#just make sure i can sit down as needed and that the room is air conditioned and I'll be fine.

[keerysfreckles]

your house | LUKE HUGHES 43

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: one summer luke fell in love with a girl; a girl who he'd knock on every door of her neighborhood for.

warnings: use of y/n, kissing, not proofread

a/n: i just watched love actually for the first time and i NEEDED a hughes fic of the scene of david trying to find natalie so here i am 😋

masterlist ! | requests are open

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

"honey, you'll love it there. now i know it's different from our normal summer in colorado, but this is just better for us."

"so we're going to michigan cause we're poor and you don't want to deal with dad anymore?"

"y/n!"

"what? it's the truth. i'm well aware you got fired, and that's why we're driving thirty minutes away to go live in some air bnb beach house for the summer. don't sugarcoat it mom."

with those words, y/n stands from her bed, and walks out the door, leaving her mother there. her mother sighs. she expected this kind of reaction, but was sure she wouldn't have to be giving her daughter the same lecture she's been giving her all week, the morning of their trip. her mother stands, walking down the hall towards her son's room, letting him know about their departure.

in all twenty years of y/n's life, herself, her brother, and mother and father would go on the most wonderful and beautiful summer vacations to colorado. her aunt and uncle on her dad's side lived there, and it was amazing. y/n and her brother, thomas, got along well with their cousins, and enjoyed the slight climate change when they stepped out of the colorado airport.

but now that's changed.

y/n's mother, mary, had gotten fired from her previous job. why you may ask? she had an affair with the boss.

y/n couldn't help but laugh when she told her children the news. how predictable. it makes sense now as to why the family wasn't going to colorado. mary didn't want to deal with the after math of her personal issues. y/n's father hasn't been in the picture since. two months without the one person who y/n really cared about left her life, and now she's dealing with her mother's stupid consequences.

so she sits in the backseat of the car, vowing to never sit next to her mother again, waiting for the three of them to leave for the trip to northern michigan.

her younger brother got in the car soonly after shoving his bags in the trunk. things between the two have changed, to say the least. before, they rarely spoke. only making light conversation at family dinners, or congratulating each other on any school performances.

but now, they're practically inseparable. neither knew what to do after the affair, but they knew they had to stick together. the night their mother told them, they hid out in y/n's room, where they watched an old 80s movie and binged on snacks y/n had hidden away. it made them feel normal.

"alright, are we ready?" mary asks, earning a small response from thomas, as y/n just puts her headphones in her ears.

thirty minutes of listening to music is practically heaven to y/n, and is soon ruined as mary pulls into the driveway of a small summer house. the walls are painted white, but most are fading, showing the original brown slabs underneath. there's dainty lilies and other small flowers in bushes along the porch, and the three now stand in front of a bright yellow door.

y/n and thomas go upstairs to the small hallway, and are quick to assign rooms and unpack.

as thomas is in the middle of unpacking, y/n walks into his room.

"could you tell mom i won't be home for dinner? i'm gonna walk around."

thomas turns to look at her, "so you're just leaving me with her?"

y/n fixes her jacket hood, "i guess you can come," she jokes.

"you think mom will be okay here by herself?"

y/n gives him a pointed look, "do you really think she cared about being alone when she was hooking up with her boss."

thomas grimaces, "ew, gross."

y/n shrugs, "c'mon just throw some shoes on, i'm starving."

the nineteen year old groans as he follows his sisters' orders. the two slip out the front door seamlessly.

"mom must be busy unpacking," thomas notices, as the two begin walking down the street of houses.

ten minutes into their silent walk, thomas whines, "i should've eaten something before we left."

"why don't you look up somewhere to eat. there has to be some good restaurants around here."

thomas grabs his phone, and begins reading off the closest diners and dives. y/n's ears perk up at a decent sounding burger diner, and thomas is quick to list the directions.

the two get there fairly easy, thanks to thomas' pretty good directional skills, and are quick to sit at the counter. thomas claims the only bright green stool, making y/n sit in the yellow one next to him.

there's only a few others in the diner. an older couple occupying the booth to their left, a family of five at two tables at the end, and three others sitting at the counter with them.

a nice waitress is fast to take their orders, and now the two sit there, sipping on their respective sodas. thomas is busy looking around the place, taking in the bright and whimsical colors of the 50s inspired diner.

y/n however is finding a peculiar interest in her plastic cup.

until a voice breaks her out of her trance.

"are you two locals, or tourists?"

y/n and thomas both turn their heads, being met with a boy with long brown hair, sitting on the end of the trio of boys besides them. the one in the middle chuckles at his bluntness, while the other smacks him in the head.

"sorry?" y/n speaks up.

"you don't look familiar, and we usually know everyone around this neighborhood," the stranger explains.

"tourists," thomas answers the previous question.

"well we're in an airbnb, just for the summer," y/n elaborates.

the stranger nods, "so tourists."

y/n and thomas nod.

the waitress from before comes back with the siblings' orders, and for some reason the stranger continues the conversation.

"you two have anywhere to be tonight?"

y/n just sends him a look, while thomas responds, "no, i don't think so."

"great! we're going to the annual beach bonfire, you guys are more than welcome to join."

thomas looks at y/n, and she just shrugs.

"i'll just let mom know," thomas reasons.

"cool," the stranger replies, "i'm jack."

"y/n," she states.

"thomas," he sends a smile.

"this is luke," jack points to the one right next to him, "and this is quinn," he now points to the one on the end.

"you wouldn't happen to watch hockey do you?" luke pipes up, while quinn just sighs at his brothers' bluntness.

thomas and y/n both shake their heads, resulting in jack and luke high fiving. they honestly hated when people knew who they were. now of course they were grateful for their fans, but they'd rather people be friends with them for them, and not their job.

"are you guys leaving soon?" thomas asks, bringing up the bonfire again.

luke nods, "yeah, we can wait for you guys to finish eating."

it's as if a flip switched in thomas' head, making him shovel his burger and fries in his mouth faster than before.

"you are disgusting," y/n mutters, as thomas now stands from his bar stool, walking towards the not so strangers.

jack and quinn stand with thomas, and begin to walk out the diner.

y/n sighs, now trying to finish her meal to catch up with the others.

"i could wait for you," luke slides into the stool next to her, "i know jack and quinn wouldn't dare leave without me," he laughs.

she sends him a thank you, as he simply takes one of her fries.

she finishes her meal at a normal pace again, and begins taking her wallet out, before luke pauses her movement by placing his hand on her wrist.

"we sort of trashed your dinner with your brother, it's on me," he smiles.

the gesture takes y/n off gaurd, "oh, uh, thank you."

y/n and luke finally meet the others outside the diner, and jack begins leading the group towards their usual beach.

luke and y/n stay towards the back of the group, while jack and quinn are showing thomas everything he may need to know about the small city.

"so how do you guys know each other?" y/n asks.

luke can't help but laugh, not used to the question.

"we're brothers, actually."

"wait seriously?"

luke nods, "yep. i'm the youngest, jack's the middle, and quinn's the oldest."

"how old are you guys?"

"twenty one, thwenty three and twenty five. what about you guys?" luke gestures to thomas.

"i'm the oldest, and thomas is my only brother. i'm twenty, he just turned nineteen."

"and you said you guys are in an airbnb this summer?" luke questions.

y/n nods, "yeah, it's a pretty small house, and it's on the stupidest street name."

"well now i have to know the name," luke interrupts.

"family avenue," y/n recites, remembering the bright green sign she saw when her mother turned on the street of their destination.

luke's eyebrows furrow, "why is that stupid?"

y/n chuckles dryly, "my family hasn't exactly feeled like a family for the past two months."

luke now nods, not wanting to pry into any of the girls' family business.

luke goes to ask her another question, just wanting to get to know her more, but jack exclaims that they arrived to the beach. the group is met with a roaring bonfire in the middle of the beach. maybe fifteen people are scattered around, mingling and drinking whatever concoction is sloshing inside red solo cups. jack continues showing thomas around, while quinn wanders off to a group of people he seems to know well.

"you can hang out with me if you want," luke offers as him and y/n walk around the fire to a less busy space. "jack and quinn always seem to abandon me at these things."

y/n laughs, "i'm usually the one abandoning thomas."

the two begin to sit in the sand, but luke stops just as they're about to touch the beige grains.

"what are you doing?" y/n wonders, watching luke take his hoodie off. she can't help but inaudibly gasp at the faint outline of his abs she can see as his shirt picks up slightly.

"so you don't get any sand in your shorts," luke pats his hoodie that's now layed out next to him.

she thanks him for the second time that night, not used to someone she's just met to be so nice to her.

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

the following morning, y/n woke up with probably hundreds of text from the middle hughes brother, regretting giving the three her number as they departed last night.

all of jack's messages were asking if she was awake yet, if she and her brother wanted to go on their boat with them, and asking about any of her favorite snacks.

it wasn't even nine am, yet jack seemed to be living the day away.

just as she was about to respond, a knock echoed in her room. thomas explains it's him on the other side, and y/n mumbles a welcoming as her face is still smushed up against her pillow.

"can we go on the brothers' boat with them please," thomas drags out the last word.

"jack texted you too?"

thomas nods, "oh yeah, probably twenty times before i woke up."

"he's insane. doesn't he know people like to sleep in?"

the two chuckle, but thomas asks his sister his question again. the girl is quick to respond positively.

"anything to get out of this house. it was awkward enough walking in on mom still awake in the living room last night."

thomas agrees, "yeah. honestly i didn't things could get more awkward."

the two disperse, and begin getting ready. y/n makes sure to actually respond to jack now, letting him know her and thomas will be there soon. jack sends her his address just as she calls for thomas at the bottom of the stairs.

"jesus how far do these guys live? and why are we walking everywhere?" thomas complains.

"it's only a fifteen minute walk calm down, plus it's nice outside. and do you really want to ask mom to take the car when all she's gonna do is ask a ton of questions we really don't want to answer."

"okay yeah, i see your point."

y/n knocks on the wooden door of the address jack had given her, and her and her brother are met with quinn standing on the other side.

"hey you guys actually made it," he welcomes them inside.

quinn gives them a breif tour, before guiding them out back and down the dock towards their boat.

"holy shit," thomas exclaims, causing y/n to his his arm. "sorry! i've just never known anyone with a boat like this before."

jack and luke turn to see the siblings making their way down the dock. jack grabs their bags, as luke helps y/n onto the boat.

she begins to stumble as she steps inside, but luke catches her, his hand grazing over her waist ever so gently.

"hi," she greets quietly.

"hey," he smiles.

"lovebirds, move," jack demands, making the two chuckle or choke on air as he pushes his way towards the front of the boat.

quinn and thomas make conversation towards the back of the boat, while luke, y/n and jack talk near the driver's seat. jack is efficient when he finally pulls into a clearing, with a few other boats or jet skis passing them.

"so you guys just chill out here? like all day?" thomas asks as they all begin making their way to the back of the boat.

"yeah, pretty much," jack responds.

"that's awesome."

as everyone was slipping shirts and hats off, luke couldn't help but let his gaze fall over to y/n. of course he thought she was pretty when the two met yesterday, but seeing her in a red two-piece swimsuit was making his heart beat irregularly fast.

taking him out of his trance, jack falls into the water, thomas and quinn following soon after.

"after you m'lady," luke jokes, gesturing towards the end of the boat waiting for the remaining two passengers.

after probably six hours of swimming, multiple cannonball competitions, exploring and snacking on anything the brothers brought in the cooler, the five are sitting on the back of the boat. quinn's sipping on an hour old beer, starting to get warm from the now setting sun. thomas was finishing up a bag of chips, while luke was talking with him. jack and y/n had their feet dangling in the water below them.

"people who get pushed in the water, say what?" jack gets out as humanly possible as he can.

"wait what?" y/n asks, as her eyebrows scrunch together. however before she can begin to comprehend what jack had said, his hand is already on her back pushing her towards the water.

she lets out a yelp, not ready to be met with the colder water, thanks to the sun being hidden behind a close group of large rocks.

"dude!"

"what's your problem?"

"what?" jack shrugs, "c'mon she's fine."

y/n was not fine.

because she was wasn't expecting to go back in the water, she certainly didn't have enough air in her lungs, meaning she took in air when she was being pushed in. now resulting in the girl having a coughing fit as she emerged from the water.

"what the hell jack?" she gets out in between coughs.

"you looked bored!" he tries to reason.

once y/n's coughing fit has subsided, quinn speaks up, "are we all ready to start heading back?"

"wait!" y/n calls out, still treading water, "can someone go with me to go look for shells?"

"shells?" jack questions.

"someone people collect cds, or action figures, or flowers. y/n has her shells," thomas explains.

"luke, go with her," quinn states, "i don't want to have a search party."

luke is quick to comply, getting back in the water and swimming towards y/n. he knows a good spot where she can find her needed collectables, and begins swimming in that direction.

luke ends up guiding her towards a large rock formation, one with a flowing waterfall covering up the opening.

"it's just in there," he explains, pointing towards the waterfall.

the two swims under the waterfall, now being met with the much more quiet and dark small cave. they feel rocks beneath them, making them stand as the begin to walk futher inside.

"it's beautiful in here," y/n admits while looking around.

the sound of the waterfall is practically muffled, and the reflection of the water shines above the rocks above her head.

luke however is noticing the way she looks. this is the most peaceful he's seen her in the past two days. he watches as she starts looking around for shells, as he finally responds, "yeah, it is," without taking his eyes off her.

he helps her on her scavenger hunt and the two are surprised at how many small shells are scattered around the cave.

"how many are you looking for?" luke asks, grabbing a few more and putting them in his pocket.

"do you have pockets?"

"yeah," he responds, following her deeper in the cave.

"then however many can fit inside," she turns back and smiles at him.

as soon as she fills her hand, she walks the small length back towards luke. she slows, looking over how heavenly the boy in front of her seems. his hair is now damp, his curls already starting to form again as they dry. there's droplets of water sticking to his chest and arms. and god his thighs. y/n has to avert her eyes before she feels her cheeks starting to warm up.

"here," she pulls his attention, holding out her closed hand.

there skin touches as she passes the shells into luke's hand. he's careful to put them in his now full pocket, until he's looking back at the girl.

the two stare at each other for a moment, as the outside world seems to fade away. luke takes in a short sharp breath, as he realizes what's happening to him. it's only happened to him once before, but he's fallen for y/n. or love at first sight, as some would call it.

there's just something about her the draws luke closer; closer than he wants to admit out loud.

the way her hair is naturally drying, and starting to fall over her shoulders. the way the water is now reflecting off her eyes, as if that was the thing making luke more infatuated. the way she's looking back at him.

y/n can't not stare at luke. her breathing quickens at the sight of him. how he slightly towers her, making her bend her neck less than three inches up to meet his eyes. how soft his lips look after he sticks his tongue out to wet them. how close they've seemed to get to each other without speaking a word.

she looks down at the feeling of luke's hand latching onto hers. his long fingers leaving trails of newfound determination on her skin.

"luke," she whispers, not wanting to break any sort of bubble they've sorted around themselves.

silently, luke steps closer, reaching his hand up to cradle the back y/n's neck. within a second his lips are on hers. y/n's hands almost instinctively travel towards luke's abdomen, grazing over the faint lines over his torso, making her gasp against his lips. luke uses the action as an excuse to slip his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss.

luke begins to pull away, but y/n chases his lips, stepping onto her tip-toes to get another taste of him.

"y/n," luke chokes out, moving his arms down to her shoulders, making her back away on her own accord.

y/n knows that look and sound too well. the feeling of being pushed away, literally and figuratively in this case.

before luke can begin to explain himself, y/n speaks over him, "we should um-" she steps back further away from luke, not daring to look him in the eyes, "we should head back."

luke sighs, but nods, cursing at himself over and over as they go back the way they came.

he makes sure all of the collected shells stay put in his pockets as he enters the water, and leads the way back to the parked boat.

"took you guys long enough," quinn jokes as he notices his younger brother get to the boat first, however he doesn't help y/n up behind him.

"you find your shells?" thomas questions.

y/n nods, "yeah, loads."

her brother is quick to notice the large difference in her behavior before and after she left the boat, but doesn't question it in the presence of the others.

quinn starts the boat back up, without giving any proper warning, and without making sure everyone is sitting.

the sudden movement causes y/n to stumble, as she was still standing. of course luck is totally on her side tonight after the events from the past ten minutes, as she ends up falling back and into luke's lap. despite their interesting circumstances, luke's arms reach out to grab her, steadying her on his leg.

"sorry," she mutters, while scooting over to sit next to him instead.

"all good," he quietly replies, not even sure if she heard him.

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

once quinn parked the boat back at their dock, y/n stands as soon as possible, claiming they have to be home for a "family dinner".

thomas is immediately confused, reminding her how shit their home life has been recently, but regrets it as the three hughes' brothers offer to let them spend the night at their house. y/n declines, not wanting to be around luke anymore than she has to be.

no, she didn't hate the kiss. in fact she loved the kiss. she loved how safe she felt in luke's arms, despite only knowing him for less than a week. she loved the feeling of luke's lips on hers, and only wanted to feel it again. what had she done wrong?

she doesn't let the thoughts consume her too badly as she practically drags thomas off the boat and through the backyard.

"are you okay?" he begins to question, now out of ear shot from the three brothers finally stepping out of the boat. "what happened back there with luke? you looked like you wanted to cry or scream or throw up when you got back to the boat."

"i'm fine," y/n responds.

"obviously you're not fine. why would you say we have a family din-"

"thomas, i said i'm fine."

at her tone, thomas quickly gets the memo and shuts his lips as they made their way around the hughes' house, and in the direction of their own summer house.

"um, care to explain what happened in the cave rusty?" jack questions his younger brother, using the nickname he knows luke's despises. the three bothers made it back inside and the two older siblings were standing in front of luke who was sitting on the couch, beginning their much needed interrogation.

"i kissed her," he simply replies, not meeting their eyes.

jack's eyes widened as quinn just laughed.

"that's what made you guys act like- well, that?" jack emphasizes while gesturing to the boat in the backyard.

"i don't know! probably!" luke replies, simply confused.

"did she kiss you back?" quinn asks, sitting down on the ottoman in front of luke.

luke nods, earning a small whistle from jack.

"so what exactly happened?" quinn continued.

"i don't know," luke responds after sighing. "i thought maybe i was pushing her into something. i mean, we literally met yesterday, but i just feel this connection with her. and i thought she felt it too."

a beat of silence passes, until jack speaks up, "you said she kissed you back?"

luke nods.

"so what happened after?"

"i kind of pushed her away."

"idiot," jack mumbles.

quinn covers up his words however, "well, do you think if you explained how you're feeling to her, that could help?"

"i doubt she wants to talk to me right now. she threw herself off the boat to leave."

"so? just go find her, kiss her, and make up."

"wow jack, great advice," luke rolls his eyes.

"actually," quinn turns to jack, "you have a good idea."

"i'm sorry, what did you just say?" it's luke's turn to question quinn.

quinn begins explaining, "she said she has an air bnb here, so obviously she has to be close, especially if they've been walking everywhere."

jack sits besides luke, him and luke taking in quinn's words.

"do you have any idea of where she lives?"

"shit, no," luke responds, making jack groan. luke can't believe he began to believe in their ridiculous plan.

"wait," luke suddenly remembers, "family avenue."

"that'a boy lukey!" jack claps his shoulder, running to grab his shoes and car keys.

"but what if she never wants to see me again?" he calls out to jack, and now to quinn who's stood up.

"you said you feel a connection with her luke. you haven't said that about any girl since samantha from high school, and we all know how bat shit crazy you guys were for each other."

"yeah, so we know y/n can't just be some girl we can let slip out of your hands," jack adds to quinn's words.

"come on! get your shoes on, we have an air bnb to find."

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

"let me guess, you don't know what house?" jack asks luke in the passenger seat, as he pulls up to their desired street. luke shakes his head, as quinn groans in the backseat.

"guess we're knocking," quinn reasons, as him and jack step out of the car.

luke steps out a second later, "i can't believe i'm actually agreeing to your stupid idea."

"do you want to find the love of your life or not?" jack asks him, making like just sigh. "that's what i thought, now c'mon, let's start ringing some doorbells."

the three brothers started knocking and ringing doorbells down the street. luke took one side, while quinn took the other, and jack ran a little down the road.

about twenty doors were knocked on by each brother. no one lucky enough to find the girl they were looking for.

luke had been met with an old lady who looked like he had just woken her up. jack was face to face with a lovely looking man with tattoooes covering his entire body. while quinn was greeted by three children, all questioning him on his hockey skills, claiming their older sister watches him play on tv all the time. all of those different home-owners, but still no y/n.

"this is useless," luke states as the three meet back up in front of a random house.

"why is this street the longest street ever," jack complains. "i don't even think we've made it halfway through these houses."

luke shakes his head in defeat, "let's just go home guys."

quinn grabs luke's shoulder, and points in between him and jack, "did you guys check that one?"

luke and jack turn to be met with an old white house. the paint is chipped in mulitple places, but it seems like the owners tried covering up the problem areas by planting lilies around the porch.

"it can't hurt to try," jack shrugs, "what's one more house lukey?"

luke takes the pathway up the driveway and the steps leading to the house. he knocks on the yellow door.

an older woman opens the door, and the hope starts spilling from luke's eyes, but nevertheless he asks the question he's repeated so many times tonight.

"hi ma'am, sorry to bother you tonight, but does y/n live here by any chance?"

the woman's eyebrows furrow, before she turns to yell up the stairs behind her, but still keeps an eye on the boy in front of her.

the girl comes down the stairs reluctantly at the sound of her mothers voice, "what?"

the woman gestures to the door, specifically who was on the other side of the door.

"luke," y/n exclaims, mostly surprised to see him standing in front of her.

"please, let me explain."

y/n steps between her mother and the door, closing it without explaining a single thing to the other woman.

luke inhales, not realizing his brothers' plan would actually work, so he takes a moment to think about his words. as he thinks, he looks over y/n, who's being bathed in the moonlight above them. she's wearing a large shirt with a pair of pajama pants, but luke still think she looks gorgeous.

"i did mean to kiss you earlier," luke starts, "i wanted to kiss you earlier. hell, i really liked kissing you earlier. i'm an idiot for pushing you away after. i guess it was just a habit, because of what happened in the past when i got super close to someone. but you aren't just someone, y/n. that's why i came here to find you, even though it took fucking forever to find your house," luke takes another breath, realizing he's been rambling.

"but the point is, i found you, and i just wanted to explain. y/n i really like you, and i want to make something work between us, please. please just give me another chance. let me make it up to you."

luke is practically out of breath by the time he finishes his speech, nervously running a hand through his hair.

"you know you didn't have to say all of that," y/n calmly responds.

"what?" luke's tone is laced with confusion.

y/n steps closer to him, moving her hands to hold his jaw, making the two lock eyes. luke keeps his hands in his pockets.

"you searching for my house, knocking on god knows how many doors, and wanting to show up was more than enough," she shares, before bringing his head closer and connecting their lips.

luke's hands immediately find home on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. the kiss is quick to deepen, as y/n turns her head while luke takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between her lips, just like he had done during their first kiss.

however, clapping and whistles break the two apart, making them both turn their heads.

jack and quinn are stood at the end of the driveway.

"nice going rusty!" jack calls out, while quinn continues clapping. they'll take any moment to try and embarrass their younger brother, and the moment couldn't have been any sweeter for them.

luke begins ushering y/n inside her own home, "luke what are you doing?" she laughs.

"quick, just go inside," he mutters in a joking manner, "i'll just sleep here tonight, they'll leave."

"oh is that so?" y/n asks, "how do you know i won't kick you out?"

luke simply leans down and kisses her again once they're inside, "you wouldn't dare," he mumbles against her lips, and y/n swears her heartbeat just skipped three times.

she nods, "yeah, yep you're so right," she practically pulls luke up the stairs towards her room.

outside, jack and quinn begin walking back down the sidewalk to their car.

"best big brothers in the world, say what?" jack gets out as quick as possible.

"what!" him and quinn call out in the night sky, as they high five in triumph.

[vaampiired]

Sugar Sweet Words

Twisted Wonderland x F!Reader - 3,400 words

Synopsis: Transported from another world, this poor girl just can’t seem to say no!

This is the only chapter of this book I’ve written so I won’t link it at the bottom :) Please don’t Steal! ^^

All you could remember was sitting at your desk finishing up your homework.  It was late, maybe around Eleven PM.  You rubbed your eyes, trying to rub away the weariness that had crept up on you.  You looked out your window and absentmindedly counted the cars.

One.. Two.. Three.. Wait.. that one wasn’t a car.  Approaching down the lane was an ebony black carriage being pulled by two horses of the same color.  It looked like it came straight out of a fantasy novel.  The silvery decor and the regal way in which it was pulled.  The next thing you remember was blacking out.  Huh.. guess you were more tired than you thought..

When you thought you opened your eyes you weren’t met with the sight of the morning light seeping through your window.  Instead, you were only met with more black.  We’re you still dreaming..?

You reached forward as if you were reaching towards the sky only for your hand to hit a wall.  Wait a minute.

WERE YOU TRAPPED!? You started feeling around you in more of a panic.  A wall on either side of you as if you were trapped within a box of some sort.  You pushed on the one in front of you.  It didn’t budge.  You pushed harder, beginning to hit it until you felt a slight shift in its weight.

With one more push you managed to push it off of you and sit up.  The room was filed with floating coffins and mirrors on every wall.  You looked to your right and there sat a dumbfounded little.. cat? He was adorable!  You smiled to yourself and reached out to pet it.

“Hey! Don’t pet me, human!” He shouted and you retracted your hand faster than you thought possible.

”Y-you can talk—!?” 

“Yeah! I’m Grim! Gimme your uniform, Hurry up!” The little cat with the flaming blue ears clawed at your uncoordinated.  Which you do NOT remember putting on, ever, in your life.  OH! This was a DREAM! And you would wake up any second now, Yeah.

”Why do you need the uniform..?” You asked softly as you picked the cat up, a little less afraid now that you knew it was a ‘dream��.

”PUT ME DOWN, HUMAAAN!!” He shouted and squirmed before going limp with an unamused expression.  As he was squirming his claw grazed your skin.  It hurt.  “Because I’m going to be a great mage! And to do that I need to enroll in Night Raven College, so give me your uniform!” 

His little paws reached out once more, trying to grab ahold of the hood on your clothing.  You held him up in the air as he struggled.  His claw hurt.  The reality that this may not be a dream hit you like a bus.

”Grim- WHERE AM I!?” You shouted in a panic.

”Wha!? You’re in night Raven College.  This is why you should give me your uniform, you’re clearly far more inferior to me, I deserve to go to this school more than you!”

”J-Just give me a minute, you can have it.  I’m not sure what Night Raven College is but you seem very determined!” Your expression was grim, the fact that this very well is reality was making you dizzy.  Mages and a magic school..?

“Yeah!!” The cat grinned and cheered.  “That’s what I’m talking about!”

You were about to start removing your uniform when a hand grabbed your wrist to stop you.

”Could you not be patient? And do not remove your uniform, it must stay on during the entirety of the entrance ceremony, didn’t you read the pamphlet?” The man who had grabbed your wrist was dressed in.. odd attire.  With black feathers attached to his shoulders and a Crow-like mask.

“And please make sure to keep your familiar on a tighter leash-“ It was only now that he paused and really examined your face.  “You’re not a boy.”

”N-no, sir-! I’m not-“ You gulped.  Who was this guy?? The cat in your arms squirmed and thrashed around.

”Lemme go!” He screeched.

”Goodness, young lady please quiet down your animal.” 

“Grim- can you please stop for a moment..?”

The cat grumbled and growled at being ordered around (even though you asked politely) but ultimately settled down with his paws crossed.

”Good.  Now, I believe you are in the wrong school, Miss.  there must’ve been a mix up with the magic.  Worry not though, for I am ever so gracious! I’ll allow you to stay here until the dark mirror can send you right on back home!” He smiled brightly as if he just solved world hunger.  “But that’ll have to wait until after the ceremony, please come this way!”

You held onto the grumpy feline and started hesitantly following the Crow man.  Stranger danger after all.  But he seemed nice enough.  A bit eccentric but no malicious intent.  He led you to just outside the room with mirrors and told you to stay right there before going back inside.  You sat down on a bench with.. apparently your new cat? In your lap.  He wasn’t happy about it though.

”MYAAAAH! Lemme go, Human! I need to be in there for the entrance ceremony!” 

“But he said to wait right here…” 

“And what’s this?” A guy walked up dressed in the same robes you were in.  Why is he allowed to be that pretty-?

The man in question had perfect skin and blonde hair that faded to a lavender and not a single hair was out of place.  He had to be a model.

”You’re a girl.” He stated flatly.  “I’m guessing Crowley made some mistake?” 

His tone suggested that he wasn’t surprised in the least, almost as if he expected it.  He sighed and looked you up and down.

”Even if you were summoned by accident you should always be sure to look your best.” He straightened out your uniform and adjusted your hair.  “And keep the cat away from your face.  The dust in its fur are awful for your skin.” He smiled at his work and entered the room you just came out of.

WHAT JUST HAPPENED!? You didn’t even get a word in before he left!  He fixed you up like it was no big deal, gave some skin care advice and left.  What a guy.  You honestly were obligated to listen because he looked flawless.  Like Aphrodite walked out of a painting in male form.

A few other students walked by and you started connecting the dots as to why the crow man was so concerned about you being a girl.  Every student here was a boy.  Mostly you got puzzled looks from passers by but a few stared for longer than necessary.  Of course, it’s a ton of teenage boys who probably hadn’t seen a girl all school year.  

Though all of a sudden you felt the states stop.  The guys passing by would look at you then at the ground quickly.  Noticeably avoiding the gaze of another approaching student.  He looked quite a bit older than the majority, equipped with lion ears and a tail at that.  He stopped and looked at you for a second, his eyes narrowing before turning back to look at the group of guys that was originally leering at you.  

You couldn’t see his face but he sent them a nasty glare.  They started sweating bullets and profusely apologized before quickly heading into the mirror room behind you.  The lion man looked back down at you sitting on the bench with your mouthy little cat who didn’t notice a thing.  In fact, he’s been pouting the entire time about not being let inside the chamber.

”Be careful.” Was all the man towering above you said before entering the room after the guys who were caught staring at you.  I didn’t smell any magic on her..

You swung your feet back and forth on the bench while simultaneously keeping your new stress ball (Grim) under control.  After what felt like hours (it’s been 15 minutes) people finally started filing out of the room behind you.  Now, you assumed the crow guy would keep good on his word and.. send you back home..? Hah.. yeah.. you’re still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that this is quite possibly a new world.. 

“Young Lady!” The not so familiar voice called.  “So sorry about the delay, we should get a move on now!” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and guided you over to a mirror with a face in it.

“I’ll be sure to send your family a coupon to a movie theater near you as an apology for the trouble!  Aren’t I so kind?”

You raised a brow but smiled politely anyway.

”Yes.. thank you very much..”

Grim, now realizing this was his chance to escape your oddly tight grab, wriggled away and landed on the ground.

”She wasn’t supposed to be here! Give me her uniform and let me enroll!” He demanded and the crow man frowned at him.

”Your familiar is quite talkative.  But worry not, for i won’t be serving him for dinner.”

Both you and Grim looked appalled at the mere IDEA of serving the poor cat for dinner.

“Now, Oh dark mirror, send this soul back to where she came!” 

For a few seconds there was nothing.  The face in the mirror closed its eyes for a moment before looking back up.

”Nowhere.”  It states plainly.

”U-uh.. oh.  Hm, lets try this again.  Oh Dark-“

”This soul belongs nowhere.” It repeats.  “I see nowhere with rain no snow that this soul originated from.”

”W-what does that mean..?” You asked nervously.

”There is no magic emanating from this soul.” It added.

”Hm… Dear, what was your name?”

”[Name], sir..”

”Can you tell me the name of the country you hail from?”

”Yeah, it’s [Country Name].”

”…I see.  Are you certain that’s the name?” 

“Yes.”

“There is nowhere in all of Twisted Wonderland that I can recall having that name.” He pinches his chin between his pointer finger and thumb in a thinking position.  “Do you perhaps have a form of ID on you?”

You searched your pockets.  You obviously didn’t have your wallet on you since you were only studying when.. this whole situation happened.  Problem was, you couldn’t find your phone either, which you definitely had on you.

”No.. I don’t..”

There was another pause from the man before you followed by a short sigh and a bright smile.

”Well, that just won’t do! The only thing I can think of is that you’re fibbing about your origins or you’re not of this world.”

“Yeah.. kind of figured that out.”

“I’m not one to turn down a poor soul in need without a cent to her name.  You can stay here until we find a way to send you on back home!”

”I can-!?  But where would I stay?”

”Well, you can’t stay in any of the seven main dorms.  Those you have to be assigned to.” He snapped his fingers like he had a bright idea.  “You can stay in the old Ramshackle Dorm!  It’s old and probably needs a few fixes but I’m sure you can manage, right?  Oh, but, since you won’t be an official student of this school for obvious reasons you will need to pay rent.

”R-right..” You gulped.  Anything with ‘Ramshackle’ in the name didn’t exactly sound appealing.. “And I understand rent.. but how do I pay..? I don’t have any money.”

”I’ve already thought of the perfect plan! Instead of paying rent in cash you and your familiar can work as janitors! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

”Yeah.. thank you for the opportunity.” You managed a small smile.

”Wonderful! Follow me and.. bring your familiar along with you.”

”I’M NOT HER FAMILIAR!!! I’M—“ 

Poor Grim was cut off by you scooping him up and squeezing him in a hug.  The poor direbeast couldn’t even fight against it.

”The girl outside the mirror chamber was quite beautiful.  A better skincare routine to take care of those acne scars and she’ll be absolutely stunning.”  Vil recounted to his Vice Housewarden.

”Oh mon! She sounds like a work of art!” His Vice responded, looking forward to observing her on campus.

-

“Crowley screwed something up.  That old bird.. There’s a girl mistakenly attending Night Raven now.”  Leona yawned.  “Make sure to keep her out of trouble.  Or, more likely, keep trouble away from her.”

”Shishishi~ You got it, boss.” The Hyena by his side responded with a smirk.

“This… This is Ramshackle?” You stared at the old dilapidated building.  A piece of wood just fell off the side.  Great.

”Isn’t it charming?” The man, whom you learned to be Crowley, remarked.

”Certainly..” You sweatdropped.  “It certainly has.. character.”

”It sucks.” Grim deadpanned.  “Is this even livable?”

”I knew you would adore it! Now, come on inside.” He pushed you towards the porch.  Halfway up the steps you expected a gust of wind to blow and for the building to go with it.  You walked in with Grim glaring daggers at the walls and windows.

“I’ll be sure to bring you dinner later tonight.  For now, get settled in!” Crowley bowed and disappeared.

”I don’t wanna live here, Human!” Grim whined as he squirmed out of your arms.  “This is no place for a great mage like me to live!”

”We’ll have to make due..” You ruffled his fur.

”EEK! Human! The roof is leaking!” The feline screeched as he felt a drop of water land on his nose.

”I’ll go find a bucket-“

Grim cling to your leg as you searched through a nearby closet to find a bucket to place under the leak.

”Need some help?” A sudden voice you did NOT recognize sounded from behind you.  You nearly jumped out of your skin and threw the bucket at the voice.  It phased right through the figure.

”Hey, calm down, young lady.” It was a ghost in a top hat!

”Yeah, we don’t mean no harm.” His buddy smiled.

”We were gonna scare you but you seem shaken up enough.” A third chimes in.

”Oh.. uh..”

”ITS A GHOOOOSTT!!” Grin screamed and clung tighter.  “[N-NAME] GET RID OF IT!  OF THEM! MYAAAAAAHHHHH!!”

”Your pet is quite the chatterbox..” The first ghost chuckled.

”Grim, they seem nice, calm down.” You gave a reassuring smile to your feline friend.

”Yep! Come on, there’s one bedroom that doesn’t leak.” The second ghost starts leading you up the stairs and opens the door to a simple little bedroom with a big mirror hanging on the far wall.

”Thank you so much!” You smiled.

So bright.. they all thought unanimously.  The first ghost was the first to snap out of his daze.

”There should be some dry blankets in the closet.”

”And we made sure to clean the mattress when we saw the Headmage approaching with you!”

”Hmmmm.” Grin smirked.  “Appreciated.  How about I make you my henchman as well!”

“…Would he like a cat bed?” One of them asked and the others burst out laughing.  What a lively bunch!

”Maybe!” You answered.

”NO! I’m sleeping in the bed!” Grim huffed and jumped up on the plush mattress.  No dust flew up in the air when he did, the ghosts really did clean in here!

”We’ll leave ya be now.”

”Yeah! If you need anything extra there’s a school shop not too far.  We’ll put in a good word for you!” They all smiled.

”Thank you so much!” You we’re almost tearing up at how welcoming they were.  Your panic about a brand new world was fading the more the ghosts laughed and joked with you.

“Bye, young lady!” They all said in union before fading out of the room.

”See? Ghosts aren’t so bad!” You flopped down on the bed and grabbed ahold of Grim.  By now he had already figured out that struggling was futile and let you snuggle him.  Though, you did keep him away from your face like the stunning boy from before had recommended.

“Yeah, Yeah.. Tomorrow though, I’m gonna be ruling this school.” He yawned.

”Grim, you’re not a student.” You smirked.

”I’LL GET THERE EVENTUALLY!” 

After a few more minutes of back and forth between you two Grim fell asleep on his belly.  All curled up and absolutely adorable!  You followed him soon after, fading into sleep.. something like being sucked into a whole new world was something you only thought could happen once upon a dream..

Crowley popped up in your room a few minutes later with your dinner only to find you asleep.  He wasn’t sure of what to do but decided not to leave it or it would go bad.  He’s just make sure you got double breakfast in the morning.  After all, he is ever so gracious!  The ghosts ended up kicking him out.  

In all honesty, you slept pretty well for a girl who was sent to another world to an all boys school of magic, now live in a dilapidated old dorm with several ghosts, and adopted a flaming cat.  All in one day.  Actually, less than a day.

You woke up to a nice day.  The storm from the previous night had passed and the building didn’t blow over so that was a win! Grim was still dead asleep so you quietly stalked downstairs and found.. another ghost..? Only this one had a chef hat.

”Morning!” All four ghosts greet as they notice you.

”How was your first night in Ramshackle?” 

“It was pretty good.  Thank you again for cleaning the bed.”  You smiled.

”It was our pleasure! We’re happy to have new roommates!” 

The ghost with the chefs hat lays out two plates and stacks them full of pancakes, syrup, and fruit.

”Woah-!” You gasped.  “Is this..?”

”Welcome to Night Raven, kid!” The chef hat ghost smiled.  “We heard that your summoning was an accident and that you’re not even from this world so we wanted to make your first day a good one.”

You actually teared up.  They were all so welcoming!  This was so unlike what it was like at your school in your old world..

”Thank you..” 

“Woah, hey! No tears!” They all panicked thinking they had upset you.  Did you hate pancakes that much!? Are you allergic to fruit!?

”No, no! I’m so relieved..” You chuckle.  “I was afraid I would have to start completely on my own.. I don’t know anyone besides Crowley and Grim now..”

”Well you have us now too!”

”Yeah! If anyone needs a good scare just give us a call.”

”You should eat.  You and Grim are janitors now, yeah? Gotta eat a good breakfast if you’re going to clean this massive school!” The ghost grabbed a non-busted chair and set it in front of the table for you.

”IS THAT FOOD-!?”

Grim came bounding down the steps like a man starved.  He was grinning ear to ear.

”YEAH!  Pancakes!  Do you have some tuna you can put on it?” 

“Uh- no, I don’t believe so.” The chef ghost answered.

”Awh, bummer.  That would’ve totally made them the best. Well, food is food! Down the hatch!” He swallowed his whole plate of pancakes whole without a second thought.

”Careful!” You shouted in worry.  “You’ll choke!”

He swallowed and smiled triumphantly before his eyes zoned in on your stack of pancakes.

”No, Grim!” Everyone shouted and he pouted.

”I wasn’t gonna eat them all.. just a nibble.”

”This is my breakfast.  You JUST ate.”  You laughed.

”So!? I’m still hungry..” 

“I’ll make more.” The chef ghost smiled.  “Don’t worry, I have plenty of ingredients.”

”YEAH!” Grim cheered, pumping his paw in the air.

”Thank you so much, really!” You thanked once again.

”Don’t even mention it, kid.” He replies as you dug into your pancakes.

After finishing your meal the ghosts gave you a special uniform for the Ramshackle Dorm.  So you weren’t completely standing out among your peers.  

“Awh! She’s all grown up!” One sheds a tear.

”She’s not your child, you met her yesterday-“

”SHUSH!  I’ve adopted her as my daughter, you can be the cousin twice removed.” 

“WHAT-“

”Bye! Thank you, I’ll be back later!” You smiled and waved as you and Grim prepared to head out.

”Byeeee!”

”Be safe!”

You smiled a bit wider and shut the door before heading down the steps onto the pathway.  It was only now that you fully realized how massive the school was.. it was a whole dang castle!  You were a bit intimidated while Grim looked more fired up than ever.

[loverboysturn]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ popular!matt and smart!reader have their first tutoring session !!

got carried away but i love these two sm :( so excited to share more of them!!! asks & requests are always open.

these two are from the same universe as popular!chris & cinderella!reader. you can find all writings here.

06.58am.

you had pulled into the parking lot of the lake, your tyres crunching against the gravel beneath you. the morning air was frozen cold, and the sun was just starting to rise, causing a golden-orange glow across the sky.

you were shocked to see matt’s car already parked, surprised he’d actually turned up before 7am. even more surprising, he’d taken your usual parking spot, the one you always claimed when you arrived. typical.

you’d swapped numbers and texted him last night, arranging with him to meet at the local riverside coffee shop. it was always quiet at this hour, and you liked the view of the water, always making sure to take a photo of the sunrise to post on your instagram story.

as you look over to the group of benches placed outside the coffee shop, your gaze lands on matt, he was wearing his letterman jacket, the one with your college’s logo stitched into the back and his surname in bold above it. he was sitting on the bench to the side, coincidentally, the one you always sat on.

you shut off the engine, and gather up all your things, hoping to get this first session with him over and done with.

when you reach him, he looks up from his phone, locking it and placing it face down before giving you one of his infamous smirks. “ah, thought for a moment you were gonna be late pretty girl,” he teases, “you’re cuttin’ it fine.”

you roll your eyes, ignoring the nickname, knowing it was probably something he said to every girl, although for some reason, it made your stomach flip, but you instantly and quite easily pushed that feeling aside.

“well, i’m surprised you’re even here.” you say, sitting yourself down on the opposite side of the bench, placing a maths textbook down between you both.

“i told you, i’m not gonna let you down.” he says, shifting slightly to make room for your stuff on the table, “so, let’s get to work. shall we?”

“what do you want to learn first?” you ask, placing your elbows on the table, leaning your chin in your hand. “what does the matt sturniolo want to learn everything about?”

he leans forward, eyes scanning the papers you had brought with you. “i dunno, maybe somethin’ easy.” he laughs, “or equations, i’m really shit at equations.”

you can’t help but let out a small giggle, shaking your head as you open the textbook, finding the section you needed on equations.

you begin explaining the first set of problems on the page, making sure to break them down, keeping it as simple and precise as possible and as much as you had expected him to not take this seriously, matt was surprisingly observant, writing down little notes here and there as you went over each step.

“any questions?” you ask him after a few minutes.

he hesitates, then goes on to ask you, “did you really think i wasn’t going to show up today?”

you raise an eyebrow, part of you did truly expect that he was going to bail, but part of you deep down, is glad he didn’t. “honestly? i did, a little.” you admit, “but i’m glad you’re here. you’re a lot smarter than you think.”

he smiles at your answer, before it slowly turns into a smirk. “any questions for me?” he asks you, mimicking your previous question to him.

“is it true that you hooked up with one of the cheerleaders who’s boyfriend is the captain of football team we’re playing on friday?” you mimic his smirk, throwing him completely off guard, playing him at his own game.

“correct.” he chuckles, admitting it. “alright, back to equations.”

for the next forty five minutes, you worked through all kinds of maths problems, and matt started to really catch on. he began to understand things easily, solving the harder math problems with more confidence as the minutes ticked by.

he stops for a moment, looking over at you, when suddenly he pushes his jacket off his shoulders and throws it over yours. “here,” he says quietly, “you’re shivering”

you glance up at him, unsure whether to be surprised or annoyed at him chucking his jacket on you. “it’s not that cold.”

“do you know how many girls would love to be in your position?” he jokes, “wearing the matt sturniolo’s jacket.”

you huff, admitting defeat as you slip the jacket on properly, the fabric swallowing you completely but the sudden warmth and scent of his cologne takes over you. “and i’m sure there’s probably been quite a few who have worn it, probably with nothing else on underneath.”

“you really think i’d let just anyone wear this? c’mon pretty girl, told you there’d be something in this for you.”

“there is something in it for me, you promised you’d make the football team stop being mean to my best friend.” you reply, narrowing your eyes, “you have to keep your side of the deal.”

“i will,” he says, holding his pinky out. “promise.”

a small smile tugs at your lips. a pinky promise seeming ridiculous, but something about it secretly makes your heart skip a beat. maybe it’s how seriously he’s taking all this. your loop your finger around his and give it a half hearted tug before pushing his hand away lightly.

“i’m holding you to that pinky promise.” you reply, before adding. “i take pinky promises seriously.”

you stand up, starting to pack your things up when matt stands too, offering a helping hand when his hand brushes against yours and for a split second, it feels… electric. you pull back quickly, mentally scolding yourself, you mustn’t let yourself get distracted by his charm.

you have always told yourself that falling in love with anyone would only bring a distraction to your studies, and you’re far too focused on your goals to let anything nor anyone throw you off track. this is just tutoring, nothing more, and you’re not about to let a boy like matt complicate things by calling you nicknames, and giving you that same smooth talk you know he uses on every girl.

you glance down at his jacket still draped over your shoulders, and you quickly shrug it off. holding it out to him, “here,” you half smile, “thanks, i’ll be sure to remember mine next time.”

he takes the jacket back without a word, before he starts walking backwards to his car, still facing you with that infamous smirk smacked on his face again, “same time, next week?”

“yep, same time next week.”

“here again? before classes start?”

“yes matt, here again. 7am.” you say, tone steady.

“i’ll be there pretty girl, 6.59.” he laughs, chucking his keys into the air before catching them.

you watch him finally turn away and get into his car, driving off. as his car disappears, you get into yours and rest your head on the steering wheel, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.

and little do you know, this tutoring thing is only the start of something you never saw coming.

[alwayzadorbs]

Good afternoon you lovely Ray of sunshine! I absolutely love how you write, and wanted to know if you could write Lucifer with a chubby MC who is insecure about herself. Please and thank you.

Yes, YES I CAN! dont worry shattered, I'm chubby too! hopefully, this can make us feel a bit more comfy in our own skin :D. you're beautiful no matter how you look! And Lucifer agrees :>

Rating: Fluff (A smut version is in the works.)

Let's be clear, Lucifer doesn't care how you look. He's Not some lowly demon that judges other people(or demons) for something as shallow as weight. However,, that doesn't mean he can't love every inch of you. So when he opened the door to your room and saw you looking at yourself in the mirror with sadness, he knew he had to do something to help you.

"Mc, why are you worrying about something like that?" He frowned, embracing you in his arms. "You know I'll still love you regardless of your figure, right?"

"I...I know that I can't really explain it. I just don't feel comfortable in my own skin, I suppose." You sighed, going more into depth about your feelings.

"I didn't know that's how you felt, I'm glad you told me. What can I do to make you feel better? or at least, what can I do to comfort you?" He said with a sympathetic tone

"I'm not sure, I don't know if there's anything you can do."

He pulled away from the hug, "Let me Take care of you, sometimes you need to do some self-care" He sat you down, before saying "I'll be right back, stay here." and leaving the room

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

A few minutes later, Lucifer came back in holding a cup of hot liquid, the aroma wafting into the air. It smelled like your favorite tea, He had remembered which one you liked best.

"Here, I thought you could use a cup. You always bring me a cup of tea and remind me to take care of myself, It's your turn now." He smiled, feeling your weight shift, Lucifer sat beside you.

"Thank you, It really helps" You smiled, already feeling a bit happy

"Don't thank me yet, because I'm not done." He laughed "I brought face masks, I confiscated them from Asmo just now."

"Wait, Just now? So you took his face masks, that's what you're saying?" You laughed, setting the cup on your nightstand

"Oh, he won't mind. Let's watch a movie, What do you want to watch?" He said, sitting back down next to you

"Here, I'll put it on, hand me the remote," you said, gesturing for the remote, before a thought crossed your mind "Hey, Lucifer are you gonna wear a face mask too?" you smirked

He sighed, rolling his eyes "I suppose I don't have a choice when you use that tone."

"I was hoping you'd say that!" you laughed

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

Later, you found yourself pinned to the bed by Lucifers arm. He was drowning you in snuggles, head resting on your shoulder. you couldn't ask for a better outcome, you were praised and saw Lucifer wearing a face mask, he really did love you.

Enjoy this lovely video I found

[darius-shack]

Ford Pines, monster fucker extraordinaire, would make life models of all his exploits just use them on Stanley

oh Yes i can get into this. i can see it now. sort of object fucking

Ford has a pretty good memory, and he's shown drawings to him but it doesn't quite feel the same. So, when they're back at the Shack for a while, he starts to craft the first of the life-sized models. it takes him days, but at least this one doesn't need hydraulics like the second one will.

Stan, on the other hand, has no idea what he's in for. He sits on the couch casually watching TV, hearing his twins voice call from down the hall.

"Stanley! I have a surprise for you, come to my room."

He groans, yet entertains him. Opening the door, Stan's presented with the sight of Ford looking pleased. There's a suspicious tarp on his couch, with something large and totally not looking like a body that he notices second.

"I've been working on something for the past few days," He starts, "Do you remember the sexual excursions I described? Well, I thought what better of a way to let you experience such a thing than making a life-sized model."

"So that's what that is, huh? Thought you'd finally snapped on someone." Stan chuckled, walking over to the tarp. Ford steps forward to remove it in one grand sweep to reveal his work. The thing was huge, he'd guess seven feet tall with grey skin and four arms. It's face was a mess of tentacles. If it wore clothes, he wouldn't know because everything was on display. It's member was erect, bordering on painful just by size alone, he'd also guess that it's seven inches. The most striking thing about it was the slightly slanted ribs down the shaft. It's tip was a bit tapered, the only forgiving looking thing on it.

"You had sex with that thing?!"

"I did, yes, and I'd like to see you take it for a spin, so to speak."

It takes a moment of assessing whether or not he could accomplish such a feat. Ford makes a comment to help sway him, "It's much more soft and pliable than it looks, I would describe it as 'filling'."

Ten minutes later, Stan's straddling this monstrous cock over his lubed and stretched hole. Ford's watching from the other end of the couch and noticeably hard in his pants. He presses down onto the silicone material, feeling alright until he gets close to taking the tip entirely. It's large and it burns already, so he gives himself time to stretch and makes brutal eye sex with Ford while he does. Eventually, he was bouncing up and down on this weird alien cock, definitely feeling the ridges while feeling like he was being split open. It's too much and he doesn't last long, quickly touching himself and spilling his cum all over the muscled stomach of the model.

Ford makes a statement after in his flushed and enamored state, "I didn't last very long with it inside me, either. Thank you for entertaining me. I'll have the next model ready in a week."

"Next model?! You're making more?"

-

The next week, Stan finds himself standing before a very interesting sight before him in the middle of Ford's room again. His twin has just taken the tarp off of his latest model, a mass of pink tentacles measuring ten feet each. The ends were thin and slowly thickened, built into a huge massive base at the bottom.

"That's uh, tentacles."

"Yes! This being was desperate to have an orgasm as it was in it's mating season, I couldn't help but indulge when it asked so nicely."

"How do you expect me to screw this thing if it can't move?"

"Oh, it does. One moment," Ford says before going around to the back and kneeling to flick a switch near the base. Quickly stepping away, the appendages begin to move in all sorts of ways, touching the ground and seemingly searching for something. "And you'll want to take your clothes off now, it's going to be rather slick experience."

Again, Stan strips himself down and approaches hesitantly. His voice is filled with concern, "Are you sure about this? It's not gonna hold me in the air, is i-" a tentacle finds his ankle and he's overcome by several more darting towards him. In seconds, he's supported by many soft and slimy surfaces coating and exploring his body in a way. Somehow it learns, or maybe it knows just where to touch on his body because he soon gets hard. Its appendages focus on his nipples, rubbing smooth circles until they perk. He feels one twist around his hardening cock and stroke, with one gently rubbing at his hole and getting it wet with whatever slime his brother implemented.

Stan lightly pants, glancing at his twin from over his shoulder, "You enjoying this, Sixer?"

"Absolutely."

He's gently prodded open and lets out a small groan, little resistance due to the lube and soft surface. The patience it had while stretching him was oddly suspicious, like it was programmed to stretch an asshole in specific. Which is a little out of Ford's expertise.

"I bet you had help on this one," Stan states before moaning as the appendage inside him finds his prostate, gently stimulating him further and leaving him without another word.

Ford replies from somewhere behind him, "I did in fact outsource to another individual for the motion of the arms."

He chuckles at how that conversation must have went.

The act of being spread open for his brother on display and the stimulation he's getting from the tentacles slipping into his ass to hammer at his prostate. Knowing Ford was watching drove him up the wall. "Fuuuck, aaah, Ford!"

"So close already? I suppose there are a few differences. Needless to say, you look fantastic getting plowed by my machine."

Deep and possessive, it's the tone of his brother's voice that sends him over the edge. A minute of recuperation later, and Stan's being set down gently on the floor, slimy tentacles retracting from hims frame.

Ford turns off the machine, then walks to his partner to help him off the floor. "Thank you for entertaining my desire to see you with my previous partners. It satisfies me in a way I can hardly describe."

"Does that mean you're done making models?" Stan replies, sort of disappointed.

"Oh certainly not. There's more in store for you."

-

A week and a half passes, Ford yet again inviting him to his room for the next model. Before the tarp's uncovered, Stan comments, "Y'know it doesn't have to be a grand reveal each time. I know what you're doing now."

Ford passively sighs at him, saying, "Let me have my fun with revealing my hard work, will you?"

"Alright, alright." Stan waits as Ford pulls it off to reveal his current project. It's a small creature, maybe four and a half to five feet tall, looking almost human but having... cat traits. There was orange faux fur covering it, matching cat ears on it's head, and a tail coming out from behind it's back. "What is that?"

"It was an intelligent feline-adjacent species that invited me in after their head hunter found me and saved me from a beast of their lands. I, ah, ended up repaying him by being intimate with him and his wife, per their customs and culture, I was indebted to them and curious."

"Right. This one doesn't have a dick."

"This is the wife. She had a more striking fur pattern that was too tempting to not recreate."

"Uh-huh." Stan mutters, walking closer to see fat whiskers coming out of the cheeks on it's face, a wide-bridged nose and no visible lips. "And you want me to, uh, screw this thing too?"

"Indeed," Ford comes up behind him and settles his hands on Stan's hips firmly, "I would like to join you on this one, if you don't mind. It would better match the experience I had."

"You were in the middle huh? We ought to make the experience match then, right, Sixer?" Stan purrs.

Later, Stan has his cock stuffed deep in this model, with Ford moaning in his ear and fucking into him. He's practically doing all the work while Stan enjoys the odd texture of the insides of this odd toy, it's heated and tight, perfect for his release. Stan gets there eventually as Ford describes how different this species phallus' are. Thick and short but had such a defined tip that felt amazing as it passed by his prostate.

-

Three weeks pass with no new model, and Stan's the one who comes to Ford's room to ask about it this time.

He knocks on the door, enters to see no twin of his to bother. But he does see a hulking beast of a thing, the next model, yet again covered in dark brown fur and looking like what everyone imagines werewolves to look like. Sort of hunched over but still standing on it's haunches, it featured a gaping maw, as well as claws that came out of it's hands and feet. It was stood on the ground instead of the couch, as it should because it's huge. Yet again like eight feet tall-

"Stanley!" Ford's back and closing the door behind him. "I'm not done with this one-"

"Why's that? Looks pretty done to me." Stan observes the main appeal of the model, between it's legs hangs a pretty standard dick with, well, a soft of knot at the base. It's color was dark red, and huge nuts to go with it.

"The phallus is incomplete, I haven't implemented the tube and ejaculate function-"

"Don't you think that's a bit over the top? I mean, it's been three weeks, does it have to have that?"

"Yes! Unless you didn't want to be filled in the same way that I was. Which I know you do."

Stan grumbles for a second, before turning back to his brother. "Tell me when it's done, will ya? I wanna take this guy for a spin." He turns and leaves quickly, shutting the door behind him.

Ford smiles, delighted that his twin is impatiently interested in his design.

An hour later, Stan is summoned back to Ford's room. That was fast, he thinks, as he enters. Ford takes the adequate time to stretch him on the couch, explaining how he met this beast in a thicket of woods. He'd fallen into a hunters trap, designed for the beast itself. Ford was sniffed out because of the light bleeding, and the beast had said it would free him if it could use his hole for the night. Obviously, Ford took the offer to live, and had a great time during.

Now, the beast was positioned with it's arms on the ground, making the position easier for Stan to crawl underneath and have Ford help mount it into him.

"It uh," Stan starts, "Feels weird having such a big thing over me."

"It's quite an intimidating experience, I was afraid at first but it seemed to listen to my needs."

Ford sat back and watches as Stan thrusts himself on the beast's cock, getting the most perfect and whiny of noises to reach his ears. After a few minutes of Ford describing what the beast sounded like, what it said to him, Stan's legs get tired of doing the work.

"Hold on." Ford says, leaning forward and around the beasts leg. With a flick of a switch, the cock itself was jutting in and out of his hole.

Stan groans loudly, "Oh sweet Moses, yes," A few moments pass before he asks, "Does it uh, go faster than that?"

Chuckling, Ford does screw with the setting for a moment before the knot is hitting Stan's hole at a vicious pace. He goes cross eyed and plants his head on the ground on his arms.

"Do you think you could fit that knot inside you?"

"Did you?" Stan retorts, sounding up for a challenge.

Ford is silent, and slows the pacing down almost completely. Stan sits there for five seconds before he feels the lubed knot pressing against his hole slowly, stretching him open so wide. Somehow, it's inside of him and pressing against his prostate firmly.

As soon as Stan asks what happens next, it starts to fuck him again in short, hard thrusts that drag against his insides in just the right way.

Ford's voice comes to his ears, "I didn't last very long with this one either. That didn't stop me from letting him get his fill. I owed it my continued existence and wanted to repay as much as I could."

"Shiiiiit-" Stan moans, feeling so overwhelmed by Ford's description, by the knot practically over-fucking his prostate. He gasps as he's filled with a lot of liquid.

"It could not tell me when it was about to orgasm, I was completely blindsided by the amount of ejaculate it produced."

The knot slips out for a moment, the so called ejaculate spurting out of Stan's hole and trailing down his thighs. It's knot presses back in as quickly, him shuddering at the feeling. It fucks him again, and Stan grips his cock and jerks himself off until he cums hard.

Ford knows his limits, so he turns off the hydraulics and helps Stan out from under the model of his beast.

[clubforfrogs]

The Other Side - (Eventual) Marauders x Reader

1.8k words

Summary: You were Voldemort’s loyal soldier. You were born into this life, never having known any different. What happens when the Marauders show you that you can break free to to the other side?

—This was inspired by the song from The Greatest Showman obvsss (I actually love that movie so much omg)

Part 2 is already in the works, I hope you enjoy🫶🫶

———————————————————————

From a young age, your parents had made sure you would stay absolutely loyal to them. They were suffocatingly strict and controlled every aspect of your life. Friends had to be approved by them, boyfriends were hand-picked, and of course, your beliefs came solely from them. They were completely and totally loyal to Voldemort, believing he would make them powerful once he won the wizarding war.

That’s why your parents offered you to Voldemort. You were your parents’ token of loyalty. Because of this, you grew to be one of Voldemort’s closest inner circle members.

But recently, something was starting to feel off. The stronger the connection you had to Voldemort and other death eaters, the more you started to secretly resent the life you lived. This feeling was new to you. For 18 years, you had no qualms about the life you lived. You treated yourself as a soldier for the dark lord; you were his hands. But this foreign feeling of doubt was growing harder and harder to ignore.

As you got ready for a death eater’s meeting, you couldn’t help but feel a giddy nervousness. You had received word from your parents that Voldemort himself would be sending you on a highly important mission. It sent a slight shiver of excitement down your spine. Being chosen out of anyone else always felt good, regardless of the uncertainty you were starting to feel about your own life.

You made your way down the stairs of your childhood home, and into the dining room where most of the death eaters were already gathered. You took shaky steps to your seat in between Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape. You weren’t particularly close with either man, but knew them both relatively well.

The meeting started as Voldemort stood, carefully eyeing every member in the room. He held an air of superiority that could have only come from the total loyalty practically oozing out of the people sitting around you. His eyes stopped on you, narrowing slightly. Your breath caught for just a moment, before a small grin grew on his face.

“Y/n,” Voldemort said slowly, as if committing a name he’d known for 18 years fully into his memory. You sat up straighter, and made tentative eye contact with him. “Yes my lord?” You managed to speak without your voice shaking, which you were grateful for.

“As you may have heard, I have a mission especially designed for you. The Order has been… quite a pest recently. They are one problem that I could quite easily live without. I want you to stake out a particular group of The Order- I’m sure you know of them. The marauders I believe they’ve coined themselves?”

The tension in the room was palpable. Peter Pettigrew looked down at his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. You knew that he had once been close with the other marauders, been one of them.

Severus also looked mildly uncomfortable. He had been holding a vendetta against the marauders for as long as you could remember.

Voldemort continued, “You will learn the marauders’ schedules. You will learn where they eat, drink, sleep, you name it. We will use this information to plan an attack and get rid of them.”

Your blood ran cold. Kill the marauders? You had known James, Sirius, and Remus back at Hogwarts. They were pranksters, but never a particularly bad group of people. You had even admired them from afar on a few occasions. None of them were exactly hard on the eyes…

But that didn’t matter. You were just tasked with murdering them. That thought made a sort of panic claw its way through you. The air was starting to feel suffocating, and you knew you needed to leave. You were practically zoned out for the rest of the meeting, and quickly left the table once it was appropriate to do so. You ran up to your room after assuring you had made it out of anyone’s eyesight. Taking a quick breath, you apparated to a muggle bar you had found on a previous mission. It was a dark and run down place. It certainly wouldn’t have been your first choice, but you knew that no other death eaters would find themself there. As you walked in, you were greeted by the bartender and sat down quietly.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

He nodded and got to making your drink. A few seconds later, you heard the drink being set down, you grabbed it and turned in your seat as you thanked him.

Looking around the bar, you could see only a handful of patrons. An older couple sat in one of the nearby booths, adorned with leather cushions that had certainly seen better days. Another group was made up of men in their early 20s, around your age. They sat at a dark wood table that matched the sticky floors. You couldn’t fully make out their features, as it was pretty dark inside of the bar.

You continued to watch the small amount of customers present, but found yourself particularly interested in the group of men. The way they joked and shoved each other stirred something inside of you. A small part of you had wanted a group of friends like that, people that you felt truly comfortable with. You pushed away the thought quickly. It was no use pining for something you’d never have.

Turning back around, you took a long sip of your drink. It left a pleasant burning feeling down your throat, something to distract you from the awful mission you were being sent on. A deep voice came from across the bar. It looked as though one of the men you had been watching earlier was ordering another round for his group. You took the opportunity to get a better look at his features. You squinted slightly, then let out a quiet gasp: the long and shaggy black hair, leather jacket, band tee, and pale but perfect skin could only belong to one person.

You swerved to look at the rest of his group. It now became apparent that there was a tall boy with shaggy brown hair, and another with curly black hair and glasses. Shit. The fucking marauders were at the same bar as you. What if they decided to avada kedavra you right here? All they’d need to do is obliviate the muggles once they were done. The Order would probably throw them a party for doing so.

You hunched in your seat to appear smaller and waited until Sirius walked back to his table. Then, you left money on the bar and started to walk out. You could’ve sworn you heard your name being called faintly. That made your heart speed up. No. No. No. Your pace picked up, you needed to find a secluded area to apparate back to your home.

Hurried footsteps could be heard behind you, getting louder and louder. Shit. You really didn’t want to die today. You glanced nervously over your shoulder, only to be met with a determined looking James Potter. He always was the most athletic out of his friends, and he had no problem keeping up with you. Your saving grace came in the form of an alley across the street. Without wasting time by checking if cars were approaching, you sprinted across the street. Horns sounded behind you, but you paid them no mind.

The alley welcomed you into its steadying darkness as you spotted a large dumpster to hide behind. You took your wand out with shaky hands. You had let yourself breath a quick sigh of relief, before multiple pairs of footsteps sounded uncomfortably close to you, startling you so much that you dropped your wand. You searched the ground desperately, but the darkness of the alley and your frantic movements made the task impossible.

Right as you felt the cool wood of your wand, a large hand roughly grabbed your shoulder. You let out a shriek, causing another hand to cover your mouth. You continued to thrash and scream, but physical fighting had never been your strength- wand magic was what you relied on. Eventually, you decided to go limp. The grip on you loosened slightly, giving you the opportunity to spring away and turn to face the marauders. James stood slightly in front of them, signaling that he had been the one to grab you.

“Leave me the fuck alone and maybe the dark lord will spare you.” you spat, deciding that going on the defensive and making threats you weren’t so sure were believable was your best course of action.

Remus stepped forward slowly while putting his hands up as a peace offering,“Woah, we’re not looking for trouble.”

You scoffed, “Yeah? Just out for a friendly chat then I suppose.”

Remus sighed, “It’s Y/n, right?” You gave a reluctant nod. “Look, to be honest, we could have already killed you. You’re a known death eater.”

That one statement created a flash of panic in you. You went to reach for your wand before James stepped closer to you. Remus quickly stepped in again, “But we didn’t kill you, in fact, we haven’t hurt you at all. So, if you want to stay unhurt, why don’t you hand your wand over to James here?”

Your breathing became heavier. Giving up your wand would leave you completely and totally vulnerable. You wanted to refuse, but Sirius had at some point taken out his own wand and pointed it at you.

“I would listen to him, love. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re a bit outnumbered here.”

Sirius’ words did little to stir anything in you. It was then that you decided you didn’t care what the point of the marauders stopping you was. It couldn’t be anything good for you. Therefore, you would fight your way out or die trying. You swiftly drew your wand and muttered, “Incendio.”

The space between you and the marauders was now covered by flames. This was the only way you could escape. You turned and ran down the alley as fast as you could. Muttered curses could be heard behind you, and a swift water charm put out the fire you had created. Seconds later, you heard Sirius yell, “Immobulus!”

All of your limbs seized suddenly, and you fell harshly to the floor of the alley. You felt a strong sense of embarrassment as the three men came closer, which was quickly overridden by fear. James crouched down next to you with an almost pitying look on his face. “Sorry about this,” you almost questioned what he was doing, before he held up a glass with a familiar dark purple potion: sleeping drought. He brought the bottle to your lips and pinched your nose closed. You glared at him, cursing all three of them in your mind. You wanted to scream, claw at him, fight back. But you were immobilized and running out of air. You mustered all of the wrath you could into a single look before gasping in a breath and consequently drinking the potion. You could have sworn you saw an almost sad look cross James’ face before the darkness consumed you.

[onebadassunicorn]

Leather and Lace

pairing: Cassian x Reader

content warnings: gambling, drinking, misogyny

word count: 2.9K

Taglist: @tele86 @candyjaypoppins @demon-master-zero @jesskidding3 @motheroffae @thegoddessofnothingness

Image of Nesta owned by Art by Cassimira.

Image owned by Scribe.Jesinia

To see more work by this artist, join Patreon and become a member of this artist's collections!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

******

Chapter 7

The air in The Crow’s Call was thick with smoke and the stench of stale ale, the low hum of murmured conversations mixing with the clatter of dice and the occasional burst of drunken laughter.

It was a place of risk and ruin, a place where men gambled more than gold.

Lives, favors, power—all of it could be won and lost within these walls.

Nesta stalked into the tavern like a queen entering her court, her chin high, her steps slow and deliberate.

She did not glance around in nervous assessment like an outsider would.

She did not hesitate.

She made it seem as though she belonged here, as if she had walked these halls a hundred times before.

She was dressed for it—midnight leathers that clung to her every curve, her neckline cut daringly low, her golden-brown hair wild around her shoulders.

She looked like sin, like trouble, like something men would either want to conquer or kneel before.

Heads turned as she walked in.

Azriel, already seated in a shadowed corner, felt the shift in the room like a physical thing.

A subtle, collective inhale.

A sharpening of interest.

The men in Hewn City were hunters, and Nesta had just walked into their den, looking like the perfect challenge.

She ignored their stares and moved straight toward the gambling tables in the center of the tavern.

The men seated there were already deep in their cups, playing a dice game that had clearly claimed a fair number of purses that evening. Their loud jeers and taunts carried across the room, and as Nesta approached, she slid a hand along the back of an empty chair, her smirk slow and sharp.

“This game looks boring,” she mused, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the noise. She trailed a single fingertip along the wooden table, watching the men with a glimmer of amused challenge in her eyes. “Mind if I make it interesting?”

Silence.

Then, laughter.

The largest of them—a broad-shouldered male with dark hair and eyes that raked over her with open hunger—leaned back in his chair, a smirk curling his mouth. “You think you can beat us, sweetheart?”

Nesta let out a soft, breathy laugh and sat down.

“I know I can.”

The men chuckled, some of them shaking their heads, but Azriel saw the spark of interest in their expressions.

This was new.

Most women in Hewn City didn’t challenge them like this, didn’t dare.

And those who did were either fools or dangerously cunning.

Nesta placed a few gold marks on the table and leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her untouched drink. “Are we playing,” she purred, “or are we just going to sit here all night?”

That was all it took.

The first roll went her way.

The second was close, but she still came out on top.

By the third round, the men were no longer laughing. They were watching her.

By the fourth, they were leaning in, studying her every move.

By the fifth, the entire tavern had taken notice.

Azriel let his shadows weave through the room, slipping between the patrons, carrying whispers like a slow-spreading fire.

Word was already leaking out beyond these walls—about the new woman in town, the one who was too cocky, too sure of herself, too untouchable.

The kind of woman men in Hewn City liked to break.

Nesta played the role to perfection, winning just enough to seem like a woman who had mastered her own luck, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Azriel’s shadows helped, shifting dice rolls when needed, ensuring that the game remained in her favor without being obvious.

With each victory, the men at the table grew more competitive, their expressions sharpening into something that was both admiration and irritation.

She was too good.

She was getting away with too much.

And that was exactly what they needed.

Nesta leaned forward, her lips curving wickedly. “Tell me,”she said, running a fingertip along the rim of her glass, “is this the best Hewn City has to offer?”

A dangerous silence settled over the table.

Azriel watched as the men bristled, their pride now tangled in the game. One of them slammed down his drink, his glare hardening.

“She needs to be taught a lesson,” another muttered under his breath.

Perfect.

Azriel’s shadows whispered the words into the right ears, fanning the flames.

It wouldn’t take long now.

Word was already spreading beyond the tavern, carried on drunken lips, whispered between men who thrived on the thought of taming a woman like Nesta.

And soon—very soon—Elias would hear about her.

Elias, who was drawn to powerful women just so he could break them.

Elias, who would look at Nesta and see a prize to be won.

Exactly the way they needed him to.

*****

The Crow’s Call was busier than the night before. Word had spread - whispers slithering through the back alleys and dark corners of Hewn City about the new female gambler. The one who had walked into a den of men and humiliated them, taking their gold and their pride with nothing more than a smirk and a winning hand.

Nesta knew exactly what she was doing.

As she strolled into the tavern, she felt the weight of eyes on her—some familiar, others new. The tension in the air had changed, thickened, like a storm waiting to break. She welcomed it.

Azriel was already there, watching from the shadows, his presence a quiet but steady anchor. His spies had reported back that Elias had taken notice—and tonight, he had sent some of his men to watch her.

To test her.

Nesta approached the same gambling table as the night before, her leathers hugging her like armor, her hair wild around her shoulders. The men were already there, waiting. She recognized a few of them from the previous night—men she had already beaten, their expressions wary, guarded. But tonight, there were new faces.

Elias’s men.

They were easy to pick out. They sat just a little too still, their eyes too assessing, their mouths twisted in barely concealed arrogance. Nesta didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. She smirked, tilting her head as she tossed a gold mark onto the table.

“Well?” she said, raising a brow. “Are we playing, or are you all still sore from last night?”

The men bristled, their pride stoked like a fire.

One of the newcomers, a tall male with short black hair and pale, scarred hands, leaned forward, grinning. “You must be feeling awfully lucky to come back after last night, sweetheart.”

Nesta gave him a slow, lazy smile. “Luck has nothing to do with it.”

The men chuckled, but there was an edge to it now. Nesta felt it—the intent in the way they watched her, the way they measured her.

They played the first round.

Nesta won.

They played the second.

Nesta won again.

Azriel’s shadows whispered in her ears, feeding her the numbers, guiding her movements without making it obvious. She let the men almost win, let them think they had the upper hand before stealing it away at the last second.

By the third round, one of Elias’s men was scowling.

By the fourth, they were pissed.

The tall male—who she now recognized as one of Elias’s higher-ranking thugs—tossed his dice down with a snarl. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, don’t you?” His voice was low, dangerous.

Nesta leaned forward, dragging a nail across the rim of her glass. “Among other things.”

The men chuckled, but their eyes were dark.

The male beside her, a broad-shouldered brute with a broken nose, leaned in too close. “Maybe you need something to put that mouth to better use.”

Nesta didn’t blink. She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes, her expression utterly bored. “I’d rather chew off my own hand.”

The table roared with laughter, but the brute’s expression curdled. His fingers twitched, his nostrils flaring in barely concealed rage.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you’re untouchable?”

Nesta lifted a brow, unfazed. “I know I’m untouchable.”

The laughter died.

The scarred man—the one who was clearly in charge—exhaled a long breath through his nose. He leaned back, running a finger over the gold he had lost to her. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn’t know what she’s stepped into.”

Nesta smirked. “And what exactly have I stepped into?”

The scarred male’s eyes gleamed. “A place where women don’t win.”

Nesta let out a soft, taunting laugh. “And yet, here I am.” She gestured at the pile of gold in front of her. “Winning.”

The man’s jaw ticked. “You’re too cocky for your own good, you know that?”

Nesta shrugged. “Confidence makes men nervous. You should get used to it.”

The brute beside her slammed a hand on the table, making the drinks rattle. “You need to be taught a lesson.”

Nesta merely tilted her head, the picture of calm. “And who is going to teach me that lesson? You?”

The scarred male smirked, slow and predatory. “Not me.” He reached for his drink, his fingers curling around the glass. “But my boss won’t be happy when he hears his money was taken by some female with a sharp tongue and no sense of place.” His voice dropped lower, colder. “Women don’t rule Hewn City. Men do.”

Nesta leaned forward, her smirk unfaltering. “Then send your boss. I’ll be here every night, taking more men’s money as I see fit.”

A sharp silence followed her words.

The brute beside her moved without warning, his thick fingers clamping around her wrist, hard. His grip was bruising, his dark eyes murderous as he leaned down, his breath reeking of ale.

“You should be careful what you ask for.” His voice was low, a promise of violence. “You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

Nesta didn’t flinch.

Didn’t dare show weakness.

Instead, she smiled sweetly and lifted her other hand, pressing a single nail hard against the sensitive underside of his wrist.

“I never ask for anything I can’t handle,” she purred.

The brute cursed and yanked his hand back. His eyes burned with rage, but Nesta only sat back in her chair, picking up her glass like nothing had happened.

The scarred male watched her for a long moment before rising to his feet. “We’ll be seeing you soon.”

And with that, Elias’s men turned and left.

Azriel’s shadows wrapped around him, slithering out the door in pursuit, ensuring they would be followed, ensuring every whisper they carried reached Elias himself.

Nesta exhaled slowly, allowing herself only a single second to release the tension coiled tight in her muscles. Then, she took a sip of her drink, smirked at the men still at the table, and rolled the dice once more.

Let Elias come.

Let him think she was just another prize to be won.

Because the real game was just beginning.

*****

Nesta knew something was off the moment she walked into The Crow’s Call.

The air inside the tavern still buzzed with energy—men drinking, gambling, and filling the room with raucous laughter—but something was missing.

Elias’s men.

They weren’t here.

She played a few rounds anyway, keeping up the façade, her confidence unshaken.

She let the dice roll, let the gold stack in front of her, let the men around her murmur about how she was still winning, still taking what should have belonged to them.

But the whole time, her mind churned.

Had she pushed too hard?

Had she been too obvious?

Had Elias seen through her?

By the time she decided to leave, the suspicion had begun gnawing at her ribs.

Azriel had already slipped out ahead of her, his shadows coiling through the streets, watching from the darkness as she made her way through the winding alleys of Hewn City.

Nesta kept her shoulders loose, her steps unhurried, feigning nonchalance as she turned a corner into a dimly lit side street. Hewn City had its own rhythm, its own pulse—one that beat louder at night, when danger lurked behind every whispered word, every dark alley, every glance that lingered too long.

She had almost reached the exit of the alley when a strong hand wrapped around her wrist.

She barely had time to react before she was pulled against a solid body, her back slamming into the wall of muscle and heat. A warm, firm hand clamped down on her hip, keeping her there, keeping her pinned.

A slow, amused chuckle ghosted over her ear.

“Well, well,” a rich, dark voice purred. “Here I was, wondering if you were going to keep playing your little games. And yet, you’re just walking right into my hands.”

Nesta turned her head slightly, her pulse thrumming in her throat as she finally saw him.

Elias.

He was devastatingly handsome.

It struck her like a slap to the face—not just his beauty, but his presence, the way he exuded confidence and power, the way his golden eyes gleamed in the low light of the alley, sharp with hunger and intrigue.

He was dangerous in the way that made women fall before they even realized they were falling. In the way that made them want to be consumed.

And Nesta could see it now—how he had drawn you in all those years ago.

It wasn’t just his good looks. It was the way he moved, the way he knew he was desirable, the way he held himself like a god surveying his worshippers.

He was the kind of male women lost themselves to before they realized they were drowning.

The exact type of man she herself would have fallen for.

She let her lips curve into a smirk, her body relaxing against him as if she were enjoying the feeling of being trapped between his heat and the cool stone wall. “So you did get my message.”

Elias’s fingers tightened around her wrist, his grip possessive, claiming. “Oh, I got your message, sweetheart.” His gaze flickered over her face, his expression filled with a dangerous amusement. “My men told me all about the cocky little female who strolled into my city and took their money like it was hers to begin with.”

Nesta shrugged one shoulder, her smirk never fading. “Maybe it was.”

Elias chuckled, dragging his fingers up her arm, grazing them lightly over her skin. “You have fire. I like that.”

Nesta let her eyes flick over him, trailing down his chest, as if she were considering him. “And what do you like to do with fire?” she asked smoothly.

Elias smirked. “Oh, I don’t put it out.” He leaned in closer, his breath brushing over her ear. “I consume it.”

Nesta hummed, tilting her head slightly, letting the moment stretch just long enough. Then, she lifted a brow. “I assume you’re not here just to admire me. What exactly do you want, Elias?”

Elias’s fingers trailed down her hip, slow and deliberate. “I want my money back.” His voice was still velvet-smooth, but there was an edge beneath it now, a flicker of real irritation. “And I want to know who you really are.”

Nesta tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “And how exactly do you propose I return your money? Do you expect me to lose on purpose?”

Elias’s golden eyes gleamed. “Oh, I have a better idea.” He let his gaze drop lower, over her body. “We can work something out.”

Nesta played along, tilting her chin up. “And what do you think I want in return?”

Elias smirked. He leaned in, pressing himself against her, letting her feel exactly what he was offering.

His voice dropped to a low whisper. “I can smell your arousal.” His breath brushed over her lips. “I can feel how much you want me.” He smirked, slow and deliberate. “I’d fuck you like no one else ever has.”

Nesta let a slow, mocking smile spread across her lips. “And look who’s cocky now.”

Elias chuckled, his hand sliding down to her waist, gripping it like he already owned her. “You like playing games,” he mused, his voice dark and amused. “I like that. But I always win.”

Nesta met his gaze without hesitation. “We’ll see about that.”

Elias’s grin widened. “I like you.” He pressed closer, his grip firm. “Go back to the tavern tomorrow night. I’ll have my men bring you to me.”

Nesta let her smirk remain, let her fingers trail lightly over the lapel of his jacket. “Sounds intriguing.”

Elias leaned in, and before she could react, his mouth was on hers.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was claiming—all heat and dominance, as if he were already branding her, already marking her as his.

Nesta didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away.

She let him think he was in control.

Let him believe she was intrigued, tempted.

He pulled back, his golden eyes gleaming. “Tomorrow night you will be screaming my name.” He ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

Nesta lowered her mouth and pulled his thumb inside her lips sucking on it and letting it slide out of her mouth slowly. “Or you will be screaming mine.”

Elias chuckled and gave her one last, lingering look before releasing her and stepping back, before he winnowed.

Nesta exhaled slowly as he disappeared.

Azriel was there within seconds, his voice low and tense in her ear. “Are you alright?”

Nesta wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smirked.

“He took the bait.”

[hotdilfs11]

⊹ ˚.⊹ ˚.intoxicated hearts (pt 1)

♡pairings: Dean Winchester x fem reader

♡ summary: You and the Winchester boys are on a hunt for this mysterious creature no one knows about. This monster ends up giving Dean and I a attraction/love poison. You guys cant resist each other after infected.

♡ warnings: cursing, a little spicy

♡ word count: 1318

⊱ ──────ஓ๑∗๑ஓ ────── ⊰

During the weekend of Valentine's Day, there's a small town in Oklahoma that is suffering from a love poison. Two people get poisoned, and they either die from resisting attraction to each other or they act on how they feel and end up killing each other out of jealousy. This poison makes you have little to no self-control over your attraction. Sam, Dean, and I are investigating some of the victims but came up with nothing. After interviewing our last victims, we walked back to the car, unclear of what we were dealing with. I swung the door open of Dean's beautiful Impala and hopped in the backseat. “I honestly don’t know what the hell this is, guys,” I sigh with frustration.

Sam turned around to look at me. “Maybe we should keep looking,” he shrugged his shoulders. 

“Yeah…I mean, I called Bobby; he said he dealt with this a long time ago, but he forgot what it was and how to kill it. He said if we run into it, just try silver bullets or wipe its head off clean.” They both looked at each other and nodded their heads as Dean's car roared to life.

We found an old, janky motel on the outskirts of the town we are investigating. The room was semi big with a vintage brown couch, a table, two queen beds, and a TV. Everything looked so grey and sad. Nothing brings the room to life but the lingering smell of cigarettes that stung my nose. We all dropped our bags on the floor. “Home sweet home,” Dean jokes. I gave him a fake chuckle.

We start our research, and there's nothing that fits the description of this monster. All of our heads are deep in a book; however, everything around me started spinning. I couldn’t focus anymore, and all of these words started to become too much. I felt dizzy and lightheaded the harder I tried to concentrate. “I can’t do this anymore,” I groaned. I got up and put on my faded leather jacket; the familiar scent of leather hung around my nose. 

“I need a drink; you guys want to—” 

“Yes, please,” Dean said quickly, practically begging me to take him with me.

The chimes of Dean's keys and the rustle of his coat echoed through the room as he approached the door.

“Are you coming, Sammy?” he says, already out of the door.

Sam furrowed his brows. “no… I'm going to keep doing some research to see what I can find.” 

Dean shrugged his shoulders as we left the motel. 

Dean and I found this bar that was about twenty-five minutes away from the motel. The mood was dark and warm. The bar counter was crafted with polished wood that had high bar stools sitting underneath the counter waiting for them to be used. Dean and I walked towards the barstools as the bartender approached us, wiping her hands on this raggedy white cloth.

“What can I get you guys?”

Dean ordered a beer, and I ordered a bourbon neat; however, the bartender interjects and offers us the special. “It’s a really refreshing drink, and you can barely taste the alcohol,” she said with a slight smile.

Dean glanced at me, who nodded in agreement. “Sure, we'll take it.”

 We sat in the bar for a while, taking a sip of our bittersweet drink. It tasted weird at first, but I got used to the fiery yet sweet liquid that ran down my throat. 

After finishing our drinks, Dean and I got back in the Impala and went back to the motel. We sped down the dark highway with the sharp, commanding snarl that sent vibrations through the whole car. I started to fidget in my seat. It’s so hot for some reason I thought to myself, checking the vents for hot air; however, I felt nothing but the AC blasting on my hand. Anxiously I whisper, “Dean…” My skin prickled with warmth. “I feel so… hot all of a sudden.” I looked at Dean with worry on my face. Dean looks at me. “Yeah…I do too; we're almost at the hotel.” He says in a husky voice. I felt a sense of attraction to him. His voice sounded so deep and seductive that I couldn’t control the arousal that flooded my body. His smell and his broad features clouded my mind for the car ride. I got hotter and uncomfortable every second I was in the car with him. My mind was lustful.

When we got back to the motel, I grabbed my PJs and quickly got in the shower. I thought a cold shower would calm my senses down, but it just made me feel so much worse. I felt like I was set on fire with need the longer I thought about Dean. I hopped out of the shower and put on a pair of shorts and one of Dean's band tees. Taking a deep breath, I slowly open the door to discover Dean shirtless on the couch watching a movie on Sam's computer. My eyes danced around his body, feeling a fiery sensation leak all over my body. My knees grew weaker the longer I looked at his perfectly sculpted body.

Dean's eyes were heavily fixated on my body, noticing his shirt that I'm wearing. I sank on the couch beside him. “I think something's wrong,” I frowned. 

“Yeah, it’s hot as hell in here.”

“No…” I softly said as I took out my phone and dialed Sam's number. Sam answered.“Hey, where are you? Did you find something yet? 

“Yeah…I went to go interview one of the victims and found out that all of the victims went to this bar and ordered the same drink special.”

I looked at Dean, concerned and confused. “Which bar did they go to?”

“Uhhh…it’s twenty-five minutes from the motel, actually.”  -

My heart stopped. “Damn it Sam, we drank the special today.”

“Shit, okay, this monster is like Cupid on crack, meaning that he’s easy to kill.” Sam chuckled, “Just hold on, you two, and don’t…you know.”

“Yeah, we won’t.” 

I decided to watch the movie with Dean on the couch, trying to take my mind off of this filthy attraction towards him. I felt like I had no self-control, and neither did Dean. His presence pulled me closer and closer to him, feeling his rough fingertips brush against my thigh, trailing down to my knee. My pulse quickened, and my body shifted. I felt like he was touching every nerve in my body. I whimpered softly as his hand grew closer to my inner thigh. I need to snap out of it. I thought to myself.

“Fuck,” I groaned, pushing his hand away. “N…no.” I resisted. 

I got up in a swift motion and traveled to the far end of the motel room; however, I already felt his presence come up behind me. I turned around to look at him, but he was already slamming me against the wall. He placed his hands on my hips, trailing up my shirt, lifting it up halfway, feeling his warm yet rough hands tracing along my waist. Every touch feels like I was on fire. “Dean, we ca…can’t.” My voice cracked; I couldn't even spit out a full sentence. 

He groaned, “Seeing you in my shirt does something to me, Y/N.” He tightened his grip on my hips; his soft lips desperately collided with mine as my fingers ran through his dark brown hair. Whimpers came out of our mouths when I tried to gasp for air, but he still leaned in, not wanting me to escape. Wet, sloppy kisses started to tickle down my neck. I yanked his hair. “God, I need you so bad,” he moaned. Without hesitation Dean lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the bed.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑∗๑ஓ ────── ⊰

CHECK OUT MY LIBRARY!!!!!!

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Listen. I am too disabled to work most jobs... in the United States.

Move me to Ireland or the UK, however, and suddenly the job market opens up much more for me. I don't suddenly become any less disabled - but labor laws in other countries, afaik, are so much better that my disabilities don't hold me back nearly as much anymore.

Back when I *was* working, i could barely handle my job as a host. i begged to be put on as a dishwasher, and my manager refused, despite the position having an incredibly high turnover rate. Because it was tiring and unrewarding and monotonous work.

She refused to believe that anyone could enjoy said work. I think she assumed that the only reason I wanted to be a dishwasher was for the higher pay. According to her, I was doing an excellent job as a host, despite the fact that it took everything in me to not go into a total shutdown halfway through my shifts 90% of the time.

Let me wash the damn dishes. Give me ONE fucking job and I will blow your fucking socks off.

But instead people are expected to do the work of two or more employees for the pay of one, so us bitches with switching-tasks-is-hell-disorder either have to suffer or find another solution/job.

Sigh.

[lxnarphase]

━ ❝ OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! ❞

✮₊‧⁺...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL

no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.

not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.

one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.

it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.

'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'

'i know, my wife.'

'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'

'you begged for it, my wife.'

'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'

'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'

but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.

he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.

except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...

what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?

hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.

he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.

"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"

"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"

"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"

before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the baby—gentle like it's the finest glass, she instructs—before turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.

"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.

the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.

all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.

everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.

but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.

instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.

"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"

this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.

she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."

he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.

but, he couldn't lie.

she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.

"sukuna, watch your mouth!"

he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.

"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how to—!”

oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.

“sukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.

“…apologies, my wife.”

chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.

after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.

"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.

"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.

you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.

a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

but then...her eyes open.

both sets.

he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.

his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.

she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.

she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.

getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.

so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.

all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.

yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.

but now?

sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.

he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."

"hmm..."

a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.

"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.

"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."

"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."

"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[theorist-fox]

Can I interest you in some silly sex with Simon? 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️

18+

Word count: 1k.

CW: nothing really. Just silly sex. Just giggling sex. Just I-need-to-give-this-man-some-humanity sex. Simon is ticklish and you find out, that's the plot.

Masterlist 🦊

You look delectable straddling his hips.

Naked and soft, plump tits sitting prettily in his hands. His thumbs swipe idly around your perked nipples as you ride him slowly, early morning sun peeking through the curtains and lapping at your skin. What a way to wake up, what a sight.

He stares at your lips and how they part for him—something he still has to get used to, though he probably never truly will. How dulcet does his name sound if it’s your voice whispering it, how beautiful your eyes when they take in his face.

Soft hands are pressed on his chest for leverage, and you’re treating him with a view he keeps pinned to the forefront of his brain—gliding your cunt until you’re chock-full of him, stroking yourself until you’re shivering.

He likes it when he’s on top, sure. He’s used to taking the lead and orchestrating every detail, in and out of the job. 

But when you allow him to sit back and take it? Hell, sign him up. He’d do it every day. Especially when it’s this lazy sex here, in which you’re canting your hips to cum before he does, giving him the blissful chance of feeling you clench around him when he's still hard. 

Goosebumps rise under your nails as they graze down his chest and brush his stomach. Your hands wander blindly on his belly, then his sides, as you clock his eyes with your heavy ones, panting softly, idly—my beautiful, beautiful girl.

But then you inadvertently brush his ribs, and he stiffens—even squirms, and your movements come to a halt.

You blink as conscience returns to you slowly, and the room sinks into tense silence. His cock twitches inside of you when you tilt your head inquisitively, squinting your eyes.

Experimentally, you brush your fingertips against his ribs again, and his biceps flatten to his sides, trapping your hands.

Your eyes widen, and his do the same.

“Don’t.”

You gasp, “Oh my God.”

“Darling, no.” He warns, but you’ve clearly made up your mind already.

Your lips are curled in a smile that promises mischief, and he can only give up, sit back, and count his losses.

“Darling, yes.”

Simon feels your fingers wiggle under the tight press of his arms, but no matter his strength, they're seemingly useless against that playful resolve you're displaying.

His cock is still embarrassingly hard inside you, and Simon reckons it won't soften any time soon. You don’t seem eager to get off him either, thus prolonging the torture with each tiny movement you make.

He inhales sharply and fights tooth and nail to school his expression into neutrality. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is locked tight. The only thing giving him away is the flush of his cheeks, getting pinker by the second because he refuses to open his mouth to breathe a much-needed lungful of air. Knowing that if he would, he'd bark a laugh that would proclaim you as the winner of this fight.

He would never.

You roll your hips, then—cheap trick. He unravels with a shaky breath, and his biceps give out enough for you to slip your hands away.

And then, he knows he's done for.

“Cut it out.” He barks, trying to sound stern and miserably failing. He knows because you're laughing even harder.

Your fingers feel like tiny bugs crawling up his sides, and they make his breath catch in his throat.

“Never.” You say, with a grin that scrunches your nose. A smile that would normally make his heart throb, but right now just makes him wish he were a lesser man so he could throttle you.

“Fuckin’-“

You chuckle.

You evil little cunt.

Resistance lasts a few more seconds before he bursts.

It’s not a full laugh that leaves him; more of a wheeze that makes you chortle like a wicked witch. His chest heaves as your fingers frantically tickle his sides. Tries to get you off him by shaking his hips, but that only makes the two of you falter and moan, and then chuckle and catch your breaths.

His shoulders shake in a breathless, choking laugh that pitches upward as you continue with your assault (yes, assault—he is not being dramatic), eyes veiled with tears of frustration and mirth. He shrieks when your hands travel under his armpits—the sound makes you giggle in a way that would have him melt. 

“That laugh’s lovely, baby.” You say with a smarmy grin he wishes he could wipe with a kiss, hands unrelenting against his sides. “Sound like a kettle whistling.”

He tries to glower and push you off, but you’re surprisingly strong when you’re focused. Right now, your only goal is to apparently make him hate you—he'd rather be held at gunpoint than being forced to hold in a laugh that makes his stomach hurt.

Simon now looks shockingly harmless, with his cheeks flushed bright red and his voice an octave too high—wouldn't look dangerous if he tried.

“Tea ready, yet?” You add, batting your lashes, because why not rub salt into the already embarrassing wound marring his pride.

It’s that unfathomably stupid joke that finally makes Simon crack. He barks out a laugh that bubbles up his throat, rippling through his stomach so suddenly that you bounce above him. Your own laugh follows soon after, because each time you manage to steal one from him, your heart vibrates with loving triumph.

But still—he is Simon Riley, isn’t he? Member of Task Force 141. Lieutenant in the UK Special Forces, SAS. The Ghost. There is some pride in there, one he'd like to keep intact.

He tries to recollect his breath, sniffling, and his arms shoot out to wrap around your waist. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him.

It’s then that you find yourself in a position of utter disadvantage, on your back with your big brute of a boyfriend holding you down. You’re wide-eyed and still smiling with barely contained giggles, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn't make his heart soar.

Sure, he’s panting, still proper flushed and apple-cheeked, with shivers wrecking his spine and unshed tears in his eyes—but he takes great pride in having won yet another fight (again, not overreacting at all, if you ask him).

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

You fix him with a look. “Simon, no.”

Before you can add more to your complaint, he rams his cock into you until your chest stutters, your lips mouthing around a shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

He fucks you into the mattress, then—once, twice, until the remnants of laughter vanish from your face and you’re trembling in bliss, eyes rolled back under heavy eyelids.

He places a sloppy kiss down to your collarbone.

“Simon, yes.”

[shotmrmiller]

Big man, Big mouth

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader (because demeaning girl usage) WC: 4.9k it's just gross smut and simon gets kinda mean sometimes nothing crazy :) ty to the brain to my pinky @xoxunhinged and precious beta @waves-against-a-cliff catching my errs

The smile you’d had on your face all morning is subsequently wiped once you’re told that you won’t, in fact, be spearheading a team meeting with air conditioning and a cup full of your favorite medium roast, but instead, you’re being sent somewhere where practical experience trumps theoretical, textbook knowledge. And alone, at that.

Guess your travel mug is about to make its big debut.

The construction site is alive with purpose— the buzzing of drills, raucous banter, and the low hum of music from a stereo. You run a hand down the back of your skirt that is more tourniquet than office attire you were forced into wearing, regretting not drawing the line at the heels pinching your toes. "Professional setting, professional appearance," your boss had said. Nothing here demands you to stand in ironed clothes with dust settling on your eyelashes and the taste of grit on your tongue.

You feel out of place, a white-collar worker surrounded by hard hats and steel-toe boots. Perhaps taking this job for a promotion was hasty on your part. But it’s too late now and the sun above you is wilting the starched collar of your blouse.

Best get this over and done with. (The bottle of barefoot wine at home will be your reward for your suffering.)

Walking to the home still in a semi-skeletal phase had been a bit uncomfortable, anxiety gnawing at your nerves and the polished shoes at the skin of your heel. But what made your shoulders tense and spine stiffen was the crew. You'd expected disgruntled workers, sure. A bit of grumbling here and there. No one likes to have someone with more authority and less experience trample all over your work, telling you what's what.

Not them eyeing you like you're a fish in a shark tank. A little minnow pulled out of her natural habitat and into the mix with dominant predators. The paper on your clipboard crinkles audibly as one of them— the leader, you gather— stops you before you can get any closer than he feels necessary. He plods over, hard hat tucked into his arm, wiping his sweaty brow with his sunbaked forearm, a few wood curls nestled into his beard.

"Ya lost?" he grunts.

There's a guy with a comb for hair and limpid blue eyes staring right at you from the back as he leans on a half-built wall with a smarmy grin on his thin lips.

"No! No, I, um—" you stammer, "I'm here as a temporary replacement for, um—"

He cuts you off with a dismissive wave, fingers thick as steel beams. "Right. Yeah, yeah." Bloody rude. "The inspector." His head tilts and spits on the cement, eyes giving you a once over, lingering on the bare skin of your calves. "John," he says then jerks his head behind him, to the shady inside of the home. "Let's get ya out this sun 'fore you melt like sugar on the driveway."

You keep your lips pressed in a line, swallowing down the retort sitting on your tongue with a hint of frustration, and follow him on swift feet. It is unforgivingly hot and at least there's a roof overhead. Most of the walls were still just wooden beams, the foundation concrete covered in dust. Rough-bristle brooms lean in corners, the stereo now sitting silently in the center of what’s to be the living room next to a man with a massive frame and a sweat-soaked wifebeater who didn't bother turning around as you made a beeline for the only fan feebly cutting through the muggy heat inside.

John from behind you grabs your attention. "So? What's the issue this time? We jus' had tha' muppet pass through a week ago." You turn around, the breeze now somewhat cooling the back of your neck.

"Just need to personally check what's left—" you clear your throat, giving the clipboard a waggle, "on this. Nothing too grand." The blonde one with shorn hair hasn't looked up once from the blue cooler between his legs.

John scratches his head. "Right." There's a drag of heavy boots behind you. "Temporary, eh?" His eyes are like cerulean rivets, pinning you in place.

Gruff Scottish cuts in, tone dripping with amusement. "Will ye look a' tha'," he mutters, accent thick and deliberate, "bosses up top sent a bonnie wee lass to keep an eye on things. Make sure ye pay good attention, aye?" The brute comes to stand in front of you, flexing one arm, bicep like a knotted tree trunk. "Would hate ye missin' the show."

Show ‘em your teeth, little fish. That promotion is already in your hands, don't let it slip through your fingers.

"Listen, you—" you snap back, cheeks burning hot but then his eyebrows raise to his hairline, the corner of his lip curling in challenge.

"It's Soap, hen."

“...Right.”

What the hell kind of name is Soap?

A third voice— crisp English just like John's— cuts through the air from the second floor. "Wipe the slobber off ya chin 'nd leave 'er alone, Soap! You still hav'ta sweep up 'ere!" A man with bronze skin and a cap adorned with the Union Jack in the center pokes his head out from over the wooden railing. His smile looks stiff.

"Miss." His eyes flash to Soap. "Move it. You can get your cock—" wow, mouth like a sailor, that one, "wet while on company's time." His gaze falls on you for a moment longer before disappearing back into the upper level.

Soap grumbles what sounds like a "fuckin' 'ell Kyle" but heads for the stairs anyway, steps creaking under his weight. "Ah'll be 'round if ye need me," he says with a wink.

Unlikely.

John absently shakes his head and turns to the grizzled, mountain of a man still hunched over that cursed cooler of his. "Simon." He suddenly moves then, rising smoothly to his feet for someone his size. He's a wall of muscle, a very clear force of nature, and he's now staring at your—

your shoes?

"Alrigh'," he gruffly says, "We'll get outta your way. The faster you can look for, whatever it is you're lookin' for, the faster you can get out o' my beard." He places his hard hat back on and gives Simon a nod. "To work, break time's over."

Simon walks past you without so much as a glance, his thick arm brushing roughly against your shoulder with enough strength to make you take a step back but then he speaks. "Don't trip on nothin', girl. I'd hate f'r our pretty mascot t'get injured on the," he emphasizes the last word, tone heavy with mockery, "job."

Your tongue is pressed firmly behind your clenched teeth as you straighten your skirt. Get this shit over with.

--

Their attitudes toward you had left some to be desired, but they had done their job seamlessly. Not a crack in place nor a bolt out of it meaning that ticking off the rest of the boxes on your clipboard had been a cinch, making the promotion even easier. By the time you were ready to go home— the thought of leaving behind the tangy scent of sweat and iron adding a pep to your painful step— the sun had already dipped, casting long shadows over the construction site.

Until John's unwelcome chivalrous gesture: sending one of his to accompany you to your car. "t's late out," he says, leaving no room for lip. Fine, whatever. The faster you get out of here the better. Saliva pools in your mouth at the thought of having a chilled glass of wine with chinese takeout for dinner.

Except the one waiting for you in the garage with a lit smoke between his chapped lips is Simon. He flicks it to the ground, smothering out the embers with the heel of his boot. "Move. Ain't got all day."

The last strand of your patience snaps and your mouth twists into a snarl. "Then leave off! I don't need a fucking chaperone. Believe it or not, I do know how to look both ways before crossing the street."

You'd only taken three irate, swift-footed steps away from him, clipboard trembling in your grip when the back of your shoe dug into raw skin; a sharp, sudden agony flaring out in a hot, thick wave and you stumble. The world spins for a second, colors blurring together until—

The relief is immediate. The hot needles on your raw nerves dulled down to a throb, vision blurring from the brief bite of intense pain. You breathe in a deep lungful of air, tasting salt and sawdust while you flex your feet, hissing when the blistered skin stretches. At least the damage to your toes is minimal.

But not to your pride. Tripping over your own feet, because the driveway while unfinished is still flat, now means you're being hauled over his shoulder, which is broad enough to be surprisingly comfortable, in the opposite direction of where your car is with your heels in hand. The fabric of his tank feels stiff under your sweaty palms.

"Is this kind of behavior normal for you? Or am I just lucky?" your voice is tinged with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. His arm tightens uncomfortably around the back of your bare thighs even though the office skirt you managed to squeeze into is knee-length.

"Only when I spot clumsy-footed birds like you. Can't 'ave ya splat on the concrete like a crime scene outline." A slow creeping flame spreads from your neck to the apple of your cheeks when you notice the guys staring at you from a window upstairs, Soap giving you a toothy smile. Even Kyle seems amused. Mortifying. Someone strike you down now. Actually, no. Then who'd feed your cat once you’re gone?

"'nd John would chew me out f'r lettin' ya break these," his long fingers circle your ankle, "in 'alf." You try to muster a response, but the words sit behind your teeth, your chagrin having tangled your tongue into knots.

Then he stops and the creaking of hinges reaches your ears. "Wait." Your eyes land on a black cargo bed, caked with dried mud. "Are you just going to sit me in your car?" He sets you down in the back seat anyway, tossing your shoes inside.

"Truck. I can drop ya on the patch of grass if ya like." Simon leaves you there, going to the driver's side rummaging through the middle compartment. His work truck is exactly what you'd expect from a man like him. The seats are covered in a thin layer of dust, you imagine he gives no one a ride, a well-worn visibility vest strewn about, an extra pair of work boots stained with splatters of white paint—the size difference of your shoes compared to his has you swallowing a lump the size of your fist down.

Simon pulls out a mid-sized red box and places it on the floor mat then props your leg up on his. His grip is firm but gentle as he inspects your open wounds and then sucks on his teeth. "A bit stupid, wearin' ankle breakers when out on a job." He prods around the inflamed skin, the pain making you tense.

"Don't worry about me and mi—" you hiss when he digs his thumb into the arch of your foot, "mine. Maybe I wanted to look nice." Fuck those shoes.

"'m sure ya did, though the skirt's all ya need." The warmth of his breath spreads through your toes and up your calf, raising gooseflesh.

You can't hold back a snort. "And now you're going to tell me that you prefer women in skirts and dresses?"

Simon switches legs, careful to not aggravate the blisters further. "I prefer my women with no clothes. But both of those make it f'r easier access. Like yours. Can see your knickers from 'ere." That has your heart skipping a beat, eyes widening with disbelief. Instinctively, you sit upright, back straightening with a pop.

"They're red."

You chuff out a breath. He's lying. You'd put on the only available pair you had at the time since you'd forgotten to dry your laundry the night prior. A simple, cotton grey. "You—! Fucking hell, I almost kicked you in the teeth." Simon's looking at you now, eyes dark and intense.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's tried," he says with a smirk, voice low. "White, then."

The first aid kit still lies on the floor mat. "Stop talking." Simon ignores you, instead grabbing your other leg and pulling you closer toward the edge of the seat. Toward him.

"Green," he rumbles, his hands cupping the bottom of your feet, thumb and pointer coming to gently tug on your toes before moving his way up. You feel like a young, dewy-eyed farm girl having her first tumble in the hay and he's only now stroking the protruding bone of your ankle. The motion is slow, deliberate, a tender caress that sends a shiver up your spine. Has it truly been that long since you've had your body shape imprinted into the mattress?

"How about," you swallow thickly, "you patch me up proper and I'll be on my way?" If anyone else had heard, they'd say you're trying to convince yourself that being here isn't what you really want. But the little garble in your voice gives you away.

Simon hums, a sound that vibrates in your chest, sinks into the marrow of your bones. "Little bird wants t’go home 'nd 'ave only a throw 'nd a cat t'warm 'er bed?" You feel a different kind of ache this time, pulsing sharp and deep in your core. "Eh? Y'wanna curl up on the couch with one o’ those sex books while playin’ with your pretty cunt?" 

The idea of having to use the blue bullet sitting inside the nightstand drawer sounds unappealing. And it’s probably out of battery too. Damn. 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and shake your head. He doesn’t accept that as your answer.

"Wha's tha'? You will speak when spoken to, pet. Do you," he emphasizes the last word as he begins to open your legs by the knees, "wanna go home with an empty pussy or let me fill it 'til you're leaking cum out ya ears?"

Can't say no to him serenading you like that. You clench around nothing, hesitance crumbling like sand. "B-but what about your job? Aren't you still working?"

Simon grabs you then, dinner plate-sized hands wrapping around the softer part of your waist. "'M on a break. I'd say I deserve it after all my 'ard work." He lifts you effortlessly, the hem of your skirt rolling as you widen your legs further.

He rolls his hips once, feeling the bulge in his jeans brush against your sex, feather-light, and you bite on the thickest part of your tongue to keep from moaning like a cat in heat. "And what about us being in the open?" you ask though the question is redundant. Besides the crew's work vehicles, there's not another car in sight. If anyone else had been working nearby, they've long since left.

He seems to share your sentiment. "If tha's all? 'm tryin' t'see if I got it righ'."

No, that'll just about do it. "Okay. Alright." God knows you need this. Even if it comes from a stranger you'll probably never see again. Simon doesn't wait any longer, pushing up the rest of your skirt to pool above your thighs.

He hisses long and low through his teeth. "Tight little thing, innit?" Yeah, well. You were going to tell him that while putting on your skirt that morning had been an absolute nightmare, it wasn't that small on you until the tips of his fingers glided along your clothed slit. Oh. He's not talking about that.

"I guess grey's my new favorite colour. Especially this—" he thumbs the darkened wet spot on the fabric, "shade." When he adds more pressure, you can't help but let a gasp out as you buck your hips in want of more. "Easy. 'aven't even started with you." Simon opens the front of your blouse with a single hand, coming undone easily. He goes for the clip of your bra that's serendipitously placed on the front.

"Gotta let the girls breathe," he says. Whatever his reasoning doesn't matter because all there is, is relief. No more underwire digging into your skin, no more suffocating restraint. You only wore the blasted thing because all of your sports bras would've been visible through the blouse.

Simon rolls a hardened bud with one hand while unbuttoning the front of his jeans with the other. "Eatin' this," he gives the mound of your pussy a mean tap, "gonna 'ave t'wait. I'll get ya off though, don't worry tha' little head o' yours."

You wonder if he says that to everybody he fucks in the back of his truck. "What? Why?"

His length sits hot and heavy over your cunt. And it's big enough to kill. Death by cock. That'll be on your epitaph. "'m a big geezer," he mutters, fingers toying with the side of your panties, "lyin' down so you can sit your cunt on my face isn't gonna work righ' now."

Definitely says that to everybody. "Doesn't matter. I'll take care o'ya 'nother way." Simon pulls the dampened gusset to the side and lowers his head to— "Pretty like I thought it was." A fat glob of spit lands on the puffy lips of your pussy and he smears it around with his cock, tip sliding right along your clit. He uses his thumb to press himself down harder, more friction, more sensation, each slow roll of his hips pricking neglected nerves awake, alive, and it feels good. Surprisingly good.

The way the scar on his lip whitens as he bites it tells you it's just as good for him too. "Thought about it much, did you?" He goes lower this time, ruddy tip catching on your entrance momentarily before returning up.

"Since you walked inside a place you 'ave no business bein' in. Birds like you shouldn't be minglin' in the trenches with us grunts." The tips of your ears are hot as he stares down at you. "Should be sittin' nice 'nd pretty in a cubicle with air conditionin' 'nd an oversized mug o' watered-down coffee."

Simon cups the swell of your arse, canting your hips to glide himself better. Every bump and ridge on the underside of his cock is rubbing slowly on you and the thought of licking a slick stripe on the vein only tightens the white-hot coil below your navel.

"Or better yet, sittin' at home doin' wha'ever else while waitin' f'r a man like me to come back from work with a ribeye 'nd redskin potatoes in the oven." He lets your panties fall back into place; the sodden front almost transparent as he rubs against your swollen clit at the same time. God, he's fucking. your. panties! And you're bloody letting him.

What a way to break this year-long dry spell.

He bends your legs so that your feet are now being held flat on the thick of his chest with his hands as he picks up the pace. The suspension springs on the truck begin to groan. "I like mine medium rare."

Your back's come off the seat, spine bowed. You're close, so fucking close, you've got slick coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down to your arse, probably staining his polyester material underneath. This is torture and your pussy feels tender, raw, yet he's barely touching the focal point of your desire. If he doesn't make you come in the next minute, you're breaking that thick neck of his.

It's like he read your mind because he uses his cock to tap on your clit firmly, hard enough to hear a wet thwack and he does it once, thrice and—

And then your body gives, an intense climax that steals the breath in your very lungs, has you your blunt nails biting into the muscle of his forearms, his groan drowned out by the shrill ringing in your ears. Your face feels hot, probably is hot to the touch and there's a sting on the middle of your bottom lip and can taste iron on your tongue. Even the tips of your fingers tingle.

Through your half-lidded gaze, you see Simon holding onto the top of the truck while his breath comes in ragged gasps. Did he come? You curiously touch the expanse of your stomach. Not sticky.

"No. I didn't come. You," he takes in a deep, steadying breath then reaches to squeeze the sides of your face, cheeks plumping under the pressure. "You almost 'ad me, though. I don't remember the last time I 'ad to think tha' 'ard of London t'not finish. But I'm not done with you."

Simon hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and takes them off with urgency only to stuff them in his back pocket. "Better with no clothes on, remember." You can feel his twitching cock leak onto your heated skin.

"If ya need, use this." A black bundle of fabric lands on your chest, what is— It's a mask? If he means to hide your identity from his coworkers, you're not sure this skull mask is going to work. He drags you to him roughly until your arse is hanging off the seat. And then there's a hot, dull pressure pushing against your entrance that's followed by a searing sting, and it, it's so much, it's too m-

"Tight fucking-, Ya need t-, fuck, to relax," he grunts, fingers dimpling your thighs. Simon's thrusts are jerky, short, as he wrenches your walls apart. Even with your creamy cum and his spit it's still a struggle. "'Alf way there," and a rattled breath escapes you. You're being split right down the middle and there's still some left?

For the next few moments only your squeaks and mewls can be heard as he makes room for him, your hand flat on his lower stomach— feeling the coarse, thick patch of hair on it— as if you're trying to keep him away, out, something but then he snarls and snaps his hips. You've heard of a ring of fire some women experience at some point in their life and you think this is yours. The thin skin of your entrance burns, most likely stretched to its limit, like a rubber band about to snap.

"Easy," he drawls out, "The worst's over. Took me like you're made f'r me. G'mme ya 'and." He takes your clammy hand and has you touch where the two of you meet. His eyes are glued to your fingers that are split into a v, pads feeling your cunt soaked in viscous slick.

The groan he lets out at the sight makes the world around you spin. "Stay jus' like tha'." Sure, not like you’ve got anywhere to go. Not with his hands tight around you like metal cuffs. Simon holds nothing back, not even in the very first minute. Doesn't warm you up to it, don't let you try to get used to him turning you inside out. His thrusts are long, firm, hungry— bottoming out every single time until he sits snugly at the plug of your womb. Grinds up when he meets resistance, eyeing your features in case there's discomfort.

The only ache you've got is the one he's fucking into you. (And you also might be partly lying on his tape measurer.)

But then he hitches your legs up, hands around the back of your thighs as they're pushed toward your chest and that pulls a whine out of you that you're sure John and the crew heard. "There she is, bird's got a healthy set o' lungs on 'er." He keeps the same, unforgiving angle and doubles down, using the bulk of his weight to pin you in place, forced to do nothing but take and take and take.

Until Simon's strikes the side of your arse with an open palm. "D'ya hear 'em?" Wha? What? Hear who?

And then you hear it. Him. The handsome one with the hat from upstairs. "Ghost?" he sounds right across the street and Simon hasn't stopped rocking the truck as he fucks you right through it. "Wha's tha' Kyle?" His voice is steady even though there are beads of sweat rolling down the side of his temple.

"I said good job on all your 'ard work 'nd we'll see ya tomorrow. You 'ave a good night too, Miss." There's a crude whistle followed by a pained grunt and a quick mumbled apology. Maybe if you don't respond they'll just get in their car and go home.

But then John calls out to you too.

"Simon must’ve missed you, sweetheart. “Wow. He barks out a laugh. " 'ave yourself a good night, Miss.” Then, sternly says, “Tomorrow at 6, Simon.”

Simon, though, has no intention of letting you take the easy way out. He smacks your arse again, right in the same— already tender— spot from just moments before. "Answer 'em, pet. Or 'ave I fucked all the manners outta ya?" He accentuates the last three words with thrusts so sharp that if he hadn't been holding you in place, you would've been sent sprawling back.

Whatever words you're supposed to say are snagged in your throat like hooks, only whimpers and high-pitched gasps falling past your trembling lips. He drags his thumb over your bottom one, the calloused pad of it tough. "Go on. Be good 'nd tell 'em to 'ave a good night too. And no names. Only one comin’ outta you should be mine."

When you open your mouth, he weaves a hand down to your clit, jerking it in fast little circles that have you forgetting where you even are. "Mf- g-good," he gives you just a second of respite to spit on it. "Good night-," his fingers are almost torture, and god, you're going to come in front of all of them. You warble out the words hastily, feeling your impending orgasm come at you with the speed of a freight train.

"Tha's a good bird, singin' when I tell ya to." There's no stopping this, not with all of his focus on the little bundle of nerves and every drag of his cock making your spine arch as if he were winding it. "Squeeze my cock, tha's it."

Your legs shake violently, toes curled, and you can feel a cramp begin in your calf but none of it matters, not when you're seeing bright lights behind your scrunched eyelids, not when you feel fingers in your mouth to stifle the scream that's viciously wrenched from your throat nor when Simon growls out a "Fuckin' 'ell."

"I told ya, if ya needed somethin' t'bite on, use tha'," he jerks his head toward the mask that's tight in your fist. Your soul is still floating adrift in the wind and he's already trying to make conversation. And he did not say to bite on it.

"I'm not puttin' this unwashed thing in my mouth." You languidly watch him inspect his hand, looking at the deep purple teeth imprints on his fingers. Whoops.

"But you'll 'ave me after sweatin' under the bloody sun for 'ours." His hand slides behind your nape, lifting your head a bit as he lowers his chest to meet your sweat-slick one. Your hands come to claw at the shifting muscles of his back when he begins anew, this time his pace is relentless, sharp, predatory. He's a shark that has scented blood and is now on the hunt.

The prickling bristles of his facial hair scratch against your temple. "This," the hand around your neck tightens, your rapid pulse now roaring in your ears, "is the best pussy I've ever had." His thrusts are jarring, make your teeth clack together hard enough to hurt, and after a dozen of them, he comes with a cruel bite to the junction of your shoulder, snarl animalistic.

Hopefully, the guys drove off a while ago otherwise you're re-dressing and driving home with that mask Simon tossed your way.

Your blouse is unfortunately beyond saving. Your skirt isn’t faring any better if that massive tear in the front has anything to say about it and your shoulder will require at least half a bottle of concealer plus a couple of bandaids, which the first aid kit is completely empty of. Not even the first aid guide is inside. 

You sluggishly begin to button up one of Simon's spare flannel shirts when he asks you if you're hungry.

"No." Not really. Hard to feel much when most of your nerves from the ribs down are shot.

"Get in the front, I'd like t'eat my dinner soon." He's staring right at the apex of your legs, your cunt still throbbing from the abuse."'m 'ungry." There’s no tow car sign on the street, actually, there’s not even a simple stop sign here. 

It better not get towed. You’re not paying a dime if it does.

(Are your feet still hurting or can he fuck those too? No? Next time, then.)

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[monster-disaster]

[wolf-shifter] Rome

wolf-shifter!Rome x human!Reader Good to know: somnophilia, non-con, breeding, rut Summary: Your best friend can't keep himself away from you anymore.

"Did I wake you up?" Your words are slurred when you break the silence of the quiet flat. The only sound is the traffic from the streets, filtering inside through the closed windows. A few cars pass by every now and again. Their engine rumbles through the air, echoing off the buildings.

Your back is against the wall next to the entrance door as your best friend kneels in front of you, trying to take off your shoes with a slight frown between his brows. His thick fingers can barely handle the delicate clasps.

"It's fine," he hums, pushing the shoes aside. "I told you to call me if you need me."

"Thank you," you reply, tilting your head back when he stands up and towers above you. Your makeup is a bit smudged around your eyes as you blink up at him sleepily. "You are a good friend, Rome. I love you."

The man just smirks at your words, tucking you against his side to lead you into his room. He knows the drill by now. You go out with your co-workers, drink more than you can handle, and call him to take you home. He helps you, of course, while listening to you repeat how much you love him until you fall asleep.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he replies, opening the door of his room and leading you inside until you sit on the edge of his bed. Your posture is relaxed and tired. You don't even move a muscle when you feel him starting to take off your clothes.

"Arms up," he says, and when you do, he pulls up your top until it's on a chair nearby. It smells like your perfume, smoke, and alcohol.

"Do you want a shower?" Rome asks even though he already knows your answer.

"'m tired," you hum, letting your eyes close while you are still in a sitting position.

"Of course," the man chuckles.

While he searches for a shirt you can sleep in, he can't help but let his eyes wander on your almost bare body. Your tits fill the bra into a nice cleavage, and your panties match.

"Hold up your arms for a second, sweetheart," he says quietly, feeling a bit annoyed when the thin fabric hides your body from his dark gaze.

"You can lay down now," he adds, helping you onto his bed and tucking you in. By the time he straightens up, you are already asleep.

Rome has known you since he moved into the city. You met at a coffee shop where you worked after college. He knew you were the one him after a glance and a sniff in the air heavy with the scent of coffee and you. It was love at first sight, except you put him into a friend zone, and Rome never figured out how to get out of it without ruining your friendship. So he stayed in that damn zone, hoping that one day you will confess his love for him or he will grow some balls to tell you the truth. Pathetic really.

After making sure the lock of his entrance door is closed and putting a big glass of water next to you on the nightstand, he climbs onto the bed, trying to focus on anything else but your closeness. You are bundled up in the blanket so much he can barely see the top of your head, and your light snores are muffled by the thick fabric.

His brothers would laugh at him for sure. Their little brother can't get the girl, so he has to wake up next to her with blue balls. How funny. They would never let this go. Idiots. All of them.

He glances at you one last time. He is, too.

Sleep takes him after a while, but his dreams are heavy and troubled. When he wakes up, it's almost morning. The sun is still hiding behind the horizon, but it's there. He turns on his back and groans. His gums ache and burns, his mouth open to lift the pressure off his teeth. Sweat glistens on his heated body. His fingers dig into the mattress under him, feeling his claws wanting to grow out. And his cock. He closes his eyes tightly to keep a pained moan in his chest. It's hard and heavy between his thighs. His erection pulses with each breath he takes, and his underwear is already ruined by the precum soaking the black fabric.

"Fuck," he grunts, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He has a hard time making his tense muscles move. The wooden ground feels cold under him. His skin feels too tight and too itchy.

Rome circles his broad shoulders backward a few times before standing up to get to the kitchen for some water. And maybe he should go out for a run. Yes. Some fresh air would definitely do some good.

The man is almost at the door of his room when you turn on your back on the bed, still sleeping. His eyes rake over your body under the covers. He almost forgot you were there. He was so busy with his wolf wanting to come out he didn't even notice you until now. But now, he can't tear his gaze away from you. You are so peaceful and pretty. Your hair is a mess, and your makeup is smeared around your closed eyes even more than last night.

"Fuck," Rome groans again. You shouldn't be here. Not when his rut is approaching and the wolf in him claws on the inside of his mind to get out.

He should force himself to walk away and call an Uber for you. He should wake you up and make you leave. Or at least, he should force himself out of the room. You shouldn't be here so beautiful and soft while his cock throbs with the need to fill you up.

Images of you pliant and warm in his arms flood his mind. How would you feel under his hands? Under his tongue? Around his...

Rome stares at your chest for long seconds, watching you breathe. You are deep asleep. You always black out when you drink too much.

He steps closer.

His large hands curl into fists.

Another step to the bed.

He shouldn't.

"Fuck."

The change of his body comes naturally and quickly. His skeleton transforms into something more primal, with firm muscles and dark fur all over his skin. He grows taller and stronger. The ache in his body lessens, but his cock between his legs still bobs angrily with each step he takes to the bed to get closer to your sleeping form. His claws grip the blanket, pulling it down from the bed slowly and carefully. He drops it to the ground, keeping his eyes on your bare legs. His t-shirt barely hides your panties, and he can see your nipples harden at the sudden change of temperature.

For a second, his attention wanders up to your face. Your eyes are still closed, and your breath is even. The man climbs up on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight. He hovers above your sleeping form, almost frozen. You can wake up at any minute, and there is no way he can explain the situation without you freaking out.

But it's too little and too late.

Taking a deep breath, his hand moves to his aching cock, his long fingers curling around the thick shaft. A groan escapes his open mouth, his long tongue lick over his upper teeth. His eyes wander down on your body, pausing at your soft tits and hard nipples before falling to your covered mound. His grip tightens on his erection, precum leaking from the dark pink tip. He throbs in his own hand, urging him to do something.

He saw you like this several times since you know each other. You are comfortable showing some skin even though it drives him crazy under the surface. The memories almost make him angry. So many times, he imagined you under him, moaning and crying for him while you were totally unaware of his desires and demons.

Releasing his cock, he reaches out for you. His touch is gentle and warm on your knees, gliding up on the soft flesh of your thigh. When you open your legs, he almost jumps back and out of the bed. Rome snaps his eyes up to your face again. You are still asleep.

It's so wrong on so many levels.

Now, that your legs are open, he can see the slit of your pussy through the thin fabric. Drool drips down from his mouth at the plump sight.

Maybe it's enough, he tries to convince himself. Just jerking off on the view of your cunt is enough until you wake up and go home. You won't know anything about it, and life can go on as usual. It's a lie, and the beast in him knows it.

His hand is on you again, caressing your thigh before sliding up to your panties. It's soft under his touch but does nothing but annoy him. His thumb moves between your legs, feeling the heat of your pussy on his own skin. His heart beats in his throat as he watches. Your clit is under his thumb, drawing small circles on the bud.

Rome doesn't have to wait long to feel your arousal in the air. It's thick and heavy, making him and his cock drool some more.

"Fuck!" He groans. His snout fidgets as he takes deep breaths from your scent. "You smell so good."

He moves closer, slowly, tentatively. He lifts his weight onto his arms at the sides of your body. His eyes are on your face again, watching you sleep while his nose almost bumps against your mound. A low groan rumbles in his chest. You are so close. So delicious. His tongue rolls out of his mouth, licking through your center over the fabric covering it. You are wet. He licks over your slit until your panties are soaked with your juices and his saliva. It sticks to your plump pussy.

"Let's take it down," he hums, hooking his long fingers on the side of your panties to pull it down and reveal your most intimate part. Your cunt glistens under the street lights that filter into his bedroom through the window.

The wolf-shifter's world spins around him once, twice, three times as he leans closer again. His snout rubs against your clit, taking deep breaths of your heavy smell. He lost control over his own body a long time ago.

"So pretty," he murmurs. Saliva drips down onto your wet center as he hovers above you. The sight fills him with satisfaction. You will smell like him. You will be marked by him. "You have such a pretty pussy, sweetheart."

Almost bursting with anticipation, he slides his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juices. When he flicks your clit, you moan into the dark room, making him freeze for long seconds. The sound escaping your mouth is hoarse and oh, so delicious. Your smell gets stronger in the air, but you don't move.

"Just a little bit more," he whispers, almost begging. He slurps on your pussy hurriedly, trying to suffocate himself in your cunt. His tongue finds your entrance, pushing inside your hot channel. He can feel you fluttering around his tongue, sucking him in for more. His whole body trembles as his muscles tense. Every nerve in his body is focused on you. Your smell and taste drive him deeper and deeper to the point he can't back away.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, leaking. His balls feel too tight, and his hips start to rock back and forth every now and again to find some friction. The knot at the base of his shaft grows with each second he spends between your thighs, munching on your cunt.

Biting off his own claw, he turns his attention back to your empty hole. His tongue slides into you easily. You are pulsing and fluttering until he adds his finger to stretch you out some more. For a second, you tense up, moaning again before continuing to sleep. He almost laughs. He could fuck you. You wouldn't wake up.

He almost cums when you clench around him. He scoops up your nectar with his tongue, gulping to burn the memory of your taste in his mind. Your breathing gets heavier, and a small, barely noticeable tremble runs through your body as you reach your climax. With his free hand, Rome has to squeeze his cock to stop him from shooting his seed all over you and the bed.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans, keeping his fingers in you, feeling your still squeezing walls. "Can you do that again? Could you cum on my cock, hm? Are you ready for it?"

It's madness.

He climbs above you, pushing your legs apart to have enough space for his slim waist between your thighs. His erection rubs against your folds, mixing his pre-cum and your juices together.

"God," he groans. "Fuck! So good, sweetheart. Your cunt is so warm. She wants me, love. She wants my cock inside. You know it, too."

Grabbing his erection, he adjusts the bulbous tip to your entrance before starting to push inside. He growls at the feeling of you enveloping him. You are warm and wet and perfect. His balls jerk and his knot pulses.

"That's it," he groans. "You are doing so good, sweetheart."

"Rome?" Your voice feels like cold water. His name on your lips is thick with sleep and confusion. "What? What are you doing?" Your question ends in a moan when he doesn't stop. He pushes his cock inside you entirely, stretching you out and filling you up.

"Shh, sweetheart," he grunts, panting. "It's okay."

"Rome?" Panic laces your voice. "Rome! Stop!"

"I can't," Rome replies, shaking his head, licking up on the side of your neck. Your palms seem small on his broad chest as you try to push him away while he still rocking back and forth inside you.

"Enough! Rome!"

"Shh," he tries to calm you again. His mind is dizzy with the feeling of you around him. Tight and warm, clenching with every movement you make. Your trashing under him almost breaks his cock off, but damn his whole life if he stops. "It's okay, love. Your pussy wants it."

"What? No! It's wrong!"

"No!" He growls. "It's not! I should have made you mine a long time ago!"

Despite your panic and anger, a moan escapes your lips when he thrusts inside you. Your pussy clenches around his shaft, soaking his erection. Rome reaches every sweet spot in you, driving you higher and higher.

"So good, sweetheart," he coos. His words fan over the side of your neck. "You feel it too, right? My cock stretches your tiny pussy. You squeeze on me so tight, I can barely move."

"Rome!" You moan his name, your fingers dig into the hard muscles of his shoulder. Your legs curl around his waist to keep him close. Pleasure flares through your body even though you know it's wrong.

"And you taste so good, love," he grunst into your neck. Your skin is wet from his drooling. "I ate your pussy while you slept," he admits. "I drank up your juices. You got wet so easily. Your pussy knew it was me."

They shouldn't, but his words fuel you more. Your hips move under him, meeting his thrust as your back arches from the bed.

"Rome! Please! Fuck!"

Seeing you so responsive wakes up something primal inside him. You want him, he thinks, shocked. You want his cock, his warm cum. His mark. He almost shouts with pain when he forces himself to kneel up and leave your warm channel.

"Turn around," he says but doesn't wait for your reaction. Grabbing your hips, he turns you on your stomach, tugging you into a kneeling position. Your ass rubs against his cock while he hovers above you and pushes your head down on the bed.

"Present yourself for me, sweetheart," he groans, rutting against your bottom. "Show me how much you want my cock like a good bitch."

"Rome," you cry his name, screaming when he enters into your pussy again. His hold is firm and hard on your hips as he keeps you in place against his pounding. He fucks your pussy with newfound vigor. Your juices flow down on your thighs, dripping onto the bed.

"Fuck!" Rome groans. "Your pussy is so good to me, sweetheart. She knows what she wants, and it's my cock. She wants me to fill her up and soak her with my seed."

His words clear your mind for a second. Your fingers grip onto the blanket under you. "Wait! Rome! Don't! I don't…!"

"It's okay, love," Rome groans, still fucking you. "You don't have to worry. I will take care of you and our pup. I will fuck your cunt until you are round with my child. I want to see your tits grow with milk and your stomach with our pup. Maybe I will always keep you pregnant and ripe."

Tears run down your cheek from pleasure and fear. Your body and your mind tell different things, and you can do nothing because of the spinning world around you. Your walls flutter around his cock, your stomach tightens into a burning coil.

"Take my knot, love," he demands. "Let me fuck my mate pregnant. Let me have this, love. Just open up your pussy for me, and I will do the rest."

There is no way you can fight against him. His hold on you is too strong and tight, while your limbs feel like jelly. He bullies your cock, filling you up to the brim.

Rome's whole world narrows down on your sweet hole as he forces his knot inside your wet pussy. Every nerve in his body bursts with pleasure when he is inside you fully, and he can't move without tugging and pushing you with the rhythm of his hips pounding your hole.

His growl shakes the walls as he cums inside you. He shoots into your hole several times until, even through the barrier of his knot, some still escapes your pussy.

"Ohgod!" You cry, shaking and jerking. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you reach your climax. You suck Rome for every drop of his cum he can give you. Your pussy aches and burns so deliciously that you can do nothing, but rock back against him for more. His chuckle is hoarse next to your ears when he notices what you are doing.

"It's 'kay, love," he hums, still keeping his weight on his arms. "My rut will keep me going for a while longer before I'm done with you."

"What?" You gasp, breathless. "We are not done?"

"Didn't you hear me?" He hums, pushing inside you more if it's even possible. "I won't stop until you are with my pup."

- Masterlist Meriad Masterlist Patreon

[libingan]

—no questions asked.

you’ve always been his, even before the words were ever said—no labels needed when everything else speaks for itself.

i remember candace and jeremy's relationship in phineas and ferb. i liked how jeremy assumed they were already dating and thought to myself "simon riley" so here it is.

it’s always been this way with simon.

the little things you’ve shared, those moments that nobody else gets to see, have slowly built up over time. long drives where the silence is comfortable, quiet moments when you’re wrapped up in a blanket together, his arm draped around your shoulders. you’ve shared soft kisses in the early morning light, whispered words when you think no one’s listening, and occasional touches that linger just a second too long to be deemed innocent. his gruff voice calling you his—just “his,” as if you’re already a part of something bigger, something unspoken.

but the question always lingers in the back of your mind: what are we?

because in your head, you’re not his girlfriend. you never really were. sure, you’ve done couple things—spent hours together, laughed over inside jokes, shared moments that feel like they belong to only the two of you. but whenever you think about it, you can’t quite place a label on what you are. you never had that conversation, the one where he asks you out, where you define what this thing between you is.

and deep down, you’ve always known. maybe it’s not meant to last. maybe simon’s just passing through your life like a storm, wild and unpredictable, leaving you wondering if you’ll ever feel whole again once the dust settles. you’ve never asked for a commitment. it was enough for you to just be close, to keep things easy and fluid, without any promises that might eventually break.

but then, everything changes the moment you decide to confront him.

it’s a quiet night, the kind where the world outside seems to stop, and you’re sitting in the living room, the only sound being the soft hum of the kitchen light. simon’s sprawled across the couch, eyes half-lidded as he scrolls through his phone. you’re sitting on the floor in front of him, leaning your back against the coffee table, and you can’t stop your thoughts from swirling.

the truth has been eating at you for weeks now, months maybe. you have to ask. you need to know if this is really what you want, and more importantly, if it’s what simon wants. so, you let the question slip, unsure of how it’ll come out, but it tumbles from your lips all the same.

“simon,” you begin, your voice quiet but firm, “what are we?”

he doesn’t immediately look up from his phone. it’s as if the question barely registers, but you know he’s heard it. you can feel his attention slowly turning your way, as if his brain needs a second to process the weight of your words.

he puts the phone down, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at you, his gaze soft but intense. he doesn’t say anything at first. instead, his lips curl into a small, knowing smirk.

“what do you mean?” his voice is low, almost like he’s testing the waters.

you swallow, feeling a tightness in your chest, and you try to make your words come out right. “i mean… we do all this stuff, simon. you call me yours, and i… i don’t even know where i stand. we’ve never really talked about what this is. are we… are we dating, or what?”

he blinks at you for a moment, clearly taken aback by your words. it’s almost funny, how much you’ve thought about it, how much you’ve analyzed your every interaction, while simon has likely never questioned it. it’s simple to him. and that’s when it hits you—he’s never even considered that this could be anything other than what it is.

he sighs, a deep, exasperated sound, and leans back into the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. his eyes lock onto yours, unwavering. “what are you on about, woman? you’re my girlfriend.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, you can’t quite process them. you blink, unsure if you’ve heard him right. it almost sounds like he’s stating a fact, like it’s something as simple as breathing. his voice is firm, unwavering, as if this was always meant to be the case.

you feel your breath catch, the weight of his words sinking in, and then—just like that—all your worries melt away. you don’t even know why you were so worried in the first place. the uncertainty, the anxiety, it all seems so silly now. you’re not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all. simon is, as always, so simon about it. there’s no drama, no overthinking, no need for big conversations or declarations.

you’re his. you’re his girlfriend. and there’s no debate.

the relief hits first, followed closely by a mix of amusement and a small flash of annoyance. you try to hold back the grin tugging at your lips. “wait... just like that? no question, no ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ just… you’re my girlfriend?”

he meets your gaze, nonchalant, and shrugs. “that’s right. you’re mine. no need for any of that nonsense. i’ve already decided.”

you stare at him, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. it’s the way he speaks, like he’s already certain, already claimed you. and it feels… good. reassuring, even. but also, just a little bit frustrating. because, honestly, how do you even argue with that?

“god, you’re impossible,” you mutter, a grin breaking through as you roll your eyes. “seriously. you’re so damn sure about everything.”

he just smirks back, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “you should be glad i am, sweetheart. now, come here.”

he pats his lap, and before you can protest, you’re already moving toward him, the tension from moments before completely gone. his arms pull you close, and you settle against him, feeling his familiar warmth. you don’t even need the words anymore. somehow, just being with him like this is enough.

and that, you realize, is exactly what simon’s always known.

[bunnis-monsters]

Hybrid Shelter Prologue

warning: mentions of abuse, injuries, some yandereish behavior, and violence

You’ve been working at the hybrid shelter for a few weeks now. It wasn’t an easy job, tending to injured, abused, and scared hybrids, but you did your best.

This was just a part time job until you were able to find something better. Of course you cared about the hybrids, but the money you made wasn’t enough.

You had two other part time jobs that took your time away, and although you loved working at the hybrid shelter, it was only a temporary thing.

Most days were full of games, movies marathons, the occasional check up, and lots of bonding. After all, the goal was to help these hybrids figure out what they wanted. If they wanted to be independent, be a pet, or return/live in the wild.

Today was a bad day, though.

You woke up at 3 am to a call, asking you to come into the shelter early.

“It’s an emergency,” your boss said, taking a moment to breathe before continuing. “A new hybrid came in… you’ll understand when you get here.”

And your boss was right, you understood the second you walked in.

In the corner of the lounge was a cat hybrid. He was backed against the wall, hissing and spitting as his tail puffed up.

“Stay away from me, don’t you dare get any closer!”

All the other workers were covered in scratches, glancing at one another in concern.

“His file,” your boss said from behind you, handing you a folder. “A tale as old as time. Human buys a cat hybrid from a backyard breeder, doesn’t know how to take care of him. The owner abused the poor thing then dropped him off at our door… he was scared and confused, and when we said his owner abandoned him…”

Your nods gestured to the cat hybrid, sighing. “This happened.”

You took a moment to read his file, frowning before you handed the folder back. “Alright, I’ll give it a try. Get a room ready in the infirmary, we’ll need to do a checkup and make sure his vaccinations are up to date.”

The cat hybrid’s ears pinned back as you approached, his tail lashing dangerously. “Don’t take another step closer, I’ll-“

His ears unfolded when you sat down a few feet away from him, giving the scared hybrid a kind smile. “Alright, I’ll stay right here then. Is that alright?”

Though his tail continued to sway erratically, the cat hybrid slowly lowered himself to the ground to match your stance.

“…”

He stayed quiet, eyeing you. All you did was sit there, watching his body language and slowly scooting closer.

“You don’t have to be afraid. I know it can be scary coming to a new place, but there’s other cat hybrids just like you here. They’re all happy, and I take care of them myself.”

He sniffed the air to confirm your words, picking up the scent of other hybrids on you. “… and… you don’t hit them?”

Those words tore at your heart, but you didn’t let it show. You kept a calm smile on your face as you nodded slowly. “No… there’s no hitting here. No punishments either.”

He hesitantly reached out a hand, placing it on your leg before pulling it back. Testing the waters was a good sign. “Will my owner come back?”

“Most likely not… and even if we did, we wouldn’t let them hurt you. Never again.”

With that, he slowly moved forward, leaning until his head rested on your lap, a sign of trust. You gently scratched behind his ears, a soft purr coming from him.

“There you go… that’s a good boy.”

Your boss watched this interaction from a distance, picking up his phone. “Yeah, I think she’s the one. I’ve never seen a hybrid calm down so quickly, she might have the thing we’ve been looking for.”

The rest of the day, the cat hybrid cling to your side, enduring the medical exam only if it meant he got to hold onto your arm.

Already he was scenting you, just like many of the other hybrids did. You were unaware how many had already put their “claim” on you, and how that would affect your future at the shelter.

Leaving wasn’t easy, the cat hybrid, who you named Midnight because of his dark hair, was attached to your hip. He cried and buried his face into your neck when you got ready to leave, only agreeing to let go of you with the promise you’d be back tomorrow.

“Mine… don’t want you to go…” he murmured, just quiet enough for you to not hear.

The next morning you woke up to a text message from your boss. Through your bleary vision you were barely able to make out what it said.

‘Dear (Name), you have been offered a chance to work as a full time employee. You’ll be paid $30 an hour, and you can start tomorrow. Please reply to confirm.’

Although you felt happy, something about the message felt off. Regardless, you needed the money and accepted immediately.

Soon your life would become hectic and full of mystery, but you wouldn’t find that out until later.

Now, you rolled back over and went to back to sleep until your shift began.

——————

Comment to be added to the Hybrid Shelter taglist. There may be some nsfw and yandere elements in the future! For now I’m using the nsfw taglist, but the next post I’ll be tagging those who comment.

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