judging by the foul sort of stench of death that follows him around - clears his voice.

Only a sorcerer can have that sort of smell, and no sorcerer would enter here if not out for one thing. You don’t normally do intake, you realize as your hand trembles just slightly. You leave the horn of the phone for a pen instead, and try to rid your throat of the thick block that pushes on your windpipe. “Welcome. How can I help you?”

The man’s hair is messy, lazy, much like his clothing is; and he takes a moment to look around before his eyes flick to the stack of notes before you, the phone, and then you again. “Ah, uhm. Are there rooms open this late? Or early, I guess.” He ends up saying, a bored sort of lilt to his deep voice. You can’t even meet his eyes, but you can feel the painfully intense stare that doesn’t move from you again as you put on your best smile.

“There- should be, yes. Hmm, let’s see. Do you have a preferred girl you’d like to see here today?” Your hand only stops shaking when you press the tip of the pen to paper, if only to give your hand something to do as you quickly flick between the pages of the book.

“Not really.” He runs his hand under his nose, before leaning both forearms onto the desk and invading your space too much. You barely resist the urge to jerk back entirely, and feel the heat travel between you two. See, you were never able to fight curses. But you did always have a good nose, and his presence is like maggots crawling around under your skin. It’s unbearable. Your lids flutter as you stop flicking, and just focus on not throwing up entirely. Every part of him stinks of rot, oozing danger enough to suffocate you.

You simply pick one of the names at random, and start digging through the shelf for the correct key as fast as you can. Your heart hammers in your chest like that of a hummingbird, and is almost loud enough to keep you from hearing him when he speaks again. You can’t quite bear to meet his gaze, but one look up at his mouth reveals a tiny sort of curl to his lips that’s just as upsetting as the stench that swirls around the room. Everything feels wrong, and you want to stop yourself from hurling your guts out over the table. The man taps his finger on the counter a few times. “Are you new?”

Your head shakes faster than you can think about the answer. It wouldn’t be of any use lying anyway. For some reason, you feel like he’d be able to see right through you. When you finally find the right key, you feel like a weight lifts from your chest, and you slide it across the stone towards him. “I always work the morning shift, I don’t do nights.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. Only when you slide the paper form across the table too,  do you notice the call has disconnected - you’re not sure for how long - and you manage to force your eyes up to face him for just long enough not to seem impolite. But your blood still feels uncomfortable and itchy, even when he slowly picks up the pen and starts writing his name down at the top of the form. After a few seconds, he clicks the pen to his chin, and looks down at you with a coy smile as he straightens up. “Actually, what about you? You’re a skittish, little thing, and I have a bit of a hunger for something light and fresh today— I had the longest night ever.”

His scar pulls when the smile gets a bit more predatory, and you feel pinned in place like an insect under a magnifying glass when he aims the pen at you. “Looks like you’re a good listener, sweet girl.”

“I- I-” you start, stepping back until your back hits the wall and even then, there’s not nearly enough space between you and him, “I just work as a receptionist. I don’t do-” You might puke after all. Those eyes only seem to get wider when your bottom lip wobbles, and you feel the sick sense of glee he gets rather than see it. You don’t think -no, you know- you couldn’t take him in a fight, but still your fists ball up tight.

The lift dings though, to your relief, and a familiar face rushes out to give you an up and down. Your cousin’s got a bed head, deep grooves under his eyes as he jogs up beside you. “What the hell, you’re fine! When you didn’t respond on the phone I thought something might’ve happened to you.” You can’t say anything back, but you’re so glad to see him your mouth drops open and a little whimper comes out of your throat despite yourself. The young man frowns, before glancing to his side and - pauses. You can’t exactly place the expression he gets, but he must feel what you’re still feeling laced in the air, because he blinks a few times before taking a step back. “What’s this?”

“I was just telling him I’m- o-only a front desk worker,” you start, shuffling uncomfortably when those steely eyes find your body, giving you an awfully unsubtle once over. Pig. He doesn’t even bother to hide the way he’s undressing you with his eyes. Your cousin thankfully hums in agreement, and crosses his arms over his chest. “So-”

The brazen noiret doesn’t hesitate to nod though. And the confident tone from earlier doesn’t waver a bit. It’s like he’s barely inconvenienced by your statement at all. Like you’re playing hard to get. You’re not. "That's fine by me. But I’m going to be the exception.” Under his sloppy clothing, there’s no doubt he’s fit. He’s tall, and obviously wired with thick muscle that makes his shirt cling to his biceps, even more when he crosses over the furniture to reach a hand out to you, and make your shivers so much worse. “Come, little deer. I’m gonna have some fun with you.”

Your cousin places a hand on the other man’s shoulder though. “She’s not that kind of employee, sir. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, or else-”

“Or else what?” You swear you can feel a pin drop when his eyes finally move away from you, now at the other man. Your heart still beats wildly. “How about this, huh. You let me play with your little friend here, and I’ll decide not to kill you, her and then everyone in here for making my long night even longer.” He doesn’t even have to straighten up for you to feel like he means it. Even without flashing a weapon, or pulling out some fancy cursed technique, do you feel the increase in thick waves of tension; drowning you in that same, rotting stench of incoming disaster. You can’t ignore it, can’t do anything but gasp shallow, little breaths when he does round on your family, squaring up to him.

Though they’re both about as tall, the stranger’s built like a brick wall. He must know that, because he laughs. “I’ll be very nice to her, don’t worry.” His eyes tell everyone daring to take a peek that he doesn’t mean it, but at least you don’t flinch when he looks at you this time. Ah, that’s right. You really do hate sorcerers. The black haired man walks past to come grab your arm, and tosses the key you provided him earlier high into the air before catching it. It instantly is too tight, and hurts. You plant your heels into the floor, hang back with your whole body. You want to scream. Your other hand claws at his strong palm -wrung like a vice around your wrist- and you start to whimper.

“N-wait, let me go. I don’t work here like that, I- leave me alone, let me go!” You get pulled along anyway, like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum; he yanks you with barely any effort and sends you stumbling behind him. “No, I don’t want- aniki! Aniki, tell him- I’m not- I’m not for sale.” Hair whips around as you try to plead with the man left standing in the lobby, but though he looks guilt-stricken and apologetic, he doesn’t move from his spot. You don’t have a say in the way the man dressed in all black drags you behind, even when you try to make yourself dead weight and stop him. “No, no, no, wait, please! Kou aniki! Kou~ help me!”

You get it.

“Let me go! Let me go, pl-please! Hck.” Your voice breaks when wetness spills down to your hot cheeks. Really, you do get it. But the lamb still spooks when presented with the gun, even if it doesn’t run.

You’re sat on the edge of the bed as tears run down your cheeks and drip off your nose.

You can’t imagine it makes for a very appealing sight, but whether it’s indifference or sexual gratification, it’s clear your grief doesn’t matter to him. Toji, he said his name is, but you only know that ‘so you can cry it later’. It makes you sick - the sight of him makes you want to dig your nails into your own palms until you bleed. This is how it is for the weak everywhere, right? Sit and wait to die. As the cold embraces your body again, you sniffle, but wipe the tears away. You’re not a fan of waiting.

If he’s going to do it, better do it quick. Before you decide to start biting anyway. The dim lighting of the reddish room doesn’t do anything to warm the mood except make you even more aware of him as he kicks off sandals, slowly, demanding attention. He stares you down like a predator keeps an eye on his prey. The scent is still suffocating, but there’s a more alarming feeling blanketing your senses now. You’re scared. There’s nothing you can do about it, it’s in the goosebumps on your skin as he walks closer, and you scoot back onto the soft mattress to avert your eyes to yourself.

You’d rather go out kicking and screaming- but with your fear ran so high, you settle for the second best thing. “So, you’re not going to kill everyone, but just me, huh?” He’s taking off his belt as you ball your hands in the fabric, and force yourself to watch him under heavy lashes, with as much hatred as you can. “You like that? Scaring girls half your size?” You’re not sure either why you’re running your mouth. It must be the high of incoming death. “Does that make you feel powerful?” He doesn’t even pause, and pulls his shirt over his head to drop it aside too, then licks his lips.

After a slight moment of silence, he just shrugs. “Yeah. It does.” You scramble back until you reach the head of the bed, and pull your knees to your body. And the man crawls closer anyway, reaching to grab one of your ankles and drag you back. You don’t know why you’re struggling. It’d be easier if you laid down and died. As if reading your mind, he chuckles as he yanks you down until you’re spread out on your back, and pins you in place beneath his heavy body. “Don’t be so frightened. I’m not actually going to kill you.” He pushes over you, and makes sure you’re nose to nose when he talks next, basically drooling as you try to escape from him. “Just going to hurt you pretty bad. Don’t you like that?”

You struggle against him, but it’s not enough. He ties your hands to the bed painfully tight, letting the frayed edge of the rope burn into your skin each time you move- and proceeds to cut your clothes off with the knife that was hidden in his waistband. The torturous pace at which he does everything is almost worse, setting your entire body on end with anticipation. You thrash against him as he places a thigh either side of your body, and grabs your face in a large, rough hand. Once again you feel reminded that you’re really nothing in the face of someone more powerful. It’s frustrating. It’s annoying, and hurtful, and a migraine starts gnawing at your head as you glare up at him. And he almost pouts at you in mockery. “It’s cute that you’re trying so hard. You can cry, you know?” He leans in to lick along the shell of your ear down to your neck. “It’s going to happen sooner or later anyway. Why deny yourself?”

The hot touch of his tongue sears into your skin like it’s poison. You try to pull your wrists loose again, to no avail. The skin just feels achy and burning. “That’s really what you want to do, right? Cry for mommy and daddy to save you?” When he pushes back up to your mouth, laying his filthy lips on you again, you’re quicker than you think - and actually manage to bite him. It’s not enough to cause much damage before he jerks back, clenching one hand over your mouth to shut you up. But he runs a thumb along his bottom lip, and slowly starts grinning. Blood glitters on that finger before he licks it away, and raises his dark eyebrows at you. “Aren’t you brave…”

Before you have time to prepare yourself, that heavy palm meets your cheek, stinging it all over and rushing blood to the surface — it’s hard enough to pull real tears out of you, and your nose to start running as you bury your face into your arm. The sting spreads under the surface like fire. The low chuckle he lets out is mean and predatory, definitely when he takes that as an opening to start groping you through your bra, and soon that’s shoved up too to let him pet all over you. “Good. I don’t have to feel bad about all this, then.”

“Mh- hck-,” you whimper, trying to ignore the painful tugs he gives your nipples, pinching you. It still sends heat to your belly, and somehow that’s the most embarrassing thing of all. You hate him. More than anyone. “I-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I won’t believe you anyway.” He quickly whispers back, leaning in to force his mouth to yours and kiss you, tongue pushing against your teeth until you give in. He tastes like blood. His own, from the cut that’s not yet closed up; and he kisses like he’s trying to consume you. Rough hands knead and toy with your tits until you start squirming, before they glide down and make enough space to peel your panties down your thighs torturously slow. “Ahh, you look good like this. So pretty. Stay there.” He chuckles to himself as he gets up and you whine, not for him, but more his dragging it out. It’s not like you have a choice about staying…

When he comes back to you, something cold makes you jerk your eyes open. It’s something long and capped metal at the end, not sharp enough to stab you clean through— but it’s still hard and sharp and anxiety has you freezing below him. “Wh- what, what are you-” Would anyone even come help if you screamed? 

Toji slaps the thing into his palm a few times, before those mean eyes glide over you, and you find yourself crossing your legs tight to protect your most sensitive areas instinctively. The sound of the metal whipping through the air is more than enough to put fear into you. Your lip trembles when he gets back onto the bed, and mirth plays in his eyes. “This is going to hurt.” Then he whips his hand down and instantly, your eyes shoot open with pain. Blood splatters as he cuts you open, each impact leaving a cut and nasty thumping that will make a bruise, telltale sign of a cursed tool.

“Ack- no, no- please stop! Stop, stop, please! Please, it hurts! It hurts!” Your eyes clench shut, but tears well up and come out anyway, making tracks down your cheeks. It stings so bad, and after even just a few lashings, you can’t stand it. Everything’s glowing and burning, hot all over as your knees knock together. Another whip has you trying to pull your arms out harder, to no avail. You don’t want to look, but the pain in your hands tells you that the heat running down your arm must be blood. Didn’t he say he wasn’t going to kill you? “Please, please, Toji. I’ll do anything! Anything, please- j-just no more.”

“I refuse.”

“Please~” you sob, only opening your eyes to see how he stands bent over you with his tongue caught between his teeth, head tilted in curiosity like a dog. The whip is dripping red, hot blood down onto his hands, and though it seems impossible to have so much blood coating everything- it’s yours, right? He stays quiet for a moment or two, and the thick tears wobble over your vision. “Please, I don’t want to die. Please. Please. I’m -” your throat closes up when he leans his heavy weight down over you and hovers his lips over your mouth, “I’m beg-begging you.” One hand comes up to grab your face, and he buries his nose into your throat, where a wet tongue starts swiping along your skin.

The soft groan he lets out is foul, coming back up with his mouth full of your blood, and he grins. “Keep going. Beg like a good girl~” Then he dips down, forcing his tongue and the coppery, familiar taste into your mouth, melting his lips to yours as he hums. His strong chest meets your naked, pitiful form as one hand comes down to yank your leg up around him, and the kissing gets more distracting, warmer, deeper — you want him to stay just like this. “Keep talking,” he whispers again, lower this time, and when you’re opening your eyes his stained hands are back to kneading your tits. “You’re sort of cute covered like this, whining like a baby. C’mon.”

Red’s covering everything. Every cut on your body is searing and tight and painful, and he’s pushing his thumbs along the closing wounds as if he’s trying to leak every last drop out of you; but you can’t really feel it. It must be adrenaline you feel coursing through your veins like a drug, goading your heart into pumping so hard you can see it bounce through the skin. “Pl-please.” Your chest rattles, as he watches you. As he degrades you, lifting both your legs up to your chest to spread you for him. “Please, Toji. Please f-fuck me instead. I w- need you to.” He takes the knife used to cut off your clothes, and ever so slowly drags it along the supple inside of your thighs.

And though you jerk, and your jaw clenches while tears fall, you can’t help it. You’re shaking your head, but your pussy clenches around nothing. “Please, please, need you. I’m sorry, I want- I want it. I wan’it… daddy.” Despite the short inhale he takes, sharp eyes pinning you beneath him like the crying mess you are, it’s not his reaction that has you blushing, heat filling your entire face with that cottony feeling. You’re so fucking weak. It’s pathetic.

“Hah,” he snorts when watching you wiggle and cry, presenting your wet, little hole to him, “whiny brat.” His hand lands onto your pussy and it makes you jerk again, squirming against his strong grip, before he turns his palm to grind into your clit and his fingers teasing into the soft folds. The wet squelching doesn’t stop the stinging tingling down your entire body, but - it’s also so unfair. You can feel yourself drip as his thick fingers slide in and out of you again and again, pushing into your plush walls just right. “Call out for daddy, go on.” You don’t want to know how much of it is blood, or how much is your own body betraying you.

You don’t see when he takes off his boxers, now finally as naked as you are - but you do see it when he starts rubbing the head of his heavy cock over your slicked up slit, catching your clit every once in a while. He cocks one brow at you at your silence, and softly hums a deep, raspy breath. You really are weak. “Daddy, daddy, please- pl-hck- please put it in, I’m losing my mind.”

“Seems like it,” he mumbles back, a cocky grin reappearing right before he grabs himself by the base and leads his fat cock inside you with no further warning. He’s too big as soon as he shoves himself inside halfway, grabbing your hair as you wiggle against him. The other half is forced deeper as his cock bumps your walls, makes your pussy drool and clench, and your mouth hangs open as you try to keep from screaming. Your back lifts off the bed a few times, legs opening wider to make room for his thick thighs as he bottoms out and stretches you too thin. “That’s a nice noise.” He’s laughing.

You can’t relate. Your entire body feels wound too tight, legs locking around his glutes in the naïve hope for some reprieve— before he pulls back and holds himself above you. Scared pecs and arms flex when he pulls all the way out, only to thrust back in too deep and have you choking on it. It’s hitting so deep it leaves you speechless. “Make it again,” he gloats as he chuckles into your face, before kissing you again, and this time he bites your lip, hard enough to taste copper. Oh, fuck. You cling onto the ropes for dear life with your numb fingers, and try to wrap your legs back around him with a choked whimper; but you can’t.

You’re shaking, and your pussy’s clenching and sucking around him hard each time his hips meet yours and heavy balls smack against your ass. You feel like he’s going to fuck you through the wall. Drool’s mixed with the blood you swallow, letting his tongue melt to yours, and make you even more needy for air. Each pump inside you gushes more slick out of your cunt, lewd noises and ‘pap’s filling the room along with his grunts. And you only pull away to gasp, and get pulled down onto him again and again. “Daddy, daddy, I’m- gonna- cum.”

And he plants a hand on your throat to squeeze until your eyes cross, free hand going to hold your shivering thighs in place as he buries his cock deep into your plush walls. “Dumb, dumb girl- I don’t need- ugh- you to tell me that.” You’re folded double entirely as he keeps the rhythm entirely ruthless, and your belly starts tightening under your body jerks shut around him, crying out. You can’t even feel your hands anymore, and your breathing’s so shallow and confused you’re lightheaded. Your toes curl so hard you feel like you’ll pass out, but Toji doesn’t stop. Not even when hot ropes of cum fill the heat of your spasming pussy up and spill out— he doesn’t even slow.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[st4rymoon]

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐊𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖+

• Generous

.ᐟ Simon letting Konig get a taste of u bc he doesn’t get laid much and feels bad about how long he's been away without making you feel good :(

• dumbification, 3 sum, p in v, cream pie, brat tamer Simon & König, pet names, slut shaming in a loving way :] , breeding kink, pet names, choking, bratty reader, oral (m receiving), slight overstimulation

You couldn’t wait for Simon to walk through the door after months out on contract. You were Simon’s fresh air just like he was to you.

Never in a million years would he think he’d get so lucky and get such a good girl wrapped around his arm. Always so caring and loving to a man who’s feared by many.

Since Simon was finally coming home today you put on your prettiest sun dress and soft knee high socks waiting for the lock to hit 5.

Simon hadn’t thought much about what you were up to so it didn’t feel wrong when he invited könig over for a beer without letting you know.

So when you heard the door open you payed no attention to anyone but Simon, running into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Si I missed you so much!” you squealed while peppered kisses all over his face.

Simon tumbled onto the wall by the sheer surprise of your body pressed against his. His hands moving to hold you from the bottom of your ass “Dar- darling” he muttered as he rushed to keep you from slipping.

You didn’t notice the big shadow lingering behind Simon as you buried yourself into Simon’s neck. König’s eyes didn’t miss the slip of your white thin panties that hugged at your puffy cunt.

He closed the door behind him as you clung onto Simon “it seems like Riley got himself a clingy little thing” you heard from behind.

Simon chuckled as you hopped off him and fixed your dress up with a look of embarrassment “I- sorry I didn’t know anyone was joining you” you shakily replied.

You’ve seen König once or twice but this was the first time you really could take him in. Seeing someone taller than Simon was shocking, build and all even being horrifyingly similar.

Simon noticed the way you seemed to shrink into yourself as your eyes darted to Simon then König. He smiled as he ran a hand down your hair.

Having two behemoth men towering you was a intimidating to say the least. “You’ve met konig before love” Simon nodded as he faced you.

You nodded and extended your hand towards König “nice to see you”

König reached for your hand and instead of shaking it, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your palm “nice to see you too” he hummed.

You pulled back slowly and looked back at Simon, to your surprise he was smiling. “Come lovie” Simon cooed, taking his place on the couch as König went to grab a few beers from the fridge.

“Si why didn’t you tell me someone was coming, I thought I’d have you for myself” you pouted and he knew what you meant by the whine in your voiced, he smiled “we don’t take long”

You tensed as the cushion beside you sunk, you heard König groan as he settled beside you. You tried your best not to pay any attention, you had a boyfriend. But simon noticed the way your legs were squeezing together when Konig would shift around beside you.

“fine” you whined as you got up with a bratty pout. Both the men noticed the way you swayed your hips when you got up “Where are you going” Simon cooed “Upstairs since your friend is more important” you hissed.

“A bratty little thing” König chuckled “tell me about it” Simon replied. Both the men gave each other a glare, maybe they should apologize and teach you a lesson all at once.

Simon was a possessive boyfriend but when it came to sharing with his best mate, he had no problem letting you both get a taste of each other because after all, you both mean the world to Simon.

Simon pulled you onto his lap, his hand snaking up to the nape of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. You mewled at the feeling of his cock bulging through his pants, your hips seeming to move on their own as you rubbed against him.

“You wanna let me and König apologize for how inconsiderate we are?” Simon cooed.

Your eyes widened as you looked over at König “I- Simon I-“ you muttered “shh I know, I know. I don’t mind sharing bunny, it’s all up to you” Simon had a smile on his face as you tried to make out if he was playing a joke on you.

You’d never expect Simon to be open to three sum since he was such a possessive man, König was his closest friend but Simon is willing to bend the rules when he’s in charge.

“Yes I want it” you nodded “knew you would, my needy little slut” Simon chuckled as you felt Königs hands snaking up your back.

“Just gotta break you in” König hummed as his hand wrapped around your throat and pinned you onto his chest . You were on Simon’s lap with your back pinned to Königs chest “look at me” König cooed.

“Get a taste” Simon hummed as he turned you around and placed you on Königs lap, letting you both get acquainted. You swayed your hips onto König’s lap causing a moan to escape both your lips. None of you said a word as your lips met, heavy moans spilling into each others mouths.

König smiled as your hands pinned him onto the couch, you seemed to be taking control as you rubbed onto his lap “needy little thing” he smiled as you began to bounce on his lap.

“I know she is” Simon sighed as he pulled your dress over your head. You were grinding onto Königs meaty lap as his hands cupped your tits, his lips pressing soft sloppy kisses onto your plump flesh.

You mewled at the sensation of his hands unclipping your bra. His tongue expertly swirling around your nipples, giving each equal attention.

You were so drunk of pleasure you didn’t notice Simon unbuckling his belt behind you “lay back f’ me” König hummed, both the men manhandling you into their desired position.

Simon settled your head dangling off the large couch as König spread your legs to accommodate his size. “Shh shh honey look at me, not at him” Simon cooed. He held your head back to look at him as you heard König shuffling out of his pants.

“Open” Simon cooed and you did as told. You opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out for Simon, a moan coming from both you as he settles his thick heavy length into your throat.

You held onto Simon’s arms as he thrusted in and out of your warm mouth, his eyes glued onto the bulging in your throat bobbing with each of his thrusts.

“All wet and sticky f’me, isn’t Riley a lucky bastard” König cooed as he nudged his tip into your tight cunt. Your eyes widened as you felt him rubbing between your folds, he was fucking huge.

You tried to moan but the only thing you could get out was gasps and gags as Simon fucked your pretty mouth open. Simon smiled as your eyes rolled back the second you felt König push deep into you.

It felt like you were being stretched open with two men filling you full. One fucking your mouth like a mad man and the other breaking you in for the first time. König was muttering to himself as he slammed into your sticky cunt, each thrust knocking the wind out of you.

You clawed at his arms as he began to drill you onto the couch, his cock nudging perfectly at your g-spot while you sucked Simon off like his own personal pornstar.

“She likes it rough huh?” Köing snickered in awe as he watched the way you took both of them so well. He watched as Simon held his heavy hand to your throat, keeping you in place.

Simon knew köing doesn’t get laid much so why wouldn’t he share his pretty little thing with his best mate? It’s only fair for his best friend and girlfriend to get acquainted.

You gasped as Simon pulled out of your mouth, his hands shifting down to gripping your hair as he knelt down to your face.

“Look at him, don’t be shy lovie. I want you to look at him in the eye- yeahhh just like that” Simon whispered into your ear as köing continued his brutal thrusts.

You stared into Königs eyes, Doe eyed and watery and König was growing overwhelmed with everything you gave him. The pretty moans, Doe eyes, spit dribbling down your chin as he stuffed you full. “That’s it” Simon cooed as he noticed that look on your face.

It was so overwhelming having your boyfriend whispering in your ear while his best friend bottomed you out. You let you a high pitched whine as you came around König, his cock still fucking you through your orgasm.

“A- ah fuck ah-“ König was trying to get his words straight as he felt his cock throbbing against your walls “wh- where do I- fu-“ he panted with your legs now hoisted up against his shoulders.

“In me! I- in me pleaseee” you whined as you managed to get your legs back down to his waist and pushing him against you, caging him in so he could fill you full of his seed.

Königs never came so hard in his life, he was moaning like a mad man as he pumped you full of his loads. His vision turned white as you throbbed against his sensitive and overstimulated cock.

“Forgot to tell you she likes getting bread Kö” Simon chuckled as he stared down at you with admiration.

You were drenched in sweat as his right hand man pulled out of you with traces of his cum buried deep inside you. Just because König fucked you dumb doesn’t mean Simon was going to hold back.

“You made him happy bunny, now it’s my turn”

[imaginesmai]

Right around the corner (2) - Azriel

You asked and you shall recieve. Buckle up because this is long. Don't worry, there will be a part three, let me know what you think and if you have any request!

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: what happened after each time Azriel's family noticed something weird about him, and that time they found out.

Azriel counted the berries once more, checking that Cassian hadn’t opened the box again while he was distracted. It wouldn’t be the first time the general snuck into his room to take something he liked. His shadows, so used to his presence, sometimes didn’t bother to report it.

But the berries were untouched and he felt happy, for the first time in a long time.

Only the feeling of the fruit on his fingers had him shuddering, because as Cassian had said, he didn’t eat berries. He hated berries. Even if he had touched things far grosser than them, berries held a special place on his heart.

He kept his thoughts for himself and packed in a small bag the berries and other things he had bought. Then, he gathered his breath, excitement and other feelings close to his heart, and winnowed away from his room.

As soon as his feet touched the new ground, his shadows unfolded under his feet, ignoring any type of warning from their owner to stay quiet.

“Guys, come on” Azriel scoffed, watching the unfolding darkness around him. “You need to control yourselves. It’s getting out of hand”

The shadows did indeed slow and disappeared eventually, letting him see the familiar bakery. The shelves filled with baked goods, the counter with cookies for the children who came with their families, the pictures of Velaris and other places on the wall.

Azriel couldn’t keep the smile off himself when he noticed the familiar smell, cinnamon and fresh baked bread. For the first time in what felt like a week, his wings relaxed behind his back and his shoulders slumped down.

He felt like home.

“Sorry, we’re closed!” he heard a voice call from inside when he opened the door.

Something fell to the ground, followed by a curse, and then rushed steps came to greet him. A dirty apron, hand stained with flour and a pink smudge on a cheek appeared through the door.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to – Az!”

Your laugh made his heart jump in his chest, and he quickly closed the distance between your bodies. Leaving the goods on the counter, he welcomed you with open arms. Azriel wasn’t a man of hugs, at least until he met you. Then, you created a new part of him that craved for contact, for your hugs and caresses.

Through the bond, he felt a tug of happiness and relief, and he sent his own emotions running wild. He had learnt by then it was good to share them, that you were a safe place for him and he had nothing to fear.

His leathers, that he had so carefully cleaned the previous day, met your dirty apron with eagerness. Your arms locked around his neck and his found your middle. Before he could greet you, your lips were on his.

They were soft against his chapped ones, and fit just as perfectly as the rest of your bodies.

Azriel answered the kiss with passion, taking a few clumsy steps forward until you almost touched the counter. He pressed you harder against him, until there was no air in between. No possible space.

Your lips parted and so did his, Azriel’s tongue teasing the seam of yours slowly. Your taste on his mouth almost had him going feral. Almost. Because just after the first brush against your tongue, you were pulling away and opening the bag he had brought with him.

“What’s this? Is this for me?” you turned and twisted on his arms until he was still holding you close, but with your back against his chest. “It’s big. And what’s – “

“You’re gonna drive me crazy” he chuckled, easily dragging you away from the bag.

It was easy to forget about the horrors of the world, about his problems, when he had you in his arms. The soft, lovely baker he had met five years ago as he investigated disappearances in Velaris, and that had offered him a piece of lemon pie because he seemed sad.

Sometimes, he found himself tearing up and thanking the Cauldron for the bond it had snapped between you two, overwhelmed by the feelings you awoke in him. The soft, lovely baker with the cruel, dark spymaster.

“I missed you” he leaned down and breathed against your neck, hearing your heart roaring. “So much”

“It’s only been three days” you tried to squirm away, but found his hands on your middle and squeezed them. “But I missed you more”

“Were my stolen shadows not a good company?” he pointed with his chin to the sneaky ones trying to hide in the kitchen.

“Certainly, more useful than their master around the kitchen – stop!”

He finally let you go after playfully biting your neck. Azriel looked into your eyes and knew that, if you asked, he would get rid of every and each one of his shadows so they could become your kitchen’s helpers. Not only the ones that had snuck on him to stay with you, but even his soul if you asked.

Before you could spoil the surprise, he left a last peck on the corner of your mouth and tore away. Azriel opened the bag and gave you the box of berries, which you squealed in happiness for.

“Fresh from the market. And I bought some other things you might need” he shrugged, as if thinking of you when he went grocery shopping wasn’t a big deal.

“You didn’t have to” you walked right by his side as he pulled things out of the bag, any space between you an offense. “But thank you”

As he explained what he had gotten and how hard had it been to convince Cassian that they didn’t need to try every brand of chocolate they had, you stayed glued to him.

There was a half-made cake on the kitchen that you needed to finish, hopefully before night time, but you didn’t move from his side. Since both of you had busy schedules, it was hard to meet and spend time together, even more when there were celebrations close and everyone wanted cakes and special desserts.

His arm eventually found its way around your waist, and by the time Azriel finished, you had both of yours wrapped around his middle, your head resting on his chest.

“I should put the berries on the cake before leaving tonight” you told him, knowing you two would spend the night together and the rest of your duties would have to wait until tomorrow. “Wanna help me?”

“Sure”

And for the next thirty minutes, Azriel held his gagging as he picked up berries and followed your instructions in the kitchen.

-

Azriel was late, and he hated that.

It had been a busy day at work, and the same hands that would probably hold you tonight had been stained with blood. He felt awful about it, and he ended up being even crueler than usual. The poor bastard who had been trying to steal information for Beron from the night court wouldn’t survive the night.

And because he was so focused on the feeling of his hands around you, he hadn’t noticed he still carried your present with him. Only noticed when the Fae got a chance at him and he fell on his ass, the necklace falling out of his pocket.

Azriel had been so worried for it that he hadn’t been able to proper defend himself. The male had gotten a few good hits and they had broken the necklace, when Azriel stepped on it. Thankfully, it had been only the chain.

Thankfully, he knew Mor could fix it and she had.

He had left his friend alone in her house and had willed himself to thank her instead of winnowing away.

Because he was late.

You had agreed to have dinner at your place, because five years ago, you had met each other in your bakery and the bond had snapped. And you liked to celebrate it together, as your anniversary, and spend a whole day together. Starting with the previous night, having dinner together.

Azriel used the key you had given him long ago and entered quietly in the apartment, his shadows making a quick assessment of the place. They came with the news he expected – you were already sleep, food cold in the kitchen table. What he didn’t expect was to see you sleeping in the kitchen table, your head between your arms and your body slumped down in a chair.

“Y/N” he called softly. He almost retched when his hand, that hours ago had been covered in blood, touched your bare shoulder. “Darling, you fell asleep. You want me to carry you to bed?”

The clock pointed to the number three, way past the time you had agreed to meet. Watching you asleep in such a weird position only made him feel worse. He sat on the empty seat next to you, moving the chair softly so that it didn’t disturb you.

Azriel moved his hand to your cheek, brushing the soft skin. You looked beautiful under the candle lights, even asleep. Part of him wanted to wake you only to crawl on the ground and tell you how he didn’t deserve you and how sorry he was. The other part felt already terrible enough and didn’t want to bother you more.

The decision was made for him when you opened lazily one eye. He had been absentmindedly caressing your face, and you had woken up to the best sight you could hope to.

So, ignoring his inner war and demons, you gave him a tired smile and nuzzled against his touch.

“Hey” you whispered. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I… I’m so sorry, darling” he choked out, already feeling the words stuck on his throat. “Work was tough today, and then something happened. I wanted to come here but – “

“It’s fine. You’re okay” you blinked at him. “I love you”

He blinked back at your words.

You had said it already multiple times, but Azriel had been unable to answer back. Even if he knew he loved you, that he rooted for you, he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, afraid someone would come and take it away from him. Like any other good thing he had had in his life.

Instead of becoming upset or angry, you had kept saying it over and over again, as if somehow you knew how much he needed to hear it. How little he believed it at the beginning, when everything felt like a dream. Like a gift that wasn’t meant for him.

“I love you” you repeated softly.

There was only relief through the bond. At him being okay, at him being unharmed. Not disappointment at him for being late, or anger because of the wasted time. Just relief and love, so much love he forgot about the phantom blood on his hands.

“Are you hungry? I can reheat dinner” you finally rose from the table, looking at the untouched food. “I’m sorry, I think I ate almost half of it. I eat a lot when I worry”

“I’m sorry” he repeated. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s late, and I should have been here sooner. I’m sorry”

“Baby, it’s okay” you assured him.

You found his hand, the one that hadn’t fallen behind your neck, and brought it between your own. Looking at him in the eyes, you kissed the first knuckle starting from the left. He stared back while you kissed the scarred skin, so much rougher than yours. His hand was cold against your touch, big enough that you could hold it with both of yours.

You kissed each one of his knuckles, your eyes dropping with each kiss. Azriel noticed you were already fighting to stay awake. Still, you managed to comfort him enough so that the thought of sleeping with you didn’t feel as wrong as before.

“I don’t mind waiting for you, I know it’s not up to you” you explained, squeezing his hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Do you want to eat something?”

“No”

Azriel stared at you for a long second, fighting against the feeling in his chest. He felt the weight of the necklace on his pocket, but he knew it wasn’t the right moment. He would have to wait until the morning, because right then, there was only one thing he could think of.

He got up from the chair and bent down next to yours. Both of his hands tilted down your head so that your face was centimeters away from him, your breaths mixed. His eyes were filled with unshed tears that he knew he would drop as soon as he said it.

But first, he needed to make sure that, even if it was an unholy hour and you had every right to kick him out, you understood. You understood that he meant every word, every syllable. That he was right there because of you, and that without you, he would be nothing.

“I love you” he choked out, watching how your eyes widened. “I love you so, so much, Y/N”

“Az…”

“I love you” he repeated, finally breaking down.

Maybe it was the weight of the day, the blood on his hands. The feeling of having somewhere he belonged to, to come back to. He let the tears fall as you quickly caught them all with your thumbs, letting him hide his face on your lap and sob.

Sob for every year he had felt unloved and uncared, for every rejection and disappointment. For his family who didn’t love him, and for his real family, who cared enough for him to fix a broken necklace at three in the morning.

Azriel repeated the words between sobs and his body shook in your arms, his shields and barriers completely down. You caressed your hands through his hair and talked, about him and you, about how much you loved him back and how proud you were. Your words and feelings became part of his as he dissolved and was born new in your arms.

-

Training was something Azriel did naturally. Just as he breathed, as he talked, he trained his body to be on his best form. It wasn’t just Cassian who liked to train in the morning, but the shadowsinger liked his trainings private.

He used to train alone, with his shadows, because he believed training partners only slowed him down.

That had changed three years ago, when he found out that you didn’t train. At all.

And while he hadn’t minded about your different lifestyles, after that moment he wouldn’t stop thinking about possible situations you could face. Like an angry customer that could get violent with you. Or a robbery gone wrong. Even a walk where someone recognized you or smelt him on you.

Azriel spent as much time as he could by your side, but you two had separate lives. Even if he tried to keep his possessiveness and protectiveness in check, he couldn’t help himself.

For a whole month, he panicked in silence. Then, he came up with the idea of shared training. You jumped in the opportunity to spend time together, and Azriel discovered just how hard having a training partner was.

You didn’t know to move your body outside the kitchen, didn’t know how to defend or attack, and certainly couldn’t hold your ground. So he made it his mission to train you.

After three years, he could proudly say that his training partner could beat whoever she wanted.

“That was great” you panted besides him, both of you sitting against a wall, legs touching.

Azriel had one arm around your shoulder, not minding the sweat and additional heat. He was tired, ready to hit the shower, but couldn’t miss the opportunity to be near you. He took a swing at the bottle.

“If by great you mean I beat you again, yeah, I guess” Azriel chuckled, passing you the water. “You’re just lucky my shadows love you so much”

“I would call them my shadows. Right?”

Shadows circled your fingers and pushed the water can closer to you, happily moving between your two bodies. During the training, not only you held your ground, but had his shadows helping you. Azriel found himself tripping on them, being blinded and even restrained.

They had made it a habit to move around you like their second owner, but Azriel didn’t mind. He had been scared at the beginning that you would be afraid of them. Them being in love with you too wasn’t a problem at all.

You drank from the bottle and Azriel watched you with fascination. You were sweating, just like him, and most of your hair had fallen off your pony-tail braid. He fixed his eyes on it, having braided it himself just before training.

A sneaky, treacherous part of him wondered if your children would have his dark hair, or they would look like you. If his daughter would ask him to braid her hair and all the other kids at school would be jealous.

Busy staring at you, he didn’t notice your movement until you were sitting on his lap, your chest touching his and your arms around his shoulders.

From up close, he could see the beads of sweat running down your neck, and he could smell it too. Smell, apart from your usual, soft essence, your arousal.

“I must be the envy of every woman in Velaris” you started, nestling yourself just fine in his lap. “Watching the shadowsinger train”

“I am the luckiest man in Velaris, watching you train” he dropped his hands to your lower back. “Don’t you have things to do? Cakes to bake?”

“I was thinking about doing something, yeah” you leaned down and brushed your lips against his. “How much time do you have left?”

“Enough”

It had been foolish of him to think he would make it on time to the family game night, knowing you two would train just before it. There was nothing worse for his ego than knowing how much it turned you on watching him train, and certainly, there was nothing that turned him on more than watching you.

Your lips crashed against him just as roughly as he had tackled you earlier, and your hips moved against his pants. That were already painfully tight around his groin.

Azriel’s hand traveled up to your neck, until he could keep your head glued to him. You opened your mouth to him and his tongue didn’t ask for permission, just explored the already familiar place.

With his right hand, he pushed you back and forward against him. He groaned when your own fingers traced the back of his neck, moving down his shoulders and chest.

He kissed you as if you would disappear, as if there wasn’t enough time in the world to properly show you how much he loved you. His hands were eager against your body, hard but loving. Barely able to breath, Azriel slanted his mouth over yours, tongues intertwined.

You were pushed away from his mouth when he found your braid, tugging you back so he could access your neck.

“Az, please”

“Please what?” he grunted against your throat, his voice deep and rough. “Want me to do what?”

“If you don’t get into my pants now, I’m letting the shadows do the work”

You were pressed even closer to him, and suddenly, your hair was let down. He moved his expertly fingers through your hair and braid, letting it fall undone. Azriel couldn’t even start to describe how much he loved your hair. Gripping it, caressing, pulling it back.

He quickly let the rubber band fall against his wrist, knowing fully well he would have to shower a few times to hide your smell from his family because of what he was about to do.

Without letting go of your hair, he managed to unzip your pants and get you to stand up enough to get one leg free.

“Remember that I have your rubber band” he said quietly, already forgetting about it when he touched your soaked panties. “Cauldron, Y/N. You won’t be walking straight for a week”

You couldn’t answer, his skilled fingers finally finding you where you needed him. You only had time to crash your lips once more against his so he swallowed down your first moan.

-

Azriel had thought you would be mad. That it would be the first argument in six years together, that he had crossed a line. After two days in a murderous rage, after slaughtering so many Illyrians, he had almost lost sense of reality.

He had appeared in your bakery late at night, knowing he would find you there stress-baking. He had broken down on Rhys’ shoulder, and broke down once more as he saw the worry and panic on your eyes, the unshed tears.

Azriel had thought you would scream at him that he didn’t have any right, that he was crazy. Territorial, male bullshit, you had told him many times. Though he didn’t regret it, he feared your reaction.

But you had only crushed him in a hug, leaving the unbaked cookies on the table and rushing to him. He crumbled once more against your body, like that night when he finally said that he loved you.

He could still see the wings on the wall, could remember how clearly he had known which one was yours. How, when he had asked portraying a curious tourist, he had heard them laugh at your suffering from a hundred years ago, still fresh.

You had finally confessed a few nights ago what had happened in your childhood, when your father sold you to a group of Illyrians to be a tavern maid. Along with a few other girls, they had let you try and escape the clipping by running through a hill.

Only to hunt you down like animals and rip them out.

Azriel had been civil enough to stay the night with you. The next morning, he was gone into the mountains.

“You’re okay” you broke the silence, hugging him impossibly close. “You’re okay. Thank God, Azriel, you’re okay”

He just squeezed his eyes and let your panic calm down. Let your hands pull him away and touch every inch of his skin. Throw his leathers to the ground, undo his pants and leave him in his underwear.

If he thought what he had seen those last two days were the worst of it, he was wrong. His heart broke all over again when your breathing sped up until you couldn’t even talk anymore, just blindly search for wounds.

Azriel managed to grab your wrists before you pulled away completely, bringing your hands to your chest.

“Y/N, I’m fine” he assured you. “I promise”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know!” you screamed at him.

It was the first time he heard you rise your voice. Always the gentle, patient one, you never yelled. He had almost believed there wouldn’t be an argument, but between soundless sobs and rushed breaths, you pointed a shaky finger at him.

“I didn’t know, Azriel. You left and I could only guess where. What if – what if something had happened? And what would I have told Rhysand? Anyone?”

“Darling, nothing happened”

“It could have happened! Don’t you see?” your bottom lip quivered. “I don’t have anything else, I can’t lose you. You can’t do that to me”

“You’re not gonna loose me. Not over some male chauvinist pigs that should have died long ago” he crossed the space between you two and almost sighed in relief when he touched you again. “I’m not going anywhere without you. I’m sorry… Y/N, I’m sorry I scared you”

“They could have done it to you too. I didn’t know if they were doing it to you too”

Even if it had been only seconds, when you finally fell against his naked chest once more, Azriel breathed again. You babbled against his chest about how they could have clipped his wings, how scared you had been.

And Azriel realized that, even if that had always been him, acting without consequences or explanations, it wouldn’t be anymore. The usual relief of the revenge was overshadowed by the guilt.

He let his shadows dance around the two of you, catch your tears and scoff at him. He hugged you close and, once he was sure you were calm enough, he winnowed you away, still in his underwear.

That night, you two bathed together, not leaving each other’s side for the whole night. He promised himself it would never happen again, that you wouldn’t shed another tar for him. And when it was time to go to bed, he let himself one final moment of relief after caressing the scars on your back.

-

It wasn’t as if Azriel hid you from his family. He just didn’t show you.

After the bond snapped in place, he had trouble coming to terms with the new feelings. He remembered your surprised face, your blush and his first stuttering. As much as he tried to stay away from you, each aimless work took him right to where you were. And after two months of only smiles and shy waves, you finally went up to him.

He expected demands, fear, or disgust. He didn’t expect a choice.

You asked him if he wanted the bond, what he wanted to do. That you had noticed he approached but didn’t talk, and wanted to make sure he was comfortable with it. Through all the conversation, Azriel couldn’t stop looking at your lips. And he agreed without knowing you had asked him for a first date.

Since then, it took him almost a year to fully accept it, and another five months until you offered him, once more, the lemon pie and consolidated it. You two were locked in your apartment for an additional three weeks after that.

And until this moment, Azriel had navigated his feelings and love for you in the private life. He had brought you sometimes to the wind house, and much to his surprise, you had greeted Feyre one time as if you knew each other.

But apart from her, none of his friends knew about the bond, about you or about his parallel life. That changed, however, two days before your sixth Starfall together.

Both of you were in your apartment, where Azriel basically lived. It was late night, too late to be up. After a busy day together, you had decided to eat a midnight snack before going to bed. It wouldn’t have taken you so long if Azriel had kept his hands to himself. But, after watching you move around in the kitchen, he couldn’t help it and you had ended in the couch without clothes.

You were preparing dinner with his shadows and he was reading on the couch, banned from the kitchen after the incident. There was soft music and winter decorations, making the small space look like a home.

He had been on the same page for almost thirty minutes, too busy watching you move around the kitchen, working your magic. That was why it took him so much to find the notes, tucked in the next page of his book.

There were eight of them, each one written in worse calligraphy

You better explain me why Feyre has just told me that you have a mate before falling asleep.

You have a mate?????

Azriel fucking answer me right now

I just woke up Cassian and he didn’t know, we’re pissed

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE A MATE MOTHERFUCKER WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, I’M GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS TO THE OTHER CONTINENT AND BACK YOU LYING SHIT – I’M CASS ANSWER NOW

Don’t make us wake her up, you know how Feyre gets

We woke her up, she’s angry but she says you have had HER FOR SIX YEARS AZRIEL ANSWER NOW

Azriel we’re sorry we were so mean can you please tell us where you are we just wanna talk

Meet us tomorrow at the cabin, we need to talk, btw Cassian woke up the whole house and now we’re having a secret meeting without you sucks.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo

@impossibelle

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: nudes, mentions of penetrative sex

11:24pm jason: when does your class end again?

11:27pm jason: just saw the pictures you took on my phone last night

11:35pm jason: do you want me to call you and pretend that you have an emergency? i’ll say somebody died lol

11:45pm jason: attachment: two images

the class, that was undeniably and exhaustingly lecture heavy, was excruciating to sit in the two days a week that you did. the professor continuing to talk, reading off the powerpoint slides he presented, without a single spare elaboration.

it was exhausting every day that you had to enter the room, and as per usual, your hands had gotten tired and had the mind of their own to find your phone, smiling to yourself as you read the multiple messages from your boyfriend.

the part about him calling you made you laugh to yourself, opening the messages on your phone to view the images he had sent you.

and all too quickly, your eyes widen, heart drops, and phone slams against your desk space a little too loudly. thankfully, in the spacious and filled lecture hall, only the three students that sat near you gave you a look, to which you apologize quietly.

what a blessing it was that you were sat at the end of the row, nobody in the seat directly behind you, because if you angle your phone just right, your eyes have the ability to look at the pictures jason sent you once more. this time with awareness of just what the man had sent you.

the first, a cuter and more innocent looking one. a high angled selfie that make jason’s eyes widen naturally as he looks up to the camera, lip puckered out teasing and jokingly. the angle showing his abdomen that has no shirt covering it. a shadow underneath his pecs that make them look meaty and strong. his abs that he doesn’t have to flex, even in his sitting position protrude, ripple by ripple. his shoulders that are broad and big cover the expanse of background that you presume is desk space.

the picture alone could be saved for later when you get back home, touching yourself under covers. but you have to bring a hand to cover your mouth at the second picture he sent.

you knew what jason’s cock looked like. hell, you could describe in detail how it felt to be inside of you! but the look of it, all hard and begging for attention, does enough to make you squeeze your legs close and close your eyes for a second to bring yourself back to earth. opening to re-examine the photo.

it was lewd how his pre dripped down the sides of his length, milky lines running down along big veins that you had begun to memorize. veins that, when jason bottomed out in you slow enough, you could feel pressing against your walls. his tip that was an angry shade of red, the shade that gave you the knowledge that jason worked himself up just to take this photo for you. the shade of red that showed he had an internal battle with himself to not finish, to achingly take his hands from his cock just to flash a photo to send you as your sat rows of seats in front of your professor.

just as you swipe away from the photo, jason’s continuing to text you. his eyes reading over the read receipt that you’d left him.

12:05pm jason: might enroll in some of your classes next semester for fun

12:06pm jason: sit in the back so nobody sees and finger your pretty self under the table. wouldn’t let you wear underwear btw

12:07pm jason: i know my baby isn’t leaving me on read :(

12:08pm jason: gonna come to your place and fuck you against the window when you get back since you wanna show my cock in front of your whole class

12:08pm jason: your neighbors wouldn’t mind, you think?

the pink on your cheeks doesn’t fade as you continue reading the texts your boyfriend sends you. your eyes widening with every one delivered and heat growing embarrassingly fast in your pants. your fingers begin to find their way against your keyboard, but pause once a longer message finds your phone.

12:10pm jason: gonna fuck you so good that you drool on your window. lol it would be cute if you wore some lipstick too, wanna see how big of a mess you can make. gonna clean it rn just to show you how much of a slut you are for my cock

12:11pm jason: see you soon baby :)

[luveline]

Hiiii sugarplum. I would absolutely adore some stripper reader x Hotch maybe like some of him comforting her or just coming to visit like outside of the case and some fluff 🥰🥰

ty for requesting!! fem

You’re texting on the wall outside of work when a shadow cuts across the streetlight illuminating your lap. Your head flinches up, phone to your chest, but the man standing in front of you isn’t one you’ve ever been scared of. “Fuck, Aaron, you scared me,” you say with a nervous laugh. 

He smiles at you in his gentle, unassuming way. “Sorry. I took care to scuff my shoes as I walked.”

“Oh, you took care,” you say. Your smile is far less gentle than his; your cheeks apple, your words coloured with it. “I was in my own world.” 

“I thought we talked about you coming outside alone.”

“Did we?” you ask, the short wall you’re sitting on biting into your hands and thighs as you tip back to grin at him teasingly. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner, I can’t seem to remember any such talk.” 

“Mm.” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t remember that?” 

“Don’t recall, no.”

“So you also won’t remember the conversation we had about flowers.” 

Your first date, your only date, and your first bouquet. He’d given you flowers and read the embarrassment on your face immediately. You aren’t the kind of girl who gets flowers. 

What’s wrong? he’d asked. 

You’d held the flowers to your chest, something in you worried he’d take them away, though you’re almost positive he’s incapable of being cruel like that. Do I look stupid? 

Of course you don’t. 

There hadn’t been much else to say about the flowers, until after the evening had gone well, and he’d asked you for another date. High with the delight of knowing Spencer’s nice, handsome boss doesn’t just think you’re pretty, he likes you, you’d said Sure, if you bring me another lovely bouquet, we can go on as many dates as you like. 

Aaron pulls the bouquet from behind his back. Petals bounce off of his tie, pinks and whites and baby blues against his black blazer and pristine white shirt as he taps his chest. They’re beautiful, and far too many. 

“Are they really for me?” you ask. You’ve never seen such a big bouquet in your life. It’s a wonder they fit behind his back. 

The strangest thing about dating him has been his sudden propensity for moments of shyness. “That depends,” he says, the slightest hint of nerves in his otherwise dulcet tone, “are they nice enough?” 

“They’re the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen.” You stand up and hold out your hands, pull them back to your chest, and then hold them back out again. You can’t not want them. 

He hands them off to you. 

It must be weird for him to meet you like this. He’s very high up the ladder of his career, and it doesn’t make much sense for him to fall for you. You’re younger, less educated, less prestigiously employed. You hadn’t understood what it was about you that pulled him in, but you can remember how clearly he told you he was interested in you. No shame. Not a hint of reluctance. He’s bringing you flowers outside of the stripclub, ignoring the fact that you’re in sweatpants and a tight corset-type bra, and he hasn’t looked at your body once. 

“I was just texting you,” you say, opening your phone to press send on the text waiting in the hot bar. 

Aaron’s phone immediately pings. 

He reads it quickly. It isn’t a long message. Hi, handsome. Want to pick me up tonight? 

If he’d said yes or no didn’t matter, because you’d just wanted to talk to him, and here he is. 

He finally ducks in. A half side step into your reach, his face angled down, he kisses you chastely on the lips and everything fades away. The neon pink at your feet, the buzzing streetlights and the passing cars, the steady thump of music from three different buildings, it all disappears under his warm hand. He kisses you, and he hugs you to his chest, careful not to crush your flowers. You could glow from the inside out. 

He’s still smiling as he pulls away. “Are you hungry?” he asks softly. 

“So hungry.” 

“We can get anything you want.” 

“Really? What if I want the same as last time?” 

It had been expensive and you’d felt vaguely underdressed. Aaron doesn’t baulk. “Anything you want… You may need to wear my jacket, though. I don’t think your current outfit adheres to their dress code.” 

You push the flowers just under his nose. “Funny.”

[scoutswritingcorner]

I love Rosie and Alastor, Love'em. i was wondering if you could write a Rosie x Alastor x Reader, y'know a throuple that eats and gossips together, stays together. Also, love the horroresque spin you've been doing, can you add a smidge of that?

The Chase

RadioRose x GN!Reader

(Alastor x GN!Reader x Rosie)

TW: Has elements of horror! Alastor being Alastor and chasing Reader around the place. Talks about cannibalism, anxiety and paranoia that comes with being chased. 

A/N: IT BECOMES WHOLESOME I SWEAR! Also a big thank you to my lovely @kurosstuff for helping me get this idea going!! Also Alastor's dialog will be in bold.

Your day had started like any other day, wake up, get ready and go do what you needed to do for the day. But something felt off about the whole day like you were forgetting something in the back of your mind. Either way you continued on with your day trying to remember what you had forgotten ignoring how the hair on the back of your neck started to stand. 

Something was wrong. 

After some time you went around looking for Alastor, he promised he’d come along with you to see Rosie. You grumbled as you walked into the foyer, “Husk? Have you seen Alastor anywhere?” You asked, watching as Husk shook his head and continued to clean a glass, then it hit you as you watched a familiar shadow disappear out of sight. He was upset but about what? You quickly tried to follow the sneaky shadow but failed as it disappear down the ominous dark hallway. As you walked down the hallway, which seemed to go on forever, it dawned on you that the figure at the end of the hallway was none other than the man you had come to love and cherish. But it felt wrong- no no he felt wrong. His smile was way too wide and his eyes were unmoving as he stared at you. 

You needed to run.

Turning on your heel, you sprinted down the hallway passing by Husk and Angel at the bar and reaching the front doors of the hotel. His footsteps where getting closer, why did he walk so fucking fast? You took a glance back over your shoulder seeing he had already made it to the end of the hallway as you swung the door open and ran out of the hotel. You had no idea where to go so you just kept running, dodging cars and random demons on the street as you duck and weave through the nastiest allies you could find. Looking back over your shoulder every once in a while to only see him still calmly chasing you. 

You looked back in front of you narrowly dodging a demon who stepped in front of you, which made you fall to the ground. The demon cursed you out as you scrambled to get up and continued to run despite your legs begging you to stop or slow down. You looked around before diving into a random shop for a moment to check out the damage done as you caught your breath. You carefully rolled up your pants leg to see a bruise forming on your leg as it was bleeding. Fuck you scraped it up badly, your hands shakily grabbed a handful of napkins and cleaned up the blood as best as you could, you’d have to ask Rosie to help clean you up later.

Taking a deep breath you rolled your pants leg back down as you moved to stand up to your full height but stopped feeling your back hit what seemed like a wall. You prayed to Lucifer that it was just some random demon standing way too close for your liking and not him, carefully you reach your hand behind you to feel the fabric of a familiar coat that made your stomach sink and panic rise up in your chest, you turn your head to see his ruby red eyes staring back into your with a hint of softness in them. Slowly backing away from him watching as his eyes followed every step towards the other entrance on the side of the shop itself, his neck cracking as he tilted his head. 

He was giving you another head start. 

Without a second thought you took it, rushing out of the door and pushing demons out of your way as you ran further down the street. As he slowly followed behind you, his shadow easily kept up with you guiding you closer towards your ‘haven’. He had led you towards Cannibal Town and towards Rosie. Now, no cannibal would dare harm a single hair on your head unless they had wanted a death wish from him and to be cast out by Rosie herself, that is another slow and painful death all together. You ran past cannibals, who either nodded or smiled at you. You tried your best to do so back, you really did but when you're being chased by your lovely boyfriend it’s quite different.  You quickly ran into Rosie’s boutique, your heart pounding into your chest as you tried to shake off how terrified you were.

Coming to a stop near the counter, you felt fingers grip your chin lifting your head up as your eyes met with Rosie’s her usual grin gone- replaced with a worried smile. “Oh Dear, you look absolutely distraught.” You cooed bringing you closer as you tried to look behind you, Alastor had to be closing in on you now but yet your head stayed still in her grasp. Her thumb pressed against your bottom lip as you finally caught your breath, “Alastor..” You huffed out making her click her tongue before she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

The door chimed making you freeze up as you heard the familiar sound of his humming. Speak of the Devil. He swiftly closed the gap between you and him as he leaned down placing his chin on your shoulder. “Now now, Alastor. What have I talked about chasing them around the city?” Rosie chided him watching as his grin widened, before he had placed a gentle kiss upon your cheek. “I’m sorry, Dear. They just looked so adorable trying to get away from me~” He hummed out watching as you slowly relaxed, “Almost like they were good enough to eat.” His voice was missing the normal radio effect it always had and was replaced with his deep southern drawl that made your skin crawl in the best way possible.

 His teeth grazing against your cheek, reminding you that he could tear you limb to limb if he wanted. Rosie smiled, tilting your head up once more to capture your lips into a soft kiss. “I must agree with you on that~” She growled out against your lips making you softly whimper. “You can’t tell me you don’t love the hunt, Dearest.” He watched as Rosie leaned back to fix your shirt that had been messed up during the rush here, the radio effect returning to his voice as your lips were smeared with her black lipstick.

He snapped his fingers as a chair appeared behind you, “Sit sit, let me see that leg of yours.” He crouched down as you sat in the chair, Rosie quickly rushing off to go find the first aid kit. “It’s not that bad, Al..I’m fine.” At that he only waved his hand at your concern and carefully helped you get your pants leg up. As soon as Rosie got back with the medical supplies, Alastor had swiftly cleaned up the cut on your leg before wrapping it up. You gently cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his lips, making his ears pop up as he stared wide eyed at you before they flicked happily and his grin grew wider. His tail was surely wagging.

The two most feared Overlords were wrapped around your finger and they wouldn't have it any other way~

[berristreasuredlibrary]

big beefy men part two?? but... they're subs???? bigger sigh...

A/N: I finally finished it!! I hope you guys enjoy it, I certainly enjoyed writing it >:3 I couldn't figure out who else to put so perhaps you guys could help me out and lmk for sure! I yap too much so enjoy! (I read it over once so there might be typos, pls ignore them O_o)

Big beefy men who look like they could crush you without much effort. Except... they're the biggest sweethearts you've ever met. Whose hands envelop both of yours - including your wrists - and who love to bear hug you from behind, especially when you don't expect it. They're the perfect size for it too!

Sneaking up behind you when you're getting a snack from the pantry or fridge, footsteps silent despite their big frame, a shadow slowly creeping up your back, a cheeky smile making its way onto their handsome face. Standing just inches away from your body, they watch in amusement as the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand, your body telling you that something is there, yet you never quite learn your lesson.

So, when big arms wrap around your waist, squeezing your plush body against their chest, his hands squeezing whatever they can get - which is a lot - you squeal, your precious snack falling from your grasp. You can huff and squirm as much as you like, though your efforts to escape are futile - as you've come to accept -and your lover only finds it amusing, watching you battle with his arms in a war you'll never win.

Your scent surrounds him, much like his entire stature surrounds you, and he can't help but bury his face into the crook of your neck, breathing your heavenly smell like it's the last breath he'll ever take. You can feel his muscles flexing, straining against fabric in a way that has your mouth watering, your mind running wild as your feet leave the ground.

It's not his fault, not really, or that's what he tells you at least, when you can no longer feel solid ground beneath you. You're so much smaller than he is, his back hurts often, having to lean down to hug or kiss you. Or bend you over any solid surface.

You can squirm and huff all you want, complaining about not being on the ground, but he knows you better than that. He knows you only complain because your panties grow increasingly uncomfortable, getting sticky since your pussy began drooling for the brute of a man you call your lover the minute his arms wrapped around your middle.

He knows you squirm against his form - the solid wall of absolute muscle, carved by the gods themselves - because if you stop and stay still for even a second, your focus will be on how your clit throbs, on how heat pools low in your tummy, how your nipples begin hardening under the shirt you're wearing...he knows.

It's not like you can help it either, not when he's so handsome and his body rivals that of a movie star - but you know he'd put models, bodybuilders, and actors to shame if he really wanted to. No, you can't truly help it, and with the way he's looking at you now - with wide eyes and pouty lips, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits, pinching your sensitive nipples - it really isn't helping.

Despite still being in the air, his hands still squeezing and playing with your tits, you know you're the one who truly holds power. He may be big and strong, but you know with the right coaxing and pretty words, he's putty in your hands. So, when you shift your hips up slightly, dragging your ass along the length of his hardening cock, you bite back a smirk when he groans softly, boarding a moan.

His hands squeeze your tits harder, trying to ground himself desperately, yet his hips have a mind of their own, because they roll forward, trying to set a rhythm that would ease some of the discomfort. However, he is thoroughly disappointed when your hips stop their movement, and he whines against your throat where his face is buried.

Your hands push against his forearms, signaling him to let you go, which he reluctantly does, missing your warmth seconds after setting you back onto the ground. His eyes met yours, blown out and unfocused, his hands clenching at his side, while your eyes drift down to eye the bulge straining against his sweatpants, the fabric outlining the shape of his cock deliciously.

Your hands move up to push against his stomach, coaxing him to lean back onto the counter, before they travel lower, tugging on the waistband of those sweatpants and watching him swallow down the saliva pooling in his mouth. His eyes dart down to watch your hands push the offending fabric down his hips, watching at the elastic stretches over the toned muscles of his sharp hips and thick thighs - it's enchanting really.

Your mouth waters when his dick springs free from its confinements, bobbing up and down slowly, the sight making your pussy drool even more than before. Thick and heavy, just barely being able to stay upright, threatening to hang with the sheer weight of it. Veins decorate the shaft, his tip colored an angry shade of pinkish red, trimmed hair at his navel leading you down to the delicious sight of your lover's dick.

Pre beads at his tip, making your mouth water as you lean forward and wrap your lips around the angry tip, dragging your tongue along his slit slowly, your eyes locked on his expression. Watching as his jaw goes slack the moment your heavenly mouth is on him, his eyes struggling to stay open, and his hands hovering over your head - wanting to touch you, yet knowing he didn't have your permission yet.

Humming around his tip, you pull back, spitting onto the area your mouth had just been, before peering up at your lover intently, voice silky smooth and teasing at the same time. "Baby, gotta get you wetter. Help me out?" Your hand wraps around the base of his aching dick and he struggles to choke back a broken whine as he watches your tongue loll out, waiting patiently for his help.

His head dips forward slightly, chin tilted down as his lips pucker briefly, watching as a thick glob of spit lands on your awaiting tongue. his ears catching the pleased purr that rumbles from your chest. When you move forward, letting your combined saliva slowly roll down your tongue, he swears he dies right then and there, because the moment the warm, stickiness of your mixed spit feels like heaven against his aching hot dick.

You barely manage to wrap your lips around his angry tip before his thighs are tensing and he's crying out. "C-cumming! Oh fuck, 'm cumming!" The moans falling from his lips are sinful, drawn out and raspy, his mouth having fallen agape to let them fall freely, his eyes watery and locked on the way your cheeks puff with his load.

Hia hands find their way into your hair, having been brave enough to finally touch you, his fingers tangling in the strands and pushing your head down whilst his hips shift forward, forcing more of his throbbing and twitching cock into the heavenly warmth of your mouth. Your own arms move up to wrap around his thighs, squeezing tight and making your own eyes water when his tip pushes further down your throat.

Cum and spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth, only to be scooped up by his fingers after he detangles a hand from your hair, popping the digits into his mouth seconds later, moaning at the taste of his cum and your spit. His head tilts to the side slightly, eyes watching your throat work as you swallow down his thick load, thighs twitching beneath your arms and his chest heaving with each ragged breath he takes.

When the last of his cum is swallowed, he's pushing your head away and moving onto the floor, ripping your clothes from your delectable body in his haste to return the favor. "Please please, let me fuck you. I'll be good, I'll fuck you really good. Wanna be inside your pretty pussy. Please, baby? Promise I'll be good for you, I really wanna make you feel good too."

And how can you deny him? With his beautiful puppy eyes, the pout playing at his lips, and the furrow of his brows, greedy hands squeezing your tit, your stomach, waist, the fat of your ass, and your thighs, until he's cupping your soaked pussy, panties merely shoved aside to expose you to him.

His free hand wraps around his shaft, pumping himself quickly as his eyes roam over your plush body, fingers toying with your clit and dipping into your cunt, teasing the both of you. It's only when you nod that he shifts closer, knees nudging your thighs further apart, a pathetic cry leaving his puffy lips.

An endless string of breathless 'thank you's fill your ear as he drags his sensitive tip through your folds, tears rolling down his cheeks when he finally sinks into your heavenly pussy, back hunching over your body as he buries his face into your neck. A shaky sigh leaves him, as if it pained him to be without your pussy, gummy walls wrapped around his cock and squeezing him in a way only you were able to do.

Desperate, wet kisses are pressed against your throat as his arm wraps around your shoulders, keeping you still against him, his other hand squeezing your tit when his hips finally reel back only to slam forward, both of your cries echoing in your kitchen. Apologies leave his lips, frantic kisses matching the frantic pace of his thrusts, his tip grazing that spot in your gummy walls, each brutal thrust knocking the air out of you.

Pathetic cries of your name are muffled against your collarbone, fat tears dripping onto your skin, his hips never faltering, even when he sits up and grabs your thighs, hooking your legs over his arms, squeezing the plushness of them and letting his head fall back with a loud moan. Your own cries rise in volume and pitch at the change in angle, his tip hitting that gummy spot dead on now, your hands clenching, unable to grab onto anything.

His nails dig into your thighs now, balls smacking against your ass, the sound of your squelching pussy and your combined moans a sinful melody that has his mind reeling, leaving him hazy, only focused on the way your pussy swallows each inch of his cock with each brutal thrust. It's maddening perfection, and it has his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Babbles leave his lips, unintelligible sentences being strung together by the bulk of a man, usually so composed - yet reduced to nothing but a pussy drunk animal. "S-so good! Feels so good, baby! W-wanna cum with you, please? Let me cum with you." His body moves forward, hunching over you once more, folding you in half with your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. At yet another change in angle, your hands fly to his shoulders, digging your nails into the muscles, making him moan pathetically and increase his pace, pumping into you with his hands braced beside your head.

His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue tangling messily with yours, drool coating both your lips and chins, his moans and whines muffled with each drag of your tongue, brows furrowing as his orgasm steadily approaches, dangling in front of him teasingly. When he feels your pussy begin clenching around his cock, his fingers fly to your clit, rubbing the little bundle of nerves with a desperation like no other. Your cries get muffled by his shoulder when he ducks his head into your neck, crying out into your skin when your orgasm crashes over you.

His own orgasm is pulled from him suddenly, just seconds after yours, thick ropes of cum flooding your clenching pussy, sensitive walls milking him dry. With a few more ruts into you, his hips finally still, his body twitching above yours as his grip on you finally loosens, letting your legs fall to his hips, his dick pulsating in your heavenly pussy, the last few spurts and clenching of your walls making him whimper against your throat.

When he finally lifts his head from your neck, it's to peer intently at you, his eyes shiny with tears and pure adoration, his forehead slick with sweat, his hands moving up and down your sides until they find yours, his fingers lacing with yours, his spit-slicked lips parting to whisper weakly.

"Did I do good?"

KNY: Kyojuro, Sanemi...

JJK: Gojo, Geto, Choso...

AOT: Jean, Armin, Eren...

MHA: Keigo...

COD: Konig, Soap (Johnny)...

Haikyuu: Bokuto...

+ more