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pomefioredove · 5 months

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Okay but imagine one of the guys actually win the prefect, and they just go rubbing it on the others face by making them wear their respective form uniform.

Except Kalim, he would probably just make them have a sleepover every night and paint each other nails.

ohhh see now I'm imagining all the alternate routes this could take... okay okay I'm so here for this. like half of the cast would totally make them wear the uniform just to rub it in, the other half would just be crazy about seeing them in the dorm uniform at all. I DO have some thoughts on this concept alone... and I'll make another part later yk yk

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms. a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: ace, deuce, jack, epel, riddle, ruggie, azul, jamil, kalim, vil additional info: yuu is gender neutral, ruggie is cute, azul is the cutest, vil enjoyers come get your food, maybe a little ooc for some parts

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

First Year's Ending

"Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and Epel Felmier. Congratulations! The prefect will be ready at Ramshackle for your collection this evening. I trust you'll sort out the details..."

The four freshman look between each other, a mix of awe and shock on each of their faces.

Everyone else is staring daggers at them.

Vil is the first to speak. "How?"

"We may or may not have sweetened the deal with a few exclusive bonuses," Ace snickers, crossing his arms. Vil rolls his eyes. Deuce sighs.

"We'll be Crowley's new slaves for months after this..."

Jack grumbles from the back of the four. "Well, it was worth it. Imagine if someone underhanded and dishonest had won, and-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever,"

The four pause, looking between each other in silence. Then, finally:

"So who will they be staying with?" Epel asks, catching Vil's attention again.

"Excellent question, Epel," the housewarden smiles, stepping back into the conversation. "We would be more than willing to accommodate the prefect at Pomefiore. Our dorm far outshines the others."

Leona growls. "I heard that. Besides, why should you be first in line? We've already housed them before, they were plenty comfortable then,"

"As I recall, you forced them into servitude as penance for staying," Riddle snaps. "Not exactly the friendliest host. I think they would be much more comfortable at Heartslabyul."

The four freshman can only watch in silence as the housewardens break out into bickering with one another about who's dorm is best.

"Soooo..." Ace starts. "Maybe we should rotate?"

Deuce sighs. "For once, you actually have a good idea,"

Riddle's Ending

"Riddle Rosehearts, congratulations! I'll alert the prefect at once," Crowley says, immediately turning and disappearing into the crowd before anything can get ugly.

It doesn't exactly come across as a surprise to anyone- Riddle closely calculated his spendings, taking into consideration Leona's overconfidence, Malleus' stranger proposal, and Kalim's over-enthusiasm.

Of course, with some additional prodding about how no other dorm is responsible enough to handle another person like Heartslabyul, Crowley finally gave in.

And now, you're sat in front of the dorm's rose gardens, suitcase in tow as you make no apparent effort to walk in.

"Thought I'd find you out here," Trey says, taking a seat in the grass next to you. "Feeling okay?"

"Nervous," you admit.

Trey chuckles, much to your annoyance. "I promise there's really nothing to be nervous about. Riddle is really quite happy you're here,"

You find that a bit surprising, though you suppose it's hard to tell when he's excited. He always has this impression of deep psychological stress on him that makes him difficult to read.

"Is he?"

"Oh, yeah. He's been running Ace and Deuce ragged getting ready. He really wants to impress you," Trey pauses with a small smile. "You'll get used to the order of things here in no time. And if you ever need any help, you've got me, Cater, Ace, Deuce... I'm sure even Riddle will take it easy on you."

You smile in return. "Thanks, I-"

"Prefect!" Riddle storms out of the front doors, looking rather well-dressed for a simple Tuesday afternoon. "You were expected four minutes ago! I've taken the liberty of finding your measurements, so your dorm uniform is already ready and inside!"

Yeah. Excited, right. You give Trey a little look (to which he only waves merrily) and start off behind the housewarden.

For a moment, as you follow him, you could swear you catch him humming and smiling. But before you can say anything about it he catches Ace messing with your dorm uniform and starts shouting.

Ruggie's Ending

"And the winner is... no... this can't be right..."

Crowley clutches the paper, bringing it close to his face. He clicks his tongue, murmuring to himself.

"Um... Ruggie Bucchi, everyone!"

The news sends a shockwave through the audience, and everyone turns to the sophomore at the back of the courtyard. The sudden shift in energy is enough to make him drop his sandwich.

"Damn it..." he grumbles, picking it off the ground and swiping the dirt off of it with his sleeve. "Still good, eh?"

"Are you deaf?" Leona glares. "You're just embarrassing yourself now, and me by association."

Ruggie raises an eyebrow. "What? Oh, the lottery-thingy? I'm pretty sure Crowley misread that. He's going senile, y'know,"

Crowley crosses his arms, begrudginly handing off the paper to Azul in the front. He adjusts his glasses.

"It says Ruggie Bucchi,"

"Then someone mistyped it! I'm telling 'ya, there's no way I managed to scrounge up enough before the deadline. I was digging between couch cushions by the end of it,"

Leona looks as if he's about to smack him upside the head. "Would you just get up there?"

"Geez, alright. But don't blame me when someone comes around with the right winner later," he says, trudging to the front of the crowd. "So what do I gotta do?"

"Erm... the prefect is waiting at Ramshackle. You'll collect them and return to Savanaclaw, where you'll be responsible for handling the details."

"Sure, whatever. Let's get to it, then,"

---

Even your surprise is palpable, though you suppose it could be a lot worse. Ruggie has been a pal before, helping you out at Sam's and convincing Leona to let you off the hook when you accidentally annoy him.

Though, he himself seems less than pleased as you step out of your new room in Savanaclaw, dressed in a slightly too-big uniform.

Leona smirks as if watching something amusing and claps, slowly. "Looking good. See, none of those other pompous outfits woulda looked half as nice on you. Nice work, Ruggie,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. Leona excuses himself to find somewhere warm to nap, leaving you two to stare at each other.

"So... what's wrong?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," you say carefully. "You don't exactly seem excited about winning."

"Oh," Ruggie shrugs. "That's cause I didn't. Guys like me don't win anything. I'm sure someone will come to give you away to the right winner tomorrow."

The thought doesn't sit well with you- you're already here, after all, and Grim is gorging himself in the lounge, and you really-kinda-don't-mind Ruggie winning.

"Well, I hope not,"

He raises an eyebrow. "You know I can hardly afford to take care of myself, right?"

"So then we're even. Just don't make me go through all that bidding stuff again," you sigh. "Let's leave it at that."

A brief, though comfortable silence falls over the two of you, and then he grins. "Alright, then. I can live with that,"

Octotrio's Ending

"Azul Ashengrotto!"

Azul's immediate reaction is to collapse. he hadn't really realized how much stress the anticipation was causing him until suddenly his knees were buckling like he was learning to walk on land all over again.

Floyd grabs his shoulder to keep him upright and Jade joins the scattered applause.

"Don't look so pale, Azul. I'm sure this will prove to be a worthwhile investment," he says, folding his hands neatly in front of him.

A part of Azul knows that Jade isn't referring to anything financial, but he doesn't say a word about it.

"Besides," Jade goes on. "It'll be nice having another member of my club."

Both Azul and Floyd groan in unison.

---

Floyd gives you a standing ovation when you walk into the Mostro Lounge, fully dressed in the provided dorm uniform.

Azul, on the other hand, looks away entirely.

"It feels too long," you say, staring at the bottoms of your pants. You're not exactly in a place to complain, so you keep your voice meek.

"We can make the necessary adjustments," Jade says, walking into the room with a tray of tea, his all-too-knowing smile as unnerving as ever. "You look very nice, though. Wouldn't you say, Azul?"

The merman's eyes immediately turn away from Jade. "Hm?"

"Tell the prefect they look nice, Azul,"

Floyd laughs from across the room, clearly enjoying the spectacle. You tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy, not exactly sure what this banter is about. But it's not your place to pry, either.

Azul's face is beet-red. "You... look nice,"

"Thank you,"

"So are they gonna work or what? I'm tired," Floyd whines, lying on one of the couches and kicking off his shoes.

Azul grimaces. "Don't do that, that's disgusting. And I thought we should let them adjust a few days before giving them the option of working,"

"Option?" Jade's grin widens. "My, aren't you feeling generous?"

"I... assume this process has been rather jarring. I don't want any of my employees distracted or mopey. Is that right?"

You blink. "Uh... yes. This whole thing has been pretty terrible,"

Azul nods in acknowledgement as Grim tumbles in the room, wearing a brand new purple and silver-streaked bow. "Can't believe you guys had one of these 'jus lying around! I feel like a million thaumarks!"

You chuckle and scoop him into your arms. "You look very handsome. Just like Azul,"

Azul can feel his soul leaving his body and has to swiftly turn around to face the wall so you can't see him blushing. Floyd laughs.

"Oh- oh I meant the bow looks just like Azul's outfit!" you correct yourself. He pretends he didn't hear anything at all.

Jade breaks the awkward silence with a chuckle. "Ah, what fun this will be. Now, I think it's only appropriate that we give these two a proper welcome dinner. Prefect, do you care for mushrooms?"

Floyd and Azul groan in unison.

Jamil's Kalim's Ending

"Kalim al-Asim!"

Everyone could see that coming from a mile away. The disgruntled mumbles and groans of the crowd are drowned out by the cheers and claps of one sophomore, practically jumping up and down in the middle of the crowd.

"Yes! Yessss! This is going to be so much fun!"

Jamil suddenly looks exhausted.

Kalim runs to the front of the crowd, shakes Crowley's hand, steals the envelope from him, and sprints the rest of the way to Ramshackle.

Your moping is quite abruptly interrupted by a procession of loud knocks at the door, and after managing to summon your courage, you answer them.

"Wh-"

The very second the door is open, a familiar ball of energy is in your arms, squeezing you tightly.

"I wonnnn, prefect! I won!"

Your eyes widen. "You- you-"

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Out of everyone who threw their name in the hat, you couldn't get much luckier than Kalim. Financial problems? Gone. Loneliness? Blown away in the wind. Your chances of getting assassinated...? Well, let's hope Jamil is in a good mood.

Your uniforms are ready, measured to the exact inch, sitting on a set of mannequins that greet you as soon as you're inside.

Jamil is hovering behind one of them, picking at the sleeve of your school uniform for stray threads. He gives you a sideways glance, not exactly looking happy.

"My two best friends in the whole world in the same dorm!" Kalim claps. "You have to try on your dorm uniform, you'll love it! Oh, let me get you some new sheets- we have silk!"

He bounds off down the hall, leaving you alone in the lounge. The silence is thick and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I'm outta here," Grim says, walking off in the opposite direction.

"Grim!" You whisper-shout.

"It's a preventative measure! No cracker-dry mouth for me!" and with that, he's gone.

Jamil smirks slightly, turning his attention back to sorting the uniforms. "You should get changed while you still can. I have a feeling Kalim will be attached to your side for the rest of the evening,"

You're pleasantly surprised to see how well the dorm uniform fits you, and your return to the lounge is accompanied with a little smile. The fabric is light and breezy, perfect for the dorm's usual weather- you could certainly get used to the perpetual summer.

"Fits well, I presume?" Jamil asks. "You certainly seem to be in high spirits."

"It could be worse,"

"Much worse," he agrees.

A silence falls over the two of you. Eventually, he sighs to himself, watching you out of the corner of his eyes.

"If you ever need a break from Kalim," Jamil says tentatively. "I could certainly find a way to distract him. Just so you know."

You understand the nature of his offer immediately, and though you know it's wrong, you don't exactly say no.

"...Thank you, Jamil,"

Vil's Ending

"Vil Schoenheit! Thank the sevens..."

Though he walks to Ramshackle to collect his prize with a sense of ease, Vil admits that there was a brief moment where he felt anxious about not winning.

Standing in that crowd, surrounded by royalty and nobles, his chances were higher than most but certainly not assured. The very thought of you being stuck with someone other than him was enough to send a shiver up his spine.

After all, how many people on this campus would you feel comfortable with taking your measurements? None, none but him.

"Hold still," he says for the millionth time. "I'm almost done."

Vil insisted on taking your measurements himself, and you had no qualms about that. After all, things could be worse.

"There. I'll have these sent out right away. Pomefiore has many students of your size, so it's likely we'll have a spare uniform for you. That is, until I can have one custom-made,"

"You really don't have to..."

He raises an eyebrow. "Of course I do. You're a Pomefiore student now, I expect you to present yourself like one,"

A knock at the door pulls your attention away from him, though it's Vil who answers it.

He returns to you, dorm uniform in arm.

"That was fast," you say, accepting the bundle of clothes.

"Punctuality is important. Now, get changed, I want to see what I'll have to adjust for you,"

Waiting for your return is almost as nerve-wrecking as it was waiting for Crowley to call out his name. Vil can't be sure why exactly you're making him so nervous now, but it's all he can do to keep from showing it.

The dorm uniform- which you've dawned before- is just as comfortable as you remember. Warm, but not suffocating, soft but durable.

Vil stares at you for a short while before saying anything, simply drinking in your presence.

"Come here. I need to have a look,"

You inch forward, standing in front of him as he turns around you in circle, inspecting every inch. "Well, it fits much better than your last,"

He pauses, stopping in front of you. You look down at your feet, feeling as nervous under his analytical gaze as ever.

Vil chuckles, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his eyes. "You look wonderful. I'll have to help with your confidence, though,"

Good Ending

"And our winner is... M-"

"Crowley!" a loud voice resonates from the very back of the crowd. The sound of hurried footsteps follow it as Trein and Crewel show up on scene.

"We're... we're kind of in the middle of something-"

"You are absolutely not. I cannot believe I had to find out about your little scheme from Trappola and Spade, of all pups," Crewel grimaces. "Are you well?"

"Well I- I-"

"Called it," Ruggie grins. "Totally senile."

Leona rolls his eyes. "Oi! Just read the damn paper!"

"Absolutely not. This is a highly immoral and borderline illegal offense," Trein crosses his arms. "You will all be refunded promptly. Now return to your studies!"

The crowd slowly dissipates, murmuring amongst themselves. Crowley remains in front of the well at the front of the courtyard, kicking the ground with his hands behind his back, like a child being scolded.

Both Trein and Crewel glare. "If you were having such issues with the prefect's expenses, you could have asked,"

"In what universe is giving them away to teenage boys a sound idea?" Trein grimaces. "I can overlook many of the things you do, but this is far too much."

"But-"

"That's enough," Crewel snaps his pointer against his palm. "If the prefect is causing you such troubles, we'll be glad to take them off your hands. In fact, I've already had the necessary legal papers drawn. I've always wanted a pup of my own, you know."

---

A gentle knock at the door rouses you from your melancholy and after some lengthy pestering from Grim, you finally go to answer it.

Outside is none other than Ace and Deuce, looking rather somber.

"No- don't tell me," you say. "I don't even want to hear it."

Deuce sighs. "It's not that. The whole thing got canceled,"

"No- wait, canceled?"

"Someone got caught with their hand in the cookie jar," Ace snickers, but quickly clears his throat after Deuce gives him a sharp glare. "Crowley's negotiated a different solution to the problem."

Deuce nods. "Hypothetically... how do you feel about being adopted?"

#I enjoyed writing this. thank you anon <3 #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #epel felmier x reader #jack howl x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader

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peachesofteal · 4 months

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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warning: postpartum depression requested by multiple: mama's family

"Where's my baby?!"

You can practically hear your teeth grinding together as you give your aunt a tight lipped smile. "He's due to get up any minute." She sighs, like it's an inconvenience, your mom hot on her heels.

"Hi honey," she says, glancing around your now pristine flat, "how are things?"

"Oh, fine." It's the same thing you've been saying this whole time. I'm fine. I'm good. Everything is great. "Went to the pediatrician the other day, Ry is perfect and healthy." You omit the rest of your news, the sudden reappearance of Simon, the stable, consistent presence in your life, the man who was supporting you in anyway he could.

Even though you absolutely do not want your mom or your aunt to meet him, let alone know about him-

you still kind of wish he was here.

He told you yesterday, regretfully, that he had meetings on base all day today, and you told him your mom and aunt were coming by, but probably wouldn't stay long. It was good, that he wouldn't be around.

Before he left for the night, he made you promise to call if you needed him. Text him to check in. You did as he asked, but didn't hear much. Not a surprise, since he said he wouldn't have a lot of time to respond, but still wanted updates.

"That's great honey." Her smile is genuine, and you know she means it. She does mean well, mostly. It's not her fault you're bad at asking for help, or that since you left home, you've become stubbornly independent. You even spent a few years "gallivanting across the globe" as your sister liked to say, shirking responsibility after uni.

Your family was used to you being a bit of a ghost.

"- don't you think?" Your aunt's voice brings you back to earth, and you nod robotically, unsure of what you're agreeing to. You're about to apologize for missing the conversation when the baby monitor on the kitchen counter lights up, Orion's fussy 'I just woke up mom, come get me' cry crackling from the speaker.

"That's for me." You joke half heartedly with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. You know the battle with ensue as soon as you come back into the living room with the baby, and you dread it.

"Hi baby." You bend at the waist, scooping him out of his crib. "You're gettin' too heavy for mama, big boy. Don't know what I'm gonna do when you're older." The thought stops you in your tracks, the acknowledgement that he'll get older, that soon he'll be six months, and then a year, two. He'll learn to crawl, to walk, to speak. It's exciting, and anxiety inducing. What if you mess him up? What if you don't give him a good life? What if you're not a good mom, or he gets sick, or there's an accident, or an attack or-

No. You're not going to do this. You're not going to fall into these obsessive what ifs. It will only make you sick to your stomach.

You get him into a new nappy and clothes before slinking back into the living room, cowed with your head down. His head turns against your chest, seeking, and you know he's starting to realize he's hungry.

But the vultures don't care.

"Bring that boy over here, let me hold him." Your aunt croons, syrupy sick voice conjuring a roar of nausea.

"He's probably hungry." You start to warn them that this won't last long as you lower him into her arms, but you know it will fall on deaf ears. "So-"

"Just get a bottle from the fridge dear, I can feed him no problem." You fight the urge to to snap at her, unreasonable rage swelling inside your heart. No one feeds him except you, and Simon. Bottles are fine when you're asleep and can't nurse, or between feedings, but he doesn't eat as much from them. Of course, you've tried to tell them that, multiple times, but it never seems to stick. Your mom knows, but she never stands up to her older sister.

Like mother like daughter, you guess. You've never been a doormat per se, but you don't have a strongest backbone, and becoming a mom has changed you, a lot. You've become even more soft, more sensitive. It's... a problem.

"How are you feeling, honey?" You know she's asking mostly about your body, your stitches, your physical aches and pains, which were plenty considering what you went through when Ry was born, but your mom's voice is gentle, like she senses you frustration, and you give her a weak smile. It's nice she's expressing interest, but that's usually as far as it goes, unless you count the meals she's brought over that you barely picked it, not having enough energy to even feed yourself, or shower, or the suggestion that you give her the baby all the time so you could 'take a break' even though he screamed the moment he was separated from you. Not helpful. Nobody cared that you had scary thoughts, scary moments, scary days. Nobody offered to be here at night with you, when you were all alone with the baby after dark, terrified, crying in the bathroom with your face buried in a towel so you wouldn't wake him. No one was here when you were afraid you might hurt him, or yourself, and no one seemed to hear you when you shrugged over and over again, your lack of interest in everything explicitly clear.

You sucked at asking for help, so you didn't. And when you did, you never got it right, or got the right answers, so you stopped asking. Everything became fine. Good.

"Fine, good." She opens her mouth to say something, ask some question, probably about Ry, when your blood goes cold.

The sound of your front door opening rings out like a bang, your eyes widening in panic, and you nearly run to the kitchen.

Oh fuck. Oh no, no no no-

You turn in slow motion to see your baby's daddy, the man who has a key now, stepping through the doorway. As soon as you lay eyes on him, you split down the middle. You're horrified, because of what's about to happen with the two hens on the couch and-

your libido roars to life. Simon's not wearing his usual jeans or joggers and black hoodie, but a camouflage military uniform. One that he fills out, broad shoulders and broad chest fitted snug inside the material. You think you're staring. Or drooling. Or both.

His lips quirk up on one side with a secretive, almost seductive smile, and he peeks over your shoulder before turning his attention back to you. "Hey mama."

"H-hey. Uh. Hi." Your hands uselessly flit around, like you're trying to swat some invisible bugs away or something. "My mom is still here. And my aunt," you can't help yourself, you take him in from head to toe one more time, "you look... nice."

"Price makes me wear my BDU for on base meetings." He grunts, slightly exasperated. Who?

"BDU?"

"Battle dress uniform. It's... the approved, standard uniform. I don't wear it... in the field." His lips press together, and your mind wanders, curious questions about 'the field' popping up like fireworks, but you push them away. Now is definitely not the right time. His thumb brushes your cheek, under your eye, and he frowns. "Everything alright?"

You step to the side, motioning to the living room, where your aunt and mother are whispering fiercely. You roll your shoulders, and take a deep breath. "Do you... want to, say hi?" The question is weak, your voice small. His brow furrows. He looks hesitant, and you don't blame him. They're a lot. It's a lot. He glances down at you again, head tilted in consideration. "Or you could just go. If you ran out that door... well I'd only wish I could come with you." You whisper, and he cracks a smile.

"No. 'm not runnin' from any part of you, sweetheart. C'mon. They can't be worse than..." he trails off, odd look in his eyes before it clears, "they can't be worse than a lot of things."

He follows you around the corner of the kitchen, crossing the threshold of the living room with two large strides.

Your mother gasps. Your aunt makes a sound that you can only describe as a goose being strangled, and Orion starts to cry. Perfect.

"Oh, oh shhh, shhhh." Your aunt tries to soothe him, but you know it won't work.

"Mom," you call over the noise, gesturing to the giant man standing next to your coffee table, and you, "Mom! This is Simon." She stares at you, confused, shocked even. You never told her your one night stand's name, just that you couldn't track him down, so she doesn't make the connection.

Still, she gapes at him. Clears her throat with a question.

"Is this... your boyfriend honey?" Your aunt's expression is not much different, and you freeze. Is he? Is that what this is? You half expect Simon to reject the term boyfriend flat out, but instead-

"Something like that." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you lean into it, relishing the comfort. Just the presence of him in the flat is enough to soothe you, lessen the tension you feel building in your chest. "Sounds like he's hungry, mama."

"Yeah, I think he's more than ready." You reach for Ry, eager to pick him up, but your aunt shifts her body, shying away, turning her shoulder to you. You're used to this, the keep away, the way they always try to convince you he'll calm down, to let them hold him for too long, to get him a bottle... but Simon is not.

He goes rigid at your side. You can feel the muscle in his arm turn to stone, and his eyes narrow, upper lip curling. Your mother's eyes go wide, but your aunt remains oblivious. "I can feed him, dear. Go get a bottle warmed up and-"

"No." Simon snaps, rough pitch of his voice dipping deeper into the manc accent, and she bristles. This bitch wouldn't be scared of the devil himself.

"Excuse me?" You watch the muscle in his jaw flex with fascination, wondering what he'll do next. You're brought back to when you met, when he stared down the guy who pushed you out of the way at the bar like he was going to murder him, before calling you over to settle next to his thigh. He put his hand on your waist, shielded you from everyone else for the rest of the night.

You were a goner before you ever had a chance to begin.

"Orion wants his mother. You can hand him over without a fuss, or I can throw you out of this flat. Your choice." His words are hard, cold steel, a sharp knife slicing away, exposing vulnerable parts and smashing them to pieces.

Your aunt has the gall to look scandalized, but when you glance at your mother, she has a different expression. It's warm. Approving. She mets your eyes with a small smile as you scoop Orion up, and then she stands.

"We'll get out of your hair, honey." She tugs you into a half hug before looking over. "Nice to meet you Simon." Your aunt is ranting and raving all the way to your front door, but once it's shut...

"Bloody hell." He mutters, and shakes his head. "I won't let anyone push you 'round like that, sweetheart. Family or not. Especially not in your own home, I-"

"Thank you." It's all you can say. "I um, kind of suck at sticking up for myself, sometimes. It means a lot, that you would do that. For me." He steps close, hand covering Orion's belly and chest, even though he's still crying.

"Kitten doesn't have any claws," he murmurs against your ear, and your eyebrows knit together. Uh... what? "Don't worry, you won't need 'em. Not now that you have me." There's something dangerous in his tone, something lethal and profound. It’s as fervid as his proclamation about his commitment to you, to Orion. Like dark water, bottomless and black, it draws you out deeper, sends shivers up your spine, but doesn't turn you away. It makes you curious, intrigued, desperate to peel back his layers, to dig into him until you know it all, inside and out.

Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say?

You weren't afraid of him that night, and you're not afraid now. You know Simon is not an ordinary man. You know you've bitten off a lot, by having his baby, rekindling this connection, giving him a key-

but you plan to chew.

#peaches writes #through me (the flood)#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #have you ever wanted someone to defend you to a shitty family member?#then this is for you

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 6 months

Text

Of Lions and Mice

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Reader is intended to be female

Masterlist

Leona was annoyed.

Once again, his golden goody-two-shoes older brother decided to shirk his responsibility of being a father and dump the overexcited, disgustingly bright-eyed crown prince on him for the day. And not only that, it had to be today of all days - a rare day where you were free from picking up Crowleys’ slack, where the loudmouthed, nattering extras that always followed you were otherwise preoccupied (and bribed to bugger off with a bag full of tuna), where he was certain he’ll spend the day in bed with you right next to him.

But no. Just like with everything else in his miserable existence, his dreams were crushed and he had to spend the day playing caretaker to his nephew instead of wrapped up with you. What’s worse was that, you’d decided to carry the pint-sized load off of his back and gave your undivided attention to the cub when it should have been rightfully his. How he hated that selfless nature of yours, that sweet, caring, gentle nature that would make you look at anyone that wasn’t him with that loving gaze, that would make you brush your fingers through Cheka’s golden orange curls the same way you would Grim’s fur or the stray cats you’d find around campus or any other being instead of his mane.

He hated just how loving you were, how your eyes could see the beauty in everything.

How, now that it’s late at night, and he’s closed his eyes and pretended to sleep in his attempt to actually get some shut eye and so that the little hairball would quit bothering him but Cheka just continues yapping.

Even in the darkness under his eyelids, he could feel you cast a worried look his way from the spot where his bed sags a little.

“Hey Cheka,” your sweet, dulcet voice (which is currently being used to please his nephew and not sooth him to sleep with the sweet nothings it usually does) pipes up, “how about I tell you a bedtime story from my world?”

“A bedtime story?!” Wow, even with his eyes closed he could see the stars coming out of his nephew's eyes, “yes please!”

Once the little cub has settled into bed, he asks you, “do you know any stories from your world with lions in them?

“Any ones with lions? Hmm, well, I suppose I could tell you about Narnia but I think you might be a bit too young for that and - wait,” you punctuated your words with a snap of your fingers, “I know a short one. There was this man called Aesop who wrote these short stories called fables.”

“What’s a fable?” Cheka asked, his words covered in that innocently curious lilt that all six year olds seemed to have during every occasion Leona wished they wouldn’t - and that was all of them.

You, however, seemed to have much more patience than him, “A story with a moral in them. Like, always be honest, or share, or work together, that sort of thing. I had a book of them when I was younger and I really enjoyed reading them.”

Figures. Of course, the shining beacon of sickeningly polite goodness grew up with such stories. He would’ve teased you for that but he had a child who he’s still trying to convince he was asleep.

“That sounds so cool, Aunty Y/N! Will you tell me more?”

“Of course, I will,” he can hear your smile, “but I’ll tell you them later, okay. Now, it’s time for you to rest.”

“Okay, Aunty Y/N.”

“Alright so,” you clear your throat, “there was once a lion that lay asleep in his den. A shy little mouse came upon him and in her fright she ran away, only whilst doing so she accidentally ran over his head, waking him up.”

“Oh no,” Cheka gasped, “that lion is going to be so angry if he wakes up.”

Oh, so the little hairball does have a brain after all.

“You’re right. Furious that he had been woken up, the big lion slammed a paw down on the tiny mouse and grabbed her by the tail. Holding her up, he growled at her,” here you made your voice noticeably deeper, trying to imitate a gruff growl, ““How dare you wake me up! I am the king of beasts and anyone who interrupts my slumber deserves to die! I shall kill you and eat you!””

It took everything within Leona to not burst into laughter at your adorable imitation of a ‘big scary lion’. It’s a voice you’ve used before whenever you tease him, playfully repeating the words his old self would have said to you, and it’s one that he’s rather fond of.

He loves and respects you, Herbivore, and he’s the first to attest to your formidability and capability - even though you have the annoying tendency to not only blur the line between bravery and reckless stupidity but also play skipping rope with it - but intimidating you are not.

“This scared the terrified mouse even more. Shaking with fear, she begged for him to let her go,” you make your voice higher at this part, squeaking in a way that oddly suited you, in Leona’s not so humble opinion, ““please, your majesty, I beg of you, please don’t eat me. It was only a mistake and if you let me go I’ll be sure to repay you. If you spare my life one day, I might even save yours.””

“The lion looked at the tiny creature and laughed, amused at how such a small mouse could ever be of use to an animal as powerful as him, “You? Save me? How absurd. You’ve made me laugh and put me in a good mood so I shall be generous and let you go.”

“Thank you, your majesty, thank you,” the mouse squeaked as she was put back on the ground, before scurrying away as fast as fast as her little legs could carry her.”

“Yay, so the mouse is free.” Cheka giggled.

“He is,” you said, “but there’s still more left. A few days later, the lion was prowling around when out of nowhere he was caught in a hunter’s net. Try as he might, he couldn’t get out of it. He tossed and turned, roaring angrily as he struggled to escape.”

“Wait, so now the lion’s in trouble. How’s he going to get out?” Cheka asked in worry.

“You’ll see. Hearing his cries, the mouse followed the sound, recognising it from the lion he met earlier.

“I have to help him,” she squeaked as she scampered towards him.”

Upon seeing the lion in the net, she said, “hold still your majesty, I’ll get you out!”

And she quickly started to nibble on the ropes with her sharp little teeth, biting until all they broke apart. It wasn’t long until the lion was free.”

“So the mouse saved him. Was it because the lion helped him earlier?”

“It certainly was Cheka. “Thank you, little mouse,” the lion said, “I laughed at you and didn’t think you could ever help me but you saved my life.”

“It was my turn to help you.” The mouse replied, ”never forget that even a creature as small as a mouse can help a lion.”

And that’s the end,” you say.

“Thank you, Auntie Y/N, I really enjoyed that. Do you think the lion and mouse became friends after that?”

“You are very welcome, Cheka. I think they did. They did help each other, after all. Now I think it’s time to go to sleep.”

And once you were sure that the crown prince was asleep, you made your way next to your boyfriend, running your fingers through chestnut locks, “did you enjoy that little story, Leona.”

He opens his eyes to see your endeared smile. Rolling over so that he could wrap his arms around your waist he muses, “it seems awfully familiar don’t you think? A scared little herbivore wakes up a sleeping lion and ends up saving him later.”

“I’ll have you know, Your Highness, that I was never scared of you. Even when you were a rude old brute who threatened to knock out one of my teeth. And I’m certainly not little.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

He pulls, letting you flop down on his bed beside him so that he can spoon you.

“Sweet dreams, little mouse,” he kissed your forehead, “I hope you know that I don’t ever intend on letting you go. Not after you helped in ways you could never even imagine.”

And so the lion fell asleep, holding the prey who rescued him from the confinement of his past safely in his arms.

#leona kingscholar x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #fem reader

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personshapedsplder · 2 years

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Something I've been thinking abt is that in refusing to bring to life eve, victor actually makes at least 1 halfway decent point that altho Adam has agreed to run away and has promised this will bring him happiness, SHE hasn't, and when she's alive she may want different things and make different choices that neither victor nor adam can control. It shows at least a LITTLE growth on Victor's part that he can now see his creations as agents of free will same as himself.

That being said that's Victor's last good point LOL I rly do get the reluctance to bring to life eve I do. She's a whole new person, and for some stupid reason he thinks they could have children together and hell become more or less the "god" of a new species of humans and he doesn't want that anymore. Theoretically I get it. Lot of responsibility. But he's still heartless for it

#regardless of if he wants them or not he already HAS responsibilities and in killing eve hes shirking those again #once your son is already here and alive you have duties towards him #theres just something ironic in his admission that yes i don't want the responsibilities of being eves parent #which is a reasonable and good boundary #but hes saying this after he ALREADY HAS RESPONSIBILITIES TOWARDS SOMEONE ELSE #like !?!? yiure not absolved of all duty if you kill eve i promise this doesnt actually solve your problem #adams desire is super reasonable but ngl i think he would have been more than happy had victor embraced him instead #if he coud have been like ok i cant handle the responsibility of eve so instead ILL be your family #idk i cant stop thinking abt it

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notmyneighbor · 5 months

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A New Neighbor - Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader, Francis Mosses x Nacha Mikaelys

Chapter 1

Word Count - 6.5k

Rating - Explicit

Content Warnings - cheating, pervert Francis Mosses, reader is an 18 yo highschool student and the new babysitter, fondling, masturbation

Also available on AO3

taglist - @kaislashes @unicorngirly1 @charli33-b33 @natiii727227

Things aren’t going well with Francis Mosses’ girlfriend Nacha Mikaelys.

The milkman is trying to make things work; he truly sees it that way. Their daughter Anastacha certainly wasn’t planned, but he’s not the type to shirk his duties. An unwed mother carries a certain stigma and it’s not really fair when he’s partly responsible for the situation they’re in. So they’d moved in together. Claimed they were engaged to be married, though it was clear neither of them had any intentions of tying the knot. The resentment on both sides is clear. This was never supposed to be a long term, committed relationship. They weren’t particularly compatible. Yet here they are. Friends at the best of times, but those times were coming fewer and farther between. More like roommates that tolerated each other now. Barely tolerated. Conversations strained. Tempers short. He feels like he was suffocating, trapped. He knows she feels the same way.

Nacha wants to resume her career as a chef now that Anastacha is in elementary school, and that means a babysitter will be required to make up the gap between Francis and his girlfriend’s upcoming shifts. He’s not so much a product of his time that he doesn’t believe in women working outside the home; he actually thinks it will be good for her to pursue something she enjoys. So he readily agrees to the idea, wondering whom they’re going to hire.

These are difficult times.

Trust is hard to come by, when you don’t know whether the face you’re staring at is really your neighbor or not. The doppelgänger situation wasn’t just something you heard about on the news in some distant city anymore. It was here. It was real. Just last week someone downstairs had been killed, the previous doorman guarding the entrance a little too lax in his duties.

The demand to inhabit a DDD secured residence was high no matter how derelict in their duties the individual screening at the door was, and Francis had heard through the rumor mill of the crowded building that a father and his daughter were already moving in. He was a college professor. She was an older teenager, eighteen, finishing up highschool. She might be a good option to watch Ana. He’d have to meet her and see. He’s sure Nacha will want to as well.

Today is the day the new residents are moving in, he thinks. Or was it Wednesday they were slated to take up residence? Wait, was today already Wednesday?

Francis rubs the bridge of his nose and massages his tired eyes. He’s almost done his delivery route. Not even his busiest day, the schedule almost half of what it will be tomorrow, and he already can’t wait for it to be over. He’ll stop by to introduce himself on the way home, get a feel for things. At the very least it was the proper thing to do, welcoming someone to the neighborhood. If things didn’t work out, well, they’d just have to keep looking for a babysitter.

***

Francis always takes the elevator when he returns from his shift.

The thought of climbing up three flights of stairs just doesn’t appeal to him most days. Not after so many deliveries. He supposes he should be glad so many people still lacked proper refrigeration and relied on him for fresh dairy products. Job security, they called it. He used to have to solicit customers, years ago. It was an expected part of the job. The invasion had changed all of that, though. Demand more than enough without seeking additional business. It wasn’t even about convenience anymore. People were becoming more and more afraid of leaving their homes.

A heck of a lot riskier than it used to be, visiting so many residences. You never knew who—what—was really on the other side of the door nowadays. Before, he used to complain about having to collect payment from customers that were behind. Now that task seemed paltry in comparison to the daring just delivering goods involved. Even the increased pay doesn’t quite cancel out the threat of the doppelgängers lurking around every corner.

He actually forgets to present his entry request that afternoon after fumbling his ID card out of his wallet, a battered leather billfold that’s seen better days but he can’t be bothered wasting money to replace it. Besides, it takes time to break a new one in. This one is creased and comfortable. It had lasted him this long, it would service him a little longer.

The new doorman frowns suspiciously and he hurriedly reaches for his clipboard, sliding the request free from its position tucked at the very back of his address list. He tries a smile that is not returned, the DDD’s recently hired guard perusing the offered document before squinting at something just to the left of the window. He knows he’s on the day’s expected entry list, so he’s not worried about that. But he did already arouse suspicion, neglecting to present his excuse for his departure from the apartment building. He hears the receiver of the black rotary phone lifting and his heart sinks. The doorman really isn’t buying that he was just a milkman returning home from work. A very human, normal person.

Francis tucks his clipboard back under his arm, his free hand tapping nervously against his work pants. He can hear the dial tone, the lack of a response. Of course no one was home. Still a relief, though. If the doorman had inadvertently already let a doppel in, a stranger wearing his face now taking up his residence, lying in wait, while he himself was condemned to execution by the DDD disposal team…he shudders to think of that scenario.

Without a word his identification card is slid back to him, the request filed away. It seemed silly to have to keep making them out on a daily basis, but that was the procedure. He hears the door buzzer signaling he’s free to enter the building and he sighs in relief again, nodding gratefully before ducking through.

The elevator doors slide open and the tired delivery driver steps inside the carriage and presses the button for the third floor out of habit, leaning slightly against the rear wall of the car. He’s really exhausted today, and the week is only halfway done. Maybe he should have a few customers taken off his route.

Wait. Had he pressed the third floor button? He was supposed to be going to the second, to meet the new neighbors. With a mournful sigh he thumbs the correct button and the doors close, shielding his view of the familiar stretch of navy blue doors on the floor he resides on. Every floor was similarly color coded: pistachio green for first, tangerine orange for third. He doesn’t think there’s any real significance to the chosen palette. Every apartment was furnished identically as well, everything provided with utilitarian pieces. In some respects, he thinks it makes things a lot easier. Nacha didn’t agree. She insists on adding decor and personal touches to make it feel unique, more like their own. He lets her have free reign over that department; he hardly has any decorating expertise. If it was entirely up to him, his sole decision would be to leave it just as it was when he’d moved in. Simple was best.

The elevator doors part on the correct floor this time, and he immediately sees a pile of boxes and luggage outside a door just across from the elevator. So the rumor mill had been correct. Today was the day.

Moving boxes is the last thing the tired delivery driver feels like doing just then, but it’s as good a way as any to break the ice. He raps his knuckles on the edge of the moulding, announcing his arrival. The door opens and he’s greeted by a pleasant looking middle aged man who looks very confused to be greeted by an empty handed milkman.

“I didn’t order anything…”

“Oh! No, I’m sorry. I’m not here for a delivery. I just got home from work and wanted to introduce myself. My name is Francis Mosses. I live upstairs with my girlfriend and daughter.” He offers a hand and the man shakes it. He has a strong, confident grip and an easy smile.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Need a hand with this?” He gestures towards the stack beside him.

“That’s very kind of you, but you certainly aren’t obligated to.”

“Not a problem. Moving is a big job. Is your daughter here?” He asks curiously, lifting one of the suitcases and wincing a little at the unexpected weight.

“No, she’s in school. She’s a very dedicated student. It’s fortunate we’re still close enough to where we lived before so she didn’t have to transfer to another so late in the school year. She’ll be home soon. That’s her luggage you've got there,” he adds, looking sympathetic.

“Feels like she packed everything and the kitchen sink,” Francis jokes, and the man cracks another smile. He likes him already. Hopefully the daughter would prove just as affable.

“Just set that in the living room for now. I apologize for the mess,” he says over his shoulder. “My daughter is the one for the knack with organizing things. Must have gotten it from her mother, God rest her soul. Lost her during childbirth. It’s always just been the two of us. I could never quite bring myself to move on,” he adds softly.

The third floor resident offers a sympathetic sound, waving away the man’s concerns before he heaves the heavy suitcase onto the couch. If he knows anything about women, he imagines it’s jam packed with clothing. Nacha’s outfits took up more than half of the closet in the bedroom. It’s a good thing he didn’t have a large wardrobe himself.

Francis returns to the hallway and he and the new neighbor steadily begin demolishing the pile, chatting amicably. He doesn’t envy the man the task of unpacking all of this. He isn’t even sure they’ll be room for this much stuff. The apartments were moderately sized.

“Ah, here she is! This is our neighbor from upstairs, Mr. Francis Mosses.” The introduction accompanies your entrance through the front door, the backpack hooked over one shoulder settled beside the luggage on the couch before turning your attention to the visitor.

You shake the stranger’s hand and survey the state of the interior of the new living space, looking a bit overwhelmed. “Dad, I told you to wait. I was going to help,” you say, and he can hear the good natured, long suffering patience you must have to exhibit living with the widow in your tone.

“I know, I just wanted to get a head start.”

“Just wait before you touch anything else, okay?” It sounds like the roles are reversed, with you being the mature adult and your father looking the part of the bashful child. You smile apologetically at the milkman, making for the boxes lining the kitchen counter first. “I’m sorry we don’t have anything to offer you, we still need to pick up groceries. Just seemed foolish to have even more things to carry. Worried about food spoiling, you know…” Your voice trails off as you tuck a stray strand of hair behind one ear. Well mannered. Pretty. You had a nice smile. Nice everything if Francis was being honest, but he was very firmly trying to deny his initial assessment of your appearance as you’d walked through the door wearing a school uniform, still trying to conceal how much he was admiring the shape of your figure in a plaid skirt that was maybe a touch too short, the way the button front white blouse and navy cardigan hugged your curves so neatly.

Or maybe it wasn’t too short at all. Maybe it was just the right length, he thinks, watching you bend over to pick something up your father had dropped, stubbornly ignoring your advice and diving into the contents of one of the boxes.

Jesus, Francis. Perverted much?

It had been awhile since he’d last been intimate with Nacha. A long time. So far back he can’t even remember. That part of their relationship had just fizzled after the baby, becoming a rare occurrence if they both just happened to be in the mood. More a matter of convenience and availability, certainly nothing romantic or passionate. And now here he was, lusting after a girl he didn’t even know who was barely into adulthood. Someone he’d intended on asking to watch his own child.

“I, um, don’t want to take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say hi. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks for stopping by. And the assistance. Extend our greetings to your girlfriend and daughter.”

“I’ll do that.”

Did you look a little displeased when your father mentioned these two females you lived with? Or had he only imagined that scowl that was there and gone fast as a passing summer rainstorm?

“See you around,” you call after him, and the milkman cannot get on the elevator fast enough, hurriedly pressing the button to return him to the third floor.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

***

Nacha visits the new neighbors before the week ends, inviting them to dinner.

Francis hasn’t said much about his first impressions. His girlfriend certainly seemed to approve. She never invited people over.

Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it had just been a fluke. Just raging hormones and unsatisfied needs making him react that way.

It had been the guiltiest jerk off he’d ever had in his life after meeting you for the first time.

The only saving grace was he was home alone when he’d done it. Thankfully Nacha had been out visiting her parents with Anastacha at the time. A rare moment of peace and quiet that had instantly filled with thoughts of you. Very inappropriate thoughts.

He’d still locked himself in the bathroom, just to be on the safe side. She wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours according to the note, but still, better to be safe than sorry.

Stupid, waiting to clean the pipes this long. No wonder….fuck.

When you had bent over to retrieve whatever kitchen utensil your father had clumsily dropped…That image alone would have been enough, but his mind is already shoving that innocent movement into something much more depraved, with you bent over in front of him instead. His cock had already been flushed and leaking when he’d dragged it free of its enclosure, stroking the sensitive organ and hissing in pleasure. It was so hot. He was on fire. Those sexy lips of yours. Maybe he wants you on your knees in front of him instead, wrapping that mouth over his prick. Choking you on it. It wasn’t bragging, simply stating a fact. He knows he’s larger than average, thicker and longer than many. Girls had always been surprised and appreciative. He’d love to see the look on your face the first time he exposed himself to you. He’d wondered if you had a boyfriend. How far you’ve gone. Still a virgin, maybe? Waiting for marriage like a good girl?

Fuck. He’d been throbbing. There was no way he’d been able to prolong the session. He’d fucked his hand wishing it was yours, any part of you, envisioning bathing you in a load that jets out in reality moments later, thick creamy wads spurting onto the bathroom sink. His free hand grips the counter in a white knuckled grasp and he looks at his appearance in the mirror while his hips still spasm even after he’s removed his hand from his pulsing cock. Flushed. Perspiring. The almost bruised looking smudges beneath each lower eyelid now underlining blown pupils. He should have been ashamed.

It had only made him want you more.

***

“How are you enjoying the apartment so far?”

Nacha had cooked enough food for an army, crowding the table with dish after dish. For all her flaws, Francis couldn’t deny she had true culinary talent. Baking was her passion; that’s how they had met, in fact. Delivering dairy products to the shop she’d worked at. A little flirting on both sides. And then, well…

“Still getting settled, but it’s been good so far. A much safer neighborhood than where we lived previously,” the college professor remarks, responding to the hostess’ query.

“The new doorman seems to be very strict. I feel a lot safer,” she agrees, cutting into the casserole on her plate and mulling over the bite. It was a habit for her. She always took her time eating, judging what ingredients she’d used, deciding what worked and what could be improved upon.

“Can I have some more juice, Mommy?”

“When you’ve finished what you have, yes.”

Ana quickly polishes off the contents of her glass. She’s been staring at their female visitor all throughout dinner, clearly fascinated by the older girl.

“I’ve got it,” you say, offering to refill the child’s glass. She smiles and Ana breaks into a grin that’s in that awkward transitioning stage between baby and adult teeth, a few gaps noted here and there. You were already getting along so well.

Francis had been hoping you wouldn’t. It would make things so much easier. Removing temptation. No need to ever go to the second floor again. Perhaps there would be the occasional paths crossed on the elevator, but that would be it.

He has barely spoken the entire time. He’s very pointedly not looking at you in the pretty floral button front dress you’re wearing, your hair freshly styled, skin natural and clear of makeup, just the way he likes. Nacha always wore such dark lipstick and heavy mascara, attempting to cover her freckles with powder and concealer. He wishes she wouldn’t. He’s mentioned it before, as politely as he can. But she doesn’t agree with his preference. She’s wearing it right now. The modest dress is so old it’s nearly out of style. She’s definitely not trying to impress anyone.

“This is delicious, Nacha,” the male guest remarks after she’d insisted they be on a first name basis.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s a new recipe. I might still tweak a few things in the future…” Her voice trails off thoughtfully, then she turns her attention to the young woman seated across from her. “So do you have any activities after school? Senior year is so exciting.”

“I’m on the year book committee and I take piano lessons.”

“I wish I could play a musical instrument. Just never seemed to get the hang of my mother’s piano,” Nacha murmurs wistfully. She pauses, then nudges Francis under the table. This was his cue to inquire if she’d be interesting in babysitting.

He clears his throat loudly, suddenly parched and grabbing for a drink, his hasty fingers nearly knocking the glass over. “We were wondering, if you have time, of course. Understandable if you don’t.” Another nudge, this one firm enough to leave a bruise. “If you wouldn’t be interested in babysitting for us. Nacha is going to be going back to work and there’s a slight discrepancy with our schedules…” Suddenly the words that had been so difficult to utter come spilling out like a guilty man confessing his crimes to the authorities. And oh, was he guilty. His eyes finally meet yours directly, shifting from the point he’d fixed on somewhere near your face, the striped wallpaper on the wall behind you substituted for your features. He feels his body responding immediately, a slight tightening in his trousers that makes him shyly glance away again. Damn it. Masturbating the other day hadn’t taken the edge off at all. What was it about you that made you so irresistible?

“I’m interested,” you reply, and he feels his gaze dragged forcefully back to you. No, he shouldn’t have looked. But he can’t help it. He really can’t. Magnet and iron filings. Moth and flame. The attraction is too strong.

He lets his girlfriend iron out the details like the times and days that work for everyone involved after your father readily agrees to the proposal, stating you’ve always been good with your niece who’s a similar age. A real natural at childcare. Dessert follows after you graciously help Nacha clear the table, a homemade chocolate cake and coffee for the adults, milk for Ana and you, per your request.

The milkman feels your eyes on him again. You’re lifting the glass to your lips, that creamy white substance leaving behind a stain on your upper lip that you quickly lick away, your tongue darting out and stroking over the pink arches. Francis nearly chokes on his bite of cake. It has to be deliberate, right? Or was it really completely innocent, and it was his own sick, twisted brain making it seem like the teenager was flirting with him?

It’s a relief when it’s his daughter’s bedtime and Nacha decides to show you her routine, in case you’ll be there late one night if they ever decided to go out or were otherwise occupied. A little more bonding time for you and his daughter. Your father’s already drawn him into a conversation that distracts him, lets him calm down, the bulge in his pants easing. There’s a nervous moment when you’re parting at the door, the scent of you and your close proximity suddenly threatening to reveal his perversion again, but then you’re gone and it’s just he and his girlfriend once more.

He’s surprised when she begins stroking his shoulder after retiring for the evening, a signal that hadn’t been used in ages. Even more surprising when he responds to it. You don’t resemble Nacha in any way, but maybe that’s better. In the dark, it’s easier to pretend the warm body he presses beneath his is actually yours. The chef had gained weight during the pregnancy that had mostly been shed again, some residual softness still clinging to the middle even after all this time. An idea warps this into your own belly stretched for him. Francis keeps his face tucked into the side of his girlfriend’s neck, huffing softly. You’d be tighter than this. Wetter. He knows it. Those eyes. Those lips. He’s moaning, too loud, he knows.

“Francis,” Nacha cautions. “You’ll wake Ana.”

Your lip stained in white at the dinner table. Your tongue. He wants to lick it off you. Lick every inch of you. Dump an entire bottle of chilled milk over your warm body and lap away. Fuck. Too good. The imagery is too vivid. He pulls out just before he climaxes, spilling semen over Nacha’s torso and abdomen, then flops down beside her. He has no idea if she’s still taking birth control. He’s hardly going to risk getting the mother of his child pregnant again.

There’s a sigh from the other woman. She hasn’t orgasmed. She hates cleaning cum off of her body. Francis bets you’d enjoy it. Rub it in. Encourage him to spread even more on you. He wants to make you cum. He wants you.

The mattress creaks as his partner leaves the bed to go wash up in the bathroom. His elevated pulse and respirations are gradually slowing, returning to normal. He shifts his pajama pants back into place, dragging them back over his hips.

It takes Nacha a long time to come back to bed. Maybe she’d finished herself off in the bathroom. Did you ever touch yourself?

It’s the final lewd thought he ponders before he drifts off to sleep.

***

A week passes. Nacha’s returned to work, this time at a restaurant. Not as many opportunities for creating the baked goods that had been her previous passion, but still a step in the right direction before a better opportunity presents itself.

Francis arrives home a little past four that afternoon, finding you on the floor in the living room with Anastacha. You were helping her color a picture of a rainbow, your shading much neater while the elementary student’s scribbles tended to veer outside the lines. You're both lying on your stomachs, your knees bent, ankles crossed in the air, swaying up and down a bit. A position he’d seen Ana adopt countless times. You, though…

“Daddy!” His daughter scrambles to her feet, running over to give him an enthusiastic hug.

Your eyes lift to meet his as he tousles her hair playfully. “Hi, Mr. Mosses. How was work?”

“Fine. It’s Francis,” he reminds you, although he’s not certain it’s such a good idea to encourage that informal address.

“When is mommy coming home?” The first grader tips her head back, regarding her father.

“Late. Remember I told you? You’ll be in bed before she gets home. It’s just you and me, kiddo.”

“Will she come kiss me goodnight?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Can she stay? She’s helping me color.” She points to you and the crayon scrawled picture.

“I see that. It’s very nice. But she can’t stay. She has homework to do, I’m sure. She’ll be back tomorrow.”

The pout on the young child’s face softens. She’s got his eyes, there’s no denying it, but every other feature inherited is her mother’s. The button nose ceases scrunching up and she shrugs her thin shoulders in acceptance.

“Can I have a snack?”

“Not now. It’s almost dinner time,” he says gently.

Unlike Nacha, Francis hated cooking. Thankfully she’d prepared for this, leaving leftovers in the fridge to reheat for supper tonight.

The milkman watches you gather the crayons back into the box, handing the picture to Ana after you push yourself to your feet. “We’ll finish this tomorrow, okay?”

His daughter nods. You slide back into your cardigan, blocking the view he’d just had of your brassiere very visible beneath the thin material of your school blouse. Was that lace he had caught a glimpse of?

“Would you mind walking me downstairs? I’m still a little nervous being on my own.”

It seems like the most innocent of excuses, but Francis is more convinced than ever it’s anything but. He hesitates, eyeing his daughter. The entire point of hiring a sitter was so she wouldn’t be left alone. Now he was going to be doing that very thing.

“Isn’t your dad home?”

“No. He’s teaching a night course.”

The milkman’s heart sinks. Alone. You were going home to an empty apartment. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Ana, daddy’s going to walk your babysitter home, okay? I’ll just be downstairs. You know to keep the door locked until I get back. And the secret knock so you know it’s me.” It was the most innocent way to teach the child about safety. An absolute necessity with the added threat of the doppels around.

“Ok, daddy.” She’s already found her next task to occupy herself, plopped now in front of the television. Too close to the screen, as usual.

He reminds her to sit further back, then turns to you. “Ready?”

You nod and he escorts you to the door. The brief ride on the elevator is silent. It’s the middle of February, and the heat in the building isn’t that good, but he’s already perspiring. His fingers twitch nervously. You’re standing so close beside him your sleeve brushes his.

The carriage halts and the doors slide open. You’re already digging in your backpack for the key. He knows he should turn and flee, right now. Get back to Anastacha. Make dinner. Forget all about you.

Instead he hovers just behind. You push open the door, immediately toeing your shoes off, little polished dress ones with thin black laces. “You want to come in for a minute? Have a drink?”

Oh, he does. He definitely does.

Francis steps inside and closes the door behind him, securing the deadbolt. It locks with a severe cracking sound of metal being driven forcefully together. You move to the fridge, bending slightly as you survey the options, listing each one to him.

It’s over. Doomed. The most cliché thing ever. The babysitter. Really? Fourteen years his junior. Only eighteen. Still in highschool. Fuck.

“Water’s fine.” His mouth is dry, his throat parched. He actually needs the moisture. He’s already pitched a tent, immediately obvious. Impossible to ignore. Your eyes have already spotted it after you straighten, shutting the appliance door. A faint flush in your cheeks. He recognizes the way your pupils have dilated, that signal of desire making the dark centers pool and spread until there is just the thinnest bit of iris encircling each. Your chest rises rapidly, you lips parting slightly, seeking an alternative source of air. “Tell me to leave,” he says, and it’s a plea, something dredged against his will from the depths of his soul that he barely manages to utter.

“No,” you say softly.

He steps closer, crowding you against the sink. His hand reaches out, settling on the side of your neck, shrouded beneath the fragrant curtain of your hair.

“Tell me to stop.”

His chest actually hurts, his heart is pounding so fiercely.

“No,” you deny him again.

His mouth brushes yours. Velvet. Your lips are absolutely plush, pliable. Peach skin. Sweeter than, when his tongue dips inside those parted wedges to taste the ambrosia nectar within.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he pants, and it’s his most desperate urge yet; his last resolve, his last shred of decency hanging by a thread.

“Francis,” you gasp, one hand sliding down to when he needs you most. A place you shouldn’t touch. But oh, how he needs it. His body is already responding, hips grinding against that delicate hand, pushing you further into the sharp edge of the counter. He can smell the last vestiges of the lemon dish soap in the sink behind you, a brief waft of clean citrus before his mouth crushes yours, drinking you in more deeply.

I tried to resist. I didn’t force you. You want this, too.

He’s kissed a few girls in his day. Your own experience level maybe not on par. There’s a certain awkwardness. Maybe from nervousness. But you’re a fast learner. The clumsier collisions of lips and tongue now meeting more smoothly as you map his own. He doesn’t even mind the accidental knocking of teeth, the inadvertent nip of his tongue. It just heightens the experience. Everything about you is the epitome of erotic. You’re gorgeous, sexy, perfect.

He’s got a handful of one breast curving against his palm now, that soft globe palpable beneath the layers of cotton shirt and the lace bra he’d spied earlier. Certainly nothing your father had picked out for you to wear. When had you purchased the lingerie? Did it make you feel wicked? Had you blushed in front of the shopkeeper? Did you choose it just for him?

The milkman is still grinding against your body. He could cum just like this, easily. Even without your hand there, sliding and squeezing. These motions unpracticed, just like the kissing. Maybe you were a virgin after all. His own prize to defile.

He should really guide you somewhere more comfortable. Couch, bed, anything. But that would mean moving apart from you, and he doesn’t want that. He can’t bear to separate from you at this point. The hem of your plaid skirt is gathered roughly in one fist and then he slides immediately to the center, finding your panties are made of the same material as your brassiere, a matching set. They have the stiff, scratchy feel of something new. You’ve definitely just gotten these.

You’re soaked.

His previous imaginings had indeed been correct. An absurd amount of arousal fluid leaks from the entrance his probing fingers skim across after dipping beneath the waistband. You’re making the most amazing sounds. He wishes he could record them, play them on repeat when you’re not around. He collects your slick on the pads of his digits and brings them back through your pert lips to your clit. You moan, low and gutteral, into his mouth. A filthy sound. Like animals, that’s what you’re behaving like. Frenzied and desperate to fuck. Your progress on opening his fly has been interrupted, your brain clearly short circuiting at his intimate touch, the pleasure proving too much of a distraction for you.

The older man’s saturated fingers glide over your pearl, drawing neat circles, as tidy as the coloring you’d done earlier. Refined movements. He swaps out for his thumb and sends his middle finger back through the dewy folds to tease your opening again. Pressing gently. Sealed tight. You haven’t even experimented here, have you? Not even so much as a tampon has ever breached this entrance. You whimper against his ear, your tongue darting out to taste the skin. Salted, no doubt. He was sweating like a man after a marathon. Nervousness. Excitement. Arousal.

“Francis,” you groan again, and the sound of it shoots straight through to his groin. You’ve finally got his pants open, dragging his cock out of his briefs. He’s watching your face as you do it. Sees your eyes widen. It’s going to be so difficult to stretch that virgin pussy over his prick. But he’ll manage it. He’ll manage.

Not today, though. There isn’t time. He hasn’t completely forgotten his other duties, the daughter waiting upstairs. Another time he’ll bury his face between your thighs before he introduces your womb properly to his dick. For now, he has to be content with shoving your panties down and rubbing his erection over your vulva, the fat mushroom head massaging your clit before parting the pink flesh of your sex and teasing your entrance, then back again, fucking against the slickness on the outside of your body. The angle and the height difference makes it difficult and he pauses only long enough to lift you and sit you on the edge of the counter, your ass dipping dangerously close into the stainless steel basin behind you, one arm keeping you balanced while his free hand continues manipulating his cock against your drenched cunt.

The kisses are as sloppy as your nether region now, whatever adroitness you’d acquired previously now forgotten in the wake of your desire. You’re keening and shaking.

“That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me,” the milkman croons encouragingly.

The hand curled around his neck tightens, gathering the ends of his hair and pulling them taut as you explode, the softer noises he’d elicited earlier now howls and whines. Your head flings back and he feels his cock finally surrender, shooting the load of cum that’s been building up, painting your abdomen and your pussy and your thighs, long spurts that recklessly splatter and slide down your soft skin.

He’s actually done it. He’d fucked around with the babysitter after your first day on the job.

Francis helps you ease back off the counter. You reach for the sponge resting on the back of the sink near the faucet, then think better of it, opting for paper towels instead, dampening them slightly before wiping away the traces of his indiscretion. He refastens his pants, taking a few paper towels for himself to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. Still panting slightly, still recovering. Coming down off the high of being intimate with you.

There’s guilt now, of course. Even though he technically hadn’t violated you. It wasn’t right, what he’d done to you.

But you’d wanted it, hadn’t you? He’d given you the opportunity to refuse him and you’d pulled him closer.

You’re the adult. You know better. Teenage hormones. You should have walked away.

Guilty, yes, but not nearly enough. And he can’t say he regrets it. Can’t fail to admit he’s already thinking about next time. There would surely be a next time.

He washes his hands. He can’t go home smelling like pussy, as much as he’d love to savor the taste and scent of you longer. He should have sneaked a sample before he’d cleansed them. Now they were just soapy and citrusy.

You walk him to the door.

“I have to get back,” he says, as if you’re unaware of the situation. Apologizing for the rushed nature of it all, maybe.

“I know.” Your voice is still soft.

He seats his hand on your cheek. Steals another kiss. It’s meant to be a brief parting one, but you’re already curling a fist into his work shirt, pulling him more tightly against your body. Unbelievably, his cock is twitching again.

“Baby girl, fuck, I have to go,” he reiterates, for himself as much as for your benefit. “I’ll see you soon.”

“My dad’s going to be home tomorrow,” you caution.

“Nacha’s only doing a half shift tomorrow. She’ll be home by five. It’s my long delivery day,” he murmurs regretfully. “I probably won’t get home until six or seven. The day after that is my lighter schedule. I’ll be done by three.”

You frown thoughtfully, then your features brighten. “Pick me up after school the day after, then? I’m staying late for yearbook anyway.”

Yearbook. Yes. Because you’re a senior. In highschool. Honestly, Francis.

“That’s a date, then. I mean, it’s not really a date,” he adds hastily.

“I know.” You stretch to kiss his mouth, this one more chaste, like he’d intended on doing previously. “I’ll see you then. I’ll wait out front by the main entrance.”

“I’ll be the guy in the delivery truck with the cow on the side.”

“Got it. Except…how do I know you’re not, you know, a doppel coming to kidnap me? Didn’t you mention a secret knock earlier?”

”Yes. It goes like this.” He creates a rhythm of staccato taps on the doorframe. “And you answer with this.” A different series this time. “Try it.”

You have the sequence nailed by the second attempt. You smile and something stirs in him. Just a little something. The faintest hum of feeling. The genesis of a tiny affection. Then the milkman finds himself back on the elevator. Suddenly anxious, fumbling the keys in the lock of his apartment door after using the secret knock. He’s relieved to find Ana safe and sound, greeting him less enthusiastically this time, immediately returning to whatever television program she’d been engrossed in.

Nacha’s taped directions to the filled glass baking dish in the fridge. Temperature, time. He turns the dials on the oven.

“You were gone a long time.”

Francis nearly jumps, surprised to find his daughter beside his elbow.

“No, not really, honey. Just had a snack while I was there,” he says, hoping the casual statement will placate her.

“How come you can eat before dinner and I can’t?”

“Because you’re a little girl and you don’t have the same appetite I do. Want to help set the table? First person to finish gets to eat dessert first,” he adds with a smirk.

The little girl scrambles into action, yanking open the drawer that houses the cutlery and he sighs with relief. He’d gotten away with it, for now.

But what would happen in the future?

#francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #tnmn milkman #tnmn #tnmn smut #francis mosses smut #divider @cafekitsune

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sweetsaladpainterranch · 17 days

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The Rival (Part 2)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

Hey, so here is part two as promised (I rewrote it like 40 times 😅) please continue keep in mind that it's just practice for a beginner's writing class

***

Alastor POV

GOD, DAMN HIM ALL OVER AGAIN! How dare this bastard come into HIS territory and make eyes at HIS adorable doe. And how could Charlie, the naïve ninny, allow this…this interloper into their hotel as a guest? Going as far as to prevent him from watering the front lawn with the other male’s blood (and perhaps impaling his head on the entrance gate) in warning for any other foolish would-be usurper. He felt that the spice garden could use some Canadian reindeer mulch.

Alastor couldn’t help but feel he was behind the eight ball thanks to his agreement with the Princess to not lay a finger on any who sought the hotel’s services; however, she even placed the rake next to your room. It seemed like she expected you to show him around and ensure he acclimated to the new environment without issue. To be a friend to this new guest. Was there no end to Charlie’s flagrant disrespect?!

You had had to walk him down to breakfast once because he had gotten “lost” in the hallways and ended up “accidentally” darkening your door asking for assistance. However Alastor knew it was intentional on the misguided reindeer’s part. It was as if James thought he could capture your heart within the span of a five-minute walk to the lobby. Nonsense. But, Alastor noticed how you sported a slight blush when you rejoined the others, with the newest guest in tow by the hand, in response to whatever inane attempt at charm he had thrown your way.

If the flannel fiend wished for a duel, Alastor would gladly oblige.

He had made certain that his precious doe’s hotel door frame was properly marked with scoring from his antlers and his shadow insisted on being posted on guard at night in case of any “lost” reindeer. This didn’t seem to bother you, as your instincts most likely told you to let the males fight it out, so he continued his pissing contest. For instance, no matter where you were, so was Alastor. He continuously shirked his hotel duties in favor of gluing himself to you and if he wasn’t (very publicly) rubbing against your neck or hair to leave traces of his heavy musk, and attempting to jump-start your heat with his pheromones, he was feeding you from the same plate as himself or whispering sweet words into your sensitive ears.

Oh yes, he saw with satisfaction how your ears twitched in contact with his warm breath and how you shivered slightly at his honeyed words of love. He also didn’t miss the glare that the Canadian continuously shot towards him, and aimed a shit-eating grin of his own right back, as you once again unconsciously relaxed into Alastor’s side.

***

Oh yes, The Radio Demon was absolutely certain that HIS doe would choose HIM as the superior mating option like she did every season over the trash that begged for a mere glance from her direction. HE was the one who always provided protection for her during this fragile time. HE always saw to her meals and ensured her nutrition as is the responsibility of the courting male. And HE was the one who you harbored romantic feelings for.

…Those same warm feelings that slept within him as well…

Alastor tried to shut the thought down before his mind strangled itself in a black cloud of doubt. To say that he was wholly unfamiliar with genuine romance, even throughout his many decades in Hell, was an understatement.

He huffed heavily through his nose.

Carmilla better have a good reason for dragging him away from his territory at such a time. As he begrudgingly made his way to the overlord meeting, Couldn't look weak during a season now could he? Alastor reflected on the last time he had allowed his heart to open itself for another long ago. It ended in his technological "friend" nearly voiding him to make a quick buck.

…Never again…

It certainly didn’t help his mood that the start of the rut season was ever hot on Alastor’s heels, but he could only wait for his pheromones to trigger his doe’s heat so every second away from you felt frustratingly wasted. He wondered if your body was taking longer than usual in response to the multiple suitors.

…What if she’s with him…

He shook his head as if trying to forcefully repel the vision of you accepting the other male’s advances. Laughing at James’s crude sense of humor turning into allowing him to drift ever closer to you and eventually seizing his chance to- no, his doe would never betray him.

...She's not mine...

It felt like a stone had settled in the pit of Alastor’s stomach at the thought of you being moved even emotionally by another. Ok fine! He was not the most romantically inclined during the rest of the year, but it wasn’t like you weren’t well aware of this relationship's transaction.

…What if she throws me away too?...

Alastor’s grip nearly broke his cane in half, but he didn’t notice in his shock at such an intrusive thought. She’d never reject him. He remembered how it felt like the whole of Hell suddenly stopped spinning the moment he found you hunched and bloody from defending yourself after an entire herd of bucks had stalked and cornered you in an alleyway. He normally never went out during a rut (can’t let anyone see his body’s weakness) but, even from the hotel, he had smelled something too alluring to ignore. A doe in heat.

Alastor thought you were magnificent in your demon form; legs bent like an actual cervid, claws sharp as knives, and covered in the blood of those filthy bucks who tried to take you by force. Even now the image continues to take his breath away.

…I know her heart needs more…what if I …

No, that is not what this agreement is. You used him and he used you. Just like every other lost soul in Hell, you were leveraging your Satan-given circumstance to better your situation under his powerful allowances. Romance was merely a tool at best and a distraction at worst (Alastor tried to convince himself).

…What if her body chooses the other male’s pheromones…

He stopped dead in his tracks, just a short distance from the Carmine compound, as the surrounding windows shattered, and nearby demons fled from the intensity of his sudden static outburst. He felt his antlers grow and his bones shift in the fury that overcame him at the image of you held under the other man. Keening and gasping James’s name in your desperation to find relief from your heat. A loud snarl escaped him. Dammit! He never should have left her!

…What if his name is on her lips right now??!...

Alastor had never phased through the shadows so fast in his afterlife.

***

Your POV

The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun once you felt yourself suddenly pulled into a suffocating nothingness, you opened your eyes to see that James was being violently shaken around in the air like a ragdoll. Only then did the blood in your ears stop pounding long enough for you to hear the sharp screeching of a ruined record and the overwhelming sensation of staticky pinpricks uncomfortably all over your body. Your instincts kicked in and you immediately scanned the yard for the cause of the disruption though you already knew its source as Alastor’s shadow was winding around your body protectively, but also in a restraining manner.

Your eyes searched for Alastor and found him, standing in between you and the flailing reindeer, to be almost unrecognizable in the most demonic appearance you have ever seen him and it broke your heart. Shit, he must have seen James kiss you and maybe even heard what you two had discussed. His body was completely stretched out and bent at impossible angles as he laughed manically at his rough treatment of James and snarled wildly, “HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON MY MATE!!!!”.

“ALASTOR! STOP IT!”, you cried out in hopes of capturing his attention away from James, but it seemed as though your voice had only made things worse as Alastor flung his prey high into the air with another laugh before turning his attention towards you.

Heavy footsteps rumbled through the air as Alastor stomped towards you menacingly slow like a predator taking his sweet time in devouring its next meal and you pulled at his shadow with all you were worth to free yourself of its confining hold. “Please wait!”, you pleaded with the Radio Demon (this wasn’t Alastor anymore). Surely he was about to kill you just like every other demon who he felt had crossed him and their screams and lifeless eyes danced in your memory, but, until now, you had never felt fear of the same fate. You knew hot tears were pouring down your cheeks and you tried to look as small as possible as the giant deer finally made his way towards you with the most strained smile you had ever seen split his face. It seemed like the green stitches that lined the smile were about to pop and you saw the black void of The Radio Demon’s eyes that were pinpointed by fastmoving golden dials.

You could only continue to sob and whimper out pleas for your life, quickly losing your voice in desperation, as Alastor kneeled down and bent his neck to look into your eyes before growling fiercely in your face. It wasn’t really understandable, but it sounded like the accusation that you could see in his twisted face and your heart sank even further. Of course, he must be feeling betrayed and angry, however, he also looked a bit…hurt? It was only for a moment but you were sure of what you saw and it made you wonder if this was really because he felt mating competition from the other male. You couldn’t ponder this any further, though, because you were suddenly whisked away from the hold of Alastor’s shadow in a vice of muscled arms, a firm chest, and white fur.

The fuck?!

“GIVE HER BACK TO MEEE!!!!”, Alastor roared so loud that your ears began to bleed and tighten even further against your skull.

You were quickly placed onto the safety of the hotel’s nearby back porch and looked up to your new kidnapper, only for your mind to completely blank as you took in James’s transformed body and the eerily powerful aura that radiated from his very soul. He walked in a circling motion towards Alastor as the two sized each other up. James now had two sets of strong, bent deer-like legs that attached to the abdomen of, what you assumed to be, a huge reindeer. His humanoid torso connected to the deer body and his shoulders to his head was adorned with spikes of thick, black antlers that grew more massive and curved as they reached the crown of his hairline. You recognized this form.

Dude was a freaking cervitaur? Wait…are DxD characters actually real??!

You noticed that thin vines lined his antlers with small, colorful flowers growing on them and that with each powerful step he took new plants sprouted from the contact of his hooves with the ground. James’s expression was marred with a threatening look towards Alastor and he began to kick out his back legs into the dirt as he twisted his, now thicc neck, from side to side in a warning display of his impressive but deadly rack.

The Radio Demon didn’t back down, however, returning the gesture as he coiled his body before both demons sprinted directly at each other as two harsh cervid howls rang out through the air like a thunderclap.

***

I really hope that you liked reading this! I enjoyed focusing on Alastor's side of things and James's demon transformation that is actually inspired by a DxD character. The cervidtaur, though James's powers will differ a bit, I believe that the fight of the next part will show off how awesome of a character design it is. 😊(See the pic below) I think I spent like a week researching reindeer aggression signs and how to write in a dude's pov 😂

Taglist: I hope I did this right!

@Xalygatorx , @songbirdpond , @bitter-rabittt, @sakuraluna2468, @cinnamon-galaxies, @speedycoffeedelight, @diffidentphantom, @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this, @eris-norwega, @anngray1369, @ladyadrasteia666, @wends, @prime-in-time-and-space, @supeersimpeer, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @type-ink, @fantasyhopperhea, @martinys-world, @apad-ravya, @galaxywolf3, @thoughfullovercreator, @Boogiemansbitch, @helluva-simper, @alastorsgirl48, @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog, @need-a-life-or-grass, @michi-keinz, @milkissesx, @ari42, @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard, @lil-glum, @amariskygal, @strawberryoverlord1893, @cherry-cola-100, @noellebellq, @lettuce-frog16, @junieshohoho, @phoephan-123, @dreamraven13

#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x reader x oc

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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don't mind me... just thinking about the dateables slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

diavolo // barbatos // simeon // solomon (you are here) -- x gn!reader, NSFW below the cut, others coming soon

solomon, who will follow his whims damn near anywhere. today, they've led him to the devildom, for the demon prince's grand "exchange program"-- he's not much for commitments like these, but any excuse to get free room and board in the devildom is an excellent one in his eyes. he's always been curious about some of the more hidden oddities in the realm, and this is a perfect time to explore without suspicion. along the way he meets you. huh. a human living in the devildom with no magical abilities? doesn't exactly sound safe, but... well, that won't be his mess to clean up if things go awry. he's interested in seeing how long you last.

solomon, who certainly thinks you're special. in the time that you've been a part of the program, you've managed to wrap all seven of the demon brothers around your fingers. he's honestly a bit jealous! even lucifer, who he's been trying to form a pact with for decades, leans in close to hear your quiet words. he can't even tell who he's envious of in that moment-- you, in all your charm, or lucifer, who gets to be that close and personal with you? oh, you're special alright. and now that you're both visiting the devildom again, this time without the pretense of the exchange program, he's determined to get to know you better. there's just something about you... something so warm and human that he's drawn to like a moth to a streetlamp. he won't go as far as embarrassing himself to paw at you for attention like a child, but he's not going to be deterred by the complaints of the demon brothers this time, either.

solomon, who is still human, after all. humans have... urges. he's not a massive fan of where lust has led him in the past, but the nagging feeling of want makes it hard to focus on his work. he summons a quick portal and finds himself at the house of a familiar face... a dangerous vampire, sure, but one that he knows intimately. little words are exchanged before he has them pinned against the wall, desperately fucking into them, hips snapping at a relentless pace as they keen into the open air. their leg is tucked into the crook of his elbow to give him a better angle, the smack! of his hips against their thighs intertwining with groans and heavy breathing. carnal pleasure makes his brain go white as they spasm around him, their third orgasm of the night finally pushing him over the edge as he spills inside them. it's messy and hot and he doesn't feel quite satisfied, guiding their sweaty body to a nearby flat surface to continue the fun. when the evening draws to a close, he slips back to purgatory hall for a shower and some rest. he hadn't even realized he'd left his d.d.d. until he emerges from the steamy bathroom to a notification. huh. a text from you. his heart flutters a little as he reads your message. hmm... he decides not to dwell on that feeling further, having already had such a complicated evening to mull over already.

solomon, who has a lot to learn. being immortal, he figured he'd done enough learning to last him a few lifetimes, and yet here he is. here you are. he finds that he'll shirk other responsibilities to spend another night training his apprentice. on nights like these, he'll find any excuse to keep you longer-- say, how about he makes you dinner? you always convince him to go out with you instead, promising to let him cook another time (he hasn't had the chance to, but he's sure he'll get you one of these nights). you look so cute under the restaurant's mood lighting, laughing your way through a story about the unruly demon brothers. but all he can think about is how much he doesn't want the night to end. he takes a bite to hide the way his lips curl into a grimace. soon it'll be late and he'll be dropping you back off at the house of lamentation. soon he'll have to forfeit his already limited time with you and walk home alone. you seem to notice sooner than he'd expected. when you ask, he's honest-- he doesn't want to see you go home. does that make him sound bad? he laughs it off in an attempt to save his pride, but for some reason you're smiling at him when he meets your gaze again. when the proposal falls from your lips-- a sleepover?-- he's looking curiously at you to see if you're kidding. but you're not, are you? no, that earnest grin is all real, all for him. and he's so thankful nobody else gets to see you looking like this tonight. just him, a simple man, sitting across from you at a restaurant as he realizes he's far more in love with you than he ever imagined.

solomon, who has been looking forward to this all week. you're coming over to "study", which usually results in maybe an hour or two of learning before you both get distracted and turn on a movie. tonight is no different. tonight you're curled up against his side, his arm around your shoulders as the movie drones on. your fingers dance along his side under his shirt, warm and distracting, finally enough for him to chuckle and tell you what a little nuisance you're being. teasing turns to touching, which doesn't end there-- soon he's got you pinned to the couch. what would usually be a smug grin is a bit more vulnerable tonight, pressing his smile to yours as the heat of his body envelopes you. it's you who pushes things further tonight, who paws at his shirt and kisses down his neck to see his face flush. he takes his sweet time stripping you of your garments. it's time he might not have, seeing as you two are in the (thankfully empty) living room of purgatory, but he'll take the risk regardless. your smooth skin against his makes him feel feverish and a little dizzy. solomon double checks that you're okay with this-- you are sure, right? you grin and agree that yes, you absolutely are interested in finally fucking him right here, right now. when he finally sinks into your heat, hips pressing forward at a firm but careful pace, he bites his lip to contain the gasp that threatens to rip through him. you're so hot and tight that it makes his head spin. have you always been this alluring? he feel like he can't breathe for a moment when he finally bottoms out. oh. this... this is going to be a problem for him. he pulls his hips back and gently sinks into you again, the lube and spit mixed on his cock making a slick noise with each movement. you feel like heaven. is this what he's been missing? nobody told him that sex with someone you love would feel so much better than a hookup. his lips find yours between pants, sloppy kisses contrasting against the steady rhythm of his hips meeting yours. your moans against his mouth make him feel like he's going to cum already-- he'd hate to disappoint, but fuck, you feel so good that he has to pull his mind from the moment before it ends. his movements get rougher to bring you there with him. soon enough, your whining, warbling voice tells him you're close. when you finally clench your tight, needy hole around him and reach cloud nine, it doesn't take long for euphoria to flood his veins as he reaches a climax. he's shaking a little by the time he finally meets your gaze. when you open your mouth to speak, he kisses you again. solomon can't risk having to respond. if he does, who knows what will spill out of his mouth-- that he loves you, needs you, can't fathom ever fucking anyone else? he's been around for thousands of years, yet he can't imagine another day without you by his side. please, just... let him savor this moment of ecstasy for a little longer.

taglist for this series (taken from the last part-- let me know if you would like to be added/removed!): @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

#welcome back to the thunderdome everyone #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #otome #obey me x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me smut

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 year

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You... Cheater? - Side Characters

SUMMARY: They saw you making out with some random demon. But only after talking to you will they find out that it wasn't you after all. It was a demon impersonating you. But how did they feel before realizing this and how did they react to the relief that it wasn't really you they saw?

(This takes place before the events of Nightbringer.)

CHARACTERS: Side Characters (Diavolo; Barbatos; Simeon & Solomon)

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader; Comfort; Kiss, Tears, a little Angst (I think)

WORD COUNT: An average of 540 words per character.

👉 You… Cheater? - Demon Brothers

COMMENTS: I was looking for prompts and saw something like “cheating” or “How would they react to being cheated on?” But I don't like cheaters, this would be to sad. However, they thinking they were cheated on, but in fact they were deceived and you comfort them, that looked like a better option to me.

I hope you enjoy ;)

P.S.: I wrote Solomon's part after Lesson 17 of Nightbringer

CONTEXT: He was walking the streets of Devildom and he saw you! Or at least someone he thought was you. The appearance was exactly like yours! And you were making out with some random lower demon, that was unmistakable. That he could see clearly without a doubt.

(This takes place before the events of Nightbringer.)

It's not normal for Diavolo to walk around alone. Barbatos would not allow that. That's why he escaped him and used a spell to disguise himself. When he sees “you”, he's more confused than shocked. But can't help but feel a sinking in his heart. He didn't feel the effect of a control spell, one who had forced you to do that. Which means that person was doing it of their own free will. And maybe that's why he didn't notice the shapeshifting spell.

He will not interrupt “you”, that would be impolite. But he still thinks something is wrong. He goes back to the Demon Lord's Castle and orders Barbatos to invite you to meet him. His butler didn't question and didn't dare scold him about shirking his duties for a walk, because Diavolo had his rare serious expression.

When you arrive, Barbatos leads you to the Garden, where diavolo is sitting in front of a table with tea and cookies. You assume it's just a little date, since you don't know what he saw. Barbatos pulls out the another chair for you to sit in while Diavolo greets you with a smile, and then he leaves the two of you alone, saying if you need anything just say the word.

He asks you how are you and how was your day. You say it was a pleasant, peaceful day. You spent the afternoon in Purgatory Hall, learning some recipes from Simeon and Luke and teaching them some recipes from your home. You guys did so many things that you even took the opportunity to bring some sweets for Diavolo and Barbatos.

He stares in amazement at your innocent smile and the box you hand him. “Have you been with them all afternoon?” He asks “You never went out to buy ingredients or something like that?” You find those questions a little strange, but answer honestly, that you went out with them at a time to buy some ingredients. “Did you ever leave their side?” No. Why? What's going on?

He laughs out loud in relief. He apologizes to you for making you so confused and tells you what he saw. He had invited you to talk about it and your relationship, but it seems that it was all a misunderstanding after all. And he's so relieved he can't even hide it well.

You are shocked by what he told you. And you tell him that you would never do such a thing, you'll never make out with a random person in the street. And that you love him. He brings his chair closer to yours, puts an arm around you and kisses your cheek passionately. “I know my love. I know very well the person I fell in love with. That's why I thought it was strange and I needed to see you and talk to you.”

What he doesn't tell you is that he's going to find the demons responsible for that and punish them. He is generally peaceful, but such disrespect cannot go unpunished.

Barbatos was probably doing some errands for Diavolo. When he sees “you”, he just freezes in shock. He tries to understand if you are bewitched, but you don't feel any control spell that forced you to do that. And somehow also misses the shapeshifting spell. But that doesn't stop him from thinking something was wrong.

He ends up just withdrawing to finish his task and return to the Demon Lord's Castle. Once in the palace, he asks Lord Diavolo for permission to meet with you, as there was a matter he needed to discuss with you. He gives him permission and Barbatos goes to the House of Lamentation.

Nothing seems strange, except maybe for Lucifer, which is the one that knows the behaviour of Barbatos best. He arrived as if nothing was wrong, asking if you were home and if he could speak to you. You were with the brothers in the room and he asked to speak with you alone. You ended up going to your room.

“I'm sorry for showing up so unannounced, but I'd like to discuss a subject that I just came across today.” he says and pauses to see your reaction, which is just a questioning one. “I ended up coming across you and that demon today on the street. I just wanted to clarify what happened.”

But you have no idea what he's talking about. He didn't seem to be talking about any of the brothers. “So would you mind tell me where you were this afternoon?” You were with Solomon. You had a sorcery lesson with him today. You spent most of the afternoon with him in Purgatory Hall. “Do you mind if I ask him if he confirms that?” You feel a little bad that he doesn't trust you, but you say you don't mind and he calls Solomon.

When the call ends and Barbatos hangs up, you see his shoulders relax. And you hear a little sigh. “I apologize profusely. My behaviour conveyed the idea that I don't trust you, but that's not the truth. I just...” he tries to find the right words but to no avail. “No, there is no excuse for my distrust. I’m sorry.” and then he tells you what he saw.

You look as shocked as when he saw “you”. “So I can assume that who I saw was someone pretending to be you.” He smiles at you “You have no need to worry about it, my dear. I will find those responsible for this and give them the most suitable punishment.” He was smiling, but the aura around him was frightening. This was the smile that even Diavolo and Lucifer feared.

Despite this you try to calm him down a little. He smiles at you, a genuine smile and softly kisses your cheek. You're right, he should know better than to distrust you.

Simeon was grocery shopping for Purgatory Hall when he saw "you". He freezes, like a deer that has seen a car's lights. As an angel, he shouldn't let the anger and jealousy he's feeling get to him so much. Then all those feelings go to his hands, or rather to his fists clenched so tightly it probably left fingernail marks in the palms of his hands. If he had been holding something, a plastic cup or a can, it would have exploded in his hand for sure.

He doesn't feel that “you” are in danger, that “you” were forced to do that. So he doesn't even approach “you”. He can't. He has to get out of there! What he’s feeling are very strong and bad feelings, which he cannot let consume him under any circumstances.

He goes back to Purgatory Hall and packs up the groceries. If someone crosses paths with him before he can go to his room, he'll pretend that everything is fine, but that he's a little tired. Luke, Solomon and even Raphael will let him be. Not because they believe it, but because they can perceive an almost frightening aura coming from him.

Love is like a pendulum, just as it swings to one side that lights up your soul, it can also swing to the side that shatters it with the exact same intensity. How could you do that to him? No! He can't blame you. These are his feelings, he is the one that has to deal with them. But they still connected to you. And who was that demon? He would understand the Brothers, but who was that one? Should he talk to you? He has to calm down first. But yes, he needs to talk to you!

He was about to text you, asking if you could meet him at Purgatory Hall, but you were faster and sent him a message saying: “Hey. I haven’t seen you today. And Luke told me you feel a little blue. If you want to talk, I'm here for you.” Unfortunately, this was worse than if he had sent the message first. You were being your kind self, the one he felt in love with. Reading it while remembering what he say, it's just heartbreaking. But he needs to settle that matter.

“I'm glad. Actually, I would like to talk to you. Could you come to Purgatory Hall today?” You answer with an of course, and you go there. You go to his room for more privacy.

You may never find out, but he trained himself in what to say and how to say it to you. “The truth is... I ended up seeing you yesterday. On the street. With that demon.” he doesn't hide his sadness. And he expected to see an expression of surprise, realizing what he was talking about. But you were just really confused. What demon? What Street? You were at the Demon Lord's Castle the whole time yesterday. You were having tea with Diavolo because he wanted to talk to you about ideas he had for improving the exchange students program.

Because he's an angel, he can tell you're being completely sincere. So, would he have mistaken you for someone else? No, it was clearly you. Or someone impersonating you? He would solve this problem later. Perhaps with the help of Lucifer and Diavolo. But for now, he felt as if his heart had healed. The tightness he felt returned to a comforting warmth. And you can see it in his face.

He explains to you what happened and you tell him you would never do such a thing. Despite the relief, he still had a sad look on his face. You get closer to him, caress his face to bring it closer to you and kiss him on the cheek. He hugs you and touches his forehead to yours. “Can I be a little selfish and ask you to stay with me a little longer?”

Solomon was buying ingredients for his magical experiments when he saw "you". He is shocked and he just wants to separate that demon from "you". He may have given it some thought. Maybe it crossed his mind, even for a few seconds, that maybe he should leave the two of you and talk to you later about it. But he doesn't care. He takes some material from his shopping and casts a spell that sets fire to the pants of the demon that's kissing “you”. More specifically, on his butt.

The demon panics and when “you” see that and then Solomon “you” panic too. And the two run away. Which is another shock for Solomon. He didn't attack you. He wanted to talk to you. But you... ran away. You ran away from him? What... what was he supposed to do now?

You get a message from him late at night. Like VERY late at night: “You know, I really wanted to talk to you. But I didn't know how to do it. If you want to talk, I'm at... that bar I forgot the name of... you know. I am here.” You remember Asmo telling you about Solomon getting drunk in a Devildom bar. It was probably what was happening at that moment as well. You decide to meet with him, mainly to make sure he was okay. Or at least as okay as he could be.

When you arrive, he waves to you. You sit in the chair next to him instead of in front of him. He had a bottle of a drink from the human world in his hand. Half empty. “Hey. Sorry to text you so late, but I really needed to talk to you about this afternoon.” About that afternoon? What happened? “Oh, do you want to forget about that thing? Yeah, I'd really like to forget that too. I tried, as you can see, but I can't.”

But what was he talking about? What did he see? “Listen, don't do this. I just want to work things out. I mean, clarify the matter.” And you tell him you have no idea what he saw that afternoon. You were at the Demon Lord's Castle all afternoon with Barbatos. Learning how to make a tea that Lucifer really liked for the days when he was more stressed. It took most of the afternoon because it was difficult to prepare.

He almost jumps out of his chair. “Wait! Are you serious? Let me just call Barbatos for a minute.” He calls him, who confirms what you just said. “So you weren't out on the street with that demon? Then who was...? Ha... ha ha ha ha ha...” and he bursts with laughter.

You try to ask him what he's talking about, but he says it doesn't matter right now. Since you are right next to him, he hugs you, almost desperately. He's so relieved it wasn't you. He won't tell you anytime soon what he saw. Your curiosity will keep you close to him. And that's exactly what he wants.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Obey Me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me fluf #obey me x reader #obey me Diavolo #obey me Diavolo x Reader #obey me Barbatos #obey me Barbatos x Reader #obey me Simeon #obey me Simeon x Reader #obey me Solomon #obey me Solomon x Reader

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s4lv4tions · 9 months

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war god sukuna has no need for you. you know this as intimately as you know yourself.

he is a monstrous god, well-suited to the mantle he was given from birth; two pairs of muscular arms as thick as the average man’s torso, two cruel faces, a gaping maw carved into the hardness of his stomach. to peer into sukuna’s eyes is to see death and famine and destruction — wars raged long before you and long after you — and live through it all.

he has no need for you. he is perhaps more powerful than the entire pantheon, even the six-eyed-one and the curse-consumer, who swallows the sky every day to bring night. you have little understanding of the sheer magnitude of his power — your pathetic human brain can only fathom so much — but you know that sukuna, undoubtedly, is the very meaning of the word. and yet, he keeps you.

you are not a concubine, though he shirks those he has in favour of your company. you are not a general, nor an admiral, nor a soldier, and yet he seeks your counsel. you are not a mage, and hardly a grand priestess, and yet sukuna finds your door instead of that of his great temple, where hundreds live and breathe to serve him.

you had only reached the status of alter-maiden before your own temple was crushed to dust; little responsibility was given to you beyond tending the hearth, studying, and occasionally helping with chores. but sukuna dresses you in the finery of high priestesses — gauzy crimson dresses that bare your stomach and chest, fine golden jewellery and garnets that appear almost black in low light — and instructs you to dance in the way your superiors did. dances of worship, dances that he does not need, because he is already all-powerful.

the dances fit you like armour fits the weedy frame of a young boy — your legs don’t quite stretch far enough, your arms can’t move with a fluidity only gained by experience — but sukuna watches you like you are a sorceress, enchanting him with each step. he hushes uruame as they try to speak, insisting on remaining undisturbed during your worship — and when you finish, panting and glistening with sweat, your god only hums in satisfaction, grin all sharp-toothed and feral.

it must be blasphemous, you think, to perform such revered dances so clumsily—

but perhaps even more blasphemous, though, is the lingering touches your god fixes upon your waist; the hunger in his eyes as you dance; the scrape of his pointed nails against your jawline; the tent in his robes at the sound of your laboured breaths after dancing.

you fear the god of war means to have you in more ways than one — and worse still, you can’t find it within you to care.

#sukuna x reader #nsft #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna smut #jjk smut #listen i have a lot of thoughts abt how u really r just like #a toy for him at first #like a cat batting at a dying bird #ur just like so pathetic and human and hes like yeah ill take that one #and it means absolutely nothing at the start - ur just amusing and entertaining and ur heart beats like a hummingbirds when he looks at u-#-like he wants to split u in two on his cock (he does)#and then hes like oh fuck ur humanity has endeared u to me. oh fuck #etc but add more jealous concubines and godly drama of course :3333

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pomefioredove · 5 months

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could you perchance do a part two to the yuu getting sold to the highest bidder? like how would that characters treat them if they actually get them? sorry if this doesnt make sence!! but thank uu!! ^_^

more than happy to! <3 I'm writing this as a follow up/pt. 2 to this post but if you'd like something different don't be shy! I love getting requests

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms (for some). a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: trey, cater, leona, rook, idia, lilia, malleus additional info: yuu is gender neutral, rook is weird, both fem and masc french words are used during rook's part but reader is still gn, I need to replay book 2 to get leona's voice down, Idia being fun to write, maybe a little ooc

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

"And our winner is..."

Trey and Cater's Ending

"Cater Diamond and Trey Clover!"

Everyone stops dead and turns to the back of the crowd. There's a certain sense of unity that, for a brief moment, everyone can feel in the form of a single thought: Them, of all people?

Cater, ever the people-person, can already tell what's on everyone's minds. "What can I say? I run a mean social media campaign. I had some sick infographics,"

Trey can only smile and shrug at the growing disdain coming from the other students, most of which from his own housewarden, who is s currently turning a lovely shade of crimson.

"...Right. Well, the prefect will be ready for you shortly," Crowley says, folding the envelope and setting it back in his pocket. "I trust your housewarden will help you sort out the details."

Riddle looks more like he's about to start throttling them.

"Nah, it's cool. We got this," Cater smiles, though he's only half paying attention as he posts an update to Magicam. "The prefect is in great hands. Right, guys?"

Ace and Deuce shrug. Not the best outcome, not the worst, and either way it's still their friend coming to stay with them. Riddle is gritting his teeth so hard you could practically hear them grinding from Ramshackle.

"Was anyone going to tell me you two had pitched in, as well? Or was it a surprise?"

Trey smiles, almost nervously. "Well-"

"We were only giving the dorm a better chance. It's basic statistics- more Heartslabyul names in the hat, more of a chance one of us will be drawn, y'know?" Cater beams. "No disrespect, of course."

"None whatsoever," Riddle hisses back.

---

"And you're sure he's not really mad?" you ask, trailing behind the two third years.

It had been almost an hour since you'd updated your Magicam feed and read the announcement firsthand, but the shock is still wearing off.

Cater scoffs. "Whaaaat? No, he's totally cool about it,"

"Well. Now he is, anyway," Trey murmurs back. "But he certainly won't kick you out. As long as you're in the dorm uniform, you're one of us. He's just upset we went behind his back."

"...Understandable,"

Cater holds the door open for you, letting you inside to see a precariously placed mannequin with a dorm uniform in your size already on it. You hate to admit it, but it's lovely.

"Riddle had one ready. You know, just in case," Trey says, gesturing you forward. "And don't worry, we'll all be taking it easy on you while you adjust."

You run your fingers down the durable fabric. "Hm. Thanks,"

"You should get changed, I need a post to commemorate the moment," Cater says, beaming. "And I kindaaaa want to rub it in for everyone else who lost out on the best giveaway ever."

Leona's Ending

"Leona Kingscholar! Please... be responsible. Ruggie, I hope you'll keep an eye out for the prefect,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. Leona, who had been absent-mindedly picking his teeth before the big announcement, flashes a big smirk to the audience while swaggering to the front of it.

"Well, well. Look who's come in first place, after all. What, didn't think I'd bother to try?"

Vil grimaces, crossing his arms. "Is there a point to this?"

"Obviously. I'm showing off," he rolls his eyes. "I guess I'll be seeing the rest of you lot around my territory a lot more, then?"

He snickers and then disappears back inside the building. Ruggie can only shrug at the disgruntled crowd before tailing after him.

---

"Well, that felt nice," Leona sighs, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs. "Pity that I couldn't see the lizard's reaction, but I'm sure we'll get to that eventually."

You're sitting at the table across from him, playing cards with a very invested Ruggie. You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Malleus," Ruggie mutters, shuffling his cards around in his hand.

"It's never a party without him, right? He was probably off cowering somewhere with his tail behind his legs," Leona chuckles, picking his teeth again. "But everyone else's faces just about made up for it."

"Whatever," Ruggie grumbles. "I'm all in."

Though you're not exactly invested in the game anymore. You set down your cards, much to Ruggie's dismay, and stand over Leona with your hands on your hips.

"I hope you know that I won't be one of your errand runners for you. I've done enough of that with Crowley,"

He pauses, sharp eyes scanning you over. "You certainly know how to rain on someone's parade,"

"This is not a parade. This is my sanity we're talking about,"

"Tch. And what're you gonna do? Run away?" Leona rolls his eyes. "Hide in the jungle? Maybe you can take Ruggie with you and make it a party!"

"Hey, leave me out of this," the aforementioned says, shuffling the deck.

You stand your ground, though you don't know what else to say. Eventually, Leona sighs.

"Fine. I won't make you do anything you don't want to if you're just going to whine about it,"

He pauses, and a small smirk crosses his face. "But you'll at least have to wear the uniform. I need the satisfaction of seeing the look on everyone else's faces."

You smile triumphantly, and sit back down across from Ruggie for another round while Leona watches on, pretending not to care about the game.

It could be better, but it could also be worse.

Plus, something about that smile of his let on more than just a little self-satisfaction.

This could definitely be interesting...

Rook's Ending

"...Ah. Rook Hunt!" Crowley says, folding the paper back in his pocket and leaning down to whisper to Azul in the front row. "Tell the prefect I said good luck."

At the heart of the crowd, Vil turns to Rook, hands on his hips. "Rook..."

"Ah, magnifique! How happy I am, my heart could weep for joy!" he says, completely ignoring whatever disappointed comment Vil was about to unleash. "I must run to my prize at once, there's not a moment to lose!"

Vil grimaces as Rook bounds off into the school, moving so swiftly that he cuts through the crowd of confused (and mildly concerned) students like an arrow.

As always, Rook is genuine with his words- he truly feels as if his own heart is about to leap out of his chest and race him towards Ramshackle.

What a chance, what an opportunity! Not only to be close to someone he has his own private fan club for, but to truly, finally possess beauty in physical form. He would display you on a shelf if it were feasible.

The idea so overwhelms him with joy that you barely had time to ask what was going on before you suddenly found yourself sitting beside him in the Pomefiore lounge as he smooths out the crinkles in your new uniform.

He murmurs under his breath, kneeling before you while inspecting the uniform. "Magnifique, joli, belle, quelle beauté, une rose parfaite..."

...Leaving you in a torn state of embarrassment and shyness. You look across the room to Vil for help, and he rolls his eyes.

"I coulda get used 'ta this!" Grim shouts, lounging on a nearby silk pillow with a mouthfull of pâté. Two freshman are tediously brushing his fur with the nicest set of combs you've ever seen.

"Comfortable?" You ask, only a little sarcastic.

"Uh-huh! Ya know, when I found out the winner was Rook, of all people, I was a little worried. But this is way nicer than collecting dust in Ramshackle!"

You couldn't have said it better yourself.

Rook smiles. "Tsk, tsk. I would never let anyone harm a single hair on your precious head,"

The question is directed to Grim, but he looks straight at you when he says it. "Like a delicate porcelain doll, I will handle you with the utmost care,"

You're not exactly sure what you had been envisioning- maybe he'd release you on a remote island and hunt you for sport?- but this had far exceeded any of your expectations.

Though his gaze is as unsettling as ever, and any hopes of personal space are gone out the ornate glass windows, his usual guarded demeanor had softened just the tiniest bit.

It was unnerving. But nice, in a way.

"Mon trickster, this is just the beginning for us. We have many shining days ahead, and I plan on spending every beautiful breath of them with you. Do you hunt?"

"Oh, sevens," Vil murmurs.

Unfortunately for Vil, Rook's smile is contagious and you can't help encouraging him. Just this once. "Not usually, no,"

"A merveilleuse opportunity! I will teach you all I have learned, then. Ah, this reminds me of a poem I wrote for this exact occasion!"

He may or may not be watching you sleep tonight. Hopefully you're the kind of person who can live with that.

Idia's Ending

LOL. Normies.

Look at them, crowding around like a bunch of sheep. As if anyone has a real chance. SMH.

I knew it was pointless to begin with, but getting into Crowley's banking account and seeing the bids... now I feel lame for even trying at all.

That money could've gone to some new parts. I've been itching to build another PC...

The door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it so loudly that even if Idia wasn't completely absorbed in watching the announcement on his biggest monitor, he would've jumped anyway.

He whirls around in his chair, wide-eyed and shaking like a prey animal, expecting to see some high level boss or classic horror game antag waiting for him.

Instead, it's Ortho. "Idy! You'll never believe-"

"Geez, Ortho, you nearly killed me. And I don't have any extra lives this time," Idia says, spinning back around to face his screen. "Something wrong?"

"Actually, I have some really great news! Wanna guess what it is?"

Idia grumbles, powering off his computer. "Nah, not in the mood,"

Ortho's brow furrows as he catches a fleeting glimpse of the camera feed playing over his brother's screen before it flickers to black. "You've been watching the announcement on the courtyard cam footage?"

"No! I mean- well, I was just curious," Idia says. "I watched for like two minutes. Who even cares about this thing, anyway?"

"Well-"

"I mean, it was a game over from the start. Taking on the highest level bosses at our school with my measly stats? Forget it,"

"But Idia-"

"Who even cares where the prefect ends up, anyway? I doubt they'd wanna be trapped in a basement like this for all eternity,"

"Idia!" Ortho shouts, loud enough to shake his brother from his ensuing pity party. Idia can only stare as he moves to the side, revealing a rather surprised looking you, dressed in the dorm uniform, behind him.

"Idia, you won!"

And then he dies.

That's what he thinks, anyway. Really, Idia goes into a state of complete shock and blacks out so hard that, for a moment, the blinding light shining through his eyelids feels like the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Is he okay?" you ask, tentatively watching as Ortho clicks off the small light he'd been shining in his brother's eyes.

"He's displaying symptoms of a panic attack. Don't worry, he gets them quite frequently,"

A distant groaning pulls the both of you back into the present moment and you watch Idia slowly rise.

"His heart rate has steadied to 70 BPM," Ortho says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's normal. Idia, can you hear us?"

He takes a long moment to respond.

"This isn't real. I'm sleep-deprived from my last speed run and now I'm hallucinating. There's no way,"

You look between the two brothers. This hasn't exactly gotten off to a stellar start.

"Your vitals are normal, although you're lacking Vitamin C. Might I suggest having a fruit cup while we talk?" Ortho asks. Idia shakes his head. "Yuu? Snack?"

"I could go for something,"

Ortho hovers out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You're too nervous (or is he too nervous?) to ask to sit, so you stand over him while he practically rocks back and forth. His face is so red and hot with embarrassment you could cook an egg on it.

"Um..."

He mumbles back. "Just pretend I'm not here. IK you probably wanted one of those epic SSR students to pull you, I don't blame you for being disappointed,"

He talks so fast and quiet it's hard to make out what he's saying... but you get the gist of it.

"Hey, don't put words in my mouth. This is a hell of a lot better than it could have been,"

He seems to genuinely consider your words for a moment before you're interrupted by Ortho coming back with snacks.

Idia is back on high alert the second he's returned. "This doesn't make sense. I got into Crowley's online bank info and saw all the bids, I wasn't even close to the top five. How?"

"Oh, easy!" Ortho chirps. "I simply rewired funds from Crowley's bank account to up your offer!"

"You... took money out of his account and sent it back to him?"

"Clever," you murmur.

Idia grumbles. "I guess that's not technically stealing... fine. But why? I thought I told you not to bother!"

"My user intel indicates that the prefect is very popular amongst the student body. Their top three descriptors are helpful, kind, and friendly! I thought you two might be able to practice your social skills together... Perhaps you could show them around the dorm as a starting point?"

You turn around to look at Idia, who's sheet-white. Nonetheless... he sighs and stands, muttering a quick "Let's get this over with,"

You watch, as still as stone, as he stops in the doorway and turns to look at you from over his shoulder, his face and hair a pleasant shade of pink.

"Well? Are you coming?"

Lilia's Ending

"And our winner... is... hm. I don't even remember seeing this one in the pile," Crowley grumbles, scratching his head under his hat. "Um, Lilia Vanrouge!"

Silver is the first to look at him. "Fa-Lilia, I thought we talked about this,"

Lilia, currently hovering in the shade of one of the courtyard's signature apple trees, simply shrugs. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Oh, we did. I really thought about what you said, about the prefect's freedom, and I decided that you're right! But how could I guarantee their safety from everyone else?"

Silver groans (which turns into a yawn) and Lilia puts on his best cute look as everyone else in the audience turns to him.

Crowley clears his throat. "The prefect will be ready for your-"

"Oh, no need! Thank you, though," he says, and then disappears into the building.

---

You've been distracting yourself by counting cobwebs for far too long, as evident by your headache and the taste of dust on your tongue.

You turn to look at Grim. "Should be over by now. I'm surprised I haven't heard anything yet,"

"Surprised, you say?"

No matter how many times he does that, you're never quite prepared.

You jump, nearly hitting your head against the table you'd been taking refuge under. Grim yowls, clawing into your sleeve (and just barely missing the tender flesh on your arm, thank goodness), and you both stare at the fae ahead of you.

Lilia is sitting on the table, hanging his head upside down and staring right at you. Grim mumbles.

"Don't even tell me. I'm out!"

Lilia waves him goodbye as he makes a swift exit, and then turns back to you.

"I have a secret. Wanna guess?"

You're a little curious (aren't you always when it comes to him?) but that isn't enough to overpower your rising dread.

"No,"

"Aw. Really? I'm sure you'll like it,"

"Definitely not, then,"

He slinks off the table and lies on the floor, cupping his face in his palms and kicking his legs back and forth.

It would be amusing if you weren't so sure of what he's about to say.

"Well, despite your best efforts, I'm not surprised at all. But Malleus couldn't even come here to get me himself?" you sigh.

Lilia tilts his head to the side. "Now, why would he do that?"

There's something written within the margins of his tone that makes your eyes lower at him. Something he's keeping from you.

"...Well... he did win, didn't he?"

"Oh, my. You were hoping for Malleus to win? Now I'm sure we both feel silly,"

You raise an eyebrow. "Hoping is... a strong word. But I was expecting it, yes. So he didn't win?"

"No, dear, Malleus is not the winner,"

"Then... who is?"

Lilia gives you a sweet, self-satisfied grin, his fangs glinting. "You're looking at him,"

Ah.

If there's one thing Lilia Vanrouge is good at, it's surprising you. No matter how stoic you act, no matter how clever you are, he always manages to catch you off guard.

This might take the cake, though.

"I didn't even know-"

"No. Initially, I wasn't going to. But Silver and I... we had a long talk about valuing your freedom and independence, and thus I so valiantly threw myself into the flames to save you from becoming someone's slave," he pauses to smile. "Chivalrous, yes?"

"...Charming," you mutter. "But what was that thing about-"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry, you'll be treated as any other student at Diasomnia. In fact, I'm sure we already have some uniforms in your size!"

"This is... quite the turn of events,"

"Ah, isn't it? I haven't felt this elated in... well... a long time," he grins. "Come along, now. I plan on treating you to a hearty welcome dinner!"

You can only grimace at that.

Malleus' Ending

During all of the confusion, the fighting, the rumors that shook the school, no one, again, had remembered to invite Malleus Draconia to the announcement.

Not that it mattered. Not this time.

One knock at Ramshackle's creaky door and you were suddenly in the depths of the forest around the school, admiring a crumbled stone structure.

"What was it?" you ask, turning to your walking companion.

Malleus smiles slightly. "I believe it was a wall. Fascinating, no? Since you have inhabited Ramshackle, I come here when I want to be alone,"

Ah, right. You'd almost forgotten that you'd made a home out of his ruins of preference.

Ramshackle was in a much better state than this, though. At least you had four walls and a roof over your head.

"Are you alone a lot these days?" you ask, rather absent-mindedly for such a heavy topic.

You're well aware of the answer already. No, of course not. Malleus is constantly surrounded, whether that be his friends, personal guard, mentors...

"Yes,"

Oh.

"I'm... sorry to hear that," it's all you can think to say.

Fae don't seem to know the conventions of human small talk. Or maybe that's just him. Not that you mind. "What about Silver, and Sebek, and Lilia...?"

"Fine companions," he crosses his arms. "I owe them a debt of gratitude. But being physically surrounded does not amount to closeness."

Oddly profound.

You can't help but relate, thinking back to everyone you know. Even with good intentions, they're still out there, bartering over your life.

"I'm glad you came and got me," you say, breaking the tense silence. "I was afraid you'd gone to that... announcement thing."

He raises an eyebrow. "The what?"

"...Never mind. I guess my point was that I've been feeling a little lonely lately, myself,"

Malleus is quiet for a moment, staring directly ahead at the mess of stones and moss that once made up a sturdy wall. Now crumbled, scattered across the ground.

And the, he smiles.

"Well, there is a solution to this trouble of ours. But I'd need your consent,"

What exactly is he getting at? You raise an eyebrow. "Go on,"

"I've been so preoccupied with the formalities that I haven't had the chance to ask you properly, yet. Lilia suggested I might have more success this way,"

He pauses, and then smiles. "I would like us to marry. Does this agree with you?"

You thought you might be stunned. Speechless, even. But the answer comes so naturally.

"Yes, it does,"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus enjoyers this goes out to you. and rook being weird enjoyers (me)#cater diamond x reader #trey clover x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia x reader #the varying lengths of these... RIP. sorry everyone

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thatacotargirl · 5 months

Text

Shadows and Surprises (3)

Part 3 of Azriel x Reader fanfic! Enjoyyyy!

Summary: Azriel meets y/n at Rita's and spends a single night of passion with you before heading your separate ways. Only, the Mother had different ideas.

Warnings: vague mentions of family difficulties.

Tag list - @mirandasidefics @lilah-asteria @nyxbranwenn @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @impossibelle @mybestfriendmademe

Y/N POV

You groaned as you dragged yourself from the bed, the knocking at your door more insistent now. You pulled the door open and gaped, seeing Azriel standing there behind it.

"Hi" he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and nervous.

"Hi" you replied, holding the door a little wider open, a silent offering for him to come into your apartment. He accepted, his wings tucked in tightly to avoid knocking into you or the doorframe as he walked into your living room. The room was a mess - you never had the time or energy to clean it these days. When you weren't working at the bookstore, you were sleeping away your nausea and indigestion. You knew growing a baby would be exhausting, but this surpassed all of your expectations.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" you joked, leaning against the sofa edge to support yourself. You hadn't expected Azriel to show up at your apartment. In fact, you hadn't expected to see him again. It wasn't that you thought he was a bad male and would deliberately want to shirk his responsibilities - but he was responsible for the safety of an entire Court, and a baby likely wasn't in his plans.

"We need to talk", was all he replied. You stared at him silently, encouraging him to go on.

"I don't know what I am doing. It's not that I never wanted children, I do, I just didn't expect to have any at this time in my life. But I want to be there. I want to be involved. I know what it feels like to have a broken family and feel like a burden, like you're unloveable, and I don't want my child to ever question if I love them". He had tears in his eyes, and you realised there was probably a lot of unspoken, unshared pain behind them that you might never know. But it was enough. You had your own pain that you hadn't shared with him, and you couldn't expect disclosure from him if you weren't willing to return the gesture. Not yet.

You reached out to touch his arm in comfort and, much to your surprise, Azriel caught your arm before you could reach him and pulled you into his chest. You nuzzled in and he rested his head on top of yours, a deep sigh sounding in the otherwise silent room.

"We will need to plan logistics", he said into your hair, ever the pragmatist.

"Yes Mr Spymaster, we can plan logistics", you chuckle back.

"I'm serious", he says, pulling away to look at you. He scans your body from head to toe, and you realise he is surveying you. Taking an inventory. "I can see how tired you are, are you not sleeping? You know it's not good for the baby if you're not resting, right?".

You laugh, your heart warm at the fact that Azriel was suddenly so concerned for yours and the baby's welfare.

"Az, it's hard to sleep when you single-handedly run a business and a home", you gesture around yourself at the piles of dirty dishes, laundry, the thick layer of dust on the broken fireplace. Azriel's eyes followed yours, and you suddenly felt ashamed. Your apartment was far from perfect. Your landlord was quite the absentee, so your broken fire place had gone unfixed for several winters now. As had the poorly insulated windows, the kitchen sink tap which sometimes decided to spray you down when you turned it on, and the mould forming around the edges of the bathroom floor. Whilst your bookstore was successful, life in Velaris was still expensive, and you couldn't really afford much better.

"Then you move in with me", he said. You simply gaped.

"In your own room, of course", he added quickly. "You will have your own room and your own space".

"Az, I couldn't ask you to do that" you replied, pulling out of his embrace.

"You're not asking. I am insisting. I don't fancy showing up here one day and finding you rabid from a rat bite", you notice him glance over to a hole in the skirting board of your kitchen.

"It's not a rat, it's a mouse, her name is Daisy and she would never bite me", you retort. Admittedly, you didn't like sharing your living space with Daisy, even if you were somewhat confident that she wouldn't bite you. Somewhat.

Azriel only chuckled. "I insist", I will ask Rhys and Cassian to come and help move your belongings over to the House of Wind".

Rhys, Cassian, House of Wind. You were moving into the centre of the Night Court. Azriel felt your shiver.

"Don't worry, only Cassian and I live there. He will dote over you more than I will - he will carry you everywhere if you ask".

Cassian. Lord of Bloodshed. Commander of the Night Court armies.

Azriel could see the uncertainty in your face and pulled you back to his chest. "Relax, they are just normal people, I promise they will love you. Mor will be so happy to finally have another female in her presence she probably won't leave you alone."

"Mor?" you asked.

"Rhys' cousin and third in command" he replied. You could sense from his tense stance that there was some history there, but decided now wasn't the time to broach it.

"Ok", you sighed, "when do we make this happen?".

Azriel smiled. "Now".

Azriel's POV

After reaching out to Rhys, Azriel took y/n's hand and let her lead him to her bedroom to start packing. It was only about 10 minutes later that another knock sounded at the door, and Azriel opened it to see Rhysand and Cassian beaming behind. They both walked into the apartment.

"A new chapter, brother" Cassian said, pulling Azriel into a hug. Rhysand smiled as he watched them, giving Azriel a hearty pat on the shoulder. They both turned to the door of y/n's bedroom as they watched her appear, shyly holding a box of her belongings. Cassian was the first to approach her, giving her a huge smile and taking the box from her hands. Azriel noticed that Cassian's smile only grew wider when he looked down to y/n's stomach and saw the small swelling.

"Welcome to the family, y/n" he said, putting the box on the floor and offering his arms out to her. She stepped forward slowly into them, but seemed to warm into his embrace. He could almost feel her relief. Rhysand stepped forward, careful not to appear intimidating. Whilst Rhys had the kindest soul Azriel had known, his power was palpable, and capable of intimidating just about anyone. He saw y/n peer past Cassian at Rhys, who simply offered his hand to her. She accepted as Rhys brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the top of her fist.

"It is an honour to meet you, y/n", he said. Y/n blushed so deeply he had to withhold a laugh. Y/n mumbled something quite incoherent in response, which earned her a chuckle from Rhys.

"Let's get moving, shall we?", Cassian called out, holding onto the first of y/n's boxes and flying off towards the House of Wind.

It took a few hours, but eventually all of y/n's belongings had been moved into her new bedroom. Azriel watched as y/n took in the room. He had picked a room a few doors down from his, to give y/n her privacy, but to be close enough in case she needed anything. Cassian's room was a few doors the other way, so she was sandwiched between the pair of them. Azriel hoped that that way, if anything happened, one of them would be there to help.

"You are welcome to change the room however you wish", Rhys said, appearing in the doorframe. "Paint it, change the furniture, whatever you want - this is your room and you can do with it as you like".

"Thank you", y/n replied, breathless in wonder. The bedroom was almost the size of her entire apartment had been, and Az could see that she was starting to feel overwhelmed. He silently gestured for his brother to leave them and walked to y/n's side.

"Are you ok?", he asked.

"Yes", y/n replied, "just a bit shocked at how this day has turned out. It's certainly not what I expected. Who knew how much could change over an indigestion tonic". She laughed, but it sounded more hollow than normal.

"I'm sorry", Azriel said, his hand rubbing circles on y/n's back.

"What for?".

"I don't know. I just felt like a sorry was warranted right now".

"You're daft".

Azriel shook his head, hiding a smile that had crept onto his face. No wonder he had been enamoured with you that night. You were one of the few people who wasn't intimidated by him. Who spoke your mind to him. He appreciated it more than he would tell you.

"Mor and Amren are joining us for a family dinner tonight, but you don't need to come if you are feeling tired or not up for it. They will all understand and we can have your food brought up here".

Y/n looked up at him and gave him a small, watery smile.

"I think I would like that", she replied. Azriel couldn't hid his smile in response.

"Great, dinner is at 7, I'll leave you to have a rest now and come and get you to take you down to the dining room just before". With that, he departed, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Y/N's POV

I think I would like that.

WHAT.

You didn’t know what had come over you. Of course you wanted to meet Azriel’s family, eventually. But most females are wined and dined before being introduced to a male’s family. Then again, most females are wined and dined before having a male’s baby, so if anything, you were at least consistent.

Your new home was nothing short of show-stoppingly beautiful. Your bedroom, which was fit for a queen, followed a pearlescent theme, with light marble furniture. The walls, which were a shade of muted light gold, rivalled any room you had lived in before. Rhys’ offer to re-design the room was kind, but you’d be crazy to want to change a single thing. The bed, clearly designed for Illyrian wings, would fit 5 of you with space, and had the softest duvet you could imagine. It felt like stroking a cloud. You felt a momentary panic that you had, in fact, fallen asleep when you had intended to nap - and dreamt this entire encounter. You pinched yourself hard and yelped. No, this was very real. You hopped into the bed, and sleep took you immediately.

A soft knock at your door had you leaning up on your shoulders. You took a moment to remember your surroundings.

“Come in”, you called.

Azriel walked into the room and you had to force your jaw not to drop open. Clad in his Illyrian leathers, he looked devastating.

“It’s almost time for dinner, are you sure you’d like to join?”, he asked, taking in your bed hair.

“Yes, yes, sorry just a minute!”, you jumped from the bed and ran in front of the vanity mirror, smoothing down the knots that had formed from your tossing and turning. Azriel chuckled and walked over to you, reaching out to untangle a knot that had formed by the back of your neck. You froze as his hands brushed against you, gently pulling the hair free. When you looked presentable, you turned to face him and took a deep breath.

“You ready?”, he asked.

“Ready”.

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #azriel x reader

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sweetenerobert · 1 year

Text

DRUNKEN’ NIGHTS

dom!joel miller x dad!male reader

genre: neighbor joel, no outbreak au, explicit, minors dni

summary: an opportunity to have a guy's night with your daughter’s best friend’s dad turns into a heart-to-heart into an unforgettable night to remember

warnings: strong language, infidelity, joel is 40, reader is 38, unprotected P in A, dirty talk, angsty thoughts, oral (m giving/m receiving), pet names, fingering, creampies,

word count: 4.9k

a/n: gif by @shirks-all-responsibilities

a/n: dividers by @firefly-graphics

a/n: italics = thoughts

official playlist

next chapter

YOUR DAUGHTER, MARIGOLD, WAS CLOSE TO SARAH, JOEL’S AND ADALINE’S DAUGHTER.

You remember the first time you met Sarah, it was a late night at work and you came home to see your daughter laughing at a TV Show that she and Sarah were both watching, and they were a little nervous and surprised to see you.

You reassured Sarah saying that your home is open to her.

You met Sarah’s parents; Joel and Adaline after Sarah invited them to have dinner with you, Marigold and Sarah. You remember that you noticed how distant/close Joel and Adaline were during the whole dinner.

It was like they weren’t present as a couple but as a couple of friends. Of course they did their best to hide it but sometimes they slipped through the cracks.

Later that night, you learned from your daughter, Marigold, that Joel and Adaline weren’t as close as they were before they were married — Adaline travels a lot for work, so the relationship wasn’t as strong as they hoped.

After that night, you noticed that inviting Joel and Adaline for hangouts, activities, game nights, and movie nights always had Joel come over with Sarah by himself, and Adaline always worked.

That concluded, you and Joel were always hanging out, drinking together while your daughters had their fun.

This was one of those nights where it would just be you and Joel at his house, with Sarah and Marigold hanging out at yours to have their privacy.

You bought a bottle of rum you were never gonna finish all by yourself and you thought this would be the best time to get rid of the bottle that's been eyeing you for the past 10 years.

You already knew the girls were over at your house. Marigold’s bedroom held the sound of giggling and hushed whispers. You shook your head as you had the neck of the rum bottle in your clammy palm.

You were walking across the cul-de-sac in the already warm orange sky to Joel’s front door, bringing your free hand and knocking on the wooden door in front of you.

You hear shuffling getting closer and closer to the door, and then Joel opens the door, and you smile, and Joel shoots one back.

“Hey, man, what’s our poison for tonight?” Joel asks, leaning on the doorframe.

You held the bottle in your hand and showed to Joel.

“A wedding gift that’s been sitting in my cabinet for ten years, she and me never opened it.”

Joel knew you were divorced but never knew the reason behind it. It wasn't like you never told him. He just never asked.

“You sure you wanna drink this, man?” Joel asks, taking the bottle from your hand.

“Wedding gifts are unique. I know you're divorced and everything but —”

“It's fine, It cluttered the cabinet. Good excuse to clean out my cabinet,” You shrugged.

“Okay, let's get to drinkin’,” Joel smirked, getting off the door frame.

You walked behind him and close the door behind you. You sit on the brown couch in front of the TV — seeing that it's on, you can't take your eyes away from the bright screen. It was a movie that Joel must have been watching before you knocked on the door.

Glancing towards the kitchen, you notice Joel walking back toward you with two glasses in his hands; you fix your position on the couch as Joel sits beside you.

“Here we go,” Joel states, handing you a glass.

“Thank you, cowboy,” You smile, taking the glass from Joel’s hand.

“I can't believe you call me that,” Joel chuckles.

“I’m just glad you don’t call me city boy.”

“I might have to start.”

You place the glass on Joel’s coffee table and unscrew the rum bottle cap, putting the bottle cap on the table.

“Let’s get to drinkin’ then.”

“Let’s get to drinking then,” You smile.

You grab your cup and pour some rum into Joel’s glass and then some into your glass, placing the glass bottle on the coffee table.

“To gettin’ drunk,” Joel nods, holding his rum-filled glass near you.

“We sound like alcoholics — but, to getting drunk,” You laugh.

You and Joel clink your glasses together, and you both knock back a sip of the rum before you start coughing.

The rum made your throat feel like it was burning, and it stayed for a couple of seconds while you were coughing; Joel couldn't help but start chuckling, watching your pain endure.

“Okay, you brought this, and your actin’ like it already killed you,” Joel laughed.

“Look, Mr. Drinker, I’m not much of a drinker; I only act like I am, so you don't judge, city boy, over here,” You countered.

“Aww, is city boy a baby?” Joel pouted.

You shove him. “You suck,” You laugh.

You and Joel probably drank ten or eleven drinks, but it was apparent; you both were drunk like never before. The night sky came rushing in through his large windows.

“Okay, wait, you and Tommy rode motorcycles for his birthday?” You laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, and it was so fuckin’ fun; the adrenaline rush was high that day; I miss it.”

You and Joel were laughing together like lifelong friends. Two dads who were just getting irresponsibly drunk while their daughters did their own thing.

Leaning your head on the backrest of the couch, from the corner of your eye, you can see Joel smiling and leaning back on the sofa, his arm outstretched on top of the couch.

You could tell Joel was hiding something behind that smile, though, as he was looking at the now-muted TV; you could tell something was on his mind.

“Joel,” You state, closing your eyes.

“Yeah, city boy?”

“I can tell something’s on your mind.”

“How? Your eyes are closed,” He reported.

You open your eyes slowly and turn your head to look at him. “Thanks for noticing, detective.”

He chuckled at that nickname.

“But, is there legitimately something on your mind?”

He took a long extended breath and spoke.

“Why did you get a divorce?”

You knew that question would come up eventually; you couldn't dodge the question any more than you wanted to. At this point, you felt like you could tell Joel the real reason.

It could have been the rum messing with your mind, but you acted like you knew Joel for more than ten years when in reality, you only knew him less than five months.

You inhaled and then exhaled before answering Joel.

“I’m gay, no other reason,” You spoke.

Joel couldn't tell where his emotions were in his drunken mind. He wanted to sympathize, comfort, and let you rant about what was on your mind. But in his drunk-filled head, he thought you needed a distraction.

“Do you wanna know how Adaline and I met?”

You nod your head slowly.

“Back in high school, I was this star athlete and shit. She was a wannabe journalist at that point,” Joel started.

“So she wants to interview me because I was this great athlete and shit, we go back to my house, my folks don't come home until later that night. As we're talking, I don't think she’s listening at this point — and she grabs my bulge.”

“What?” You question fixing your position.

“Yeah! I was surprised at it, too; she was now next to me, rubbing, then she unzips my fly, and she’s now rubbing my cock. Her hands are so fuckin’ warm, she’s rubbing and rubbing, and then she stops and walks out with my cock throbbing.”

You could tell with Joel’s feeble attempt at a distraction he was hard himself. He was rubbing his aching cock on top of his jeans.

He was breathing through his nose to the point you could hear every inhale and exhale coming from his nose.

“Your hard, aren't you?”

Joel was nodding his head in between breaths.

“Yeah,” Joel breathed.

Joel stopped rubbing his cock and placed his hands on the sides of him.

Sober, you would have just sat in the uncomfortable silence in the room, but drunk, you did something you would be scared to do if sober.

You place your hand over Joel’s cock; you can feel it throb in your palm.

“W-what are you doing?” Joel exclaimed.

“Helping you out,” You answered.

You knew that this was wrong to do this, your mind was screaming at you to stop, but your actions were speaking louder than your head.

You unzipped Joel’s jeans and placed your hand in between his zipper, and started rubbing his cock on top of his boxer-briefs.

He threw his head back in pleasure and lust.

“Damn, city boy, you know what you're doing,” Joel chuckles.

You didn't hear his statement, you were dick-whipped, and you wanted more. You unbuckled his belt and jeans; then you see his cock bounce up with his boxers, making a tent.

“My cock isn't gonna take care of itself, is it?”

You fix Joel’s cock so his cock can go through the hole in his boxers.

His thick cock was throbbing right before you as you took the tip of his dick in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the slit of his dick as he was moaning with pleasure.

“Oh — fuck, yes.” Joel moaned.

You wrapped your hand around his length as you were taking his size in your mouth.

He was throwing his head back and sucking his teeth as you were pleasuring him to the point that he would explode. Joel hadn't felt something this fantastic in so long; he had forgotten what it felt like.

This feeling he yearned for it once again after so many years; he missed it, the way his body betrayed him showing him that he was enjoying this too well.

The men you gave oral pleasure to in the past can never compare to Joel’s length, and you were addicted to him. You mouth was taking his length with anticipation like a prize you always wanted.

“Such a good fuckin’ cock sucker, city boy,” Joel grunted.

He places his hand onto your head ands pushing down as you were going down on his dick. He was making you speed up a bit.

But going your own pace, you knew he would enjoy it, his dick is sleek in your mouth, almost like a piece of ice in your mouth. You feel his thumb rubbing your head as you take his length.

You take your mouth away from his cock as his dick throbs like a spring.

A line of saliva connect from your mouth to Joel’s cock. Joel’s now having full body breathes, he can’t control the adrenaline and lust coursing through his entire body at this point.

Joel stands up and takes his pants off along with his boxers, you watch as he drops them around his ankle. You can tell Joel is writhing in anticipation, but he’s hiding it.

“Work your magic, city boy.”

With that, Joel shoots a wink as you slide off the couch and kneel on the wooden floor below you. He was standing — towering over you with his hands on his hips.

“No! What are you thinking? He’s married,” You thought.

Ignoring your head again, you take Joel’s cock in your mouth as moans escape his lips. He’s starting to tremble as your head moves, almost bobbing even. You take his cock out of your mouth, and you start stroking his thick, sleek cock. Looking up at him, he gives you an almost weak smile.

“How’s that?” You ask.

“Better — than I — could ever imagine.”

“Wait, he’s imagined this before — Stop! That does not excuse this!”

You place your tongue under his cock, at the base of his balls, and start licking and sucking on his balls.

Joel’s moans kept escaping his lips; it was like music to your ears. Your heart was pumping, hearing Joel moan like he didn't have a care in the world.

“Damn, baby. You so fuckin’ good at that,” Joel exclaimed.

He places his hand on the side of your head.

“Get on the fuckin’ couch,” Joel commands.

“What?” You ask, swallowing your spit.

“I said, take off your fuckin’ clothes and get on the damn couch; I’m going to fuck the shit out of you like no man has before,” Joel commanded.

You stood at the man before you, undoing your pants, taking your shoes off, leaving your socks on, and then taking your shirt off.

Joel had already tossed his boots, jeans, and boxers to the side, with his flannel unbuttoned but hanging on his shoulders. He was a mighty 6’2 compared to your height. You were intimidated a bit in your sober mind. But being drunk, you weren't scared; you were standing your ground.

“Look’s like your cock is happy to see me,” Joel breathed.

Before you can answer, Joel takes your cock in his hands and starts to stroke it; you gasp at his movement as you grip his shoulders to keep yourself from falling over.

You never received this type of pleasure from anyone else but yourself before. Joel stroking your cock made you replace your moans with breathing — heaving breathing. You didn't want to show Joel that you were touched-starved at this point.

“C’mon, city boy, if you can make me moan — I should return the favor at the least,” Joel grinned.

He was stroking your cock faster now, and you couldn't help but close your eyes and moan with pleasure. Your nails were going to make half-crescent moon shapes on Joel’s shoulders.

“Ack, Joel —breath— damn this, so fucking amazing,” You breathed.

Joel smiles as you moan his name like that; he can hear the lust radiating from your lips. He knew you were on the brink of feeling satisfaction just by him stroking you right here.

He knew he had to treat you right, he stopped stroking you, and you placed your head in the crook of his neck and acted breathless right there.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel reassured.

“You need to stop now!”

You get away from the spot in Joel’s neck and back up from him. Joel smiles at you and sits down on the couch; he pats his thigh, indicating for you to ride him. It was intoxicating how he was manspreading and how he patted his thigh.

“You can walk out of here, grab your clothes and walk out!”

You straddle Joel wasting no time acting like he was going to run away.

You could feel the tip of his dick press up against your ass; Joel puts his fingers in your mouth as you drunkenly suck on them.

“Damn, baby, I don't need to tell you anything.”

He takes his fingers away from your mouth and fingers your ass with his spit-covered fingers.

You exclaim with a moan escaping your lips; your nails had dug into the couch material as Joel kept fingering you.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby boy. Have you ever been fingered before?” Joel questioned.

You shook your head and Joel gives you a smirk.

He was enjoying making you squirm under his intoxicating actions. Your moans became quick with efficiency, like you wanted him inside you already.

His fingers were sleek, going inside you and out fast; your knuckles were almost bone white at this point, and your moans kept passing through your teeth like water; Joel’s grin meant he was enjoying every sound you made for him.

He knew that these sounds for him could only be heard by him, considering he was the first person to make you feel this way: overstimulated.

“You like this, city boy?”

“Y-y-ye-yes,” You moaned.

His fingers slipped out of your, and his hands were on your ass.

“You want this cock inside you, baby boy?”

“No!”

“Yes,” You breathed.

“Yes, what?” Joel grunted, smacking your ass.

You yelped as he smacked your ass.

“Yes, Joel, I want your cock inside of me,” You groaned.

Joel’s shit-eating grin meant he’s heard what he’s always wanted to hear.

You waste no time having your ass hover over Joel’s aching cock, mentally preparing yourself, but your mind decides to take over.

“You seriously can not be thinking about doing this, right? What you are committing is an act in which you are going to lie to everyone about how horrible you felt when in reality, you enjoyed every minute of —”

Your mind goes blank as you feel Joel’s cock enter you slowly, intoxicating and rich but slow. You spat a moan out in retaliation for Joel’s dick inside you.

In those enticing, agonizing seconds, Your ass meets the base of his cock, and Joel’s hands make loud contact with your ass.

“God, damn, that's tight, city boy.”

His hands reach your hips like a puzzle piece you lost. Joel lifts you up and slowly goes back down; your moans escape your teeth, your clenched teeth, until Joel rocks his hips up and down. That's when you feel him hit that same spot.

Joel’s hands feel rough as they feel like they were sewn onto your waist, with how tight he grabbed you. His hips felt like they had a mind of their own.

His face had a look of rage and determination all in one; his breaths were quick and through his teeth as he pumped his cock inside you.

“Take this dick, city boy,”

“You know this is wrong. You can't keep doing this!” You thought.

You couldn't contain your moans with every pump Joel delivered; it was addicting.

“Fuck, Joel, I think you're gonna break me,” You exclaim.

“Not yet, baby, soon enough.”

Your hands were on the back of the couch, gripping the fabric. You could tear it off by how your hands were grabbing this.

You yelp again as his hands make contact — hard contact to your ass.

“You’re taking it like such a good boy, baby,” Joel grunted.

“Such a good boy.”

“No! No! No! You are not a good boy!”

Joel’s pace was so fast that his cock, slipped out of you.

Both of your breaths were heavy and difficult; you were looking into each other's eyes and saw the same thing: satisfaction.

“Holy shit, your tight little pussy, almost made me cum, city boy!” Joel chuckles.

“Turn around, baby.”

You complied with what Joel told you to do; you got off Joel’s lap and turned around; you didn't need to listen to your head right now. All you knew was that your ass was hovering over Joel’s thick, throbbing cock.

Joel grabbed the base of his cock and started slapping it against your ass. “You want this dick, city boy?” Joel questioned.

Surprising Joel, you shoved Joel’s cock inside your ass hole. Joel was taken aback.

“OOOOH, GOOD BOY!” Joel exclaimed.

You slowly started to fuck yourself on Joel’s cock. It was thrilling, adrenaline-inducing. You were on the brink of exploding.

“C’mere baby,” Joel stated.

Joel wrapped his arms around your body to bring you closest to his. His hips were rocking up and down, and his pace was fast. His hands were wrapped around your chest, feeling your body as he enjoyed bringing you immense pleasure.

Your feet were on Joel’s bare, sweaty knees. His was hitting your G-spot again, and it felt indescribable. The feeling you never felt before would go away soon, and you hated that, at this moment, you felt suitable for the first time in so long.

“Who’s my good boy?” Joel growls in your ear.

“Me, Joel. I AM,” You hiss between your teeth.

One of his hands found its way to your throat, lightly choking you.

“You love this big dick inside you? Huh, baby?”

“I love it so much, Joel.”

That's when Joel wanted to go rough with you some more. He removes his hand from your throat and grips your thighs, and lifts them so that your back connects with his slightly covered — sweaty chest.

His dick would hurt when you woke up in the morning, but for now, you were feeling pleasure.

Joel was rough, and he knew that your face was close to his, and you could see the rage and determination, and it turned you on even more.

Your cock was slapping against your navel, and your pre cum string was slapping against your stomach. Your left hand gripped Joel’s covered shoulder while your right hand was on the back of the couch.

You could feel Joel’s cock pulsating inside you. You could think that he was close.

“Your so needy, city boy, feelin’ my bulge like that,” Joel grunted.

“Shut up. . .” You thought

“You're taking this thick cock so well,” Joel growled.

“Please, Joel, stop talking; I won't control myself if you keep talking.”

“You love this cock inside of you, don't you?Pounding that tight little pussy of yours.

“YESSS,” You spat.

“You're a filthy whore!”

“Joel! JOEL!” You exclaimed.

“FILTHY WHORES NEED TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

That's when you listened to your head and did the unthinkable. You kissed Joel Miller.

A married Joel Miller, not a simple peck on this lips too—a sloppy, slobbery, open-mouth kiss. Joel slipped his tongue in your mouth as the kiss got rough and passionate. You can feel Joel pumping his cock inside of you faster as he takes his mouth off yours.

“Joel, you’re going to make me cum!” You moaned.

“Cum for me, baby!” Joel breathed.

Joel’s hands made your legs spread apart, and he was pumping his cock rough and slow.

“I’m going to cum, in that tight pussy of yours, city boy,” Joel growled.

“Yes, Joel, fuck —mpfm—, I want that load inside me!”

Joel started to get faster again. As he was, you were about to cum; Joel’s hips were on the brink of exploding if he didn't cum soon. This feeling, this experience, would end with a lust-filled bang.

“I’m cumming, I’M CUMMING!!” You exclaim as white lines of cum shoot out on your stomach.

“FFF— FUCK, ME TOO!” Joel growled.

You could feel his cum inside of you slowly start falling out of you, and Joel’s body started to jolt.

Joel kissed your lips with more passion than hunger like before. You both were drenched in sweat, spit, and now cum. This night was something you didn't want to forget.

You feel your body raised from Joel’s hard chest. Then you notice Joel is picking you up bridal style.

“Not yet, city boy, we’re not done yet,” Joel growled. His eyes turn dark as he walks upstairs with you in his arms.

Joel pushes the bedroom door with his foot; once he sees the bed, he places you down on the bed — on your back.

He’s in between your legs with a grin spread across his face, which shows he has more ways to pleasure you. With your ass hanging over the edge of the bed, Joel places tender kisses on your thighs.

Your spine shivered with how soft his kisses felt on your legs, your calves feeling cold to Joel’s warm lips kissing them. He trailed the kisses down towards the back of your knees, down to your thighs.

Your mind was going into shock at how soft Joel was being. A few minutes ago, he was fucking your brains out, and now he’s tenderly kissing your legs. And now you didn't know what to —

You gasped in awe and enjoyment as Joel’s mouth reached your hole. His tongue was swirling around like he was licking a lollipop. You gripped the gray bedsheets next to you and tried your best to hide your moans.

“Mmmhm, city boy, If I knew you’d tasted this good, I would’ve eaten you out sooner,” Joel exclaimed.

Your hands found their way to your face. You wanted to moan but this would validate that you were ready for him but you wanted to see what —

You yelped as a hard and fast slap came to your balls; you knew Joel was trying to force a moan out of you with his rules.

“C’mon, city boy, I can tell you're enjoying this. Moan for me, baby,” Joel breathed.

Your body betrayed you, and you moaned per Joel’s command. Your body was on overdrive, and it felt immensely addicting.

“That's right, baby; moan for me.”

Your moans kept slipping from your lips, and you enjoyed every second of it. Joel’s hands traveled all over your knees, thighs, and stomach.

His touch felt devilish, addicting. It felt like you depended on his hands, mouth, and cock to fill this overstimulating you had.

“You ready for this cock again, city boy?” Joel asked.

You nodded, and your breaths came out as moans prepared for his cock once again.

Joel stood up from his knees, and that's when you see Joel’s cock. Throbbing, pre cum leaking from the slit. Minutes ago, that cock had cum shooting inside you; it should’ve been soft at that moment.

But his cock looked like it was before the whole situation started; hard, throbbing, begging to cum.

Joel catches your eyes as your are shocked at his massive length.

“Impressive, huh?”

You reflexively nod your head in hunger, his cock will be inside you again, and you can't wait.

Joel lowers his face to kiss you. His hand travels to your throat as he lightly tightens his grip around your neck. You gasp, and Joel sticks his tongue in your mouth. Joel’s moans were quiet, but you could hear them, even with the shuffling of sheets.

“You ready for round two, city boy?”

He kisses you before you get to answer.

“Yes, yes, Joel, I am.”

Joel backs up from your face, and you crawl backward to have your head on top of the pillows below you.

Joel shrugs his flannel off his shoulder and crawls over you. His face inches from yours, his tanned bare chest hovering away from your bare chest.

He adjusts his cock, and you can feel it press up against your hole. Joel slowly slides his cock inside you. You exclaim in pain, but you can't help but feel pleasure all at the same time.

Your legs are over Joel’s shoulder as he starts slow and then goes faster. Your moans were bouncing over the bedroom that Joel and Adaline shared.

This feeling was unbearable, but you didn't care. The pleasure was worth it.

“How do you get so fuckin’ tight, baby boy,” Joel growled.

Joel’s eyes darkened; that same look of rage and determination was back on his face. Heavily breathing through his teeth and you gripping his shoulders so hard, you could make crescent moon shapes on his shoulders.

“Joel! Oh my fucking god, I love this so much!” You yelled.

“I love it when you talk dirty, city boy.”

“Your tight pussy doesn't want to let go of my cock. I’m fuckin’ obsessed with it,” Joel breathed.

Joel wraps his forearms around your legs, making your calves close to his ears. You exclaim in pleasure as he’s fucking you this rough again.

This feeling: It was more than an addiction, a sense; it was indescribable. This immense pleasure you’ve never felt before, and you loved everything.

“J-Joel, slow down; you not gonna last if you go so fast,” You breathed.

“I can't help it, city boy. This tight ass needs my cock. I can tell you need it; I’m going crazy, baby.”

“I- love it, Joel. Just slow down for a second.”

With that, Joel’s hips started to slow down, he was on the brink of coming, but he didn't care. He just wanted you to feel something: Good, lustful, ecstatic, wanted.

He closed his eyes and kissed you as he could feel your heart almost exploding. He let go of your calves as Joel’s hands were beside your head.

His hips started the pace again. He was pumping like he was on a mission. He didn't want to stop this time; he wanted to cum, inside you to show you that you were his, no one else's.

“Ugh, fuck Joel, your seriously going to break me!” You clenched your teeth.

“That’d be the idea, baby. Your mine, no one else’s,” Joel growled.

You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol in your system or just your mind, but you understood when Joel said you were his and no one else’s.

You hated/loved how much that turned you on.

“City boy, I’m going to cum, again. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Joel, pump your hot cum inside of me.”

Joel clenched his teeth so hard one could out from his gums. His hands were gripping your thighs; they could cause bruising.

Your mind was blanking out as Joel was speeding the pace in his hips even more.”

“Fuck, baby, I’m coming!” Joel yelled.

With one thrust, two, and three thrusts, Joel’s cum shot inside you again. You could feel the warm liquid sit inside you. Joel’s forehead had beads of sweat covering it. He leaned down and kissed your lips softly.

“You’re gonna stay the night, and I don't want anyone to see the pleasure I gave you tonight. That’s for my eyes only.”

You nodded, having no other words to say. Joel slips his cock out of you and lays down next to you, breathing heavily. Your head finds his chest, over his heart. You can hear how fast his heart is pumping. You were so exhausted that you fell asleep on Joel’s sweaty chest.

tags: @evans55 @odetodilfs @jrrmint <would lose it @groggygrogu @ihugpedro @strang3lov3 <would lose it

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