#poly!reader

[curtsycream]

Heyyyy it's me again

Okay so

Poly141 (all dating each other) where they're all like. Lounging in the living room, watching a movie or something. Reader is upstairs in the bathroom (she made an excuse to get away), looking at herself too much in the mirror. She tries to hide she's insecure, but Johnny comes upstairs to find her, and he sees her staring and grabbing her stomach. He watches for a second but when he sees her tearing up, he walks in, picks her up, and takes her to the guys downstairs. He makes her explain to them what he saw, and it turns into fluffy smut? Like the guys are over here like "?????? stfu before i put my baby in you 🙄" and it's gets a little rough, but still fluffy?

Idk it's hella self-indulgent, but no pressure if you don't wanna write it :)

Beautiful Woman

Poly!TF141 x F!Reader

Heyyyyy, how ya doing? I would never turn down a request like this. I hope you like it lovely <33

warnings: not proofread to the highest tier, Soap’s accent is thick (I apologize couldn’t help it), body insecurities, a bit of dysmorphia if you read into it, penetration (p in v), oral (f receiving), idk

Movie nights were always her favorite as she leaned her head on Soap’s shoulder. Her fingers entwined with Ghost’s as they watched Grownups. The movie selection was Gaz’s as he seemed to find the movie pure comedy gold. He felt the same about Mall Cop, something Price could partially agree with.

Laughter from Soap and Gaz filled the room along with Ghost’s random commentary. She was enjoying herself but that gut wrenching feeling was there. Where it felt as if all eyes were on her. She knew it wasn’t that way but her mind made it hard to think clearly. At first she simply wrapped her free arm around her stomach. But it wasn’t enough she knew they weren’t but in her mind they were laughing at her. It was nauseating, standing up abruptly she let a half-baked excuse leave her lips. “Need to use the bathroom,” she told them when they looked to her.

They didn’t notice anything off until she went upstairs. There was a perfectly fine bathroom downstairs but she didn’t go to it. Sharing a look they took a moment to write it off. They didn’t want to cause any alarm when she probably forgot.

The bathroom door slammed close, her eyes focused on her reflection in the mirror. Many times have they assured her that they loved the way she looked. But insecurities like that never went away at the drop of a hat. Raising her shirt she turns to the side looking at her side profile. The way her stomach looked bothered her, her finger tracing over a stretch mark.

Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at herself head on. Sucking in her stomach she runs a hand over her stomach. Even as she did it she felt inferior in a way. Compared to women from their pasts she wasn’t like them. She wasn’t thin or shaped like a coke bottle, she didn’t feel like their type.

It was a silly concept to focus on the women they dated and determine the kind of women they like. She knew it was but for some reason as her eyes stare at stomach she assumed this was a joke. That she didn’t deserve them because she didn’t fit the standard of the women they didn’t stay with.

Squishing her stomach she sniffled just as the bathroom door opened. He went unnoticed until he stepped forward when seeing how her bottom lip trembled. His eyes on her hands as they squish her stomach. It was clear what was going on as he pulls her against him. His finger rests under her chin as he lifts her head to look at him.

“Whit urr ye daein'?”

His voice was a blanket of warmth over her as he spoke to her. “I—“ she began before stopping.

“Ye?”

It was evident that he wasn’t going to let this go, that was reasonable. Shaking her head she uses her hands to dry her eyes. “I don’t deserve you guys, I’m just..look at me.”

“Shut th' hell up, afore ah pat a baby in ye tae prove it..”

“I’m serious Johnny, no matter what I do I always feel so goddamn inferior to the women you’ve dated. Do you even love me or am I just a spur of the moment decision.”

Her words cut him deep leaving him with a hurt look on his face. He didn’t say anything he just looked at her, it was worrying. But before she could ask him about it he picked her up. Wide eyed she let him carry her as if she weighed nothing to him. Not a single grunt or groan left him to indicate that he was struggling.

When he put her down she landed on the couch in a seated position. All eyes were on her a feeling she hated especially now.

“Tell thaim,” he said pointing to the other three men. Their attention no longer on the movie that was now paused.

Fiddling with her fingers she shrugged looking down, “I don’t deserve you guys…you could have anybody and you pick me. I know I sound a bit childish but that’s how I feel, I don’t compare to the women you’ve dated. I don’t even feel comfortable in my skin, I feel too big.”

“Dated? past tense, there are reasons we aren’t dating those women anymore. Just like there’s a reason we’re with you,” Gaz said his tone just as serious as his expression. She wasn’t used to such a look on his face where a smile usually lived.

Opening her mouth to speak she was cut off by Price. The older man had a similar expression on his face, “you deserve more than you’ll admit. You’re perfect for us trust me if we didn’t love everything about you we wouldn’t be with you, darlin’”

“Stop selling yourself short, if I had the option of anyone I would still pick you. There’s no question about it, lovie.”

The tears that were brimming her eyes soon fell. She couldn’t hold it in anymore as she cried from their words. She was pulled into a chest realizing it was Ghost from the smell of kohl and steel. Even when they were away from work he always managed to smell that way. “How would you know, you can’t prove that?” She asked her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Ye'r perfect fur us, we kin aye prove that,” Soap let out.

A surge of desire coursed through Soap’s body as he watched Gaz’s skilled and intimate ministrations. The way Gaz’s tongue danced across her delicate folds, eliciting moans of pleasure from their girl, sent a jolt of arousal straight to Soap’s core.

He couldn't tear his eyes away as Gaz’s tongue worked its magic, exploring every inch of her pussy. The vulnerability displayed by her, the trust placed in their hands, it all fascinated him.

Swallowing hard, she gripped Price’s hand as his lips were attached to one of her breasts. His kisses were enough to melt her to the core. She kept her eyes open as she looked over at Ghost who was stroking his cock as he watched. He was anticipating his turn to show her just how important she was to them. Licking her lips she moans when Price’s fingers rub her clit. She wasn’t prepared for the assisted pleasure her mind reeling at the feeling of Price’s fingers and Gaz’s tongue.

“Ye keek sae bonny lik' this, lass,” Soap’s words cut through the thick layer of lust and need. Her eyes on him as he moves closer his lips slamming onto hers. The kiss was quick pace as if he was putting all of his love into it.

Her thighs squeezed around Gaz’s head as she panted into Soap’s mouth. Her body trembling as she felt close, a sign they all were familiar with. “Look at that wanna cum so bad, wanna make a mess on Kyle’s tongue huh, darlin’?”

All that left her was a moan into Soap’s mouth at Price’s words. His fingers were pulling at her nipples as she came. Her fingers gripping Gaz’s hair as she moaned loudly into Soap’s mouth. He didn’t relent as he seemed to swallow all of her moans.

When Gaz pulled away so did Soap allowing her to see the man lick his lips clean. A smile on his face as he sat up caressing her inner thigh, “still tasting good I see.”

His words left her a mess almost as much as Ghost was about to leave her. She knew the moment Gaz stepped away what was going to happen. Her eyes found Ghost as he made his way between her legs. His large hands gripping her thighs parting her legs a bit more. The sound of kissing faint as Soap tasted her off of Gaz’s lips.

“You’re so pretty, lovie,” Ghost’s words distracted her from him entering her. A moan leaving her lips as she felt him slowly sink into her. “Always so fuckin’ tight too,” he praised.

His words and actions left her feeling fuzzy inside. Just as she thought that would be enough she felt kisses trailing down her stomach. “Love everything about you, darlin’. Look at how pretty you are taking Simon’s cock. Making him feel so good,” his words rang loud in her ears. “Tell me how pretty you are, we wanna hear you darlin’.”

She was used to their reassurance and love but it always felt different when they were intimate. It seemed to cement just how much they truly meant what they said. How they showed her body love in the most intimate of ways. “I’m very pretty,” she choked out when Price left a hickey on her thigh.

As Ghost’s speed picked up he caged her between his arms. His face dropping to the crook of her neck, his breath fanning her skin. “Gonna put a baby in you, let you carry around proof that we love you.”

Shuddering she whimpered at his words while he thrusted ruthlessly into her. It wasn’t long until she was clamping around his cock. Her eyes fluttering shut when she came around him. In return he gasps sharply as her pussy milks him for all that he has.

It served as a reminder even after they cleaned up. She stood in front of the mirror again after the shared shower between them. Behind her stood Price whose hands were on her bare hips. “Look at you, the prettiest woman there is.” He would whisper in her ear as he left kisses along her shoulder. “Regardless of how you feel about yourself I promise you that we aren’t thinking those same bad things you are. You look sexy and it’s okay to not be what you think you should be. We love how you look, darlin’.”

Nodding her head she tears up watching him leave kisses on her skin in the mirror. It was reassuring in ways she had never experienced before. With them she knew she would be loved, they would always make that clear to her.

Soap peeked his head into the bathroom with squinted eyes, “Ye let Si pump a baby intae ye afore ah cuid? ah wis th' yin wha said it first” he tells her.

A laugh left her lips as she listens to him, “I’m sorry,” said said to him. Shaking his head he holds his hand out, “Na sorry, wur aboot tae dae that now.”

Translations again I want to thank my friend who was able to tell me how to write Soap’s words properly. He’s a real one <33 For words like baby, first, maybe a few more I changed them because my keyboard hates the word bairn for some reason.

Whit urr ye daein'? - What are you doing?

Ye? - You?

Shut th' hell up, afore ah pat a baby in ye tae prove it. - Shut the hell up, before I put a baby in you to prove it

Tell thaim - Tell them

Ye'r perfect fur us, we kin aye prove that - You’re perfect for us, we can always prove that

Ye keek sae bonny lik' this, lass - You look so beautiful like this, girl

Ye let Si pump a baby intae ye afore ah cuid? ah wis th' yin wha said it first - You let Si pump a baby into you before I could? I was the one who said it first.

Na sorry, wur aboot tae dae that now. - No sorry, we’re about to do that now

[suplicyy]

Hellooo!! This is the anon from the Kenma and Noya req lmao. I have another request :3

Feel free to decline this req but could you please write some hcs about how it would feel to cuddle with both Kenma AND Kuro at the same time..Like reader is either dating one of them, both or maybe its all just platonic and then they just cuddle and hhh mimimi

Cuddle Sandwich

Kenma x Gn!Reader x Kuroo

— Summary: How you and your boyfriends like to cuddle.

— Fluff

— Gn!Reader

— Poly!Relationship

The three of you were childhood friends, and since today you are very close and even went to the same school! And when they joined the volleyball club, you signed up to be the club manager, as a way to stay close to them, since you had a little crush on the two of them.

But little did you know that they also hid a small crush on you, and on each other as well. And on the day of discovery, the three of you agreed to be in a relationship.

Few people know about your relationship, so you don't usually show much affection in public. But when you hug in public, many people think it's because the three of you are childhood friends.

But make no mistake, you are extremely affectionate when it's just the three of you.

Kenma is usually the main target of your hugs, because he is shyer, his reactions are always the cutest!

One time you and Kuroo got together to give Kenma a big surprise hug while he was playing a game, and it ended up that the three of you accidentally fell to the ground with the impact (and even then you continued lying on the ground because the position you were hugging him was too comfortable)

The three of you love to cuddle when it's cold, because that means you'd probably have a movie marathon night at your house! There are always several favorite snacks for everyone and several blankets and pillows to make it even more cozy.

And when you're watching the movie, you almost always make a sort of cuddle sandwich in your bed, with you and Kuroo hugging Kenma who is between you two. He always says that you and Kuroo are too clingy with him, but don't let that fool you, he really likes it and even sleeps because he is so comfortable in your arms.

But don't expect it to always be as calm and silent as in those moments, because from time to time hugging can also be quite chaotic.

Kuroo has a habit of fidgeting and changing positions while hugging one of you all the time, so in case you made your bed, I'm sorry but it's going to be all messed up the second he sits on it. While hugging you and Kenma, he also would babbling about some curiosity he saw on the Internet or talking about some gossip he heard in class.

And just as they love hugging you, you love hugging them too!

Kenma's favorite type of hug is when he's playing something on his console and you're cuddled up next to him, with your head resting on his shoulder.

Kuroo's favorite type of hug is when you give him surprise hugs. Silently approach him and give him a big hug from behind and this boy will immediately hug you back.

Kenma loves to hug you when you're lying down, so he can sleep while being comfortable next to you.

Kuroo likes to give you really tight hugs, which most of the time he does to provoke you on purpose. He would crush you and hold you so you wouldn't leave, and he would only let you leave if it was something urgent (only if meteors were falling on Earth).

You guys love to cuddle each other, the feeling of comfort it gives each of you when you are with each other is irreplaceable.

A/N — Two posts in one day yayyy!! As I'm going to be less active this week I thought I'd post this one today too!

Also, this is my first time writing about a poly!relationship, so please tell me if I did something wrong or made someone uncomfortable😥

[steviebunny]

2. Glorified Cult Leader

Dubai

"So Daniel, do you have any questions?"

The reporter stares at Louis in near astonishment, removing his glasses to rub his aching head.

"About the woman with the face full of teeth? Yes, I have fucking questions! You had that one in disguise this whole time" Daniel motions to Armand with his glasses "Should I assume there's a demon lady pretending to dust shelves in a sexy maid uniform somewhere around here?"

Louis crosses an ankle over his knee with a slight laugh, Armand's arm loops over the back of the back of the sofa and rubs his hand. "No. Nothing like that. Patience Daniel and good things will come, let the story take you where it needs you to be."

___

Paris

The Rusalka moves gracefully through the vast library shelves, fingers gently grazing cover after cover. Heeled shoes moving after the other creating an echo off the marble floors. Her head raises, no longer lost in thought- she sniffs the air.

"You can come out, you're not nearly as sneaky as you seem to think you are."

A tapping of leather soles against the floor much like her own sounds from behind her.

The well-dressed leader she met the other evening walks out from behind a shelf, he leans against the wood shifting his weight onto one hip, placing his hand in his coat pocket with well-rehearsed grace. 

Her eyes trace over him and then roll “If you’re trying to kill me I wish you luck, it’s not easy.”

“Who says I wish to end your life?” 

“Your kind is territorial, I haven’t had the best experiences in the past, can you blame me for running? Not to mention your man chased me, not a very good first impression.” 

“Santiago is not my man.” His stoicism falls face curling in disgust at the accusation. 

“Right, you’re paired with the bookworm.” Her eyes shine and something swipes sideways, blinking slowly like an alligator. 

“You’re no longer deemed a threat. Siren. But you’re perspective, we could have a place for one of your kind in the coven. So long as you behave of course.”

“Wrong.” 

“Hmm?” His eyebrows perk up and his head tilts. 

“Not a siren. Similar, but I don’t sing. And I don’t lure unfaithful men to the depths. I just eat the evil ones, it’s a lot less dramatic that way.”

“You get to define what evil is?”

“Yes. You, vampires, are so strange…you love each other so purely, even when you hate. It’s so obvious, but you keep screwing each other over? I can’t tell if it’s a self-preservation instinct or not. I think you’d be a lot happier if your covens were big love fests instead of the whole master-servant dynamic.”

Armand scowls, fangs dipping slightly with a cat-like hiss. “You think yourself omniscient? We need structure, solitary vampires either wither by their lonesome until they meet the flame or sow chaos in their wake. Humans always search for more, money, power, love, knowledge, more. Why hold on to this part of your humanity when you can live content? A part of something better, the coven offers such.”

The rusalka laughs and her melodious voice has a sharp screech-like tinge to it- “Content! Oh, so great coven leader!” She cries clasping her hands together, pressing them against her face. “Who surrounds himself with sycophants, Truly the best representation of a content being, yeah? You vampires want just as much as I do. You’re not built to be lonely, companionship is in your blood. So don’t preach to me about contentment you glorified cult leader.”

Armand steps closer, face inches from the rusalka towering over her, he removes his sunglasses- tucking them into his chest pocket he looks deep into her eyes and calmly with a sneer says “You’re vulnerable. It makes you weak. We are not the only coven in France and you will not be able to run forever. Unless of course, you aim to end your studies so quickly after arriving.”

“How’d you…?”

“I may not be able to read your mind but this place is flooding with your peers. It’s quite the story you’ve concocted for yourself, the best lies are rooted in some truth are the not?” 

“My vulnerability is my power, just as yours could be. Screw your rules and your laws, going behind each others backs to make things end up your way. Just to end in failure. May it be a century or a millennia from now, but still failure.”

“Then let me offer you this. Join the coven. Prove to them why the laws should change.”

—

Dubai

“Is this my cue?” Daniel had been imagining this voice since it was first described to him but the reality was something else altogether. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to pick up a maid’s uniform. I know how much you like the Univision style.” The woman rounds the furniture flashing a smile at the two vampires and perching herself on the arm of the journalist's seat.

“You still smell of him.” Armand’s lip curls and Louis looks to the tempered windows for a distraction.

“I didn’t have time to swim yet either. You’re the two avoiding him. I made no such promise, I’m not involved.”

“Wait! Please tell me she isn’t taking about-”

“Lestat.” Louis interrupts as Daniel looks to the Rusalka with a look that borders on horror. “There’s an agreement in place. When she’s here she doesn’t discuss him, when she’s there she won’t discuss us.”

“It's a horrendous deal, really.”

“HOW DOES SHE EVEN KNOW LESTAT?!”

Louis stands and stretches his arms to his companions, each of them placing a hand in one of his. “This seems like a natural breaking point, you should rest Daniel. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Louis immediately begins to escort his partners out of the room leaving the reporter in shock.

“WHAT KIND OF HORSE-SHIT DO YOU MEAN BY NATURAL BREAKING POINT?!”

---

Thank you for reading. Sorry this isn't very long :(

[remusslove]

hey i wanted to ask if you could write poly marauders headconns as parents with like a toddler that would be so cute.

“Look it! She’s smiling moony!” You smiled at James’s reaction before wiping down the table. “Baby’s do that prongs.” Remus chimes in before patting James on the back.

“Doesn’t help the fact it’s fuckin adorable.” Sirius coos softly ticking your baby’s tummy. The baby giggled, making James let out a small laugh.

“Language padfoot. If I hear you curse infront of her again I’m gonna chop off your tongue.” Sirius knows he’s only half joking, putting his hands up in defense jokingly.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 2.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Things go from bad to worse.

Master List (coming soon) / Prev chapter

Warnings: Mild/brief self harm (over-washing hands), peril, violence, kidnapping, torture, corpses, gore, extremely brief threat of SA

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Thank you so much for the support! I hope you enjoy the ride!

2.

When you remember how your legs work, you find your way to the bathroom. Away from the windows, it’s pitch black, and you have to flick on a light to see your hand in front of your face, but the yellow glow itches over your skin, and you work fast, turning the tap to cold and using the little bar of hand soap to attack the lingering rust red hiding in the creases where skin meets nail.

You wish for a big, bristly brush. Or some steel wool. You’d scrape the skin off and start over again if you could. Without so much as a washcloth, you’re forced to pick at yourself, scratching until your flesh is raw and fresh blood seeps up to hide the old.

Once you’re sure the handler’s blood is gone, you slurp a few handfuls of water, sure you’ll feel the affects of dehydration after so much vomiting soon if you don’t. Passing out is never fun, but in the current circumstances, a little dizziness at the wrong moment could be a death sentence.

A little voice whispers in the back of your head that everything tastes like iron as you sip, and you drown it by throwing the next scoop of water directly in your face.

The makeup you wore to the club has not faired well, and you’d rather be the idiot civilian in need of rescuing without mascara tracks streaking your face.

The cold water and hand soap leaves your skin flushed and red, but you’re clean. Maybe even a little refreshed.

Breathing comes easier.

It’s easy to pretend this is just an unplanned sleepover. This isn’t the first time you’ve spent an evening puking up your soul and washing your face without proper skincare products because your drunk ass never made it home.

This is okay.

This is livable.

All you have to do is sit tight and keep behind a locked door. Easy enough.

The light stays on. Even if it makes you uncomfortable, you can’t resign yourself to the total dark again. But you step out. Better to enjoy the illumination from a distance.

You wedge yourself into a corner between the empty living area and the hall to the bath and bedrooms, keeping away from the windows. No one said anything about snipers, but you have seen movies, and even if there isn’t a ghost out there with a gun, windows are an opportunity for the wrong person to see you moving around.

In the day, windows are eyes looking out. At night, the eyes turn in. It’s the kind of lesson you learned as a girl. Be aware, because someone wants to take a look without asking. Someone is hiding in the car beside yours, so be careful where you park. Don’t walk with headphones in. Kidnappers like to grab long hair and ponytails. There’s always someone who wants to hurt you, and they’re always going to be bigger and stronger, so the only way to win is to see them before they strike. This is definitely not the situation you grew up imagining, but you’ll take the intrinsic paranoia of being a woman in public as the gift it is in the moment.

Headlights from passing cars sweep the room from time to time, and you freeze like a deer as the LEDs paint the walls white. The beams cutting through the empty windows feels like a countdown, gears in a clock turning, and as the number of cars grows, you gradually notice some of the light stays behind, weakening the shadows where you hide. It’s closer to dawn than you realized, and soon this awful fucking night will end.

A knock shatters the silence, and your hand falls to your pocket, where your phone waits. Didn’t the woman say she would call? Could she have forgotten, or…?

Another series of knocks interrupts your train of thought, and you wrestle with the urge to leap towards the door the way you lunge to a ringing landline. Habit.

You get to your feet, backpack slung over one shoulder, trying to decide whether to approach the door or go hide deeper in the safehouse. It’s a Choose Your Own Adventure story from hell with no way to turn back to the previous page if you get shot.

In the end, someone else makes the choice for you.

A key rattles in the lock, and grey morning light floods the space as the door swings open to reveal three tall, clearly male silhouettes. They file through and shut the door quickly – too quickly? A smiling blond in the front approaches, hands up, trying to put you at ease.

“Hey, ready to go?” He talks like he knows you, but you most definitely do not know him. It tugs at your stranger danger trigger, and your hands flex against the urge to raise defensive fists. He’s American. The woman on the phone was American, too. Maybe that’s a good thing. “We’re here to get you somewhere secure, okay? Got a car out front.”

The other two sweep the room, move down the hall, clearing the rest of the safehouse with handguns easily hidden under their casual civilian clothing. The leader sounds like he’s from Boston. The other two have a bit of South in the mouth from what you catch of their brief commands and replies. It’s all very official. They’re professionals. There’s no reason to think they’re anything other than what they claim.

The smiling man knew where to find a key, so logically, someone in command told him. They knew where to look. They know you’re supposed to go somewhere with them.

So why do the hairs on the back of neck prickle?

Another lesson from your teen years pops to mind: If it feels wrong, it probably is.

Your phone jumps to life in your pocket, and you seize it with dread and hope as the man’s eyes dart to your hand, his smile suddenly and mysteriously missing.

“Don’t.” A flat command with a threat rippling under the surface like a riptide.

You hesitate, locking in place like he’s drawn a gun on you. “Why?”

He smiles again, more forced than before. “Because you don’t need to. We’re already here.”

His bullshit steams in the morning sun as it drops from his lips.

It feels wrong.

It is wrong.

You leap back and accept the call.

“Team’s five min – ”

You shout over her as the man lunges, talking faster than you realized you could. “Three men! Had a key! Americ-”

The blond tackles you, his shoulder in your diaphragm, and the air leaves you with a squeak as your back slams into the thin carpet. He’s heavy, and you hit the ground hard. As you blink away stars, you distantly hear the woman’s voice from where the phone has fallen a few feet away.

“Shut-up,” the man growls, driving his palm into your face.

His hand pushes over your mouth, and you don’t stop to think before sinking your teeth into the asshole’s skin. It isn’t the first time you’ve had reason to bite a bitch, and you hope it won’t be the last.

He jerks away with his own yelp.

You haven’t quite gotten your breath back, and you barely manage to bleat, “Help,” before the window of opportunity closes again.

A backhanded strike sends your vision spinning, leaving you discombobulated long enough for all three of the men – all shouting over each other – to roll you over and zip tie your hands behind your back. A heavy stomp and distinct crunch tell the fate of your phone.

You’ll tell the woman at the end of the line no more secrets. That tie is severed. You scream again anyway, because maybe someone is close enough to hear you. This is a residential neighborhood. Someone may wake up and feel heroic.

“Shut-up.” The leader smacks your head into the floor to make a point, and your teeth catch on the inside of your cheek. “We could’ve done this nice and easy. Painless. Quiet. But you wanna be a bitch? You wanna play games? Fuck it. Fine.”

You pull against your restraints, trying to get up on your knees as the blond addresses his friends, “We’ll do this at the warehouse. Grab her.”

Swearing, the other two heave you onto your feet and start dragging you out of the safehouse. One makes an attempt to fling you over his shoulder, but you kick and writhe until you tumble off, so they make due with hauling you by the arms as your heels scrabble across the carpet, the doorway, the concrete. You’re losing ground. They’re taking you away. And your mind is full of frantic thoughts about kidnappers and secondary locations and dropping survival rates.

One keeps a gloved hand over your mouth when it’s clear you won’t stop screaming no matter how many times they tell you to. Well-behaved women seldom make history, and well-behaved hostages rarely live to tell about it. There is no reason to go quietly into that good night, and fuck if you won’t fight them every inch of the way.

But they’re bigger, and stronger, and they get you to the car.

The blond leader waits by the trunk, holding it open with one hand while he cradles the one you bit near his chest. You get a glimpse of red teeth marks before his teammates literally toss you into the trunk and slam it shut.

It’s darker than the safehouse, and with your hands trapped, you can’t find any of the emergency pulls designed to help people in just this situation. One of the simplest horrors – losing control of your own body – tightens your throat. You can’t defend yourself. Can’t even put your arms over your face the next time one of the bastards takes a swing at you.

The engine rumbles to life, and your kidnappers peel away, flying over speedbumps and taking tight corners in their rush to leave before the real escorts arrived. You roll and slip at the mercy of inertia. Both fortunately and unfortunately, there’s nothing sliding around with you in the dark. While a crowbar or tire iron could’ve stabbed you or given you a concussion as you bounced and crashed around the narrow space, they might’ve helped free your hands. The best you can do is guess at where the taillights are and try to stomp through the corners.

You do not succeed.

But you keep trying as the coarse flooring scours a rug burn into your cheek.

This could be your last chance to get away, and if you can get the trunk open, you’ll gladly jump into the freeway. Tied hands and all. Living with one less limb or a broken spine is better than dying slowly in a warehouse. Right?

You don’t get to make that decision.

The road turns rough under the wheels, and you nearly vibrate to pieces, collecting bruises as you collide with the ceiling, floor, and walls.

You taste blood, probably from where you bit your cheek. Or maybe from the slap. Or any of the dozen times your head struck something during the ride.

It isn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be, at least. But you’re bleeding. You just got the blood off your hands, and now it’s on your tongue. Your wrists sting where the plastic zip ties cut too tight. These men will kill you. They will hurt you until you’ve told them whatever they want to know, and then they’ll throw your body somewhere filthy for scavengers to tear apart.

You’re helpless.

The feeling sits like uneasy bile in your gut, churning with raw fear and howling anxiety as you fight back tears.

Shocky. Is that a word? You feel shocky.

The facts of your reality are a little too much right now, so your consciousness pulls back half a step. It’s happening to you, yes, but not in an immediate way. It could be a vivid thought experiment, or a dream you’ll realize is a nightmare when someone shoots you in the head and you don’t die. Your mind just lets all the feelings slip between open fingers to fall in a pile at your feet. The writhing miasma of panic and discomfort screams, trying to crawl back up your knees, but it doesn’t hurt so much down there.

You’re distancing yourself. That’s the word. Maybe it will help when they take you apart.

The car rolls to a stop. Your heart nearly stops with it. You hold your breath as the engine shuts off, listening to each shift the men make as they exit the car. The squeaks of old seats and aging suspension echoes through the trunk, and slamming doors send shockwaves through your bones as the men crunch over gravel to reach the back. The hatch pops open, and the fully-risen sun blinds you.

How long was the drive? Hours? Minutes? The sky is awfully bright.

As you squint, tears automatically beading in the corners of your eyes, the leader speaks up.

“We done playing games, or you gonna make this difficult?”

You lash out. Even if your hands are bound, your legs are still free, and you kick like a mule when the first man reaches for you. You miss him on the upswing, but he’s balancing with one hand on the trunk’s lip, and your heel slams down hard on his knuckles.

He wheels back, cursing, but you don’t have time to celebrate. Before you get your leg back into the deep, dark depths of the trunk, the leader grabs you by the ankle and yanks you out. The latch digs into your back, and you shriek as you go face-first into the gravel.

You’ve taken your pound of flesh from all three. The leader has your bite on his hand, you hopefully fucked up one goon’s fingers, and both of the supporting meatheads should have good bruises from your resistance on the way out of the safehouse.

None of them are well pleased.

“Fucking fine then.”

Still holding your ankle, the leader moves towards the decrepit building they’ve parked behind. He’s a bulky guy, but he’s got a bad case of vanity muscles. He can’t walk and pull at the same time. It’s step – drag – step – drag – step.

The little stones jab through your clothes, slicking into exposed skin and grinding deep bruises along your hips. Growling, you kick and wriggle, aiming for the asshole’s wrist and knee as you try to inch away like a worm.

He loses his grip, and for a blessed instant you think you’re free. Then meathead one and two each take an arm and haul you inside before their leader loses any more face. They don’t give you a chance to get on your feet, clearly frustrated with the whole ordeal. You aren’t a threat, but you’re a pain in the ass, so they treat you like the problem you are.

Spotty sunshine cuts through broken windows like dozens of spotlights in the wide storage room. The remaining glass is too filthy for anything but a muted glow to creep through. Still, there’s enough light for stubby grass to grow in the cracks. The place has seen better days, and rustling wings answer the thugs’ heavy steps as a flock of nesting pigeons take to the air. Everything smells like bird shit and mold.

The leader drags a rickety wooden stool to the center of the room, and the goons force you up to sit on it. Like most stools you’ve encountered, this one is a little too tall, and your toes don’t quite scrape the ground. The support rungs where you might’ve rested your feet for balance have rotted away to splintered stumps, and your sneakers paw the air, trying to balance, before you realize your escorts aren’t letting go.

Blondie steps in front of you, insincere smile back on his face. Clearly, he feels in control again, now that he has two grown men holding you down so you can’t run, can’t fight back.

“We know the hand-off didn’t happen,” he says, almost friendly. “We know you met with the handler, though, and he definitely had time to tell you something.” Leaning in, he lifts his brows, feigning an open expression as hands squeeze the blood from your bound arms. “I need you to tell me two things. I need you to tell me exactly what the handler said to you, and I need to know exactly how much you’ve told Laswell. That’s it. You can still make this easier on yourself. Just tell me the truth.”

Your jaw clenches shut. Your lips seal closed in a frown. It’s instinctive, almost defensive, like crossing your legs and leaning away when a man crowds you in a bar. He can’t have what he wants. You won’t give it to him.

You don’t even know who Laswell is, but you assume she’s the one who directed you to the safehouse.

A flicker of irritation warps the leader’s face again, and he says, saccharine sweet like fruit about to rot, “We could always do a cavity search to make sure you didn’t receive anything.”

You don’t take time to think. Following your gut, you sneer, giving the bastard elevator eyes even his goons will notice. Meeting his gaze again, you simply say “Gross.”

The following slap leaves your ears ringing. It jogs some of your disassociated mind back into your body, and you blink rapidly, searching for your equilibrium as you stare into the corner of the room, where his strike turned your head. Something wet wells over your upper lip, and when you try licking it away, you get a mouthful of copper.

“Fine. Fine!” The leader moves behind you, throwing up his hands. He rustles through something where you can’t see, muttering under his breath, and you wonder if he’s ever done this before.

Maybe he’ll give up. Maybe, if you keep quiet a little longer, they’ll just…

Rough hands force your left pinky straight, and something cold presses against your fingertip, pinching the nail.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’s gonna rip it off.

It doesn’t even hurt yet, but you can’t catch your breath. It’s evacuated your lungs before the screaming starts, and you go deathly still as you try to brace yourself.

The pliers lift and tug in a quick but ruthless motion, ripping the nail from the bed, and your vision goes white.

Pain too intense to stay in your finger crackles through your shattered nerves, and you struggle to fold in on yourself as every muscle tries to get away, to physically disconnect and run from your own hand. Your lungs won’t expand, and squeaky, stuttered cries punch out as you try to breathe.

“Just tell me what you know! It’s not that hard! Jesus!”

The pliers settle on the next nail, and you start hyperventilating. It’s just pain. It will pass. It’s just pain. It will pass. A friend once confided he’d studied torture-endurance tactics when he started running. You cling to them as the second nail lifts and whimper through a desperate inhale. The key is time. Nothing lasts forever. One way or another, it has to stop eventually. It isn’t as effective as it probably was for your friend, though, because his torture ended in a good shower and cool glass of water.

You aren’t ready to die.

But you don’t talk, either.

The asshole on your left jerks you hard to get you to quit shaking so his leader can grasp the next fingernail, but it’s not something you can voluntarily stop. “She’s not talking. Just shoot her so we can get out of here.”

The leader throws down the pliers, and they clatter across the brittle concrete. He paces behind you. Each step sounds like the second hand of a clock ticking away his patience, ticking away the minutes you have left to live. “He wants to know the extent of the breach. Our mess. We clean it up.”

His teammate scoffs, “Just because you want to impress him –”

“This isn’t about impression anyone, dumbass!” The leader’s voice pings around the empty warehouse, and you flinch, ready for that anger to turn on you. He marches back from the corner his pacing took him to, snapping at his associate over the top of your head. “What do you think happens if we don’t meet his expectations? If we don’t fucking exceed them? Think he’ll just shrug and call it a learning experience? Fucking – dumbass!”

“Bet he’d be angrier if we get caught because you wanted to exceed his expectations.”

Silence. A full thirty seconds. You count them in your head, like you’re playing hide and seek.

“We’re running out of time.”

The leader sighs. A rustle. Something clicks, something you imagine is the safety of a gun, and the men holding you in place lean away without letting go.

You struggle, jerking and swaying so you almost knock over the stool, but the men anticipated your fight against the end, and their bruising grips crush to the bone.

Something brushes the hair on the back of your head, gentle as a kiss. Oh, it’s definitely a gun.

“Last chance.” The leader still acts like he’s being reasonable, that his inconvenience is greater than your entire life. Like he ever could’ve been the hero in this scenario.

Now that he’s shown his hand, you have no reason to speak, even if you had planned to. Caving to his demands won’t buy back your life. It might not even win another hour. You didn’t get the message out, so you’ve already failed. And you’re going to die.

Doesn’t mean you aren’t terrified. Your face drips with tears and blood. The salty tracks sting what you assume is a cut on the side of your face, and every breath of wind stirs the naked nerves on the tips of your fingers to fresh agony.

You don’t want to cry, and you sure as hell won’t beg these assholes for anything. But you can’t bear to watch, so you close your eyes like a child, face screwed up as you wonder how much the bullet will hurt on its way through your brain, how much you’ll feel before it ends you.

The hands on your arms tense. The barrel of the gun presses firm and cool against your scalp.

A crack like thunder shatters the stillness, and it’s amazing that you can still hear the men holding you down yell and jump after you’ve been shot.

Another bang, and the man on your left lets go as something warm sprays your face.

Your eyes pop open.

That shouldn’t happen. You’re supposed to be dead.

The man to your right yanks you off the stool and pins you to his front with an arm across your throat. Using you as a human shield. Because.

He’s the one in danger.

You register the dead bodies of the blond leader and the one who argued for your execution on the floor. Blooming pools of red seep from wide holes in their skulls. Something greyish oozes from the hollow of the goon’s former expression.  

The last surviving teammate has you facing some of the high, broken windows, and you recall your fears of a sniper when you cowered in the dark safehouse.

A new gun pushes into your temple, and you try to twist away only for the man to squeeze your neck so hard he cuts off your air. You aren’t sure if means to choke you, but you can’t fucking breathe. Unbalanced, with your hands still tied behind your back and a gun to your head, there’s nothing you can do but slip and stumble where he pulls you – presumably out of the sniper’s line of sight.

As he tries to drag you towards an exit, the door falls in with a boom, and two large men with much bigger guns than your kidnapper’s rush him.

“Drop it now! Get on your knees!”

Your kidnapper doesn’t comply. He whips back and forth, putting so much pressure on your throat your vision dances with black spots, and your feet drag, almost entirely limp, over the floor.

“I’ll do it! Back off! I’ll shoot her!”

The two men move in concert, orchestrated like a pack of wolves as they split up and gradually move on the hostage-taker. The man drifts back towards the stool and his dead friends without realizing, far too involved with the nearer guns to remember who’d killed the others.

He grinds the gun against your face, and you squeeze your eyes shut again. How many death threats can you survive in one day? If the approaching team doesn’t move faster, you’ll suffocate before you get shot.

Your shoe slips in blood, and as you feebly scramble to keep your feet under you, a third shot reverberates through the room, and you’re falling. The man holding you tumbles forward, pinning you under literal dead weight with his arm still twisted around your neck.

You only have a moment to panic, and then big hands are tugging the corpse away, and the light seems as bright as it did when your kidnappers opened the trunk. You can breathe, and the oxygen shudders into you like a punch to the sternum. Coughing, you try to remember how this breathing shit is supposed to work.

One of the men quickly but carefully rolls you onto your side so he can cut off the zip ties, and your hands ache with the rush of blood to your fingers. Including your mangled nailbeds. Ah, fuck. Those smart.

The second man kneels in front of you, pausing to speak into a radio while his partner gets you free.

“Good shot, LT. Target down. Securing the package now and moving to exfil.”

He is very Scottish, and that puts some little, anxious voice in your head at ease. The group who took you was American. This is not the same club. As if shooting the kidnappers wasn’t enough to prove that. But for whatever reason, the accent matters more to your rattled mind.

The man behind you helps you sit up, and as you flex your hands, as happy as you are hurt, he asks, “Are you seriously injured? Can you walk?” A nice, English accent. It has the same effect as the Scot’s voice. These are friends. They’re here to help. Even if they’re even scarier than the men who first took you.

“I’m… fine.” A lie. “I can walk.” In theory.

They hadn’t done anything directly to your legs, but everything feels shaky and unsteady, so you aren’t sure how well they’ll hold once the adrenaline drops.

“Okay.” The Scot pulls you the rest of the way to your feet with the same firm efficiency as his comrade as the Englishman turns with a raised gun to watch the room’s other exits. “I need you to hold onto the back of my vest.” He takes your undamaged hand and guides your grip over the heavy strap covering his shoulder. “Just like that. Very good. Just move when I move and we’ll get you out, yeah?”

You nod, feeling small and strange – he’s bigger than you initially thought, and you feel like a child hanging onto him like this. But you understand what he’s doing, and you’re slightly more confident in your ability to leave on your own two feet now that you have some physical support.

“Okay.” He lifts his gun and signals to the second man. “Let’s move.”

It’s a short, cautious trip back into daylight. The Scot checks corners as you progress, keeping himself between you and potential threats ahead while the Englishman guards the rear, ready for an ambush.

When you escape the shadows of the warehouse, a black SUV races up to meet your little band. You flinch back, but don’t let go of the Scot’s tactical vest, and the young man behind you rushes to assure you all is well before you bolt. “It’s our team. Don’t worry. You’re safe now.”

The Scot opens the door, hops in, and because you’re still holding onto him, you go, too. Behind you, the rearguard leaps in, and the vehicle takes off before he even wrangles the door shut.

It takes a moment and the Scottish gentleman clearing his throat before you realize you haven’t released him, and the hold leaves you kneeling awkwardly on the bench seat between the two… soldiers? Agents?

He does the hard work for you, unfolding your fingers the same way he brought them to the vest. “There you go, hen. You’re alright.”

Anxious, face burning, you slip down to sit like a functional adult with your ass on the leather and your feet on the floor. Two more men sit in the front, one with a rifle. One with a fucking fishing hat. That’s all you can see around the headrests. Nothing sticks in your head as you look around, and you can’t see out the tinted windows very well past the bulky men with their outsized guns.

You’re alive. You’ve been rescued. But every little sensation, every dawning thought and fact make you feel worse. Small. Trapped. Rushing somewhere out of your control.

You feel, once again, very terribly like a civilian caught in the wrong world.

[mooncakesofpan]

Chapter 2

The life of a top designer is stressful in itself how much will change when you find 2 glowing eyes peering back at you from your yard.  

Poly!Skz x Tall!Nonbinary!Reader

Series Warnings: mention of abuse, hybrid au, omegaverse themes, strong language, suggestive topics, and themes (see individual chapters for specific warnings)

Chapter warnings: unwanted advances, mentions of food, mentions of stress, anxiety, slight angst, mentions of possible neglect, Reader uses they/them. Use of Mx.

Word count: 5.2k

An: I'm so sorry this took so long my life got really crazy and it took me a bit to recover.

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DO NOT STEAL MY WORK

I stir awake only to feel my throat dry, I reach for my water bottle and go to take a sip only to realize the bottle is empty. I stumble out bed and attempt to get out of the tangle of blankets that adorn my bed. Phone and water bottle in hand as I head out my room, using my phone to light my way through the house to accompany the moon light shining through the windows. As I move down the stairs with soft steps trying to keep to keep quite not wanting to wake the two hybrids. I can hear the soft snoring from Felix and Chan’s room. As I step into the hall I notice a figure sitting on the floor next to the slightly cracked door.

Chan.

He's curled up against the wall with his knees firmly pressed to his chest. The light from the moon barely makes his face visible, yet I can still make out the stern gaze glued to the front door further down the hall from his and Felix's room. The furry ears on the top of his head twitch hearing the wood creek under my feet. Though his eyes on the door don’t move one bit.

“Hey you okay?” I sit on the wall opposite of him.

“Oh— uh yeah,” He gives me a tired look from his spot.

“Can’t sleep?”

I see his head shake.

“Something on your mind? I’m all ears if you need someone to listen,” I say fiddling with the bottle in my hands,almost dropping it.

“Just stuff from the past you know, old habits die hard,” He sighs with a false smile shaking his head looking at his hands.

“Wanna talk about it?” I say looking back down at my hands.

“One day, but you should head back to sleep. You said you had an important interview in the morning, right? wouldn't you want to be exhausted in the morning.”

“... yeah I do, I’ll uh— head back to bed,” I say slowly getting up from the floor moving to head to the kitchen.

“I thought you were heading to bed” his voice raises in confusion.

“Oh– I came down to fill my water bottle” I say, shaking the water bottle.

Looking at Chan, it’s obvious that he wants to talk about things. I don’t want to push him, but hopefully one of these days he’ll feel comfortable opening up and talking about it. He seems to have a lot of weight on his shoulders.  

I finish filling the water bottle and head back to my room glancing back one last time at the man. Still curled up against the wall, staring at the door. He glances up at me, his eyes soften  looking back at mine as I hesitate going up the stairs wishing I could offer him some comfort.

Chan was right, the alarm felt like a rude awakening, I was way too tired to want to deal with anything this morning . The repetitive beep and the fact I didn't want to wake up to to go to this interview anyway is already making me miserable. I trudge out of bed to change into some dark form fitting slacks, a wide brim hat and a suit jacket with nothing under it. If I have to be in front of the cameras I might as well look good while I do it. I look through my drawers to find a simple chain to clip around my neck. The simple loafers picked out to go with my outfit, makes it a little more practical. I carry the shoes to put on at the garage door.

My thumb flicks across my phone  screen as I look through my notifications as the sound of the coffee maker feels in my ear and the strong smell of the coffee fills my nose.

A quiet “Oh shit,” fills my ears as I move to the island. I look up worried seeing Felix looking at me having spilled a little coffee on the counter.

“Are You okay?” I say hurrying to grab a paper towel to wipe up the small mess. “You didn't burn yourself right?”

I take his hand in mine double checking that the hot coffee didn't scald it.

“No I’m okay, y-you look nice,” he says looking at my clothes.

“Oh thank you I have that meeting today then I have to meet with some model agencies and higher-ups about the status of that project I told you and Chan, I was working on since we're getting closer to the deadline—,” I start.

My hands run down my face, tired.

“God, today just seems like it's gonna be so long and it hasn't even started,” I say with an awkward chuckle leaving my mouth.

The slight pink on Felix's cheeks almost goes unnoticed as I throw the paper towel away.

did he get burned and he didn't tell me?

“Oh uh—Let me know if you guys need anything okay, I might be out late,” I put on my dress shoes and grab my bag giving Felix a hug before he doesn't let go for a minute rubbing his face in my neck a little bit. The motion made my face warm.

I’m about to head out the door wishing I could say bye to Chan but he doesn't seem to be up yet. This seems to be a continuous trend. Waking up a little later than me and Felix

Is it related to him sitting outside the door this morning? Does he do that every night? They've been here for a few weeks. Maybe I should invest in a security system or something? Since he looked like he was watching the front door?

 I shrug the idea off to deal with later as I get into my car and head to the address for the interview. Getting escorted into the building and my dressing room. The morning was already chaotic on top of my interview today. It seems today just isn't my day already and its just started.

I had sat down to check my text messages from Felix and Chan on my personal phone. A text from Felix from about 30 minutes reads on my lock screen.

☀️Lixie☀️: Hey we ran out of eggs, sorry I didn’t realize yesterday that there were only few left.

Me: It's okay I’ll pick them up on my way home.

☀️Lixie☀️: K thanks see you when you get home :)

The sound of knocking reaches my ears.

“Come in!” I say looking toward the door.

A young women in her early 20′s with red panda ears adorning the top of her head I almost miss them as they lay against the braids in her hair decorated with beads that knock together in a rhythm as she peaks her head in.

“Hi Zinnia, I'm here for makeup.”

“Oh yeah come in,” I say with a smile.

She looks between me and her bag and pulls out brushes, palettes,powdersand tubes as I sit looking through my work phone.

“So you work with Script right?” she asks, touching up blemishes on my face.

“Yeah I've been working with them for a few years almost straight out of college.”

“That's cool,” she says with focus making sure I won’t be shiny on the camera.

“How long have you been working here?” I mumble, trying not to move too much.

“I think I've been with them for about  4 months. I just got finished with cosmetology school,” her voice let out.

Her soft voice is quiet as the orange and white tail flicked back and forth behind her, I almost missed her nose scrunching up.

”Do you mind if I ask you a question?” She lets out cautiously, putting some of her stuff away.

“Yeah go ahead,” I urged while watching her move around the room.

“Do you have hybrids?” She looks at me curiously.  

“Uh, yeah I recently took in some a few weeks ago, how did you know that?”  The words spilled out curiously.

“I could smell him on you,” she points to my neck. The same spot that Felix had rubbed against this morning when he hugged me.

“How?!” I asked, a bit with surprise and eyes wide.

The question honestly sounded a little stupid I've been trying to research hybrids but some of it has been hard to find conclusions too. Like, nesting, hierarchical systems, more instinctual stuff I honestly should suck up my pride and embarrassment and just ask Chan and Felix more questions .

“Hybrids have a really good sense of smell, and he scented you,” She pointed to her button nose with a smile.

Scent— I've come across the word but I haven't really been able to come up with a cohesive answer based on all the things online.

“Sorry I've been trying to research about hybrids and stuff since they moved in, what does that mean?” I let out nervously

“Oh, scenting is like trying to mark that someone belongs to someone for a hybrid to scent you; it's typically a sign of trust and a want to stake a claim.” The words left her mouth so casually as she described what it meant.

“We’ll typically scent around chest and neck areas and wrist.”

“So say the hybrid I live with hugs me and like nuzzled into my neck this morning—”

“That would be scenting,” She chuckles.

I nod along listening to her words as she talks about a few hybrid typical things. The conversation eventually moves to interest and I end up offering my phone number so we could keep in touch and talk some more.

“Who’s one of the biggest people you’ve worked with?” she asked, sitting in the chair across from me.

“That’s a hard question, I’ve been brought on a lot of projects but, I’d have to say Rihanna I worked on a project with her. It was a very exciting experience. I was so nervous to mess up. What about you? You’ve been out of beauty school for a few months, who is a celebrity you’ve done work with. ”

“That’s hard, a lot of celebrities have their own make-up teams. I think it might be you,” she gives me a shrug.

“I wouldn’t really consider myself a celebrity though,” there’s honesty in my voice.

I really don’t consider myself a celebrity. As she goes to speak again there’s a knock on the door.

“Mx. L/n you're needed backstage.”

“Okay thank you, it was nice meeting you. let's definitely talk more in the future,” I say, getting up and waving.

The hybrid women waves back as I leave the room and head to the studio where I would be interviewed. The audience of people there  Makes me dread coming to interviews and being on talk shows. Discomfort is obvious in the way my hands fiddle with the sleeve of my jacket.

As I'm told to walk on stage I wave to the audience and make my way to the empty seat.

I shake the interviewer's hand before sitting down in the chair. “So Y/n can I call you Y/n, you've been very busy for the past year haven't you,” her words run quickly out of her mouth

I nod and give confirmation that the use of my first name is okay.

“ Yeah this has been a really big project and probably the biggest of my career,”

I don’t even really take in most of the questions mostly on my work and when the Colra x Script line comes to the public. Then things got personal and I’m a very private person I don't like revealing things in my personal life to the public.

“So, got anyone in your life?” The woman sitting across from me says causing my eyes to widen.

“Oh no I don't really publicly date,” I say, nervousness itching its way back to the surface.

“No ones caught your eye recently?” there was a flirty tone in her voice as our chairs sat closely together. The tone in her voice makes me uncomfortable.

“No, I’d prefer to not talk about that aspect of my personal life though,” I say, voice unsteady with nervousness.

She nods, thankfully moving on to a different topic.  

“We'll, I think that brings us to the end of today. Thank you for coming on and talking with us!” her voice changed back to the tone before she started asking about my love life.  

As she closes out the segment I rush off to my dressing room feeling my discomfort and awkwardness eating away at me and I pack up my stuff and leave the building.

I considered taking the rest of the day off  but decide against it knowing that would just move the rest of my meetings to next week.

I sit in my studio, reading through my emails, things people want me to do piling up deadlines, new projects, and clientele. I said I wouldn’t take on another project till the one with Colra gets out to the public, but my boss keeps pushing me to work with other clients when Script has already pushed out so much money. Trying to make sure that the Colra is happy with designs, advertisements making sure they showed proper representation of hybrids and humans alike. Along with  how we had to redo everything I need to at least see that this all goes through well.

The knock on the door frame startled me from work in my room. I look up to see a lanky man with light brown wavy hair and a cardigan.

He has a black tie, and seems well put together.

“Uh hi I'm Theo we've been emailing back and forth for a while, and I wanted to look over some promotional material with you being the leader of the team working on this,” he says smiling at me, his British accent filling my ears.

“Oh yeah of course come in,” I wave over to the workbench in the middle of the room.

We stand at the table as he pulls out some of the pictures with the pieces that have been finished. The photos are amazing. The color of the outfits are bright and beautiful, they pop against the background and give a regal feel paired with the elegance of the models  in the photos. The soft purples and whites on the models looked graceful and beautiful. Looking through the photos I noticed that the hybrid models we had hired for this campaign were missing from the photos.

“Theo, where are the hybrid models? We were supposed to have a good mix of both in the pictures, modeling the outfits.” I shuffle the photos he placed out the folder double checking I didn't miss it.

The brunette opened the folder sifting through the contents to find the ones with the hybrid models in them too.

“Great I like these too, they all look great. I know these are supposed to be going out to socials soon so if I can suggest something?” I question looking back up from the table to the male around my height.

He nods in response. I point to the 2 photos of a few of the models in a flower field and one with a few other models on white crystal-looking steps. the photo is well-balanced and has a good diversity of the models that we worked with to do the photoshoot.

“I would suggest these two, Script has a wide range of demographics and I think these will do the best with going out first, they really pop as ones that catch my eyes.”

“Yeah you're right those two will work great. I'll go ahead and let the rest of marketing know, thank you again for taking the time out of your day,” he confirms back to me as I smile kindly at him.

“Of course, happy I could help,” I  respond to him, excited to finally see some of the advertisements going out as he is putting the contents of the folder. his cheeks a slightly tinged pink.

Maybe he's a bit warm in his sweater vest.

As he leaves I decide to put the final details on one of the last designs that needed to be finished and sent out for photoshoots and to models. Some of the remanding sets got sent out to other people in the company to make to take the pressure off of me. I had found out we had money in the budget too and I had gotten an email right before Theo had come in that  the last 2 pieces that had been sent out had been finished and were going to be given to the models for photo shoots tomorrow and I was the last person to send the last piece out, which I need to hem the bottoms and ad a spot for a tail and then it’ll be good to go out. The rest of my afternoon was free aside from finishing the bottoms for the last outfit and which hopefully wouldn't take all night should take maybe an hour. Once the entire line gets sent out things are left in the hands of the stylist for the shoots.

Needless to say, Im glad that the day is almost over, I'm so exhausted. It was 6 and the goal is to finish by 7:30. That way I can still go to the store before it closes to do some light shopping. I get up to move to work on the bottoms for the outfit.

I pin the lace to the cuff of the bottoms and feed them through the sewing machine. The fabric is soft under my fingers. The lace at the bottom is a great final touch. The time spent putting it on with care. The model who was supposed to wear this is a ferret hybrid and has a long tail so a slit is made in the back for his tail. I glance down at my phone just now seeing its  7:20 pm, thankfully I had finally finished everything. I packed up my belongings and grabbed a garment bag and put the completed masterpiece in it. a sigh of relief leaves my mouth, happy that the day is finally over.

My feed carry me through the building as I hold a small smile feeling great about the the line being finished. I'm supposed to come in tomorrow too, which will mean this week I've been in the office a lot. But tomorrow is a Friday and I've had a stacked week. I told the photographer I would sit in on the shoot since I missed the first one. I find the rack for the outfits to go on and place my bag next to the other two  black garment bags. I look around to see if anyone is around, of course there is not, I one of few people still here this late. I peek in the bags getting a good look at the Wonderfull work of the other people on my team.

I head to the parking garage to start to head out. The grocery store is my last stop of the night before going home. I slide into the drivers seat and pull out my phone to text Felix.

Me: Was there anything else we needed? im at the store right now

☀️Lixie☀️: we're getting low on coffee. I think we need some more

Me: Okay thanks, I'm gonna grab a bit of other stuff.

Walking through the store I pick up some more meat, chicken, beef, pork, and bacon. The hope of having more time to cook this next week warms my chest. I found some kombucha squash and put it in the cart thinking of finding something to make with it. The line for check out is short but the store closes in an hour. Most people are home this late in the evening. Most people take this time to enjoy time with their family.

I work on dinner deciding to use the squash, taking out the onions, beans, carrots, and ground turkey I got at the store to make some stuffed squash. I cut up onions, and add beans and other vegetables to the ground beef and seasoning while the squash sits in the oven roasting. Felix sits on the counter talking to me about things he watched,some of the recipes he found, and what he got up too toda. My brain wonders to this morning and the conversation about scenting I had with Zinna.

“So they ended up not making it to the finals—”

“Sorry it’s on my mind,— did you scent me this morning?” I interrupt his ramblings, and in that moment Chan walks into the kitchen looking up from his phone.

I probably could have handled it a bit better.

“What?” he looks a bit worried at my question.

Felix Jumps surprised by Chan's voice.

“I was asking if Felix scented me this morning, I was talking to a hybrid this morning and she had asked me about it—I'm not mad I was just asking if it was purposeful,” I speak quickly to try to justify why I asked the question in the first place.

Chan is Stands still in his spot and looks at Felix to answer the question.

”Yeah I did sorry I should of asked.”

”It's fine I just wished you had asked I would have let you if it makes you feel more comfortable,” I shrug it off. If it's a sign he's more comfortable with me I'll take it. Im glad he’s feeling more comfortable around me.

Chan sits down, patting Felix's shoulder.

“I'm still learning about what it's like to live with hybrids, just gotta give me heads up about things,'' I admit,with a soft smile

We eat the quash in silence, the feeling of something that hasn’t been spoken into the air yet lingers. I Scoop one of the last pieces of squash in my mouth. I look back at my bag near the garage door reminding me of the work I had promised to my friend tomorrow. I've been out of the house a lot this week. It's definitely weighing on me but I'm worried that the boys are gonna feel like I'm too absent and like I'm neglecting them. Technically they don't belong to me and I frankly don't like thinking of the gross owner pet implication of having a hybrid but emotionally I know that they rely on me— or at least Felix does, Chan I know still has a hard time being comfortable with me. I don't blame him for that of course I don't know his or Felix's history.

For the past few weeks, I've been worried about them feeling stuck in the house.

“I'm gonna be out the house again tomorrow, hopefully next week won't be as busy. I should hopefully be home early” I let out, pushing around a bean on my plate.

“It's okay, we know this week was big for you” Chan says.

“I know I just feel bad like I'm worried you guys feel stuck here all the time alone—” I take pause

“Do you guys feel stuck here?” I question

“I mean it would be nice to get out” Felix says perking up a bit.

“You’d have to adopt us,” Chan said still eating his food not making eye contact trying to seem more focused on his plate.

“Yeah I wasn't sure how you guys felt about that. I was looking into independent hybrid programs and that tends to require prior adoption for about a year,” I say, nervous about their response.

“it would probably be best if you adopted us. I know I'm fine with it, we trust you enough, you don't seem like you'd abuse that title,” Chan explains, finally looking up to meet my eyes.

“Okay then I'll see how to get the paperwork for it and try to get those filed,” I fidget a little under his gaze. Looking back down at my food to keep eating.

I wash the dishes alone. This is the first time today I can truly relax, and knowing that adopting Felix and Chan would at least  be granted a little freedom helps to ease my worries with their adoption. Them being able to go out more should give them some type of freedom.

I got to my room, and open up my laptop to look at what the process to adopt the two hybrids looks like. The page I find belongs to one of the hybrid centers in the city Stating that they help rehome and rehabilitate hybrids and have been rated one of the best in the area;

“Are you open to welcoming hybrids into your home? We’re here to provide you with the knowledge training and help prepare you for a new friend!”

Seem good enough.

“We won’t rehome a hybrid without they’re expressed consent from the hybrid Stating verbally that they would like to go home with you. Knowing that they’re from our own facility we prefer you spend weeks getting to know them and get comfortable with each other, after that we can start the adoption process!”

Bringing in strays or having been aiding hybrids and wanting to adopt them and give them a home will have a similar process! We start with an interview with you and then the hybrid making sure that they are comfortable going home with you! After the interview will be an exam of the hybrid making sure there is anything that needs to be watched or addressed. After The exam we will survey the new home and make sure the place is suitable and livable for your new hybrid! If you’ve made it to this point then you’ll be in the home stretch to fill out paperwork and take your hybrid home! We do checks in 3 weeks 6 weeks 9 weeks and then 6 months and a year check in to make sure everything is going Aye Okay!”

The page was very helpful and it said I can set up an appointment to get things started. I spent the rest of the night filling the form about Felix and Chan filing in the section concerning  their situation and pressing send before I closed my laptop for the night.

Today was more casual. I pull white pants and a Blue oversized sweater. It’s a lot more casualI seeing as I'm going to watch a shoot and not spend all my time in the office, I prefer it that way.

I got a text from my friend Johnny on my work phone,who's the photographer .

Johnny : Hey make sure you're here at 10 I wanna go over a few things with you.

Me: sure thing I should be there a little early if anything.

The door to Felix’s and chans room opens right as I hit the last steps of the stairs. Chan's back is to me as he tries to close the door quietly.

“Morning Chan you're up bright and earlier.”

My voice must have startled him because he jumps as he turns to me with a hand over his heart. Seeing it's just me he lets out an awkward chuckle

“Oh yeah– I slept pretty well last night actually,” he smiles softly at me. sleep was still slightly evident in his eyes, but the smile made me feel warm inside and something inside me fluttered slightly.

“I was gonna make something,” I motioned down the hall.

”Yeah you should try and eat before you head out. It's not good to start the day on an empty stomach,” he presses.

7:45

I had a bit of time before I had to go so making something wouldn't hurt. I pulled the milk out of the fridge with some eggs. Before I could pull anything else out the voice of Felix coming down the hall is hurd by both me and Chan as he entered the kitchen phone in hand.

“Would you mind if I made breakfast?” he smiled, ears twitching on top of his head.

“No not at all, whatcha gonna make?” I ask and move to sit the milk down on the counter and move to the barstools to watch what Felix might be making.

“I found a recipe for pancakes. I wanted to try it,” he continued to check his phone assumingly for ingredients and measurements.

Me and Chan watch him move around the kitchen making the pancakes, the batter being mixed together and fried on a skillet. The pancakes were fluffy and buttery as they pile on the plate .  

 “Felix this is really good,” Chan says digging into the pancakes

“Yeah you did an amazing job.”

Felix’s face is a bit red seemingly from our compliments. I can see a smile as he mumbles out a thank you while still eating the pancakes. The morning was peaceful, small talk about the food and other recipes Felix wants to try and what I’m up to today. It starts getting close for me to leave. I go to grab my work bag just in case but I plan to come home after the photo shoot. I notice the freckled brunette Felix leaned up against the wall near the door.

“Hey Felix, need something?” I say, making sure I had a jacket just in case it rained.

“—Do you mind if I scent you?” He's standing in front of me with space between the two of us the space being filled with quiet but low sounds of his voice.  

“Oh—no, not at all!” I put my stuff down and smile as Felix comes close. He placed his face in the crook of my neck  to rub his face against it  and moves to rub himself against my clothes. He continues for a minute before he decides in his head that I've been scented enough, but before I move he takes the moment to grab my wrist and rub it against his neck.

“Okay I’ll probably be back earlier. I didn't have plans to really stay after this shoot,” I smile as I start to head out the door.

“Tell Chan I said bye!” I walk out the door.

Today feels nice, the sky is still overcast with the late October weather moving into winter.

Pulling up to the set and getting to see the line together was so satisfying and it made me feel like everything was coming together. Fake sets and lighting stood out, waiting to find Johnny, I started to look around talking to some of the makeup artists thanking them for their help. I start to see some of the models dressed and coming on set, one was sitting in the corner quietly flipping through his phone also seemingly waiting for directions on what to do. He has soft round white ferret ears and a tail that slightly curls to be in his lap and he’s wearing the outfit I finished sewing yesterday.

“Hi I'm L/n Y/n, I'm the top designer on this project. I just want to thank you for working and modeling with us,” I say sticking out my hand.

A soft smile graces his full lips as he reaches his hand to greet mine.

“I’m Hwang Hyunjin.”

Bismuth Taglist :

@fuck-you-im-gae​ @i-dont-know-me-either​ @betray-jaes

Don’t forget to reblog and let me know how you like it

[newtabfics]

Would you mind if we request for poly!Rauru & Sidon? Because I saw your posts for each of them and I ended up liking both of them XD Only if you don't mind of course!

Hell yeah, you can! Alright, for this one...everyone is alive and happy and everything is okay and there is no evil in the world and everything's fine AHAHAHAHAHA ��� sorry, couldn't resist. But let's say for this that Y/N is just your typical Hylian caught in the middle.

Literally.

Most days are pretty lethargic. Sidon is usually hyping up Rauru for his hunts while Y/N is off to the side worrying about both of her boyfriends. Like, what is it with guys and hyping each other up! Sidon is DEFINITELY influencing Rauru!

At first, when Sidon would be encouraging her, Rauru was the quiet one, silently cheering and fretting over little things. Now? He has full confidence in her abilities which usually results in two guys cheering on the Hylian as she approaches a monster camp after downing a Tough Elixir.

The three share exactly one brain cell and at this point, Mineru has to hold it to make sure it isn't damaged.

But then, on the nights when the touches become grips and the kisses steal breaths, those are the nights that Y/N remembers that these two idiots definitely share the brain cell.

She'd be sandwiched between them, choking and moaning. Sidon has slid inside both holes and Rauru has slid in with Sidon, smirking as her eyes roll back as the prince practically spears her and the king stretches her open more.

"Such a sweet little thing," He'll coo.

"Our pearl is so perfect for us," Sidon will respond.

Their mouths are all over her neck and shoulders and she is lost between them.

That brain cell is focused on breeding her with either a Zonai or Zora halfling.

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Can I ask for more hatsuharu, rin and reader in poly relationship?

Of course!!

So sorry it took me so long lmao.

Hatsuharu & Rin Soma x Poly!Reader

I’m sorry if u don’t like driving, but you’re the main driver in the relationship 💀

Between Hatsu’s complete lack of direction, and Isuzu’s road rage - you’re the only viable option

Hatsuharu is on snack duty for all roadtrips

He makes sure you and Isuzu eat “real” food

Not to say that he applies these rules to himself smh

Rin gets the aux for every drive, no matter how long the drive

Y’all be Screaming in the car

A lot of 2000s emo punk/rock tbh

Rin does ur eyeliner

Hatsu does ur nails

Well known that both these bitches are touch starved

So every night is a massive cuddle pile

Even when the curse is active, y’all never gave a fuck

((Depending on whether ur afab or amab, either Hatsu or Rin would transform))

((Both enjoy curling protectively around you and the remaining soma in their animal form))

If y’all decide to have kids, Isuzu refuses to carry them due to her trauma

((Dw, she’s a good mum - far better than she fears she is))

Idk if I mentioned this, but both are absolute Simps

Hatsuharu is just more open about it then Isuzu

If you don’t beat him to it, Hatsuharu proposes first

To both you and Rin

In bed

On a random Sunday

Isuzu wears her ring on a chain around her neck bc she hates the texture of rings

Tattoo artist at the wedding!!

Y’all get matching tattoos of ur wedding date at the reception

[2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat]

The worst thing about a new movie is waiting and hoping that fanfics will be made. And no one ever writes character x male readers, Especially ESPECIALLY for some reason if that character is gay???? And GOD FORBID if you're looking for poly!characters x male!reader. I just want Ballister boldheart x Ambrosius Goldenloin x Male!reader. Is it too much to ask????

[the-phantom-author]

hello, could we pls get more poly will and caroline, loved the first headcanon so so much🥺

More poly Will and Caroline!!!

Dates come in a wide variety.

You have your more fancy ones, expensive dinners, movie premieres, and things of that caliber. Especially as one on one dates, Will leaning more towards the movie premieres and Caroline the dinners.

Groups dates being more experience centered. Stand up shows, dance classes, hikes with picnics, and rock hounding together.

Having moments of insecurity. Because, they've been together for going on 7 years at this point, but Will's the best at verbal reassurance, and Caroline's great at physical reassurance

Will is always going to invite you to go to the gym with him. Whether it's from him wanting to actually exercise with you or him just wanting you to ogle at him while he's exercising.

They both are willing to spend an unreasonable amount on your art. They also tell there friends that the price is more than you'd actually charge (they know their friends can more than afford it).

You very slowly take over their place. It starts with you buying a plant one day when your spending the night at theirs, and you forget to bring it back to your apartment. They just move it to a table and it lives there from them on. This happens often until their place is taken over by the plants you buy and forget about.

[masteroffearshusband49020]

BTAS Jonathan Crane x reader in a poly relationship with another person who doesn't like Scarecrow headcanons

Oof, getting into this situation was tough for everyone involved

After quite a bit of negotiating, you found yourself exclusive to two partners, one of which was the Scarecrow and the other someone with rationality and survival instincts unlike you and me

You need to spend time with each one separately at first

There's a lot of bickering among the three of you and Jon hates it, but he does have a petty rivalry against your other partner.

Scarecrow needs to prove himself to your other partner that he doesn't mean you or them any harm.

Once he proves himself, your partner tolerates him and the peace is finally settling in

Jon gets a little jealous and clingy at times and needs reassurance, but once he learns to trust not only you, but your partner too, then everything smooths out

Bonus points: Jon and your partner find out they have stuff in common and bond/become friendly, but still refuse to date eachother

[curtsycream]

hiiiii

i saw your requests are open

Can you do poly price x reader x simon where they all get into an argument (Reader is lonely while they're deployed, she's not getting on their case, just expressing it) and the boys get really defensive and take it a little too far, resulting in reader staying in the guest bedroom for the night bc she doesn't wanna cry in bed next to them. The boys come to their senses and realize they fucked up and there's make up sex? Lots of reassurance and whispers of how much they love you?

Feel free to ignore, just figured I'd pop in :)

Could You Understand?

John Price x F!Reader x Simon Riley

My first COD request I hope I did right. I’m still getting down their personalities and such in writing but it’s a fun challenge. Kinda base level smut. Ps. Would never ignore ❤️

warning: mentions of anxiety (described?), light stomach bulging (I mention it twice I have a problem), double penetration, not proofread at all

Confrontation was never a strong point for her, the idea of accidentally starting a conflict made her cautious with her words. Nibbling at her lower lip she adds the final dish to the washer before closing it. Turning it on she leans against the counter with folded arms. Many times has this feeling of loneliness crossed her mind. Whenever they were gone it was a constant reminder of the fear she felt. She always found herself holding back the words. But it was as if a dam finally broke and she couldn’t help but let them spill.

Making her way into the living room she wraps her arms around herself. It was a first defense similar to showing a dog that you’re not a threat. Her eyes fall onto the two men she loved with all of her being. They sat together with the television on but it was clear they weren’t entirely focused on it. They spoke in rushed tones as if forgetting the rule of leaving work at work. It wasn’t much but it was enough to ensure they wouldn’t dwell on work-related stuff.

Clearing her throat she realized just how hard it was to speak up. It was an odd feeling as she usually found herself talking without much of an issue. When they turned to look at her the words felt stuck, unable to claw their way out of her throat. “We need to talk,” she finally uttered. The words felt hard and cold when she said them.

John was the first to speak though the way his eyebrows creased seemed to verify his confusion. “About what, sweetheart?”

The gruffness of his voice was enough to make her hold the subject off. To instead crawl into his lap and give him a kiss or two. But she knew that wouldn’t solve anything let alone reassure her.

Simon on the other hand said nothing but his eyes were focused on her. And that was enough, it was always the simple things with him. His attention was always undivided, “well..I’ve been thinking a lot while you were both deployed. I just feel alone, you know? It terrifies me knowing you’re both out there and not knowing if that’s the mission that will end with me living my life without you. I—I’ve spent so many nights worried about how or if you’ll make it back to me. Maybe I’m just thinking too much on this but I can’t help but think that way. It’s like my brain won’t allow me to think positively. Like there’s this sense of impending doom when nothing bad is really happening,” she explained.

It was silent for a moment that is until Simon scoffed, the sound seemed to echo in her mind. “And you think it’s any easier on our end having to leave you here? It’s not a friendly thought knowing we’re miles away while you’re here by yourself,” his tone was defensive. It was as if he assumed her words were to evoke a change or start an argument.

“I’m not denying that Simon, I just get so worried that-”

“We understand that you get worried sweetheart, but we can’t change our profession. We spend just as many nights worrying about whether we’ll make it back or not. We have to live through that not you,” John spoke up.

Whether he meant to or not his words seemed to cut her deeper. It was as if her attempt at getting through to them was blocked off by their defense. “I know I don’t have to live through that, but it still worries me when you leave this house. I feel so helpless for lack of a better word when I know you’re miles away and I can’t help.”

Simon shook his head, “how would you even help? You can’t help, you can barely help yourself.”

His words were sharp like that of a knife willingly piercing her heart. Maybe that’s why it hurts more hearing words like that from someone you love.

“I’m not trying to argue with either of you, I wanted to get my point across,” she said simply.

“Then why even bring this up, you always dance around what you’re feeling. We’re not mind readers, there is only so much we can do when you won’t even say what you feel. It’s exhausting,” The words left John's mouth without much of a thought.

Opening her mouth she closes it, her eyes flashing with hurt from their words. “I know you’re both probably just tired from your mission and that’s why you’re acting like this. Just forget I said anything,” she tells them.

She had walked away quicker than she meant to not wanting to say another word to them. She knew deep down if she had she would have started crying.

Placing her hands on her chest she holds back the tears that are brimming in her eyes. She holds off until she makes it into their guest room upstairs. The second she closes the door she lets out a low sob. Sitting down on the bed she wraps her arms back around herself. It was a horrible feeling as if she’d been yelled at. Having people you love downplay your emotions when you finally speak upon them.

Lying down on the bed she curls up her arms still wrapped around her. It was as if she was protecting herself from what was already done. Sobs racking her body as she found no use in calming down.

It wasn’t until they made their way upstairs later into the night that they realized. Simon assumed she would be in bed, their bed. Yet the absence of her presence in the room was like a punch to the gut. His eyes found John’s in the darkness as they stood in the space.

They didn’t have to think before they made their way towards the guest room. The door ajar allowing John to slowly push it open. There she was in the middle of the guest bed curled up. She looked smaller than she should have as if closing in on herself.

John to a step forward which turned into a few then a few more before he was sitting on the bed beside her. His hand cupping her cheek, wet with tears, “Sweetheart..” The utterances of the pet name seemed to work as her eyes opened slowly. Groggy from crying so much as well as sleep she stared at him. It was easy to tell that was what she was doing in the darkness. The tears not yet split made that easy to notice.

With crossed arms, Simon makes his way over to him, “We shouldn’t have—I should have said those things to you.”

She seemed to perk up, it was a first for Simon to say something like that. Not that she expected him to do so often but it was refreshing. “It’s fi-“

“It’s not fine, the things we said to you were uncalled for. You didn’t deserve any of that especially when all you wanted to do was express your feelings. We took our frustration from the mission out on you,” John told her. His thumb caressed her cheek a touch she leaned into without hesitation.

“You do so much for us even when you don’t think you do. Most don’t expect to be greeted at home with a smile and a warm meal. You do everything you can to make sure we’re okay. It’s time we do the same,” Simon says.

Sitting up a bit she looks between the two men with a puzzled look. She didn’t catch on until she had John’s lips on her own. The smell of tobacco and pinewood was strong as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was comforting yet sensual as she felt Ghost behind her. His lips feverishly trailing kisses along her neck and shoulders.

Her mind seemed to move slower than her actions which was evident when she found herself naked between them. Her hands rested on John’s chest as he lined himself up with her sopping-wet hole. Eager wouldn’t describe what she was feeling especially when he finally thrusted into her. He was always attentive and careful at first, “how’s that feel, sweetheart?”

The words didn’t come but a simple nod followed by a moan was enough for him. Resting his hands on her hips he set a slow and steady pace. One that seemed to draw on the moans leaving her body. “Still so tight for me,” he grunted against her warm skin.

The gentle touch along her spine was enough to remind her of Simon’s presence. The way he was looking down at her caused her to squeeze around John’s cock. A swear left the older man’s lips due to the feeling. Keeping her eyes on Simon she spoke up, “want to feel you both..”

It was new territory something she hadn’t done before. But she wanted to be closer to them in a way soft touches wouldn’t do. “Are you sure, lovie?”

She nodded her head right away at Simon’s words as he seemed to be silently communicating with John. Looking between them she waited for an answer as John continued to thrust in and out of her.

“Okay.”

That was all Simon needed to say before she leaned against John. Her arms were around his neck while her fingers curled around the hair at the base of his neck. Simon held her hip as he pumped himself in his hand before lining himself up with her stuffed hole. It was already a tight fit with John’s cock inside. Willing himself forward he groaned when his cock began to slide inside of her pussy.

Digging her nails into John’s back she muffled her noises on his shoulder. “That’s it sweetheart, such a good girl wanting to take both of us.”

John’s words seemed to calm her down as she felt him pull out some to allow Simon room to fit. She wasn’t fully prepared when she felt both of them inside of her. Neither of them moved, letting her adjust to the new feeling. Resting her hand on her stomach she moved it a bit lower feeling the bulge there. The subtle reminder of just how big John was in girth.

“Oh—please move..” her voice was a gasp barely above a whisper. She had never felt so full before, but oh did it feel perfectly right. Moving his hands up to cup her breasts Simon thrusted into her. At the same time, John pulled out before slamming himself back in.

Groaning from the feeling of John’s cock rubbing against his own as her pussy squeezed them tightly left Simon on edge. “Feels so good,” he breathed the words out.

Her mouth opened letting out a flurry of moans as their paces varied. While John was moving steadily, Simon’s pace was almost erratic. “Fuck—just like that,” she begged no one in particular.

Yet her words seemed to set both men off as they moved in tandem. Their pace seeming to match both went faster pistoning their cocks in and out of her. “So good for us lovie, always so good for us.”

The words of affection caused her to whimper before she felt his lips on hers. The kiss was dragged out and slow only fueled by John’s lips on her throat. The light prickles of his beard on her skin were comforting in a way. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. Always so caring and sweet for the both of us,” John’s voice vibrated against her soft skin.

She knew she wouldn’t last long from their affectionate words to their unyielding thrusts. Breaking the kiss between herself and Simon she whines, “So close, please.”

“Please what, lovie?”

The teasing tone he took on made her clench around their cocks. The action caused both men to groan as their cocks rubbed against her gummy walls. “Please let me cum, I’ll be good..”

“You’re always good, sweetheart,” John assured.

“Go ahead, lovie.”

She didn’t need to hear more as her eyes screwed shut. Her mind felt fuzzy as the warmth in her lower stomach began to spread. Gripping John’s shoulders she let out a cry as she came around their cocks with a tremble. However, they didn’t stop not yet at least as they were chasing their highs. To her, it felt like minutes but it only took seconds before they reached their own. Gripping her hips firmly John thrusted his hips up before releasing inside of her. Simon wasn’t too far behind as his cum mixed with that of John’s and hers.

Sighing breathlessly she shifted her eyes to the bulge in her stomach she had forgotten about. She could still see the outline of John’s cock against her lower stomach. But it didn’t last long as she felt both men pull out of her. Leaning back on Simon she watched as John left the room. Her eyes were concentrated on his back before they trailed to Simon.

“Lovie I-“

Shaking her head she leans up her lips pressed against his shoulder. “I’m fine, I guess I just worry a lot when you’re both not here. It’s scary to think something can happen on a mission and I wouldn’t know for a while until the mission ends.”

Simon noticed how shaky her voice was as if the thought of them getting hurt lingered in her mind. Placing his hands on her cheeks he leaned forward until his nose was touching hers. “It is scary, I couldn’t imagine having to stay home and wait for us to return. But I can promise you this, with everything in us we will always try our hardest to get back home to you. That’s how much you mean to us,” his words melted into her mind.

Keeping her eyes focused on his own she nodded her head, “I know you guys will. You always do and I’m grateful for that.”

“And we’re grateful for you,” John chimed in as he walked back into the room. He went straight to her using the towel in his hand to clean her up before pressing a kiss to her stomach. “We will always be grateful for you, I couldn’t picture myself loving anyone else besides the two of you.”

It was comforting to hear words like that from the men she loved. “I love you,” she said her words directed to both men. Pulling her close Simon kisses her forehead as he lays behind her. In front of her was John who also delivered a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid to tell us when you’re worried or scared. We promise to think before we speak,” John’s words reassured her.

The same way that Simon’s touch did as his thumb rubbed her hip. “I love you, now get some sleep it’s almost four in the morning.”

That was all it took before she was closing her eyes allowing the feeling of both men beside her to lull her to sleep. She felt safe and protected between them, no longer as fearful as she was before.

[gurugirl]

Part 3 of nympho!harry up on Patreon!

xoxo

[steviebunny]

So I have been loving your IWTV Rusalka story and I was wondering if in honor of the spooky season, can you please do a scene where the rusalka is forced to be part of the shows at the Thèâtre des vampires and later on, Armand announces that they are going to crash a Halloween festival in town and the rusalka uses her powers on the guests while she and everyone else are disguised by their Halloween costumes and masks?

Forced to Perform

A pumpkin, a fucking pumpkin is the costume chosen for her especially out from the rest. 

As if being pushed on stage wasn’t bad enough, being paraded around in front of mortal fools while dressed up as a gourd, projected vines serving as background while Santago plays some blathering all Hallows Eve farmer. Armand has also made the wise leadership decision to have a feast to honor the night of Samhain. 

Would this mean a set dining table with goblets of blood? A range of tourists to sample as a mock charcuterie? No, of course not. It means testing the new cast addition's powers and patience at some town festival all while dressed like an ugly, large, bright pumpkin.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad otherwise. Performing while not exactly a passion of hers is tolerable, skulking through crowds unnoticed is a honed skill from long ago. Now keeping all the victims still and witnesses from realizing their own cohorts are being torn to bits around them: harder. It would be a lot bloody easier if she wasn't wearing the itchiest, orangest, poofiest disguise in the world. 

Perhaps she wouldn’t have overexerted herself if her mind wasn’t focused on the itching.

Maybe that's why she collapsed. Or the utter exhaustion from listening to Santiago’s droning all evening. At least seeing Armand’s shocked expression brought a little laughter into her heart when she fell unconscious into Louis’s arms. 

When she came to a few minutes later surrounded by many more bodies than previously (both undead and numerous dead) she’d been stripped of the foolish costume thank the gods for conservative undergarments. The skin that was exposed to the pumpkin’s fabric was raised and raw…turns out even Rusalka’s can be allergic to fabrics that have been kept in storage since the 18th century. 

As morning approached the other vampires enjoyed their full bellies back at the theater, while Armand had to make it up to her in his and Louis’s apartment, making a moisturizer out of the two vampires' blood and some of Madeline's abandoned skin creams. She even made him beg to help her rub it into her skin, but notably didn't make Louis do the same. In fact, Louis had already finished caressing her back and was gently massaging her neck by the time she gave the coven leader reprive. 

First request! Keep em’ coming!

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[beloveds-embrace]

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

part 2

Other works + help me choose a title for this 😩