#previous memories and context

[aloonaram]

This artwork (link below) is giving me sooo many ideas for jayvik x hp crossovers, especially post s2 …. I used to be SUCH A FIEND for harry potter crossover fics (still a fiend for crossover fics in gen) and it would be so cool if like after jayvik get zapped away by the stone they come out the other side in the hp universe and then have to learn how to navigate this world where magic exists?? But in a different form from the arcane and its revered in a way?? and an entire secret society and school exists just to teach kids magic?? And in this school theres no tech, no engineering?? Plus not to mention all the political bs as well omg

And how would they get involved with the school in first place…maybe they pop right into the school? I wish i remembered more from the books bc i feel like theres totally an event i could use but I just can’t remember much outside from like the first two books 😭

If anyone wants to brainstorm with me feel free bc like i said i loooooveee crossovers and now that im finally on break (and i have adderall now) I think i might actually start some fics

Art is here btw

[fragmentedblade]

I thought "Forest of Swords" was just a pretty name, but now knowing it's a punishment given by the Ten-Lords Commission I wonder how it links to Blade

[lyraofthestarsss]

Do you guys remember that time Summer Troupe convinced Tenma that fireworks were dangerous because he’s an out of touch rich kid and then he didn’t believe them when Kazu actually did something dangerous

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[arolesbianism]

Head in hands how am I so bad at reading (<- just realized that one of the logs it thought was an Olivia log was in fact a Jackie log this whole time)

[fluffypotatey]

If wukong told (lied) to macaque that he never cared about him, do you think that would make macaque even more aggresive or like shut down/be the final straw that finally makes macaque let go of wukong

so, just like my answer for whether macky would willingly erase swk from his life, I think this answer also depends on when in the show swk told macky this, and what better way to explain this than by going through each outcome per season :)

UNO

looking at s1, we meet a Macaroni who is very hellbent on killing (or at the very least, heavily damaging) SWK because he feels like the guy never truly gave a shit about him (<- my interpretation). thus, it is safe to assume that if Wukong were to laugh off Marnolo's hurt and anger and tell the guy that he never cared, Mac&cheese will only feel that his current assumptions of SWK are correct and that the guy only cares about himself and his image.

would he feel hurt about it? oh absolutely. maybe punch a wall, destroy the "dojo" he allegedly lives in in an outburst of power and anger. maybe scream and cry but be mad at his own tears (begin to wipe them away but is too hash so he scars himself and then can't stop bc he's very self-destructive)

DOS

technically, Wukong is MIA so this would never happen. BUT! have you considered!!! Wukong telling MK that Macdonalds was just some guy from his past, nobody super important, basically a nobody he wronged in his long list of enemies. which MK might possibly parrot back to Macadoo in 2x07

heavens above Marconi would be pissed.

forget trying to be a dick to MK and "teaching" him that his path of emulating Wukong has already made him forget his friends (untrue, but this is what i assume was Macky's interpretation of MK's actions since the guy didn't actively search for his missing friends, who MK thought left him on purpose).

nah, Macky is hunting SWK down. he is out for blood because "did i serious mean so little to you? were our nights under that tree sharing secrets, dreams, peaches fucking nothing to you?" (and idk....maybe after the air clears out, possibly, macky would realize SWK's true reason for being MIA and....help out???? mayhaps???....yeah, yeah, i know only in my dreams T^T)

TRES

ok, so we could technically say this sort of happened in ep1 when Sun Wukong said, "i thought it was someone important," and, "so what, you're her puppet now? i mean, makes sense. you always did have a sidekick kind of vibe."

and that is basically Wukong implying that he viewed his relationship with Macaque as one where he didn't consider Macky to be important to him, or someone he saw as a close friend. however, this is also a tactic Wukong uses against nearly every villain he interacts with, simply to get a rise out of them. so, pin that down as Wukong being observant enough to know which words to use to hurt.

AND Macky's reaction to it is him jumping out of his cool-ass looking jet and body-slamming the monkey king to the floor. so, uh, it is safe to assume that Macky was pissed off at Wukong's comment.

THUS! with that in mind, we can say that in this context, Macackle will be upset enough to fight him; however, if we were to consider the end of s3 (like Samadhi Fire ritual to the end) i would go with the option of Mackarell shutting down and feeling like that comment is the nail in the coffin for their relationship.

CUATRO

in s4? absolutely not. he would be dragging Wukong by the ear, demanding that he repeat what he said, ordering Wukong to try and convince himself that their past meant nothing while Macky still lives and breathes. and especially after the s4 special.

you could argue that Macky could shut down in the beginning of s4, but i think he'd probably laugh it off because he knows now that Wukong is lying. he's being his old deflective self and probably doesn't know where to place Macanoli in his head now that they're technically on better terms with LBD done with.

but after all the drama of going through SWK's memories? nuh uh, Wukong can't get out of this, nope. you handed iMac a chocolate peach popsicle. it is too late for you turn back and lie about your feelings. you can dig your grave and lie about it, but he's just gonna hit you right back with your own medicine and make you understand that if y'all truly want to reconcile, you cannot continue lying to yourself that you don't care.

not anymore.

so, anyway, i hope this answers your question, anon! i had a lot of fun running this question around in me braincage :3

[crabsnpersimmons]

Your chef Sun is so interesting to me. If he ever has a crush he will deny it, right? Or not acknowledge it at all. Or maybe, I wonder if he'll be confused?

hehehe great question! i think he would be confused but... i think he would realize something about himself, just a little spark of something new and unfamiliar but something that's confused him for a long time now

*this is a memory of the DCA's late Boss, the previous owner of the restaurant they now own

BONUS:

a little context below the cut (cuz this post is long enough already!)

The DCA's late Boss was the previous owner of the restaurant. he was the one who found them after their PizzaPlex fell to ruin, and he brought them in and taught them how to cook. he's sort of a pseudo-father-figure to them.

he was a very passionate guy, he loved cooking and loved his late wife. and that piqued Sun's curiosity—to love someone even after they have passed. so along with teaching the boys how to cook, he also taught Sun about love. of course, Sun struggled to understand, but Boss always believed Sun would some day.

[fairestwriting]

Hiii!!! Just found your account and I love your works ☺️

May I request headcanons of Leona & Azul with a reader who’s afraid to commit to him since they have a hard time trusting NRC students because they fear he’ll only be with them if they can benefit him/he has an ulterior motive for them?

Thank you!!

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

It’s not something that goes unnoticed, but also not something he thinks about too much, at the start. Leona’s view of commitment is much more based on how you behave around him than your words, and he doesn’t expect to really feel it when you’re still just getting used to each other’s presence, in this new context of considering a relationship… Besides, you asked to take it slow, he’s not about to disrespect that.

Then that period of time passes, he starts to relax, and the gap between the two of you slowly becomes more visible — He’s not the most overtly affectionate guy out there, sure, but he makes it quite clear when he’s gotten comfortable around somebody. He assumes your distance is just shyness at first, but it quickly starts to bug him. He knows how to recognize the different types of unease in others, and shyness isn’t exactly the feeling he’s getting for you.

The last straw happens when as you’re spending time together and he ends up getting tired, he tells you you can stick around while he sleeps, and you quickly get up, ready to leave — The memory will feel embarrassing to him in the future, at how emotional he got over something seemingly so small, but in the moment, it just feels like you’re avoiding him.

What the hell is up with you, really, he questions when you’re on your way out. In Leona’s perception, he’s being so obvious, basically outright telling you that he wants you to be around, that he trusts you to be there while doesn’t have his guard up. And this same interaction has happened so many times already. Aren’t you two supposed to be… dating? If he could even call it that?

It’s not fair if he’s the only one who’s vulnerable, he thinks and doesn’t say, but the message gets across. ”If you’re so excited to leave, then just go.”, with that bitter look in his eyes. You try to say that’s not how you felt, while still not revealing too much, but he’s set on questioning you now. And it shows how it’d been bothering him, the way you just seemed to never breach that distance.

Eventually you get the words out. It’s not about him, you were just anxious because of previous experiences you had in NRC — Even if you just tell bits and pieces of the full story, it’s enough for him to get a grasp on the situation. His expression softens. It does all make sense to him, he doesn’t feel comfortable around most people either, as much as he hates to admit. ”I wouldn’t tell you to stick around if I wanted to take advantage of you. Would be a stupid move. He says, after a while, then nothing else. He would never pressure you in general, but especially not about this. He just hopes you do decide to stay.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

All sorts of preventive measures happen in the background before you two even agree that there’s any sort of mutual attraction taking place. He’s built his business so carefully, he doesn’t want to take any chances, even if the temptation to just throw logic out of the window is there. When you two decide to date, Azul has already thought about a thousand possible futures, part of his willingness to get into this relationship comes from ruling out the worst outcomes.

The hesitant phase lasts considerably longer with him than it does with Leona. He wants you to be the first one to let your guard down — A wish he knows would make him sound horrible even if he tried to explain, with the image he has — as the last bit of confirmation to him that you’re safe, and he can stop being so overly cautious around you. But he waits, and he keeps waiting, and none of the signs he’s looking for ever come.

How long has it been, at this point? Months? Azul actually isn’t very sure of what to do from here. Was this all because of his reputation? Did he do something wrong? Or was this just your regular personality, and he actually severely miscalculated every part of his “plan”?

He doesn’t want to show how much it bothers him, at first. He tries to think of ways to get you to open up, at least a little bit, like showing interest in your background and such… But he knows there’s a limit to how much he can do until he puts you off completely, if you’re really this cautious. And at this point, he’s too attached to want to risk losing you.

Some questions still slip through though, that exact attachment he feels making it difficult for him to keep up with your level of detachment. His curiosity really is genuine too, he wants to know more about you, to understand you better. Maybe even especially due to the detachment, he can relate to that distrustfulness too much. So much it makes him actually feel closer to you, though he does recognize that might be kind of weird. He does get a stray thought that he could be just projecting, that you could actually turn out to not be safe, but he decides to trust you.

There won’t be arguments or anything on the topic, even if you don’t reciprocate as Azul, without even thinking, ends up slowly lowering his guard first, and your reactions sometimes feel a bit cold to him — The sting of it fades quickly, because he just understands. When he asks questions, or ends up inviting you on more serious dates, there’s always an added, “but only if you’re comfortable with doing so, of course”, followed with a smile you never really see him show to anybody else. His observant nature will help him put the puzzle together, eventually, already starting to suspect you’ve had bad experiences with being harmed by people you trusted in the past. Regardless of how long it takes for you to be straightforward with him about those things, he’ll always thank you for trusting him with that same smile.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[dollarbils]

my girl’s a stalker | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your burning desire for your stalker soon turns into something else, does that truly mean you don’t want her?

warnings. smut, strap, harsh words, physical struggle

part1, part2 masterlist

you hadn’t seen billie since she’d driven you home, and it was driving you insane. she was all you could think about, all the fucking time. and it pissed you off.

you couldn’t shake the thought of her. she was like a poison, slowly beginning to eat at your insides, pulling at your heart. you wouldn’t admit the fear creeping in however, your dependency on her attention beginning to scare you.

you were willing to do anything for a shred of care from her. you wanted her to need you like you needed her. the frustration was excruciating.

“what’s on that pretty mind of yours?” her voice spooked you beyond measure, the manifestation of your thoughts not quite believable.

“nothing.” your response was dry, not having recovered from the weight of your thoughts, still trapped in the escape of your mind.

“hm, gone shy now that i’m finally here? i know you’ve been thinking about me.” sometimes you genuinely wondered if she could see your thoughts, she certainly liked to pretend she could.

“what are you doing here, billie?” she looked slightly taken aback, not expecting the sudden hostility.

“why so blue?” she stepped into the light of the moon, her features seeming to glow as you looked at her in awe. her smile was sickening, so fucking gorgeous. her hands reached your face, cupping your cheeks.

“stop it billie.” you pulled her hands away, stepping back, out of fear you’d succumb to her comfort.

“what’s wrong, baby.” she seemed genuinely confused, and a tinge of guilt poked at you.

“i’m not your baby.” you crossed your arms in an assertive act, but she was biting her lip, scanning your body with that seductive look of hers.

“you could be, what’s stopping you?” she tried to come close again, but you backed away.

“i kissed you, and then you ignored me for a week! how am i supposed to react?” her bottom lip stuck out in an ask for forgiveness.

“i’ve been occupied lately.” her excuse was vague, and she knew she wasn’t getting away with it. secretly, she was hoping you’d ask.

“with what?” she smirked, her tongue coming up to kiss her teeth.

“i had to take care of something, someone.” the clarity of her response was still poor, confusion lacing your brows.

“Noah?” horror flooded your spine when she grinned. the name of your previous fling bringing back a rush of memories.

“that was his name?” she was toying with you, insinuating things you wouldn’t let yourself speak.

“what did you do to him?” you’d underestimated her before, but you undoubtedly knew she what was capable of now. you backed away from her and she furrowed her brows, her eyes wide, chasing after you.

“don’t be so dramatic, babe. this doesn’t change anything.” you gripped your phone in your back pocket, moving away from her cautiously as you thought on possibilities of distracting her.

“it does, depending on what you did.” you grasped the sides of your phone, searching for the button that would make an emergency call.

“jesus christ, all i did was threaten him not to bother you anymore.” Your back hit the wall and your face went pale when she trapped you within her arms.

“with a weapon i’m sure,” she shrugged, “you’re fucking crazy.” she seemed to like what was meant as an insult.

“and you can’t admit you love it.” her fingers grasped your wrist, the one that was deep in your back pocket, and she revealed your tight grip on your phone.

“i thought we’d moved past this?” she pouted, mocking the failed attempt at getting out of this situation. you refused to speak, closing your eyes as her lips came to yours, hovering above them. your body craved her and your senses went blurry, consumed by only her.

“don’t be afraid of me, i’m what you need.” the familiarity of the words did nothing to soothe you, your heart still racing as her tough hands glided down your hips. you squirmed in her embrace, not liking the way your body was so eager to connect with hers.

“don’t deny the fact you want me, you’re not hiding it very well, baby.” her hips moved against yours, the bulge beneath her jeans, prominent.

“f-fuck you.” it was almost a moan, a half-whimper that took of your last shred of confidence, and dignity for that matter. and then you were giving in, kissing her forcefully as she drilled her hips into yours.

“much better.” she breathed and you rolled your eyes as she slipped her fingers under your shirt, unclasping your bra. you allowed her to take both of them off, and she took her lips between her teeth when your breasts spilled out.

“take a fucking picture if it means you’ll hurry up.” she chuckled at the comment and lifts you into her arms, before releasing you onto your own bed, at least she had the decency.

“such a brat. you’re so fucking lucky i find it sexy.” she takes your nipple in her mouth as she plays with the buttons of your jeans. your lips are parted, soft noises escaping occasionally.

“you’re fucking lucky i put up with your shit.” you responded, in the same tone. her lips left your tit, as she poked her cheek with her tongue.

“my shit? you’re the one who can’t fucking listen to simple instructions.” she manages to flip you over, so that you’re lying on your stomach, with protest however.

“just.. f-fuck.” she’d had enough of what she deemed your nonsense, shutting you up with the tip of her strap against your clothed pussy.

“what’s that, love?” your mouth had gone dry with the constant gasps as she pressed her tip against you. your heat was practically dripping all over the sheets.

“you’re making such a mess, i haven’t even properly touched you.” she nearby ripped your underwear off, revealing your glistening pussy. she couldn’t help but spread your wetness around with her thumb, brushing your clit so deliciously.

“b-billie.” her name had never sounded so good to her. she squeezed your ass as she soaked in the sound of her name as a gasp from your lips.

“beg.” she fisted your hair and held your torso as she pulled you up until you were sitting on your heels. her strap digging into your ass, reminding you of your position. she kissed your neck while she waited for a response.

“f-fuck, please billie.” your head fell back as she tutted in disapproval, her lips still ghosting the skin below your ear, before she lifted them and whispered.

“you can do better than that, babe.” she bit your ear lobe as you let out another whine of protest.

“what do you want from me? im sorry, j-just please, billie.” your cries were incoherent, bland of nonsense. but fuck, did she love it.

“a bit pathetic hm?” she pushed your body back onto the bed, the momentum causing you to bounce slightly. a raspy whimper escaped as she teased your entrance, circling it and applying pressure. you thought you’d burst if she pushed it in, which she soon did, entirely.

“b-billie.” she thrusted into you as she revelled in the string of moans coming from your mouth, desperate to cling onto them.

“fuck, you’re tight baby.” her fake cock was stretching you out so deliciously, and her pace was never-faltering. she tugged on your hair as she rutted into you from behind, pulling your face from the sheets in order to hear your moans.

“mm, taking me so well, huh? so pretty.” the base of the strap hit her clit repeatedly as she thrusted deep inside of you. she pulled your legs around her waist, aiming to go even deeper, hitting your spot over and over again until your vision turned white, littered with fucking stars.

“fuckk billie, i-i’m.” your words were barely audible, but she caught wind of them regardless, amused at your current state.

“i know gorgeous, come on you can take it.” she eased you further to your release, the pent up tension breaking as a wave of pleasure consumed your body. her strap still buried inside of you was helping you ride out your orgasm. and soon after pulling out, she joined you on the bed.

“does that earn me a goodnight kiss?”

you rolled your eyes, she was unbelievable.

note: this basically equates to 1/4 of my inbox, here you go 🤲

[maybankswhore]

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃.

SUMMARY: jj has always had a tiny crush on you that he never acted on because john b had gotten to you first. . . but one drunken night at the boneyard gives him a taste he can’t forget.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader , (est) relationship!john b x fem!reader.

WARNINGS: semi dark!jj maybank , naive reader , mentions of alcohol and weed , slight manipulation on jj’s part , coercion , infidelity , p in v , unprotected sex & creampie , choking & spit kink. ( for context , reader does play stupid for the most part. also , her and jj are on the same level when it comes to the alcohol they’ve consumed. reader is consenting though she tries playing dumb. )

There was nothing more that JJ valued more than his friendship with John B.

Their friendship had been un–breakable since the minute they met. The memories the two of them had together would forever be cherished , and JJ would always find himself thinking back on them fondly. It had been the two of them through thick and thin since the beginning of time.

But God , it was the way the alcohol flooded his bloodstream and hazed his mind that threw all his morals out the window. Your back against his chest as you moved sensually to the beat of the music , his hands gripping the forbidden skin of your hips tightly to hold you in place.

John B had been drunk out of his mind. Kiara and Pope had already left. Though it wasn’t out of the norm for you and JJ to be the last ones standing. The both of you loved to party and had a high tolerance. In fact , they felt less guilty leaving places early knowing that the two of you would have eachother.

Yet they didn’t realize the dirty little fantasies that plagued JJ’s mind. The three of them would never think anything more than JJ being taken to you just for the fact that John B loved you— and you were just another one of the Pogue’s. . .

Somewhere the night had shifted. One minute you were kissing your boyfriend goodbye sweetly and dancing around the beach playfully. It was just an innocent night like every other night had been— until it wasn’t.

JJ hadn’t meant for it to get like this. He didn’t know if it was the weed he had smoked or maybe it was one too many beers , but he took one look at you from across the beach and everything in his mind had disappeared. JJ couldn’t even remember his bestfriends name at that point. You weren’t someone elses girlfriend then. You were a girl across the beach that was beautiful. The most beautiful girl. Sweating and laughing as your hips moved rhythmically.

His feet were taking him to you before he could even think about it. You had greeted him with the most breathtaking smile and his knees felt weak. It was then that time moved slower , and your hands grabbed his and that’s when things changed. JJ completely voided his mind of anything but you. But how you danced , how good it felt to snake his arms around your waist and feel how smooth it was on the exposed parts of your hips. His eyes soaking in the sight of you underneath the moonlight while yours were shut while you danced.

JJ felt almost devilishly as he planned the whole thing out in his head. Leaning forward and asking to steal you away for a few minutes to smoke a joint. He knew you’d never refuse that.

His hand in yours , JJ had pulled you somewhere to the back of the beach. It was a secluded spot , one he had known about from previous experiences that he couldn’t even remember then. You giggled and laughed as you followed him , always finding JJ someone that you felt good around.

It happened like clockwork then. It was silent at first. His stomach in knots and nerves as he lit up the preroll , feeling bashful underneath your gaze. You hadn’t thought much of it and bumped your shoulder against his as he handed it over. “I’d never thought I’d see the day JJ Maybank had nothing to say.” You said , meaning to ease the tension.

JJ glanced over at you. His eyes meeting yours in a weird way. A way that the color of his eyes darkened and they looked at you differently. It made your stomach feel weird , almost flip at it. Blinking off guard , you looked towards the waves hitting against one another. “That’s the thing—” JJ started , taking his turn of the joint back and inhaling it a few good times before speaking again. “I have too much to say.”

As he passed it back to you , his fingers brushed against yours. You weren’t sure if it was the wind that was nipping at the two of you underneath the night sky— or the beads of sweat drying , but your spine danced at the feeling. It made you take a shaky breath now that the air was becoming thick. Though you kept telling yourself that it was the beer from earlier and the drugs entering your system. That this was just JJ. You felt normal. It felt the same as it always did.

Yet even then that didn’t soothe the turns in your stomach. Not with the way he looked tonight. Hair disheveled away from his face , giving you a clear view to his bright eyes and apple round cheeks. JJ had always been a good looking guy— everyone in Outer Banks knew that. But you had met him and everyone told you just what he was. . . a Rogue. He didn’t date. He wasn’t one to be in love and you took their warnings to heart and stayed away.

Pushing you into the arms of John B.

John B. . .

The brief moment of attraction towards the blonde suddenly made you feel sick with guilt.

JJ must have seen the expression on your face change. He swallowed before talking again. “Can I ask you something?”

Sighing , you took another hit to ease your nervous system. To try and make you mellow out and to stop thinking so quickly at one time. You were overthinking and over analyzing. “Anything.”

JJ rubbed at his jaw. “If you weren’t with. . . you know—” he couldn’t bring himself to say his name out loud. Knowing what he was doing and what he was playing at. Guilt burned at his throat but he ignored it. It was easy to ignore when he looked at you. “Would you fuck me?”

His question made you gasp audibly. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion and surprise as you watched JJ’s face which stayed still. “JJ! What the hell kind’ve question is that?”

JJ shrugged. Seemingly playing it coy. “It’s just a question. Doesn’t mean you’ll do it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Well of course I wouldn’t do anything! I’m with John B.”

“But if you weren’t with him is what I’m asking.” JJ shrugged. “It’s nothing serious , Y/N/N. Jus’ curious is all.”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Your cheeks burned bright pink and you hoped he couldn’t see the color with how dark it was outside. You pushed the joint back into JJ’s hands and moved to stand up but he caught your wrist just as quick— “JJ.” You warned.

“I’m sorry , swear.” JJ begged. He pleaded with you his eyes , bottom lip out as he did so. “You know I say things without thinking sometimes. Don’t go yet. I’m not finished.”

Everything inside of you was telling you staying would be a bad idea. It was deep within your gut. But as you chewed your bottom lip and the wheels turned in your head , JJ casually leaned back on the rock and continued smoking like everything was fine. . . And so , you did the same.

“You can’t say things like that you know.”

“Why not?”

“Because. . .” you stammered over your words. “Because that’s inappropriate , okay?”

JJ nodded slowly. “So no then?”

“What?” You couldn’t help the incredulous expression on your face at JJ playing it so cool. Like this conversation wasn’t disrespectful to not only your relationship but also his friendship to John B.

“You wouldn’t fuck me.”

His sentence yet again made a sound of surprise leave your mouth. Suddenly feeling flustered at what felt like an ambush. “JJ—”

JJ shrugged. “It’s okay. I mean , I’m not offended. I wouldn’t fuck you either.”

His words seemed to sting. You wasn’t sure why it did— but it had and had left you questioning. “What? Why are you even— and why not?”

“Because you’re probably boring in bed.” JJ giggled. The weed he smoked helping him feel warmth as he sat there. His head lazily turning towards you.

You scoffed at that and crossed your arms. “That’s quite rude! And I’m not boring.” You defended yourself. It was silly and JJ had a knack for teasing.

JJ put his hands up defensively. “Okay , whatever you say.” He smirked , finding it amusing to push your buttons. Of course , he had thought the exact opposite. But playing this game was much more fun than the other option , and he knew you. He knew you’d crack. He was hoping you’d crack.

“I’m not! I mean. . . doesn’t John B ever like—” you assumed that boys would be boys and talk with eachother the way you did with Kiara sometimes. Surely John B would’ve mentioned something about it once or twice.

“Talk about it?” JJ quipped. “Nah , not really.”

It wasn’t the answer you were hoping for and deep down it had made you start feeling a little self conscious. Were you boring? As soon as the question came , you shook your head to rid yourself of it. The sex with John B was good. It was always good. JJ was just trying to get into your head.

“Well it doesn’t matter because I’m not boring.” You snapped.

JJ nodded slowly. “I mean it’s okay if you are. As long as you know , can kiss good enough then that’s all a guy really needs to get off.”

You squirmed in your position. Your cheeks felt warm and this whole conversation was out of the ordinary for you. You and John B didn’t really talk much about things like this and you and JJ certainly never had before either. Though it had sparked some curiosity within you. “Really?”

“Totally. That’s the biggest thing for me when I’m with a girl.” JJ responded. “Kissing is the determining factor.”

You shook your head up and down slowly and thought it over. Without saying anything in return , you’d hope that JJ would drop it but instead he scooted closer to you. So close that his shoulder brushed against yours softly. Just enough space in between the two of you that they didn’t bump into eachother , but close enough to where anyone looking in would deem it too close.

“You kiss good , right?” JJ wondered out loud. His voice dropping down to almost a whisper. Softly spoken. You kept your eyes straight ahead while his eyes were burning holes into the side of your face. “I mean , I’d hate my boy to be with a bad kisser.”

“I—I am.” Your voice shook. You fisted the sand in your hands underneath you. “I mean. . . I think.”

“Hmm. . .” JJ nodded. Testing the waters , he leaned closer to you. The smell of your vanilla shampoo filled his nose as it lightly touched the skin of your cheek. Goosebumps rose on his arms at the feeling. “I could tell you—” he swallowed harshly. Bundling nerves right in his abdomen. “If you were , I mean.”

Laughing nervously , you tilted your head away. You tried to ignore how it made you feel. That how close he was made your heart race and your skin burn , like the idea of kissing JJ was anything but repulsive and wrong. This was wrong. You not stopping it was wrong but you couldn’t. For some reason , you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and leave or tell him it to stop talking. Deep down , a part of you wanted him to do it. “W-What do you mean? How could you tell me that?”

“You could kiss me.” JJ offered. “It’s just a kiss. You know , to tell you if you’re good at it. . . For John B.”

“JJ I—” you took a shaky breath. “JJ that’s cheating. It would be wrong.”

JJ shook his head. His hand reached over to grab yours , fingers curling towards your palm. The softness of his touch made your toes practically curl. You wanted to melt into it , feel more of him. Explore more of it. But you couldn’t— right?

“It’s not cheating , Y/N.” JJ assured. “I’m pretty sure John B would appreciate his girlfriend making sure she was pleasing him good enough.” He coaxed. “Besides , we wouldn’t have to tell him.”

“That’s—”

“Kiss me , Y/N.” JJ’s index finger hooked the side of your jaw gently and pulled your head to the side. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheek as he watched you watch him nervously. You hadn’t leaned in— but you hadn’t pulled away. “Or do you want to me to kiss you? Would that make you feel better? If I kissed you?”

His words were almost taunting but it was true. You knew that if you were the one to start it , it’d make you feel even more guilty. You felt horrible even thinking about it — worse about entertaining the idea. But as you went to nod your head , all indiscretion about what was right and wrong had left your mind. JJ’s mouth on yours had shocked you , making you blink a couple times before his hands on either side of your cheeks made your lips start moving against his in the same amount of force.

It was slow at first. He took his time , savoring the taste of the stale weed and strawberry drink you had earlier. Just kissing you made his jeans tighten— his mind go hazy. He was getting drunk just off the taste of you and now JJ felt insatiable.

Nothing else mattered after that. Your boyfriends face had completely left your mind. Kissing JJ made your belly do flips and your heart skip every other beat. JJ kissed you like a man starved— one hand had left your cheek and grabbed at your waist , pulling it towards himself. Your little short–shorts felt like nothing as he pushed himself up against you , and you felt it. It caused you to gasp , and JJ took that an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. It swirled in every place it could find , a soft moan leaving the back of his throat as he did so. “Feel that?” JJ pulled away just for a second to mutter gently in your ear , rolling his hips again. “I’m that hard just by kissing you—”

Something in you began to stir at his words. How desired you felt only added to the situation. Each time his hips rolled against yours and created friction between your legs , it felt better and better. It was like an itch that you needed scratched and you didn’t want to play naive anymore. You were already there— and it felt too good to stop.

JJ hoisted you into his lap with ease. Each hand on either hip while he pulled away to look down at where the middle of your shorts met his. Looking at it made him groan. There hadn’t been anything hotter to him in that moment , then watching you on top of him. “Fuck you’re so—”

You took control of the situation and began grinding down onto him in a way that made you feel good. You could feel how slick you were already , the fabric of your panties sticking to that little bundle of nerves and you reached out to grab his hands and stick them in your shorts. “Since you wanted me so bad you couldn’t just stop talking—” you groaned , throwing your head back when JJ’s thumb immediately went to where you needed it to. “Finish what you started.”

The two of you were a moaning mess together. Dry humping like teenagers who discovered it for the first time with JJ’s hand down your panties. Everything about it was so wrong , but the erotic nature of the situation made it too good to stop. With hooded eyes you watched how JJ’s eyes never left between the two of you , how he panted and groan with each sound you made. Veins coming out his arm from how well he was working his fingers onto your cunt that was screaming for more.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.” JJ grunted. God , it felt even better than he had imagined. His body was begging to touch you , feel every part of you. He was drunk off of you and he didn’t care about anything anymore. He was too far gone. “Tell me and I’ll do it right now.”

His teeth bit at the protective layer of skin on your neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark , but enough to make a sweet whine leave your parted lips. Through your eyelashes you down at him , your chest heaving while trying to catch it enough to speak. His ring cladded fingers halted their movements , waiting for a response.

“Yes—” you breathed , feeling shame when your hips bucked forward for more of him. “I want you to fuck me.”

That sentence made him groan in response to it. He wasted no time in moving you around , laying you flat on your back to pull down your shorts. “You’re so beautiful , Y/N.” JJ praised as he looked at you , your cheeks burning red and body glistening underneath the moonlight. It all seemed so surreal to him , having you there for him— “I’ve wanted you for so long , always walking around in those tight little shorts. Pretending you’re such a good girl when I know what you really are.”

Holding himself up on his knees , JJ quickly unfastened his belt and pulling down his shorts. You watched him , your hands fisting the sand yet again.

“You’re a dirty little girl , baby. You wanna be fucked so bad , huh? John B’s the boring one , isn’t he baby? You want someone to fill up this pretty little pussy , make you cry—” JJ’s voice was like sugar. Sickly sweet as he said the dirtiest of words that emitted a quiet moan from your mouth. JJ barely caught it , finding it amusing the way you still pretended as though you were the exact opposite.

“Stop teasing.” You whined , allowing your leg to venture up and snake around his waist to pull him towards you. “You’ve done it enough tonight.”

JJ tutted as he grabbed your leg from around his waist. “Open your legs for me.” He instructed , guiding your legs to how he wanted them. With your knees propped up and your legs as open as they could go , JJ swore he’d been starved his whole life as he looked down inbetween them , your pussy slick with arousal , practically begging for him.

The cool air nipped at your skin making you shiver. It almost hurt the way you were throbbing , needing him to do something— anything.

All air left your lungs the minute JJ disappeared. His tongue lapping you up feverishly. Your jaw became unhinged while your back arched off the sand , a series of crude moans and whines escaping your mouth embarrassingly so the way JJ’s mouth worked on you. Sucking your clit in an agonizingly slow pace , vibrating the area as he moaned. “You taste just as good as I thought you would.” JJ mumbled when he pulled away for a minute to slip in his middle finger.

“JJ. . . yes—” your head fell back while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Everything went blank. All you could focus on was JJ’s messy blonde hair inbetween your legs. His tongue worked on you , fucking you with it as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your clit. It sounded like he was a man starved , the sounds his mouth made for you. Desperately gripping at the roots of his hair , shamelessly pulling him closer and closer towards you. “God , like that JJ— just like that.”

Your praise earned a grunt in response. The tightness of his jeans and underwear beginning to feel uncomfortable and he tried rocking against the sand to relieve it. He loved the way you sounded , the way you tasted , the way your body reacted to him. Your legs were smooth to the touch when he rubbed them , your pussy just as perfect as he imagined— his jaw began hurting but it only pushed him harder to keep going. He had thought about this , about you , for far too long to stop now and it only pushed him harder to make you cum.

You yelped when JJ sat up on his knees again , hooking his arms around your waist to lift your bottom from the ground. His tongue fucking you deeper , licking and sucking all that he could. He watched your face and how it contorted , how your head went back and your hands reached for just about anything to hold onto. “So good , baby. So good. John B doesn’t deserve a pussy like that.” His mouth pulled away from you to insert his fingers , curling them to find the spot that made you tick.

Something started swirling in your stomach. A feeling that washed over you and settled within your bloodstream , pumping blood faster than you had felt before. It was euphoric , how your toes curled at it. Everything about the situation helping you get off , the clapping of JJ’s ring decorated fingers and how he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever exist. How wrong it all was but felt so right at the same time.

“ ’M gonna cum.” You babbled out , drunk off of him. Almost fucked dumb just by his fingers. “JJ I’m gonna—”

The orgasm hit like a wave , shaking your body as it did. It was hard to catch your breath. You couldn’t stop your legs from shaking while you tried to sit up and a cocky grin was left on JJ’s face. His index finger wiped the remnants around his mouth , sucking on it afterwards. “So fuckin’ hot.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed his shirt and brought him down to you , kissing his mouth. JJ moaned in the kiss , allowing your tongue to be the one exploring his this time. You could taste yourself on him , a salty sweet mixture that made his mouth water.

Gently JJ’s hand snaked around your throat , squeezing it to test out the waters. When you made a noise in response , bucking your hips greedily again— JJ pulled away from you with a smirk. “My dirty little girl , huh?”

As you whimpered in response , JJ tutted. His pupil’s dilating as he laid you back down and went to tug down his own shorts. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna be mine—”

A moan escaped your mouth at his words and JJ laughed tauntingly in response. You waited anxiously as he lined himself up with you , holding your hips in place. His eyes were stuck on your bodies and how his tip teased your slit , running along it to lubricate it just enough to slip in which was enough to make his mind go crazier.

Slowly he entered you. Making sure to savor every second , JJ memorized how it felt to squeeze himself in between your walls. He’d forever replay the sound of your gasp as he slipped it in , breaking you apart.

John B wasn’t small necessarily , though your boyfriend had more girth. JJ was long , it was pretty to look at it and it had just enough width to stretch your walls at an agonizing pace. The feeling of him filling you up was good , but as his hips started snapping , it was better.

Whining for attention , JJ leaned down to kiss you again only stopping to pry your mouth open with his thumb and tap your tongue. Your eyes widened at the action but JJ’s thrusts didn’t give you any time to stop and process it. Instead you opened your mouth willingly , moaning in return when he spit into your mouth. JJ’s jaw tightened as you swallowed it , doe eyed.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Such a good girl.”

You clenched around him at that and a wicked smile took place on his face when he realized how much you liked it when he praised you. He could tell in your body language , how needy you were and how your legs wrapped around him to trap his dick inside of you that you hadn’t been fucked like this.

He knew his friend too well to know John B was vanilla.

“You’re so wet. You like this? Getting off with your boyfriends bestfriend inside of you?” JJ grunted as he slid in and out of with you ease. You only whined in response , burying the back of your head in the sand. JJ’s hand gripped your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him— “Answer me. How long have you wanted this? Your pussy is practically sucking me in.”

With your bottom lip out you squirmed underneath him for more stimulation. “I–I didn’t. This is the first time.” You lied through burning cheeks. Embarrassment flooding you when you made another sound of approval when JJ’s teeth nipped at your neck.

“You’re lying.” JJ whispered in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. “You can tell me— our secret.”

Whimpering your eyes watered. Thinking about it made you feel guilty. How much you were enjoying it made you feel even worse. “Just. . . just a couple times!”

JJ hummed as though he didn’t believe you but he decided not to push the issue. He angled himself to be able to go deeper. Your left leg straight up in the air while his skin slapped against yours. “I’ve thought about this every night since I met you.” JJ admitted while he groaned. “Always walking around in the small little bikini. . . Fuck , if only John B hadn’t gotten to you first.”

You felt pleasure through the tears that coated your eyes. You couldn’t tell if you were crying from the guilt or from how good it felt to feel JJ inside of you. There were so many sensations hitting you at once , so many feelings but your toes curled and your hands were clammy. They gripped onto JJ for dear life , loving every second of it despite what your heart kept pushing away. You writhed underneath him , your orgasm coming on for the second time. The noise that escaped your throat was filthy.

“You’re gonna cum for me , baby? Huh? Cumming again for your boyfriend’s best friend?” JJ grunted. “Me too , you suck me in so good. This pussy was made me for me. You were supposed to be for me.”

You shouldn’t have came as hard as you did from his words. You couldn’t contain your moans that just kept pouring out of you , watching JJ’s hips struggle to keep their movement as they followed suit.

You felt warmth coat the inside of you and immediately you gasped. Your legs pushing you away but JJ held you in place.

His head fell into the crook of your neck as he breathed , letting his dick go limp inside of you. “My girl.”

[animasola86]

🐻 A HUG TO REMEMBER

m!shapeshifter x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.1k

After a night full of unusual adventures and ordeals, you find yourself in the arms of your most memorable encounter, and you can't complain.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Aftercare! Vaginal sex! Creampies! Cockwarming! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

This is part 6 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 It's the continuation of the continuation of OPTION 3 - can be read individually for the smut portion, but if you want to follow the plot, I'd advise reading the previous two parts or at least the first part, preferably all of them. This is the conclusion of the story after all!

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your way to get some fresh air, you first run into a werewolf, who knots and breeds you, then into two vampires, who spitroast you, and after all that... here we are...

“Hey. Hey, can you hear me?”

A deep voice rings in your ears, a low thrum in the void around you, muffled as if through various layers of cloth or from behind a thick door. A rasping inhale lets you stir, and slowly your body feels like your own again. Your limbs are tingling, your throat hurts, and something deep within you as well, there's an overall soreness all around, but when your eyes flutter open, you're just glad to be alive.

The sight in front of you still scares you, and you let out a hoarse whimper. A large man leans over you, tall and bulky, bulging muscles under a plaid shirt, strong legs, black hair, slightly curled and thick, a full beard, dark eyes staring down at you from under heavy eyebrows. You shy away, flinching, breathing harder.

“Hey, shh, it's all good. You're safe now,” he tells you with that low voice that vibrates through your body, and you frown, blinking at him in confusion, unable to relax as you stare at him. “Aww, don't tell me you've already forgotten about me?”

He flashes you a soft smile, exposing white teeth, and none of them seem abnormally large or pointy. You sigh and close your eyes again, trying to focus on your breathing, too weak to worry about anything at this point. Suddenly you're being lifted, held by strong arms, pressed to a warm chest, and you can't help it, you lean into it, savoring the protective gesture. The man carries you away, no idea where to, doesn't matter anyway.

“They got you good, hm?” He keeps talking to you, even though you can't find the strength to reply. “Should have stayed with me, little one.”

Slowly, you blink your eyes open and stare at him, furrowing your brows, really looking at him. Why does he feel so familiar? Slowly you move your hand up and brush your fingertips against his beard, the rough texture bringing up fuzzy memories of... fur? He gives you another smile, his eyes boring into yours. Your lips part as you try to sound out a question, but the pain in your throat is too strong to get any words out.

“Yes, little Red, I am your big bad wolf,” he replies nevertheless, seemingly reading your mind. Your eyes widen. It is him. The werewolf who knotted you. This is his human form? “But don't worry too much about it now. Let's get you cleaned up first, yeah?”

A sudden rush of warmth fills your cheeks and you look away, noticing not only the ripped shirt you borrowed from him but the large amounts of dried cum and blood on your exposed skin. The state those vampires have left you in is horrible. Vampires... for fuck's sake. You wanted to tick all of what happened tonight off as a dream, a nightmare maybe even, but the evidence that it may have actually happened after all is disturbing and hard to ignore. Sighing soundlessly, you rest your head against his shoulder as it starts to spin painfully. This is all too much.

He shifts you on his arms, hugging you closer as he keeps walking. There's a faint glow around you, and you realize that the morning must be close. You survived the night, huh? You're still not too sure about it.

You end up back in his cabin, though luckily not in the primitive basement but in an actual bedroom. He puts you down gently, makes you sit on the edge of the bed as he carefully peels the remnants of his ruined shirt off your body. You just watch him when he leaves the room for a moment before returning with a bowl of water and a washcloth, and when he starts cleaning you up, you close your eyes and let him, his large hands surprisingly soft and gentle as they work.

Eventually he pushes you onto your back, and again, you let him, relaxing into the soft sheets, as he starts wiping between your legs. You shiver when he brushes against your still sensitive clit. He gives you a few rubs, but then moves on, presses the cloth to your thigh, which causes you to wince when a sharp pain jolts through you.

“Can't believe they both fed off you,” you hear him mumble, his low voice a deep rumble in the air. “Insatiable bastards.” His hand moves back to your mound, his thick fingers teasing along your slit. “And they even cleaned you out, hm? Damn, all that effort for naught...”

You slowly open your eyes, meeting his dark gaze. There's a strange tension in your stomach. He keeps rubbing your labia, slowly pressing between them. His eyes are almost black now and as intense as you remember them, even though they've looked at you out of a very different face.

“I guess I have to keep you here a little longer,” he whispers, slowly leaning over you, one hand still at your cunt, the other braced beside your shoulder as he hovers above you. Your hands move up, brushing against his hard stomach. “To make sure you're fine, of course,” he adds, smirking down at you.

You bite your lip, watching him, your fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. You have no idea why you feel the sudden urge to pull him closer, wrap your legs around his waist and let him ravage you all over again, human form or not. This whole night has been quite the (sex) adventure, and somehow you don't want it to end. You don't want to go back to your boring life where everything is as expected, planned and sterile.

You'd rather stay with this savage man, who, considering your other encounters, has been the most memorable, and you can't wait for the moon to rise again. For now, you are also quite content with the hairy man above you. His deep laugh full of surprise echoes through the room as you grip the collar of his shirt and pull him down, smacking your mouth against his. He's quick to kiss you back, deep and passionately, your tongues meeting in a wild dance, as he leans his wide body onto yours carefully.

“Damn, Red, you developed quite the hunger, didn't you?” he mouths between kisses, his warm breath fanning over your lips. You can only nod, your cheeks burning up in slight embarrassment, but you still buck your hips up against his groin invitingly. “I'm not complaining,” he adds, playfully nibbling on your bottom lip as he responds with a roll of his pelvis.

Continuing to kiss him with a need that's new to yourself too, you let your hands wander over his broad chest before you fumble with the buttons of his shirt. You groan in slight impatience as your shaking hands can't quite finish the job. He leans back then, looking at you, then simply rips the shirt and shrugs it off nonchalantly, exposing a wide toned chest with just the right amount of dark chest hair.

Your fingers rub through it, it's not abnormally much, just enough to cover his big pecs before it thins out into a thick trail vanishing into his jeans. You follow it, palms sliding over hard muscles before your fingers curl into his belt, holding his dark gaze as you lick your swollen lips. His smirk is playful but has a dark edge to it. Instead of letting you continue on your quest to get him as naked as you are, he grabs your hands and pins them above your head, holding your wrists together with one large hand while his other hand closes around your jaw as he leans closer once more.

“You really want this, huh?” he growls quietly.

You nod frantically, not even hesitating anymore. There's a tiny bit of protest in your mind when it reminds you of the state of your sore body, but you really couldn't care less right now. You want to feel good again, and you remember, even though the details are hazy, that this man (albeit in his other form) has made you feel how you've never felt before.

He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as he takes in your scent, before he crashes his lips to yours again, quickly slipping his tongue into your mouth. His beard rubs along your soft skin, adding to the growing desire nestling deep within you. You struggle in his hold, really needing to touch him, grab his shoulders, sink your fingers into his thick hair, feel the strength of his body, but for now all you have is his eager mouth.

Once your head is spinning and your lungs burning, he slowly moves his deep kisses down your face, along your jaw, his warm hand rubbing over your sore throat before he turns your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart thundering in anticipation. But there are no teeth on your skin, just wet lips and a warm tongue, as he starts sucking on your pulse, lapping at the bruises he works into you.

“Tonight,” he huffs against you, “I'm gonna mark you properly. I'll make you mine, little one, all mine. So no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

You gasp breathlessly, still unable to get any words through your hurting throat, but he seems to understand your non-verbal agreement as he presses his lips to your neck before leaning back, looking down at you, his dark eyes wandering over your flushed face. You look back out of hooded eyes with your lips parted and quivering. It's a strangely comforting thought to have this man, this werewolf, claim you. You feel protected, safe, and even if you can't properly think about the reality of it just yet, you can't find it in you to deny him.

“Y-yours,” you manage to croak out, and a wide smile breaks on his bearded face.

He lets go of your wrists and pulls you into the embrace of his strong arms, and you immediately snake your hands around his neck and into his hair, sighing contently as you feel the thick locks between your fingers and his mouth once again on yours.

For the longest time you're just lying together, cuddled up on his bed, hands holding and exploring, tongues wrestling, his heavy body pushing you into the mattress, and you wouldn't have it any other way. You're moaning against his lips as he starts growling low in his throat, his lower body rubbing against yours with increasing need. You can feel the heat of his hard cock through his jeans, and in an attempt to show him you're ready, you lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, pressing your equally hot center right against his bulge.

A snarl comes from his mouth as he leans back abruptly, braced on his arms, chest heaving, muscles dancing, before he jumps back fully, quickly fumbling with his belt and pants before he is finally completely naked, his erection bouncing against his lower stomach as he starts crawling back over you. You try to get a better look at it, but he's claiming your mouth for another kiss, though from what you've seen he may just be as big as his wolf counterpart, minus the bulbous knot, unfortunately.

But you're sure you'll experience that again very soon. The moon couldn't rise fast enough.

You expect him to immediately claim your hungrily clenching cunt, but instead of shoving his cock into you, you feel his thick fingers rubbing between your wet folds, coaxing quiet mewls out of your hurting throat. He keeps kissing you as he starts properly fingering you, pushing his long digits as deep as they would go. It's a lazy rhythm but it's enough to build up that sizzling heat inside you, and the tension builds and builds, until you cry out soundlessly against his mouth, stiffening beneath him, body arching, thighs twitching as you come hard around his fingers.

He inhales your breathless moans, plunging his tongue deeper while slowly massaging your fluttering walls, letting you down easy. You groan quietly in protest when he pulls his fingers out, the sudden emptiness almost painful. A chuckle escapes him as he presses his lips against your warm cheek and leans back, looking down. You follow his gaze and watch how he grabs his throbbing cock in his big hand, its tip as angry and red looking as you remember his wolfish dick. It's not as monstrous though, but still thick and veiny and long, and your head spins just from imagining it inside you.

You don't have to imagine it for long though when he then brings the precum leaking crown to your folds, swiping it through them to gather your slick, before he presses against your entrance, carefully, oh so careful you wish he'd be a bit rougher, and slowly your cunt opens up to him, and inch by inch, his cock disappears inside you. You arch your head back as you feel the stretch, your lips parted for a soundless moan.

He shifts on top of you, lowers himself between your wide spread legs, brings his forearms on either side of your shoulders, his hands cradling your head as he leans down again to shower your flushed face with soft kisses while he rolls his hips against you, so gentle you barely feel how he forces his cock past your resistance until he eventually bottoms out. Somehow it's a comfort to feel this full, filled and stretched, claimed.

Your hands dig into his hair, holding him tightly as you move your tongue around his, inhaling his low growls and groans as you grind your pelvis against him. His first thrust makes you see stars. It's a sudden jolt of pain, a deep little stab, and you flinch, gasping. He leans back and watches you, his eyes so dark and intense you can only stare back. He thrusts again, taking in your reaction, and when you flinch once more, he soothes his hands over your head.

“Does it hurt?” he asks gravelly, his voice vibrating through you, adding to the building heat inside you.

“No,” you croak out. There's discomfort, in your throat, in your ass, but your cunt feels right with his cock moving within it, a perfect fit, a thing meant to be. Your hands move to his face, rubbing over his bearded cheeks. “Keep going,” you manage to whisper past the ache. “Please...”

His lips curl up into a smirk before he leans down to kiss yours softly, then suddenly sits up fully, braced on his strong arms, resting on his haunches. He grabs your thighs and drapes them over his, and you automatically wrap your legs around his body and cross your feet, holding onto him as he starts snapping his hips against you, his large hands now on your waist, thumbs pressing onto your fluttering stomach.

He falls into a slow but steady rhythm, pushing deep and simultaneously pulling you into his thrusts, and all you can do is fall back into the softness of the bed and let it happen, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as you moan and mewl, your eyes rolling back in growing pleasure. He's much more careful than he was in his wolf form, really looks out for you, but still uses all of his body to stimulate yours.

You feel hot and cold all over, goosebumps rippling over your skin, deep shivers crashing through you, that heat building up deep within, ready to explode into a ravaging wildfire. Wet squelching sounds mix with the loud slapping of skin against skin, add to that your breathless gasps and his low grunts and groans, and you feel your head spinning in the best kind of vertigo.

When he eventually picks up the pace, you are immediately propelled up into new spheres of bliss, your eyes flying open as he grips your waist harder, moves his hips faster, his cock pistoning in and out with force and fervor. Your walls clench around him, your whole body shuddering under the assault. Hoarse moans escape you, lips parted wide, lungs burning, that tension in your stomach bordering on painful.

You come with a shrill squeak, almost soundless, ripping through your sore throat, but all you feel is burning pleasure, all-consuming, taking over every nerve and muscle, and he keeps fucking you through it with hard and deep thrusts, forcing through your tightening walls as they clamp around him with a force that makes you dizzy. He grunts loudly, shifting on top of you until his entire body rests on yours, pushing you into the bed, a comforting weight that keeps you grounded as you float away on that tidal wave of pleasure.

His hips smack into yours, even faster, more urgent and frantic, his groans getting louder as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your fluttering pulse. You gasp beneath him, your trembling arms snaking around his body until you sink your fingernails into his back, holding on for dear life as he fucks you with reckless abandon.

It's all a blur now, a whirlwind of noises and sensations, little jolts of pain and overwhelming slaps of bliss, you can't breathe, you can't move, you can just take it, and you take it with growing need, absorbing every pummeling thrust, every deep plunge, every poke at your cervix, every drag along your walls, every rub against your clit. His breath is hot against your neck, his heavy body embracing you whole, eager to swallow you up, make you his. And you're here for it. For him.

Your noises grow louder, forcing out of your body, whines and wails, moans and mewls, your voice coming back slowly before you'll lose it all over again. He's hammering into you now, making you both bounce on the bed, a feral rutting that is all too familiar to you. You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the rough texture of his beard and the soft curls of his hair, and in your daze you see the wolf above you, his long snout, those sharp teeth, the long panting tongue, and you hear the low growls and snarls, the animalistic need to breed his mate, and it's that image that makes you come again, hard, uncontrollable twitches making your whole body convulse beneath him as you let out the loudest moan yet.

He slows then, labored breaths in your ear, hot against your skin, before you feel him shuddering as well, his big body trembling on top of yours, and his last thrust is particularly deep, a hard punch into your cervix that forces another explosion of pain and pleasure through you, and with a long groan he comes inside you, his cock throbbing, his balls drawn up tight between your folds, twitching with every spurt of hot cum he leaves deep inside of you.

You hold onto him, hands soothing over his broad back, as he fills you up, and because there's no knot to keep it in, his warm seed soon presses past your connection, seeping out of you in lazy globs that feel warm and soothing against your puckered hole. You slowly relax beneath him, coming down gently from all those highs, and his deep sigh vibrates through you as he does the same, putting his entire weight on you.

Your lips press against the top of his head, the scent of his hair, a mixture of pine and grass and earth, fills your nostrils. You close your eyes, a soft smile creeping onto your features as you feel his beard rubbing against your neck, a low hum escaping him in response. For a moment you just lie like this, both boneless and exhausted, his cock still giving the occasional twitch as another spurt of his seed pumps into you while your cunt clenches lazily around him, and you could fall asleep like that, overwhelmed by a strange kind of comfort you've never experienced before.

You could certainly get used to this...

Before you can drift off, he suddenly moves, his muscles working as he pulls his arms around you and rolls you both onto your sides. You already miss his weight on you, his enveloping warmth, but he quickly pulls you into him, pressed to his wide chest, and you nuzzle into his hoarse chest hair, inhaling deeply. He tilts his hips, and you feel his cock slipping free, followed by a surge of warm cum flowing out of your pulsing pussy.

He groans as he puts a hand between your legs and tries to hold it in, fingers eagerly pushing his seed back between your tight muscles, and before you know it, you are being rolled around until your back is to his groin, and he lifts your leg and replaces his fingers with his cock, still impressively hard as it slips back home, filling you out all over again. A soft moan escapes you as he drapes his large body around yours, holding you tightly against him, his beard rubbing against your cheek before you turn your head and meet his lips for a soft kiss.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice just a low thrum in the air.

“Yes,” you breathe against him, reaching out a hand to grab his face, pulling him even closer. “Never better...”

He smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss as he grinds his hips against your rear, though he doesn't move much, not intending to fuck you all over again, and he stops completely once his entire cock is fed deep into your cunt, just resting there, hot and heavy. His hand moves to your stomach, and yours joins soon after, fingers interlacing as you both feel the tightness of your belly and the slight bulge his cock and cum created. It's a pleasant fullness, a soft warmth both inside and out, a comfort you don't want to let go, ever.

Eventually you do slip away into unconsciousness, mid-kiss, with your lips brushing against his, before he wraps his arm tightly around you and nuzzles against your neck, your head lolling away as sleep grabs you tightly.

You wake up in almost the same position, with this large man wrapped around your smaller body, holding you tightly, his cock still very much buried inside you, but now he's sleeping, soft snores rumbling through him, deep inhales letting his toned chest rub against your back. You blink your eyes into focus and look around the room, bathed in bright sunlight that hurts your eyes, and you wonder how you got here, how a mysterious invitation to a (not at all) simple Halloween party brought you into the arms of a man who will turn into a monster as soon as the moon rises.

It still doesn't make sense, none of it, and maybe nothing of it happened after all? You did sleep with the man draped around you, that was real, but maybe that was it? The rest was just some alcohol-induced fever dream? Maybe. It would be easier to believe for sure, easier than whatever your mind tries to tell you may have happened. For now, you force the contradicting thoughts away and focus on the very real man snuggled up to you.

Lifting a hand, you rub it along his thick forearm, feeling those bulging veins under his tight skin and the hard muscles flexing slightly as you do so. A few seconds later, he stirs behind you, inhaling deeply.

“Awake already?” he rumbles into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your jaw.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you,” you whisper, lying as still as possible in his embrace.

“All good,” he replies with a groan as he grinds his hips into you.

Immediately you feel a burning pain crashing through you, your muscles tight around his cock, too tense to allow for much movement that doesn't hurt. He stops, his hand moving from your stomach down between your legs, fingertips brushing against your hooded clit, slowly waking up those resisting nerves.

You gasp softly, arching into him at the sensation. “Have I told you how wonderful you feel wrapped around my cock?” he breathes against you, sending shivers down your spine. “You do, such a perfect fit. Molded to me, haven't you?”

You hum in response, closing your eyes as you relax under his ministrations. Your muscles ease, allowing his cock to slide back and forth slightly, and before you know it, he's coaxing a gently building orgasm out of you that makes you keen in agonizing bliss as it crescendos into another one of those mind-blowing experiences that have you twitching uncontrollably. He quickens his thrusts, eager to follow you over the edge, and when he does, he grunts into your ear, holds you tightly against him, his hips jerking against your rear as he adds hot spurts of cum to your burning juices.

You sigh deeply when he stills, leaning into him, breathing hard from not doing much, and you realize you always want to wake up like this, in the arms of this man, fucked fully awake by his amazing cock. As soon as the post-orgasmic clarity settles in, you also realize that this will never become a reality. It can't. How should it? You barely know him, he's a werewolf, it was just a one-night-stand, he's a werewolf, you have to go back to the city soon.

Inhaling sharply, you stiffen in his hold, trying to ignore the soft kisses he plants on your neck and shoulder before he slowly moves back, detaches himself from you and your fluttering depths, and as soon as his cock slips free, a warm wave of cum seeps from between your thighs. You press them together, rolling up into the sheets when his warm body is gone. He stands from the bed, stretching, then walks wordlessly into the bathroom.

Maybe it's better this way. You shouldn't get too attached. He lives in a cabin in the woods, might be connected to the mysterious house you were invited to last night, and when you remember the drive here correctly, it did take you quite a while to get here. You can't do a long-distance relationship, it'll eat you up, you just know it. And he can't come visit you either, what if he turns into a monster and ravages half the city block?

Though he did seem to have his urges under control (more or less anyway) when you first encountered him, but still, the city is no place for a werewolf.

And what if this is just a fling for him anyway? What if you are the only one stressing about what happens next? But he did say he wanted to make you his, his mate, for nobody else to touch, wait, yes, he promised you he'd do that tonight, but... what if that was just some lust-induced dirty talk? It would mean you'd have to stay the whole day, wait for the moon to rise, and you can't do that.

You have a job to go back to, a boring life that waits to be continued. This party was already a big step out of your comfort zone, you can't just throw your life away for a hot guy, can you?

Groaning in frustration, you grab the pillow and bury your burning face in it, hoping to smother the thought carousel before it gets out of hand. Seriously. Since when are you such an overthinker?

A sudden noise makes you stiffen. He's back from the bathroom. But you can't look at him. You should leave. End it before it gets complicated.

“Do you want to shower next? It's still nice and toasty in there,” you hear his low voice, muffled through the pillow.

You grunt a reply, and without acknowledging his towering form in the room, you slip off the bed and into the bathroom. The shower, however steamy it is, clears your head, and when you reemerge, dried off with the provided towels, you wrap one around your body and slowly step back into the bedroom, bracing yourself for what may come next.

You find the man whose name you never learned sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in another plaid shirt and dirty jeans, and he's holding a stack of clothes, your blouse and skirt as you recognize, and the red cloak he was so fond of last night. You walk up to him and take the items, biting your lip as you nod at him. He watches you as you re-enter the bathroom to get dressed, which seems silly considering he's seen every inch of your body multiple times by now.

By the time you're dressed and ready to leave this all behind, your stomach is tense. “I...” you start as you meet him back in the bedroom, wringing your hands nervously.

He tilts his head, deep creases on his forehead. “Are you hungry?” he asks then, ripping you out of your dark thoughts.

You blink slowly, parting your lips only to press them together again. Then you just nod. He smiles at you, his whole face lighting up, the frown disappears while other creases appear in the corners of his eyes, dimples on his cheeks, almost hidden by his thick beard. He stands up and reaches for you, and you don't even hesitate when you put your small hand onto his large palm.

He leads you towards a small kitchen that opens into a cozy looking living room with a big couch and a fireplace. As you sit down on one of the bar stools lining the island, he rounds the counter and starts preparing breakfast. You focus on him, trying to ignore the ongoing debate in your head. In the end you and your overbearing mind come to the conclusion that you'll just enjoy the moments you still have with him, before you have to leave.

“Hey, um, you never told me your name,” you say a little shyly as you watch him crack some eggs into a sizzling pan.

“It's Bear,” he tells you, turning his head to meet your curious gaze. His dark eyes gleam in the sunlight flooding through the large window of the living room. They glow like amber.

“Bear?” you repeat, frowning with a smirk. “But... you're a werewolf. That's kinda ironic.”

He chuckles deeply. “Maybe, yeah. But you know, I wasn't born a werewolf, I was born a shapeshifter.”

Your eyebrows rise at that. “What?”

“I can shift into various animals. Usually a big black bear, sometimes a large wolf too. Or a fox if I feel playful.” His voice is so even, natural, he's either a great story teller and liar or... no, this can't be true.

“You're kidding me,” you whisper, leaning onto your elbow.

He winks at you. “Nope, I am a shapeshifter. It runs in my family.” He moves the pan over the burner for a moment before he pulls it off and turns fully to you. “You accepted that I am a werewolf, but this is baffling you?” he asks with a smirk. “These grounds have always been in the care of my ancestors, for a very long time. I'm just the latest groundskeeper.”

“So you belong to the house?” you ask quietly, trying to make sense of what he's told you.

“In a way. The house has a strange history, to be honest,” he says, inhaling deeply as he stops the meal prepping and crosses his strong arms in front of his chest. Leaning against the counter, he watches you, and you frown, urging him to continue. “Well, you see, it shouldn't be here,” he goes on ominously.

“What do you mean?”

“It was built on land that shouldn't be built on,” he clarifies. “I don't want to go into too much detail, but, well, people back in the day didn't care about traditions or customs, or warnings. They just did what they wanted, took what they desired. So the house was built, and my family was asked to leave the grounds. Of course that couldn't happen. Somehow we made the compromise that we could stay and care for the grounds and the forest, and they let us. But it wasn't a fair exchange, as were most things back then...”

You listen with growing interest, your eyes wandering over his tan skin and the deep sorrow in his eyes. He keeps talking, his voice low and almost melancholy.

“Some of us didn't like it, and... well, things got out of hand. There was a shaman who lived deep in the forest, and she didn't accept neither the new house nor our willingness to work for those people, so she threw around some curses...”

“Curses?” you echo, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yes, ancient magic made worse by strong emotions. Some say the shaman was fueled by the injustice of the situation, others think she may have had an affair with the house owner, or... well, maybe something else happened, something darker, nobody really knows. But her magic was so strong it is still up today.”

You stare at him, both fascinated and deeply unsettled by his story.

“For one, she cursed us groundskeepers with Lycanthropy, which, us being shapeshifters, shouldn't have been such a bad deal, but you see, I can control turning into animals, I cannot control turning into a werewolf under the full moon. It took me a long time to control myself while transformed as well. The creature you met yesterday was just a shadow of the monster I used to be.”

Your eyes widen, before you blink and frown. He takes a step closer, towering over you as if to trigger your fight or flight instinct. But you're eerily calm when you watch him. “I'm not afraid of you,” you whisper, reaching out a hand towards him. He smiles softly, a sad twinkle in his eyes as he puts his long fingers around yours, squeezing them gently.

“You're special, Little Red,” he whispers, eyeing you closely. “And probably the first to even find your way onto my grounds.” He sighs loudly when your frown deepens. “You see, the shaman also cursed the house. I can't even really explain it, just... well, it slips in and out of existence. It's always there, but it cannot be perceived all the time.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. That explains why you couldn't remember ever seeing it before. You nod to his words, and he continues.

“Sometimes, on special occasions, it reaches out into the world, trying to lure in lost souls. You came here for a party, right?” You nod again. “You see, the inhabitants of the house, staff included, they cannot leave. So they invite random people hoping that some will stay and join them. Nobody usually does. Most come here to party, enjoy a special night they will forget as soon as they step foot over the threshold.”

He tilts his head, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand as he stares down.

“Can you remember what happened in the house?” he asks, slowly looking up.

Your mind buzzes. “Faintly. I mean, hmm,” you make, pulling your eyebrows together as you try to think back to the party. There was a party, right? A Halloween party, yeah, colorful lights through the windows, the low thrum of the bass of the music. You see the invitation in your mind's eye, you assume there have been a lot of people in costumes, food and drinks, but... the more you try to think about details the less feedback you get. It's all fuzzy.

Well, not all of it. It's blurry but you see a mask looming over you, a stranger's voice in your ear, a cold knife against your skin. And after that (or before? You can't be sure) there's the sound of rushing water, then... nothing, just a thrum in your head, deafening silence almost. And it wasn't nothing, there was something, very invasive, you can almost feel it, all over your skin, and more than that... deep inside you. A shiver crashes through your body as you force away the strange sensation.

You look up at the tall man in front of you. “You can't, hm?” he growls quietly, and you nod, deciding it would be best not to share those particular memories with him. “You weren't meant to stay then. Lucky me,” he adds, his serious face morphing into a smile. You blush deeply at how intense his dark eyes look at you. “Instead you ran right into my arms.”

You look away with a shy chuckle. “Well, I did run away from you as well,” you whisper.

“You didn't know better,” he says, letting go of your hand to walk around the island until he's standing behind you, his large hands heavy on your shoulders. You turn your head slightly, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He leans closer, rubs his beard against your cheek. “But you learned your lesson, didn't you?”

Somehow his words sound both enticing and flirting, but also a little threatening and menacing. You shiver. “I...”

“You won't run away from me again, right?” he whispers, his low voice just a thrum in the air, a vibration through your head. “I told you you are mine now. I won't let you go.”

You swallow, stiffening slightly. “But...”

“You were called here,” he continues, ignoring your feeble attempts of protesting. “The house invited you, beckoned you, but it couldn't hold you, you left, stepped into the maze, found me...” He inhales deeply, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “You found what you were looking for.”

You blink in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said, the house calls upon the lost souls, those who wander through life. Some answer, either to find what they are looking for or to never leave again. Think, little one, were you a lost soul, trapped in a boring life with no way out? I believe you were, but no longer, hm?”

Slowly you break your stupor and turn around on the stool, fully facing him. He leans back a little, watching you closely. His words confuse you, but they poke into the dark corners of your mind, at the things you've hidden away. Your desires that could never come true. Like this. With him, this can't come true, right?

How can you throw away your old life because of some ancient hocus-pocus beckoning you to a place where you will find... what? All the answers? True love? Your soulmate or something? Or just a guy who can give you some much-needed cuddles and mind-blowing sex? Is that it? You never believed in the supernatural or paranormal. All this talk about curses and lost souls and werewolves – Hang on. You blink slowly.

You'd be pretty ignorant to disregard all the things that have happened. You saw his werewolf form, you know it intimately. And you were abducted by vampires, ravaged and bitten. They exist. And this man in front of you exists. Sure, you never saw him transform, but you believe him. He feels real and genuine.

And the way he looks right into your soul, picks up on those urges you keep fighting. You already told yourself that you want this, wake up in his arms, be with him, experience that knot again. It is all strange and unnatural, but then again... Maybe you were looking for something like this. You'd have never thought you'd end up with an actual shapeshifter, a werewolf, but does it matter in the end?

He is still a man, a big strong man with the right hardware, and as you feel the warmth creeping into your cheeks, scolding yourself for thinking such primal thoughts, you bite your lip, your eyes wandering over his hairy face. Slowly, you raise your hands and brush your fingertips against his beard, tracing the edges. He watches you, a twinkle in his brown eyes.

“I don't have a choice, right? Fate decided for me,” you say quietly. A deep dimple forms beneath your hand as he smiles at you.

“Indeed it did, little one,” he replies gravelly. “And no one should challenge fate.”

“Hmm,” you hum, cupping his face as you pull yourself closer to him. Before you can, however, meet his lips like you intended, you pause, a thought crashing through your head. “Hey, uh, you said you'd make me your mate. Does that mean I'll become a werewolf too?”

He blinks slowly before he barks a deep laugh. “Your mind works in fascinating ways, Red,” he muses, but then sighs and leans back, slipping from your hold. “No, you won't become like me. It's part of the curse. I'm destined to stay alone.”

“Wait, but I thought... we...”

His arms wrap around your shoulders and lift you up easily as he presses you to his wide chest. “Alone with my cursed fate, but I feel this doesn't count. You came to me, we found each other in the maze. It was your destiny that we met. You may just be the first to fight the pull of the house, it's a sign. And I'd be stupid to let you go ever again...”

You snake your hands under the strong grip of his literal bear hug, gripping at the back of his shirt. “I won't leave,” you mumble into his chest. “I want to stay... with you...”

He leans you back and grips your upper arms, looking down at you with warm eyes. “Good, I'm glad. I was already worried where I'd put your cage.”

You frown before you see his wink and blush deeply, giggling softly as you slap your hand against his chest in mock indignation. “Leave the kinky stuff for when we know each other a bit better?” you tease with a smirk.

He laughs, a deep rumble in the air, and pulls you into another hug. You wrap your arms around his waist and inhale deeply, sinking into his strength and all-consuming warmth.

You came here for a night of partying, drinking, eating, meeting people. To let loose. Have a little adventure. In the end you found so much more.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

End notes: Thank you for joining me on this ride! I really appreciate the support! I'm happy you liked my little experiment!

It started as a means to get as many monster encounters as possible into one story, but it ended with actual plot, who would've thunk! And the best part, if you enjoyed it, there will be more!

I will expand on the story of Bear and Reader, giving them their own adventure, AND, because I initially intended to wrap this up differently, I will add some bonus chapters to tie up any loose ends of this story, hopefully.

The first bonus chapter THE HOUSE is out now!

A little research side note and disclaimer: I know this is just a silly little fantasy smut story, but I still tend to research quite a bit for my writing. I mentioned above that a shaman cursed Bear and the house, and I just want to make clear that, while I hint at certain dynamics and historical "facts" (really vaguely implying that Bear and his family are from an indigenous tribe and the house owners are some colonizers/settlers taking over their lands), I do not mean any offense by using this word or any other implications made. I looked for a better term, but couldn't find any in the time I had to edit this. In the end, I am just a smut writer and a European at that. I know I only grazed this topic and was mostly only inspired by it, but I am still sorry if I offended anyone with what I wrote or implied!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[lizziiszs]

deep and deprived - hiori yo

ʚ｡. mdni - nsfw, hiori yo/fem!reader .｡ɞ

content warning!:

-explicit mention of previous self-harm and insecurity surrounding it (thighs-specific)

-character is aged up. context is right after the u20s match but please note that i’ve written hiori as older as i find it more fitting (before the nel ‘ultra-sadist’ reveal).

[disclaimer: i am in no way promoting or romanticising sh, this is just me seeking comfort, projecting and making light of previous, personal experiences].

-ʚ｡. ✮✩✮.｡ɞ-

a/n!: so where do i start..a-levels are frying me. i have a combination of over 6000 words due for various subjects and tasks and i choose to spend a combined like 12 hours writing 2000 of hiori yo smut. and id do it again in a heart beat. im beyond ashamed of myself for even typing this out, enjoy x

um omg his southern accent was tough to write too...like hiori yer so fuckin hot ya really are but please speak normally ashshhsghgsdhga

overview: you and hiori have finally gotten round to going further- the only thing stopping you before is a huge insecurity: you’re self-conscious of your scars so its no surprise that you’ve kept it all a secret. you’re quick to find, however, that hiori likes them (and a little too much). 

contents: praise, first time (not inexperienced but w hiori), dacryphilia, brief thigh-fucking/jerking off with your thigh, oral sex, mutual masturbation, hiori jerks off with your panties, edging/subtle orgasm denial, pet names (angel, baby, pretty), slight voyeurism (not public), messy sex, arousal from guilt/shame, sadistic hiori <3

w/c: 2.1k

-ʚ｡. ✮✩✮.｡ɞ-

a glorious victory against the u20s, tides turning within the final minute. stadium roaring, cameras flashing, your bodies pressing against each other, the door of his locker rattling even as his teammates stand audible from round the corner. the final score? 4:3. that's why he's set on it being tonight. and so are you, despite the way that your body retracts beneath his right hand that weaves its way down your back. your feel your entire self lock up as his left hand inches up your thigh. 

this was something you'd had wanted and for so long- and more than anything. its not like you were afraid of intimacy. yet some lingering doubt pushes its way into your conscience; the state of your thighs with those marks plastered all over them. impulsive, fleeting moments of affliction- the blade in your phone case- its a bitter, somewhat suppressed memory that returns to you all at once, surging to the surface of your skin which stings hot beneath his touch. 

'hiori, it's all ugly.' your voice wavers as you place your hand over his, a pitiful attempt at diverting his attention. hiori doesn't move though. instead, he looks down at you, vacant eyes burning wide. 

'yer so pretty though...' hiori mindlessly slurs his words of endless praise together, the gaze of piercing but somehow empty eyes fixated on yours. you can’t even begin to imagine what you look like right now, and its best that you don’t. its difficult to decipher that anyways from the expression hiori makes before you sharply inhale, wincing as gentle fingers brush up against thin, raised scars. you avert your eyes away from his wandering hand and back up against the door, hiori stumbling forwards as you do. 

'careful hiori…’ you feel the heat of your own breath, lips resting no more than an inch from his head. delicate fingers trace up and down your inner thigh as he peppers quick kisses along your collarbone. you return the favour and press a quick kiss atop his head, a decisive move- you're aching with longing and you have to get over yourself. 

'i wanna do it,' kiss. 'now, yocchan.' 

‘sure, angel?’ hiori's fingers continue to traipse around your body, amorously undressing you and immediately upon a low ‘yes’ parting from your lips. his once wandering hands now pulling at the straps of your cami and tugging at your skirt. he kisses and he suckles as he mumbles incoherently about how beautiful you are, softly grinding against your thigh which he praises as ‘so fuckin’ hot’. the thighs you were so resentful of; a living reminder of how it'd be such a sick coping mechanism you'd turn to when distressed. the depravity of seeking respite in something so immoral, inflicting physical pain to yourself- it fills you with shame. and with those same, filthy legs you press against hiori, who’s precum begins to dribble down your ‘perfect’ thighs. 

'god yer fuckin' gorgeous, aren't ya?' hiori breathes through a kiss against your collarbone which sits prettily painted with small bruises, hand wrapping around himself as he's almost moaning, pressing it into your thigh for more relief. ‘whatcha think baby?’ 

‘i’m not sure yocchan,’ your speak quietly, admittedly, distracted by the way that he’s sweet-talking you whilst he starts to jerk off with your thigh, practically fucking it. he’s far too stubborn to ask you to bring your weak knees together, only envisioning making the flesh of your legs tremble with his every movement as they take his desperate cock that pulses against you, longingly. he imagines the lewd sounds he’d draw from you amidst sloppy, desperate kisses, long and pretty nails scraping down his back as you attempt to stabilise yourself- your entire being shaking and shuddering violently beneath him as you finally take him whole. maybe you’d muffle your moans as you weep, distressed and embarrassed as he stuffs and stretches you so. or maybe you’d beg him to go faster and harder, mocking him for being so damned slow, pace far too underwhelming and pathetic. maybe you wouldn’t even let you fuck him before cumming first- maybe you needed his head between your legs, tending to your neglected cunt before he even gets to think of it. 

‘fuck i betcha even taste as good as ya look,’ hiori rambles over and of his feverish thoughts, all whilst pumping himself between his own fist and your thigh, picturing you. ‘i wanna know whatcha taste like.’ 

and its hard to recall what happened in-between but he’s kneeling expectantly before you, backing you up against the door and fully. hiori makes light work of prying your legs open and his pretty hands remain gripping your lower thighs as he pushes his face against your pretty laced panties- the only thing you have on. and it makes you shiver at the sight- your body bare, every inch exposed visible under dim light with pebbled nipples and small gashes to your thighs on full display. and it gets hiori off; watching you tremble, vulnerable just from being seen. he can’t stop his mind from getting ahead of itself, train of thought interrupted by your sudden whinging. 

'yocchan it's not fair, you're still dressed.' 

‘i can’t be asked pretty,’

‘hioriii..’ you whine, embarrassed. and you’re ashamed that this feeling has you sopping wet. it turns you on, having your delicate, doll-like body in full-view. it’s how you gulp as both sinful and lustful eyes wander all over, admiring how your nipples harden against cold air, still waiting to be attended to and how the lace waistband of your sheer panties which sit stained in your arousal, cling to your hips

'come on then,’ he sounds somewhat inviting through that slight smirk as you both exchange eyes, ‘undress me too.’ 

‘fuck!-‘ you jolt as hiori licks a sudden stripe onto your panties, the hand you have wrapped in his hair fully yanking at it. your nails pry into his scalp as you cry out in ecstasy. 'if you wanna, that is.' he pushes his tongue teasingly up and against your slit- still clothed. he makes you shudder; wet and warm saliva seeps through thin fabric, mixing with your arousal that soaks through. hiori presses his nose against your clit, hoping that the next time your body jerks under his touch, your nails draw blood.

‘hah-ah…hiori..’ the friction between your panties that sit sticky with sweat, saliva and your slick is too much to bear yet its nowhere near enough- you buck your hips up against hiori's nose and into his head all in one decisive motion, hands entangled in his hair, tugging at it in order to take his numb face fully. he fucks you with his tongue, movements quick as he laps up at the both of your arousal, suckling at your throbbing clit which sits soaked in his spit between sloppy kisses to your cunt. its only when you blurt something about being close that hiori pulls away and looks up at you, panting as he shifts his weight and adjusts himself. 

‘yocchan..’ your body scrapes against the door frame as your legs finally give out, shaking. hiori's quick to tug at the waistband of your panties with his teeth, firm hands making light work of his boxers which now lie discarded round his ankles. 

you’re still coming down from your high that you never reached, eyes about as wet as you are, tainted by arousal. 

‘i just wanna come yocchan,’ you whisper, ashamed. maybe you should've actually fucking come and faster. hiori doesn’t respond but seemingly grows impatient, using his hands to pull your panties off entirely too. his now free lips plant small, comforting kisses on your thighs which are still laced in his precum;  although there’s nothing comforting about a ruined orgasm. ‘hiori, come on…’ you’re quick to find that you’re now begging him for more; to finish. each whine that trails off grants you more unwanted kisses against your fucking thighs as your neglected cunny aches at the ruin of your orgasm. it feels humiliating with your body bare, drenched in sweat, saliva, precum and your own arousal which dribbles onto the floor you weakly sit against. ribcage juddering with each weak breath you take, head pulsing and salt-ridden tears welling up in your eyes. you look at yourself, overcome with shame which has your entire self pleading for more. and that’s when you notice. he’s fucking himself with your panties. 

and you watch as he rocks forwards onto his knees, touching himself as he brings himself to kiss you whilst moaning your name. you feel so dejected yet you kiss him back, wholeheartedly. it's sick as he jerks off with your panties, smeared in your shared arousal- pre streaming down the hand which works his swollen tip with your laced cloth. he’s so enjoying this, seeing you ruined before you've even cum once. 

‘touch y’rself,’ hiori blurts, ‘go on, pretty.’ he’s as desperate as you are. hiori presses two wet kisses onto your lips before you even have time to consider. ‘i betcha sound good…’ 

you don’t consider and you just do. three fingers to your clit as you whine in defeat. 

'i can't make myself cum.' rough, messy circles which graze your swollen self again and again and again provide no relief, drowning in sharp pangs of jealousy that wash over you as you watch hiori, eyes rolled back as he groans your name. languid almost lazy strokes as he grinds his sensitive tip into torn, expensive lace. dismissing you entirely. he'd only brought you close to orgasm in order to better reach his own; the idea of denying you making him fucking throb.

‘suit yerself.' he murmurs, pace increasing with every cry he draws out of you. 'yocchan please', 'c'mon handsome'.

and you’re reminded of those tears which well up in your glass eyes; as vacant as his and in need of nothing but respite. pleasure and pain bleed into one as you start to sting under your fingertips. you throb too, the sight of hiori fucking his fist and your pretty panties; how he bites his lip as he watches you grind against yourself, begging for him to spare you just a finger. he fixates his eyes on your own as well as your thighs, shamelessly aroused by your distress and your anguish. thin streams of tears begin to drip down your face, mindless pleas interjected by uncontrollable sobbing. wet lashes and wide, pleading eyes beckoning to hiori as he comes undone, your eventual tears finally pushing him to orgasm. you watch as his body convulses, the way in which hot ropes of his cum spurt out onto your panties and dribble all down his hand that helps him ride out his orgasm. he moans something about how he loves you, too.  

'y'r too good for me,’ it takes a while but hiori finally comes down from his high, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his jersey. his jersey that clings to the sweet sweat of his now flushed pale skin, name proudly pressed to his back as the only item of clothing left that’s left untouched by the both of you. ‘fuck that was so good.' a sickeningly sweet smirk pressed onto thin lips which so lovingly coo at you; 'good girl.'

'i hate you.'

[ozzgin]

You don't have to answer but I was reading Monster Husband again (which bye, there's one if you didn't know. One that killed his previous partners and practically worships his wifey cause, instead of being scared, she jumped on him eager to be fucked. And the second is the one I'm asking about today.), I'm still really curious:

why WERE we chosen to be the bride? Did the brother see us somehow and get a crush on us? Did the parents think we were pleasant enough to look at and/or thought we had perfect "child baring hips"? Was it random, like they were were the first one we saw and they heard us say something about not being scared of monsters (while probably completely missing the context of that) so they thought we would do? Why were WE picked for this?

Ah, yes, the classic old confusion between the original yandere monster husband and the latter, generic monster husband that somehow became a mini-series instead. Both involve an arranged marriage. This one's about the yandere monster husband.

I'll start by saying that the beastly sibling genuinely had no idea about your existence, nor did he originally care. As the older brother and the head of the royal military, his main focus had always been the battleground. Moreover, he would've never entertained the idea of a cute human like you falling for an abomination like him. You could call it a fateful encounter!

As to why were you initially chosen to marry the handsome, human counterpart, it's really up to you. Maybe you're unknowingly part of an influential family, and your hand was needed for an even stronger alliance between the names. Maybe they truly wanted someone average, a neutral individual of no status as a way to emphasize their harmless human nature. What better way to earn the trust of earthly beings than showcasing a spouse with no strings attached and no royal background? It's also entirely possible that they recognized your lack of fear when it comes to monsters and figured it would be the perfect addition to the family. They most likely assumed your situation stems from courage, and not from...your desire to actually shag the creatures.

That's not to say your current husband isn't grateful. As a matter of fact, it's his most treasured memory: the day he met you. Of course, he could tell you're precious, though he was quick to correct himself. You were being nice, nothing more. To think his innermost desires would turn out to be fulfilled! He'd offer you the entire world if you asked.

[elodieunderglass]

does Killie manage to be a flat-and-jumps jockey all the way up to retirement/greyuncle era, or does injury (and Derek) force him to find some other occupation in between the two? fascinated to know what the second-choice job would be since jockey is so much what Killie IS

(Killie the jockey OC)

I don’t actually know! You’re very right! I have no idea!

The average retirement age for a flat jockey is 31 and jump is 33. Of this, the tough little lightweight jockeys, mostly of the previous era when people were smaller, seem to keep going for much longer than you’d think, many riding well into their fifties - which is actually quite old for any athlete. There seems to be a relationship between generational jockeys and longer careers/older retirements, too, though that’s probably combinations of family support, as well as possibly passing down the especially wiry/muscular builds that do a bit better in the context. It’s a topic that gets danced around a bit, but it’s known that being more muscular and better fed, with better bone health, means you can take more damage and bounce back faster. Also, jockeys frequently retire in their late twenties without injury or being forced, because they’ve achieved their natural adult size and it simply becomes incompatible with the job. So shorter ones do seem to last longer in the job; and as a bonus, turn into those wonderfully wiry little tiny old people that stump around the place in big boots and giant coats, muttering about their allotments. Killie is set up to be one of those.

I want him to be forcibly retired, though, and I DON’T want him to go the predicted trajectory of training racehorses OR raising another generation. Even though I find it a personal Special Interest and highly absorbing, it is such an incredibly STUPID sport. I think he’ll get dragged out of it by Derek by the scruff of his neck and maybe simply kept as a Kept Man. And there might be an interesting story to explore there in itself. Who the HELL is Killie without his job? (Crisis.)

We know he’s patient and kind with children, good at nature, excellent at mental arithmetic, and somehow ends up strangely wealthy (they’d probably settle in the UK, where keeping horses in the UK is NO cheap hobby.) maybe he simply earns and saves a true fortune of prize money, from tackling a career’s worth of astronomical purses, and retires honestly to be a surprisingly pleasant house-husband.

I think @eldriwolf has fond memories of a retired jockey who was a kind and patient beekeeper and science educator. Maybe he could do that. Maybe as a nod to Tark, Diana Wynne Jones’s retired jockey, and my own interests/hobbies, he could get violently competitive about village fetes/allotment shows, and enter his increasingly serious show tomatoes or something. Killie with his own Jam Saga going on, silently fighting psychic battles with his many enemies at parish council meetings that Derek drags him to because they’re doing their Civic Duty 😌 and Killie’s having a full wizard fight on the astral plane with That Bitch Agatha-who-strategically-shoved-his-Victoria-sponge-cake-off-the-table.

Who knows!! What do you think?

[torawro]

LIKE SPECKS OF SUNLIGHT IN THE EARLY MORN. ( p. a.)

portgas d. ace & marine!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written / portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine it as such! everyone is welcome to read <3 reader wears glasses, and is a marine stationed on an unnamed island at a base along the grand line. ‘lazy morning’ / ‘morning after’ kind of vibes so, a bit of pillow talk (?) . references to smut & making love (it already happened). contains some angst & angsty themes throughout (i.e., ace dealing with his self esteem issues, low self worth, etc..) otherwise it’s supposed to be fluffy ( the quiet, somber kind i think ) ! descriptions of kissing & borderline making out. ace is kind of lovesick and clingy but it’s subtle-ish. lots of introspection and reflection on both him and the reader’s part. kind of based on mitski's "my love, mine all mine", definitely had that song on repeat as i wrote this. romantic and deeply poetic rhetoric but y’all already know that’s just how i write lol. told from omniscient point of view (third person). proofread this as i was feeling sleepy, so please excuse any mistakes or things that don’t make sense!

word count ━━ ! 3.9k

notes ━━ ! guess who's baaaaack.....! i know it's been a while since i have published any original work and i want to apologize for that. lately it's been difficult finding the energy to write something for more than five minutes and honestly, i think i just need to rediscover what drives me so i can tap into the zone more often. i missed it though, and hope i get to write more this year <3 anyway, first fic of 2025 and it feels right to make it about second commander of the whitebeard pirates, portgas d. ace. this fic is my late birthday 'gift' to him and something of a love letter because ohhhhh i miss my pookie bear so much :(( this entire idea started as just me thinking about kissing each of his freckles because i have the personal hc that he doesn't really like them, the reason for it is inherently tied to his distaste for his father and by extension himself :/ and then it just turned into this lmao. i hope ace doesn't behave too out of character here, as this is also my first time writing for him in any context, so pls be gentle with me. REBLOBS + COMMENTARY ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED.

IT WAS NOT THE LIGHT chirping of small birds that awoke you, nor was it the ringing of your biological clock telling you that the dawn was near. Instead it was a familiar tugging sensation within the pit of your stomach— the need to relieve yourself— that caused your eyes to peel themselves back slowly and with struggle, slumber from the previous night hasn’t been completely washed away yet.

It took your brain several more moments to dust off enough of its sleepy exhaustion before you attempted to sit up from your comfortable position in bed, but were immediately met with some light resistance.

The resistance in question was a long, muscled arm thrown around your soft torso, blackened ink of a tattoo staining the skin on its bicep. It was still too dark and you were still too tired to make out the sharp angles of the marking, but you knew what they were; your eyes have gazed upon it more times than you could count, and it has made a home in your memory.

That’s when your ears registered the rhythmic and almost nasal snores that flowed from the mouth of the man who held you so securely against his chest, and you almost smiled at how completely at ease and relaxed he seemed. 

At times like this, when things were still or you had a moment to yourself, you still could not wrap your head around the fact that you had gotten yourself involved with Portgas D. Ace— willingly at that. 

The first time was a fluke at best. That’s the excuse you were going to go with. You didn’t realize he was a pirate— an infamous pirate with hundreds of millions of Beri to his name— until your clothes were already halfway off and you were feverishly grinding down onto his lap like some touch-starved whore who’s been aching to feel something. That ‘fluke’ was one spurred on by alcohol, a particularly rough week at sea, and a sizable lapse in judgment, but you hadn’t felt that…… alive in a long time. But now, two years have passed since you have been seeing Ace in secret like this, and you have long since given up blaming it on a fragile emotional constitution further weakened by alcohol. You knew good and well what you were doing, and you could no longer deny the way your heart was constantly set aflutter whenever you spent any amount of time with him.

You did try your hardest to not let yourself enjoy how … domestic it all seemed: waking up next to him in the morning and falling asleep entangled with each other at night, having him hide out at your cozy apartment for days at a time, cooking him meals when you were relieved of your duties for the day. You wouldn’t— shouldn’t let yourself enjoy such content thoughts too much, because you also knew it could all be over in the blink of an eye. The world could be cruel that way if it wanted to.

But still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t be grateful for these moments. From what you could tell, Ace seemed to enjoy this arrangement as much as you did. And for now, that was enough.

Lightly wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you carefully lifted his arm from around you, moving slow so you wouldn’t wake him up. Once you’ve successfully loosened his hold, you sat upright, a muted ache shooting through your lower body as you shifted around to stand. The ache mostly resided in between your legs, and a flood of memories from just hours ago rushed over you at once, causing a tingling warmth to bloom underneath your skin. Ace had poured so much into you, it never failed to leave you equal parts stunned and breathless when you witnessed his passion overflow from the brim of his being. His hands, calloused palms that always ran hot, had been everywhere— your body could still feel the heat of where they had laid, caressed, groped, smacked, and squeezed. And you involuntarily jolted as you recalled where his fingers and lips had been, how it felt to be pressed so closely against him as he simultaneously took you apart. 

After another moment of being lost in your own reverie, you pulled yourself out of it and filed those memories away in a separate corner of your mind, so that you may more fully indulge in them later. As you carefully removed the blankets and climbed over the sleeping pirate, one bare foot had hardly hit the cool wooden floor before a hand wrapped itself around your wrist. 

A quiet grumbling noise vibrated from behind Ace’s lips, his eyes remained closed as he spoke, indicative that he was barely awake. “Wh…where y’goin’....?” His words were slurred and thick with sleep, his deep voice reaching the depths of your being to spark something to life in the pit of your belly. But you promptly ignored it for now. 

“To the bathroom, I gotta pee.”

He replied with another mumbling sort of noise, presumably one of acknowledgment or begrudging acquiescence— you couldn’t be sure. “M’kay, just . . . hurry back t’bed, will ya? M’cold.” 

You found amusement in the inherent irony of his claim that he was ‘cold’  when he always ran a little warmer than most— not to mention his devil fruit powers— but also in the fact that despite his urging you to take care of your business swiftly, he hasn't released his hold on your wrist yet. In fact, he tugged you a little closer to him, as if he was trying to pull you back into bed. 

A small smile began to curl at the corners of your lips as you moved to manually pry his fingers from your arm so you can make your way out of the bedroom and down the hall.

For the next several minutes, Ace was left alone. 

He stirred in his partially-awake state as he made himself comfortable again in bed, but one eye managed to pry itself open by a few millimeters. It was unfortunate he was roused from his deep  sleep, but he was sure he’d doze off again soon enough. 

From what he could see, the room was still dark for the most part, his surroundings washed in a rich, navy blue color, a telltale sign that the sun would rise within the next hour or so. Aside from the faint rustling coming from the bathroom, the air was occupied by a serene silence, meaning his innermost thoughts became that much more perceptible to his mind’s ear. 

Sometimes, a part of Ace felt like fate had shined upon him— just a little, just this once— when his mind mulled over his…unique relationship with you, and all the events that led up to this exact moment. He too understood the implications of seeing you like this, but he couldn’t find it within himself to let go and move on. There was just…something about you, something special. 

Even now, he still couldn’t quite understand why you were taking such a big risk and basically throwing your life away by getting comfortable with a pirate like him. The both of you came from two different worlds, the morals embedded within those worlds constantly pitted you against each other. 

But you willingly ignored them, and so did he. 

Perhaps that was the ‘special’ quality about you and this relationship that he still struggled to articulate, how pure and genuine it all felt— how you were. Either way, he was grateful that he wasn’t the only one being a little selfish. And every now and again, Ace might silently thank the universe for allowing him this one thing, even though he hasn’t, and probably never will do anything, to deserve it. 

The increasing volume of footsteps pulled Ace from his thoughts, and soon enough you reappeared in the doorway, making your way back to bed– back home in Ace’s arms.

Your lips parted in a yawn, putting your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, before carefully climbing over the taller man to reclaim your spot next to him. Ace wasted no time encasing you against him once more, one arm laid lazily across your stomach and the other resting under your neck, acting somewhat as a pillow of sorts.

“...took too long,” the pirate muttered under his breath, the low, vibrating sound of his voice so close to your ear did nothing for your fiercely pulsating heart. It was the only organ in your entire body that seemed to be fully awake right now.

“I wasn’t even gone for that long, ya big baby. Prob’ly less than five minutes.” A soft sigh punctuated your reply, snuggling more into the toned front of Ace’s chest and abdomen as he adjusted the thick blankets over both of your bodies. The covers, as well as the gentle warmth radiating from his exposed skin, provided a steady stream of heat that battled against the crisp morning air, both sensations nearly enough to lull you back to sleep. You enthusiastically pushed aside the fact that you had to get up again in two and a half hours for your shift to patrol around the city.

“Shuddup, let’s go to sleep.” Ace grumbled, pulling you even closer to him so that very little space existed between both of you, and nearly nuzzling his face in the bonnet you wore on your head. A soundless chuckle rumbled within your chest, finding his sleepy and almost pouty tone both amusing and adorable.

However, despite his own request, and the fact that his own eyes were barely open, Ace was finding it difficult to once more quiet his thoughts enough to drift back to sleep. They were still a bit too loud and knocked against his skull too much. 

Such thoughts only seemed to intensify when both of his eyes managed to peel themselves open this time in order to observe your form next to him. From what he could see based on where he laid, Ace silently took note of how tranquil your expression was as your breathing began to even out, how long your eyelashes actually were without your glasses obscuring them, and the small birthmark on your cheek that he developed a habit of kissing. His dark eyes roamed across every inch of your face, and he relished in the soft flesh of your stomach underneath his fingertips, giving it a feather-light squeeze every now and again.

You were here with him— in this bed, hardly wearing anything at all, and practically clinging to the arm wrapped around your abdomen— bound together with a kiss on that fateful night two years ago. You wanted to be here, he knew that. So why was it he still had to wrestle with the phantoms of doubt in the darker sectors of his mind? Why did they haunt him so, and prevent him from just plainly accepting this for what it is? Accept that it was okay to indulge, okay to claim this one thing as his and his alone? He didn’t even claim his own father, but this— you? Oh, how he wanted to be greedy, he yearned for it. But something in him, some dark, caustic, unforgiving thing, made him feel like he shouldn’t.

But didn’t he deserve something nice too? Something that wasn’t, or could no longer be tainted by the wicked and unloving world they were born into?

Ace knew that you cared for him— quite a lot, more than you should. There was a four letter word he might have used to label the way in which you cared about him, and he about you, but he dare not say it. He dared not say it in fear that the universe would snatch it away the moment it left his lips, and reveal that it was only playing a heartless joke on him.

“Hey. Are you… okay? Okay with this, I mean.” The words left his lips without putting a real thought behind them, for his mind was preoccupied with trying to keep itself afloat above the sea of negative ones that tried to carry him off to a place he did not want to visit.

Your left eye opened, then your right, as if opening them would help you better process his sudden question. Your brows furrowed next, digging deeper into your forehead in order to figure out the hidden meaning behind his words— or if there was one to begin with. “I…this position is fine, and I’m comfortable. Unless you want to be closer to the window?” You replied with your own question, uncertainty of what he was asking about thick in your tone. And judging by the way his arm tightened around you by a fraction and the nearly inaudible sigh that left his lips, it became clear that’s not what he was truly asking.

“No, I meant…are you okay with us?” Ace’s already husky voice quieted even more, nearly tapering off into a whisper. But he was pressed close enough to you that you were still able to hear him loud and clear. Something about the way he phrased his question rang a silent alarm in your head, indicating that the forthcoming conversation was going to take a more solemn turn.

With that in mind you shifted in his arms, turning around so that you were now facing Ace directly, still so close that the tips of your noses nearly touched each other. His hold on you readjusted as a result, the tattooed arm once more staking its claim on your waist and effectively trapping you against his front. His sable tresses fell unceremoniously across his face, a few strands nearly covering one of his eyes. Your fingers didn’t miss the opportunity to brush them away. 

“Yes.” Your reply was simple, and you thought it important to make that clear first because something, an emotion you were unable to categorize, flickered in his still-hooded eyes. And something about it worried you. “I am more than okay with us. There isn’t another person I’d rather be with right now.” The fingers lingering on his skin suddenly became your entire palm, as you were now cupping the side of his face.

Ace burned even warmer here compared to the rest of his body, and you found physical comfort in the sensation. His skin seemed to ignite under your touch despite his sleepiness, and the dark-haired pirate was internally grateful that it was still quite dark in your room, so you were unable to see the light flush that was beginning to form underneath his freckled cheeks. 

“Why are you asking?” Your inquiry was as tender as your touch, and it made his chest ache. 

It took Ace several seconds to search for his next words and arrange them in a sentence, for your straightforward reply admittedly caught him off-guard. Now he was unsure if there was a need to continue at all.

But the specters of doubt were ever persistent.

“I just…” The words faded away on his tongue before he could say them and instead, your response rang loud in his head. 

‘There isn’t another person I’d rather be with right now’.

Did you mean that? Have you always felt that way? Did you just happen to say that because he asked a question, because somehow you knew that’s what something in his soul wanted to hear?

And then, Ace found his words again. “You can do better, you know.” His voice turned more gruff, rough around the edges, as if he had to forcefully tug those words from the back of his throat. As if it hurt to say that. “You could, if you wanted. You’re gorgeous. Intelligent, resourceful. You have a respectable career, and you can cook damn good.”

You released a soft chuckle at that last part, finding it comical how he always found a way to talk about how good your food was. But whatever uptick on your lips faded as soon as it came once Ace parted his lips to speak again.

“You don’t have to spend your time, money, or energy on someone like me. You didn’t have to spread those pretty legs of yours for me, either. Didn’t have to let me stay here whenever I come to town. You didn’t even have to let me sleep in this bed so close to you.”

He paused, the muscles laying against and wrapped around you tensed briefly, his eyelashes met the apples of his cheeks when he allowed his eyes to close for a moment. When he opened them again, he found it harder to look at you— if he did, he might crumble away. “You could do better than a pirate like me, who has nothing going for himself except for instability, anger and…and hate. So, why?”

The next words reverberated in the air without Ace even having to say them. Why choose me? Why risk all of that for me?

Similarly, something throbbed uncomfortably within your chest as you listened to him speak, even after he finished and silence descended upon the both of you. 

You could only wonder where this line of questioning originated from. It was uncharacteristic of Ace to voice thoughts of this nature, even more so when there was no prior word or action to lure them forward. You continued to observe him in the quiet, not even realizing that you had been softly caressing his cheek all this while until your hand came to a halt.

Why? Why were you with Ace, entangled in every sense of the word and jeopardizing the life you’ve built for yourself for his sake? The answer seemed so simple, but not as much now that you had to consciously think about it; you somehow struggled to put it into words. 

Ace was like the rays of sunlight that peeked through heavy drapes in the early morning— much like they would soon be in a few hours— or like the flickering flames of a small fire that offered you solace on an unkind wintery night. He was warm and intense, but mellow and tender at the same time, in his own way. He offered you comfort when you needed it, stirred up something in you when you wanted it, brightened your life when you didn’t even realize how dull and monochrome it was. Ace was…

“Allow me to offer a question of my own. Why are you taking an equally significant, if not greater risk, just to curl up in my bed with me? Why come back so often to this town, risking capture, if only to hold me close, eat the food I make, and to make love to me?”

Your inquiries seemed to tug you forward, motivating you to scoot a little closer to Ace so that there was hardly even an iota of space existing in between your faces. His breath hitched quietly in his chest at that, more so when you leaned forward and simply placed your lips on his cheek, right on top of the dozens of prominent and faded freckles that resided there. Something about the gesture felt intentional— like you did not kiss his face, but the light specks on top of it. And thinking about it like that made his taut chest twinge again in a manner he could not describe right now.

Your breaths against his flesh were soft and leveled, and successfully fanned the flames of an even pinker flush to blossom across his visage.

He struggled to give you a coherent answer to your questions because his inner thoughts seemed to reset every time your plush lips came in contact with his face— all gentle like he would break if you applied too much pressure. He never associated that word with himself before, nor had anyone else in his entire life.

So why did he do it? Why did he do any of it? Why was he so attached to you, to your existence, your presence, and everything that reminded him of you? 

Ace knew the answer. 

He fears he’s known it for some time now.

But would it be right— would it be okay to label it with the word that was sitting on his tongue? Did he truly have the capacity to bear the weight of it? Would this blissful reality he found himself nestled in start to unravel the moment he said it? Would the universe truly let him have this one thing to himself, forever?

A feathery, open-mouthed kiss from you onto his nose cut off his thoughts, but confirmed his answer. 

A bleary sort of smile, edges softened by his affection for you, tugged the corners of Ace’s mouth upwards. The hand that encased your waist traveled further downwards to take the meat of your thigh in its grasp, and toss it over his own hips. He had slung your leg over himself in an attempt to hold your bodies inexplicably closer, the feeling of his fingers gliding lazily across your exposed skin caused your pulse to quicken.

“I understand. Thank you.” 

Within another second or two, his mouth eventually met with yours. His lips and yours seamlessly molded together, like they were two carved parts of the same whole. It was a slow, saccharine thing, ultimately leading your fingertips to slide back and thread themselves through his dark locks, and the calloused, hot palm on your thigh to grip the area ever tighter— as if you’d evaporate if he didn’t do so.

Ace loved you— was in love with you. His heart thrummed against his chest when he tossed that fact around in his head, gradually accepting it to be true as he steadily deepened the kiss.

He murmured those three words into your mouth after languidly coaxing it open with his tongue so the wet muscle could slither inside and make a home there. It was barely intelligible, but somehow you knew what he’d said. Such a declaration was only reserved for you, so of course you recognized it. Ace didn’t even want the words to linger in the air, lest the universe heard what he had said. He still thanked it though, grateful to whatever deities thrusted you into his path that night so that he could have this moment with you, and build similar ones like this hereafter.

You reciprocated it, quietly sighing the words back into him and he eagerly swallowed them up, giving your thigh an affectionate squeeze in response.

Briefly, you pulled back, but only by a millimeter— not wanting the cold air of the early morning to catch you yet— and your palm ended up on Ace’s jaw. The pad of your thumb brushed over the sheet of freckles with no particular pattern or rhythm, and you absently thought about how they might be your favorite feature on his entire body. As if to emphasize this point, you pressed a lingering kiss onto its surface again, and for a moment, Ace thought he might shut down. He simply could not comprehend the loving nature behind such a simple act, or why it affected him so; all he could do was offer a small, fond grin.

Time still marched forward, but it graciously allowed the pair of lovers to bask in each other for a little while longer. The sky’s hue would slowly shift from a deep navy blue to a slightly brighter one, causing the dimness of the room to inch back into its corners for the day. The sunlight would soon come.

( # ) @icy-spicy @triangularz @pookieace @ichore @valentineluvu

[temis-de-leon]

He sees how you fell in love with your ex

Summary: Once more victims of their lack of prudence, the boys are cursed to experience horrible visions; that is, seeing first-hand how their lover, MC, fell in love with their ex.

Characters: present! Lucifer x gn!reader, past! gn!reader x gn!ex

Main Masterlist

C/W: the reader is said to be in college/early 20s during the memory, but no age is specified. Reader is betrothed to their tutor (not their teacher) and kisses them.

A/N: I spent four days trying to write a simple drabble for Barbatos and then I wrote this in two hours. I ain't fighting my mind anymore. Mammon was supposed to be in this one, but I think one post per character is good enough.

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Lucifer – Similar, but so different

He feels the need to wonder if he has done anything specific to deserve this punishment.

Did he grab the wrong book? Lucifer doesn’t even remember being in the library to begin with. Was he cursed, perhaps? In that case, by whom? Whether it was his brothers, that damned sorcerer or an unknown brainless demon didn’t matter to him, because the uneasy frustration wouldn’t leave his chest regardless of his reasoning.

You are there, right in front of him, but deaf to his voice and unresponsive to his touch. Your skin holds no warmth either and trying to caress it feels useless, like grabbing an ordinary leather wallet.

Unfortunately, Lucifer is old and experienced enough to realize rather quickly that what he is seeing isn’t a simple vision or an imaginary scenario. He looks at your fingernails and can’t decide anything concrete about them; are they long or short? Painted or not?

Your surroundings are also blurry, and devoid of details. While it’s obvious the setting is a library, his acute sight can’t decipher any of the titles in the bookcases and the hallways don’t seem to have an end; rays of sun enter through the window, but only the blue skies are visible; and there’s not even a librarian to make you company in such a fine day.

It is a memory; a good one, judging by the dreamy feeling and the brightness of it.

He drops his head to study you one more time and unsuccessfully tries not to scowl in a sour manner when, despite being unable to see you as clearly as he would any other day, the golden shine of a ring catches his attention.

Simple and classy in its design, the significance of it holds a heavier weight than whatever material it is made of.

His tongue clicks in disapproval, already thinking of punishments that would fit the perpetrator’s audacity. How dare they? How dare they deprive him of you? How dare they show him this?

Lucifer looked around, unsure if he wanted to see what was inevitably coming next, although whatever magic threw him there probably had that exact intention. His body was glued to the seat, useless against his inhuman strength and his powers, and, as much as he tried to avert his eyes, he could do nothing but stare at you incessantly. Was he waiting for you to raise your head and recognize him? Gasp in horror before rushing to cure him with your own magic or even the most obvious true love kiss? He didn’t know, but he was absolutely sure he wanted you to know who he was, at the very least.

Of course, that was childlike hoping.

Your hair was styled differently and your face seemed younger and more innocent, obviously ignorant of anything beyond human life. Lucifer could guess when he was based on the context, but you had never talked about this specific stage of your life enough for him to exactly pinpoint.

Somewhere in between your college years, you had been betrothed to someone and later, evidently, single again. Since you weren’t keen on divulging every piece of your ex-partner and your previous relationship without apparent reason, he tried not to dwell on the topic unless the conversation begged for it, but it wasn’t like he was extremely interested either. No need to focus on the past when you both had the present going on and, having each other, who needed anyone else?

He felt the need to reconsider.

Although it was obvious you were trying to study, you seemed to give the ring more attention than anyone would ever do in any similar situation. Your sorrowful expression was a stark contrast against the gentle ambience of the room and the softness in which you were treating the piece of jewellery, the sad eyes and the frown distorting your face.

Lucifer tried to reach you again in hopes of offering comfort, but it was like he didn’t exist to you. While he knew it was due to the situation, he couldn’t help but pout and cross his arms over his chest, as if trying to hide his aching heart. It beat frantically and pathetically, wondering why would you reject him, and no amount of reasoning would calm it down.

A set of footsteps caught your attention.

He frowned miserably as you turned around, looked at the newcomer and then returned to your initial position with a quivering lip. The other person, whom he could only assume to be your ex, twisted their face in remorse and hurried to your side, sitting and rushing to hold your hand.

A part of him wanted to break the contact and instantly take you somewhere far away from there, from whoever was that person that had you in their arms before Lucifer even had the chance to meet you, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but watch as you looked at your ex-fiancé with hurt and a tinge of hope.

“I am so sorry, baby” they said in a whisper, even though no one else but him was around to hear the conversation. You two were close, faces mere inches away from each other, and he couldn’t do anything but watch it all. Each word cut Lucifer’s heart with the precision of a scalpel, but it was the tiny optimism in your expression what hurt the most. “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way; you didn’t deserve it. You studied, you tried, you failed and I snapped and you didn’t deserve it…”

“I wanted your support” you reminded them in a voice too small for you.

They didn’t look annoyed at the interruption, instead nodding in a humble motion.

“I know-“

“You aren’t my tutor anymore, you’re my partner”

“I know, I’m sorry”

Lucifer’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

He’d had similar conversations with you in the past where you had failed a task or hadn’t turned homework in when it was due and he had been clear in showing his disapproval, regardless of how happy you were in your relationship. Business and pleasure were separate for him and your success at RAD very clearly belonged to one of those categories. Sure, he didn’t get paid for each one of your victories; in fact, it was he who gave the reward on occasion, but ensuring the exchange program went correctly was related to his work with Lord Diavolo, not his feelings for you.

Although he enjoyed seeing you succeed very much.

“I’m very proud of you” said your ex with an honest expression, smiling before cupping your cheek to bring you closer and kiss you.

Lucifer could manage to look somewhere else for that one, but he still heard the noise. Your happy humming before another kiss.

He wondered briefly if the library had been empty in reality or if your feelings for your previous partner had made it seem as if there had been no one else but them in the room with you. Did he make you feel the same? Did he make you feel as if there was none but the two of you in the world?

Not wanting to see your delighted expression directed at another person, he looked at your fingers again, unfortunately finding theirs interlocked with yours. The shiny ring taunted him.

“You’ll get it next time; you’ll see”

“You think so?”

“I know so, baby”

And that made you laugh like a fool, which only made Lucifer’s mood worsen.

You only looked at him that way on certain occasions; mainly when he allowed them to happen or when he was too drunk to think about appearances. Sure, he loved you and he showed you so, but was that enough to make you forget about all the times he didn’t do it? Was it enough to mask his disappointed words or his arrogant behaviour? To drive your attention away from the fact that he never properly apologized for anything, even when it hurt you?

Why did you break up with this human? They clearly treated you well and you clearly loved them, so why? What made you see that someone who adored you so much wasn’t the right match for you?

There was no ring on your finger with his name on it, but you did have a pact. A pact with THE Lucifer Morningstar, which not many people had. He wasn’t lying when he said that you belonged to him.

…but did you really?

“I forgive you” you said.

A sickening feeling of hope made him immediately look at you, wishing those words were directed at him, but of course, they weren’t.

He watched as you got up and your partner helped you with your belongings, offering their arm before leading you out of the library. Lucifer wasn’t even sure if he wanted to follow, especially when you were looking at your fiancé with that much love in your eyes.

“Thank you for being here” you mumbled quietly against their lips, putting the last nail in Lucifer’s coffin.

Did you really belong to him?

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