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Conversations at like 4 am
#also yeah monroe is wearing a sweater in bed#why is blood so fun to draw#procreate art#procreate#digital drawing#procreate drawing#drawing#grimm nbc#nick burkhardt#grimm#digitalart#monroe grimm#character design#i wonder what nick’s body count is by the end of the series#it doesnt rlly seem to bother him that much lol#and the way monroe encourages him#goals#i am once again struggling to draw monroe#and yeah i just forgot to but blood smear on the coffee cup ignore that
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𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞
Pairings: sub Sam Monroe x dom fem Reader
Summary: After calling Sam ‘puppy’ as a joke it leads to a newly discovered kink.
Requests: open
Warnings: Mommy kink, dry humping, oral (f receiving), shin riding, handjob, dick pic, titty sucking, scent kink…
Sam had been antsy all day, his leg bouncing under his desk. He stared down at his textbook disinterestedly, the words blurring together.
He tried his hardest to concentrate he really did. He knew how proud you were of his grades improving thanks to your study sessions. He was proud too, it was the first time he could remember someone putting in the effort for him. He was actually proud of himself, and it was all thanks to you. You never tried to change him into someone else, you encouraged him and saw him as the person he is.
So when he flipped through his notebook, seeing your notes in the margins. He couldn’t help the grin that broke out on his face. His eyes glazing over as his mind ran rampant. The thoughts gradually escalating…
You’ve got this pretty boy x
The pink of your gel pen popped out against the black and white of his notes. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and more south. Down, down, to his cock. He squirmed in his seat, his hips shifting. As he tried to make himself more comfortable in the stupid plastic chair. He groaned frustrated, looking down he saw his cock pressing up against the fabric of his pants. He crossed his legs in a desperate attempt at trying to hide his boner.
He looked up at the clock on the wall above the whiteboard. His foot tapping rhythmically as the hand ticked in accordance to the seconds passing. ‘For fuck sake,’ he thought to himself.
Relax and breathe, you know what you’re doing gorgeous.
If he was standing up he knew his knees would buckle. He never was a fan of pet names till he met you. There was something about the way your warm voice met his ears, as if your honeyed words were caressing his very soul. Stirring something deep within him. He ran his pale, ring clad fingers over your written words. His heart fluttering and his cock throbbing with desire.
Before he knew it his hand shot up, “yes Sam?” Mister Matthew’s, his geometry teacher spoke.
“Can I be excused?” Sam asks politely, prepared to leave without his permission. His teacher nods, knowing there was no point in arguing. Sam immediately stood up, rushing for the door. Swinging it open and heading for the toilets. He pushes open the the door to the bathrooms, heading into a cubicle. He locks it behind him hastily before he tugs his erect cock from his pants. The blushed tip leaking beads of precum. Rolling down his shaft as he fished his phone out of his pocket. Unlocking it and pressing onto your contact, he wraps his hand around his length. Squeezing it as he pulls up the camera, taking a photo and sending it to you.
His knees buckle as he hears his phone ping.
Touching yourself without me pretty boy?
Your message comes through, making him blush even harder than he thought possible. As he slowly strokes his length up and down. “Ah fuck,” he whimpers. While his shaky hands struggle to type out his response.
Maybe…
He whines, wishing it was your hand fisting his cock instead. Or even better, your delicious pussy. He started jerking off to the mere thought, the phantom of your taste on his lips as he pumped his cock. Biting his soft plushy lips to try to quiet himself.
Naughty boy
Am I going to have to train you puppy?
As his eyes ran over the word puppy, his knees buckled and he creamed all over his hand. Falling to the tiled floor of the cubicle with a harsh thud he didn’t even register the pain in his knees as he panted. Trying to catch his breath and collect himself, to no avail. His warm seed continued to flow from the tip of his flush cock head. He could do nothing but stare in disbelief, his jaw slack from his wanton moans. He reached for the toilet roll, his hands trembling. He missed, sending it tumbling to the ground. Unrolling right to his lap, he scramble for it. Yanking off a long piece, desperately wiping at his hand. He made no effort to wipe his cock clean, to sensitive from his previous activities.
His shaky fingers struggle to type out his response…
Yes please Mommy
Rereading over his text, he whispered it to himself.
Mommy?
The ping made him jump, “oh shit.” He murmured to himself, scared he’d gone too far. Unbeknownst to him, you were having a fucking ball. Grinning at your phone at the back of your history class. The topic of the session long since forgotten.
Sorry I didn’t mean too
He hastily responds, much to your amusement.
Oh you will be…
He’s left flabbergasted at your response, ‘what does she mean by that?’ He looks down at his cock, that had gotten semi hard just from your teasing.
Meet me behind the bleachers next period.
Puppy
Yes ma’am
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Sam dipped out of his next class, heading to the bleachers where you’d told him to meet. The post support your weight as you leaned your back against it. Looking back at the dick pic Sam had sent you only a few minutes earlier. You could imagine how antsy he was, he never was very patient. Especially when it came to his sensitive cock. You glance up from your phone, hearing footsteps. Followed by the soft crunch of pebbles from the impact. Law and behold it was Sam Monroe, your pretty boy.
A shy smile tugged at his lips as he approached you. Running his tongue along his bottom lip, catching his piercing between his teeth. His eyes raking over your relaxed form. He wrapped his arms around your torso once he reached you, holding you tightly. While burying his face into the crook of your neck. Breathing you in, his sensitive cock hardening from your mere scent. “Well someone’s happy to see me,” you voice. Holding a taunting edge to your words.
He runs his tongue up along your jugular. Tasting the sweetness of your skin, “mmm… more than you can imagine.” He rasps, desperation dripping from his words. Your hands grasp his hips, tugging them to meet yours.
A whimper escaping his part lips, as he stared down at your cleavage pressing against his chest. You start grinding his hips against yours, “wanna tell me what got you so worked up puppy?” You feel his hips jolt forward as the word ‘puppy’ escapes your lips. And a knowing smile forms on your face, ‘ahh I see.’ You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his absentmindedly. While towing him along with you to the football field. Closing in on the side lined with trees. As he followed behind you like a lost puppy, how fitting.
“I saw your notes on my book and I just- it ahh-“ He mumbles, bringing his arm up. Scratching behind his neck, anxiously. The feel of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, only you ever brought out in him.
“Yes?” You raise a brow, prompting him to continue.
He looks down, trying to find the right words. “It uh- it made me… hard.”
You bite your bottom lip in an attempt to stop yourself from laughing. As you got close enough Sam pounced. He couldn’t take it any longer, he spun you around. Pushing you back till your back gently hit the tree. Your eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Oh puppy you really are horny aren’t you?” He grinds his clothed erection against the crotch of your pants.
He nods quickly, “yes- yes Mommy.” He babbles, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt. Unhooking your bra before cupping your tits. Squeezing them, before rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. Watching them perk up. Before pushing your shirt and bra up over your head, tossing them to the floor. Before latching his mouth to your left nipple. Sucking harshly as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. Caging you against him.
His gaze meets yours as he tilts his head up. Reluctantly detaching his mouth from your nipple. “Can I?” He asks, his ring clad hand moving closer to the waistband of your pants.
You nod, amused by the clear desperation in his eyes. “Yes puppy.”
He whimpers in response to your words, bucking his clothed cock against your heat between your plush thighs. “Ahh ngh!” He moans, shoving his hand down your pants. Pushing under your panties, rubbing harsh and relentless circles on your sensitive nub. Making you let out a breathless moan, leaning your head back against the tree trunk. "Mmm Mommy," he whimpers under his breath.
Raking your fingers through his hair, you yank his head back. His watery eyes staring up at you. "What was that puppy?”
“Mommy,” he repeats. His knees buckled as he came undone. His orgasm hitting him like a truck. As he clung to you tightly, falling to his knees. Unbuttoning your pants, slowly pulling them down. Revealing the skin of your juicy thighs. He nuzzles his face into your panty clad pussy. He takes a stiff, moaning at the smell. Licking a strip over the soft material. Before hooking his fingers under the waistband. Looking up at you for permission, you nod. Making his eyes light up, as he yanks your panties down to your ankles. Grabbing the back of your ankles and spreading your legs apart, exposing your glistening pussy to him.
His mouth waters at the sight. He leans forward, nudging his nose against your clit. Running his tongue through your folds, parting them. As your hands grabbed at his hair, tugging on his strands as his pretty lips sucked on your clit viciously. Feeling that pleasurable coil wind in your stomach. As he interchanges his mouth for his thumb, bringing his tongue to your entrance. Prodding his tongue into your hole, thrusting in and out. Feeling your slick gather on his tongue, as your knees buckle. He grips your hips, supporting your weight with his toned arms. As his tongue continued to lap at your pussy, rapidly. Your eyes squeezed shut as your legs trembled, moans tumbling from your parted lips. “That’s it puppy, doing so well for me. Gonna cum,” he whimpers at your words. The action sending vibrations through your core, he sits himself on your foot. His erect cock accidentally grazing along your shin making him jolt forward. Grinding his clothed length against your leg. Feeling a wet spot forming on his pants, as he continued to eat you out. Suffocating himself in your pussy and he felt as though he was dying from pleasure. As he continued his incessant humping and his tongues rough caresses against your velvety walls. He felt himself explode, his warm seed soaking his pants and his length. Which triggered your orgasm, cumming all over his pretty face. You both panted, catching your breath. “You did so well puppy…”
You reassure him as he nuzzles his face against your breasts. “Thanks Mommy,” he whispers breathlessly. His tone pitchier then usual. You bring a hand down to rub his back, comfortingly.
“No problem puppy.”
(dividers by @chilumitos)
#hayden christensen#sam monroe imagine#sam monroe smut#sam monroe x reader#sam x reader#sam life as a house#life as a house sam#sam smut#sam monroe fluff#life as a house#sam monroe fanfiction#hayden christensen x reader#sam monroe x you#sam monroe#[ mistress amidala works ]
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꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ little miss scare all. ꨄ
↷ ✩ —— sam monroe x alt! girlfriend reader headcanons. (nsfw 18+)
notes: a little slutty a little smutty! minors do not interact or else i'll collect your kneecaps. can we please stop kidding ourselves... this dude wants a goth girlfriend. and it's my duty as the resident metalhead mommy to serve my community. one alt!reader fic at a time.
| | | | she's got a date at midnight with nosferatu. oh baby, lily munster ain't got nothing on you. ⋆˚࿔
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe is, first and foremost, a fucking hater for the fun of it. the type of dude that calls anyone who doesn't listen to anything he deems cool a poser. the type of dude that sees a chick wearing a metallica shirt that she got from the thrift store and, with a straight face, tells her to name three albums without missing a single beat. so he thinks it's pretty fucking sick to have a girlfriend that can keep up with his, perhaps to most, acquired tastes in music.
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who is ridiculously stubborn but secretly loves when you introduce him to new bands. he always acts like they're just okay after you popped the cd you recently bought into his stereo, and sometimes he'll even lie and say he already knows who they are. that he discovered them months ago. but then it's a few songs deep into the album, and wait... why is this actually fucking good?
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who is an absolute nightmare to argue with. even when it's not serious, when it's just having differing opinions on silly things like which vocalist is better, which album is the best. he's so stuck on his own likes and dislikes and everything is, as fred durst would say, his way or the highway. it's almost like he enjoys arguing with you... and maybe he does, because you can be just as stubborn when it's a topic as passionate as music, and he thinks it's cute when you stand your ground. he stopped actually caring about the argument ten minutes ago, and now he's just trying to piss you off because he thinks it's funny.
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who has broadened his musical horizons thanks to you. bands like type o negative and h.i.m that constantly incorporate very obvious "romantic" themes into their songs never really did anything for him because he thought it was lame and corny. until he had to endure you constantly listening to them. now he'll claim his enjoyment of them is from a form of stockholm syndrome... but maybe he just never had a person that he could relate them to before he met you. he thinks about you when he hears be my druidess or for you. plus, they're one hell of an aphrodisiac, and he quickly discovered just how easy it is to get a hand under your bra or in your pants when they're playing.
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who loves fishnets... maybe to an unhealthy degree. every time he sees you wearing them, he can't help but think about how good they make your legs look, how good he knows your ass looks under that skirt, and the thoughts of him tearing them to shreds instantly begin to flood in. and that's exactly what he does, the second he gets the chance. those poor tights never stand a chance in the same room as him... he'll promise to get you another pair while he's slotted between your legs and your hips are lifted, a promise he only keeps half the time. as his fingers dig into the fabric and start ripping them apart like it's the easiest thing in the world. like that's what those little tiny holes were made for. it's foreplay to him. but sometimes he's too impatient to even get them all the way off. sometimes he'll rip the crotch and push your panties aside to fuck you with a nice view of your legs still covered.
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who encourages your piercing urges. you mention wanting a new hole in your ear or nose? he's on board. when you mention wanting your tongue pierced? that's hot. immediate filthy thoughts of what it would feel like when you guys are sucking face nasty style. or better yet, what it would feel like rubbing against his cock. when you mention wanting your nipples done? he thought he was going to have a stroke on the spot, and he's offering to make the appointment for you if it means seeing that in his face as soon as possible. he'll even hold your hand and let you squeeze him until your knuckles are white while you're getting them done. but once it came time for the boring aftercare part, his excitement drops the second he hears about healing time.... weeks? he has to wait weeks to put them in his mouth? but he'll make those weeks worth it once you've given him the go ahead. he's actually fucking feral about it when you do.
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who lets you do his eyeliner. honestly, he's a little envious how good you can make yours look. effortlessly sharp and smoky. and you've always teased him about how shitty he does his. how he holds the pencil, how he has zero technique and just smudges it on with his fingers and doesn't even wash his hands afterward. so you jump on the chance to do it for him... it's only a bonus for both of you that you get to sit on his lap and be inches away from each others pretty faces. he's grumpily telling you not to poke his eye out and pretending he's not getting hard from the proximity alone. you notice... it's literally impossible to not feel it. and now you're trying to hurry this little makeover before you get the urge to ride his fucking thigh... but that's what you end up doing anyway. he's got one eye done and that pencil is long forgotten while his own hands are guiding your hips as they drag across his leg, searching for more of that friction his jeans provided. whining and desperate while he's saying how cute it is that you just couldn't wait five more minutes.
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who fucks you in the shitty venue bathroom, one covered in stickers and flyers and permanently tainted with the stench of beer, while the equally as shitty opening band plays. it's not romantic. it's hard and fast, sloppy and impatient. because he has you bent over in the stall, repeatedly slamming his cock into your cunt and not caring about how loud it might be. the downtuned guitar and blast beats raging on outside the door works as both a brutal soundtrack to his brutal rhythm, and to muffle every grunt and moan that reverberates against the cramped space. there isn't enough time to be sweet and caring, because this set is about to end and you guys still have to secure a good spot in the pit... but he'll still kiss you and rub his thumb at the mascara bleeding under your eyes, while he's stuffing his cock back into his pants and you're wiping the cum dripping down your inner thigh.
#꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ch: sam monroe.#꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ alyssa writes.#sam monroe#sam monroe x you#sam monroe x reader#sam monroe smut#hayden christensen#3am is a horrible time to post this
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Housewife
Part - 3
Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?
Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader
Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, masturbation
Part 1
Billy normally did this sort of thing with Stu. He had a feeling his friend would be upset that he went alone. That's something he'd have to deal with later. Your room was on the second floor with no obvious way up to the window. If you were the only one home he'd find a way in. With current company that wasn't exactly possible. Binoculars, cellphone, and his trusty voice changer, were all he had to work with. Doing this sort of thing without a knife was unusual.
He positioned himself where he could see your bed and the posters adorning the walls. Rear window, The Birds, Vertigo, and Psycho. You were an Alfred Hitchcock fan. "And Stu said you didn't have good taste in movies." He scoffed. Billy shook his head the binoculars close to his eyes. He watched as you walked in the room towel wrapped around your frame. One foot closed the bedroom door behind you. You looked to the window as you slowly dropped your towel. Did you know he was out here?
That was impossible. It was pitch black outside with the exception of the moon. Billy watched as you pulled the dress from the bag. A smile lit up your face which in turn brought one to his lips. A sense of pride filled Billy's chest knowing he picked it out. Once again your eyes found the window looking out as if someone was right on the other side. Slowly you pulled the fluffy nightgown over your head, the frill dropping right under your ass. Billy's hand slipped down his abdomen resting over his zipper.
You grabbed the matching panties from the bag dragging them up your legs letting the elastic slap your skin. Moving away from the window you looked yourself up and down in the mirror. Billy and Stu knew what they were doing when they bought you the nightgown. You spun letting the dress drift around you. Air seemed to catch in your throat as you got happy. A smile so painful your cheeks hurt, was one of the many indications you were elated with the gift.
The only thing you could think that would make it better was some music. Walking to your records you grabbed the worn out 45 listed under M for Monroe. Lifting the wooden cabinet cover you sat the vinyl down placing the needle in the first groove. Within a second "I wanna be loved by you" filled the room. You mouthed the lyrics as you danced around. That giddy feeling only getting stronger. Your hands slid up and down your body as if you were the best stripper on a Saturday night. It was classy though and Billy took note. The dancing wasn't the best, if you could call it dancing. It was like you were in love with yourself and the world around you. Playing around with the air that filled the room.
Billy started softly rubbing the bulge that began to strain again his dark jeans. His eyes never leaving you as you danced for an audience of one. Your towel dried hair swug around sure to fling left over water. You were his own personal burlesque dancer. Billy's hips grinded up into his palm. The knuckles wrapped around the binoculars began to turn white with his grip. He had no clue what song could make you ooze with such lust but he needed to use it to his advantage. You were walking innocence. Something he lacked throughout his life. You weren't stupid, you were incredibly brilliant. Every move you made it was intentional. You were putting a show just for him.
His hips quickened as the pressure grew. Little whispers of encouragement fell on deaf ears. Billy needed your glossy lips around him. He needed the hem of that frilly little dress to fall over his lap as you bounced happily. He needed... You. "Fuck!" He cursed through gritted teeth. He needed new underwear. "Fuck." He dropped the binoculars by his side to assess the damage you caused. The mess you made. A small damp spot began to make an appearance through the denim next to zipper of his jeans. Ignoring the uncomfortable mess he picked the binoculars back up noticing you were now buttoning up your pajama shirt. "God damnit!"
Now that your little burst of energy was over you were ready to crawl in bed. You switched the record over to something more peaceful, one that would take longer to end. Billy put the binoculars down to focus on the phone number staining his hand. His finger tapped the buttons double checking the numbers before hitting call. He could hear the ear piercing ring all the way outside. Before you could answer he pulled the voice changer from his pocket.
Quickly you leaned over grabbing the phone off the receiver. Placing it right back down with a click. It was too late for anyone to be calling. Billy took a deep breath redialing the number. Once again the phone screamed for your help. "Hello?" You asked politely to Billy's surprise seeing as you were obviously upset at the intrusion. You hoped it was Billy. "Hello.." He spoke not really sure where to go with this one. Well at least you know who it's not. You picked up the phone sitting the receiver on the bed next to you. You got comfortable with the phone resting against to your face. "Hi what's up?" You spoke. No asking 'who is this?' or 'why are you calling?" Maybe you were a little dumb.
"Um-" Billy cleared his throat thinking of a quick response. "The sky." He squeezed his eyes closed in shame. His eyes opened to find you with a smile. A small laugh could be heard over the phone. "Okay smartass what's down?" This was stupid. You were supposed to angry at the caller, suspicious even. Who calls a girl all alone at this hour? "The ground." You laughed clapping your hands. "That's right! Not too bad mystery man. But what do you need? Why'd you call?" Finally.
"What if I just wanted to talk?" You scooted yourself underneath the covers thinking about the caller. "Okay but I'm not doing no weird shit. You can call one those sex hotlines for that." Billy smiled at your assertion. "Fair enough. Who might I be speaking to?" It was a test. You barley gave him a name when you first met he doubted you'd give it to a psychopath on the phone. "I would say we could exchange names but what's the fun in that? I don't know you, you don't know me. What's your favorite song?"
The question was out of left field so much so he wasn't ready for it. "What's yours?" He asked to your disappointment. Billy saw the sad look on your face. "Am I talking to Socrates right now? I asked first." Billy begrudgingly gave out his answer. "1979 by the Smashing Pumpkins. Now what's yours?" You nodded your head at the answer. It seemed fitting. "Oh gosh." You sighed. "I honestly don't have a favorite. And if I did it would change next week. Have you heard Landslide by Fleetwood Mac? It's really popular you probably have." You took a deep breath in. Sighing out the air in one go. "Anyways I really like that one. It's kind of sad though if you think about it."
Billy sat listening to every word you said. "Your turn." He always had the most important question on hand. Billy wasn't really sure if he wanted to ask knowing what normally happened afterwards. "Do you like scary movies?" Billy put down his binoculars focusing on just your voice. "I'd say I do. I like a very specific genre of scary movies though." Billy sat up listening closer if that was possible. "What do you mean by that?" The voice on the phone became lower sending a slight chill down your spine. "Everyone likes scary movies to be bloody. The more guts and gore the better. You don't have to have that to make a scary movie. Vertigo is scary but there's practically no blood and Rear Window is one of the best movies made about a murder with no body ever being seen."
"Scary movies should get inside your head, make the viewer wonder if they are next. Make them wonder if they are just as screwed up as the villain." Out of everything you could've said he wasn't ready for that. "You are very smart girl." Billy didn't intend for it to come off as sexual. However you definitely took it that way. "Has anyone told you that you've got a very attractive voice?" Billy smiled holding back a laugh. "Is that so?" You nodded as if he could see you. "Yep. Anyways it's getting late mystery man. I'm going to get some sleep. Sleep well okay?"
"Okay. Goodnight mystery girl." Billy whispered into the phone. For the first time he was the one to hang up. To end the call without screams on the other end. It made him feel surprisingly good. The light in your room turned off letting him know you were actually going to bed. Billy quietly packed up his things and started the walk to his car. He wasn't sure if this little talk changed anything for you but it definitely changed things for him.
Part 4
Taglist: @katie-tibo @danodoll21
#billy loomis#ghostface#slashers#billy loomis masterlist#billy loomis ghostface#billy loomis x reader#billy loomis smut#scream smut#scream x reader#scream fanfiction#scream fanfic#scream 1996#ghostface x female reader#stu ghostface#billy ghostface#ghostface x reader#ghostface smut#stu macher x reader#stu macher#stu macher fluff#billy loomis fluff#ghostface fluff#slasher x reader
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Lessons (modern!HOTD)
Second installment of Teacher's Pet
pairing: professor!Aemond x student!Reader
summary: After your rendezvous with your former professor, you haven't heard from him. Desperate times lead to desperate measures.
word count: 4.2k
rating: Explicit (detailed warning under the cut)
Warnings: mature themes, power imbalance, pussy slapping, face-fucking, slight degradation, edging, begging, oral f-receiving, fingering, anal fingering, p in v, creampie, cock warming
note: felt silly and wrote a long-awaited part 2!! hope you enjoy it loves!!
dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics
It’d been a few weeks since your office encounter with Aemond Targaryen. You don’t know what you were expecting, a text, a phone call? It wasn’t like you had exchanged numbers after accidentally flirting with him at the bar.
No. He made it clear that he was in a position of power, and that what happened between you should be a one-time thing.
Should be.
The phrase you’d been pondering since he fucked you silly. He could have easily told you it wouldn’t happen again, giving you a definitive answer.
But he didn’t.
So you held onto that hope as you made your way through the last leg of your semester. You’d seen him around campus a few times, spared some pleasantries that left your stomach fluttering, and your cheeks flushed. But nothing more than that. Still, it was enough to keep you hopeful. You just needed to find the right opportunity again.
Well, maybe after your final for Social and Cultural Perspectives on Witchcraft and Sorcery. Dr. Rivers was one of your favorite professors, and this elective was clearly where her passions lay. But her weekly quizzes preparing you for your final were about to kill you.
You sighed, making your way to the lecture hall, removing your AirPods. You nearly trip when you see Aemond standing next to your professor outside of your classroom. You force a smile on your face and continue.
“Dr. Rivers,” you greet your professor and glance at Aemond who stands at the front of the door, handing out papers, “Professor Targaryen.”
Professor Alys Rivers smiles kindly at you, as Aemond hands you a packet. He says nothing, just nods to acknowledge you. It sends a jab of pain slicing through you, the ease at which he ignores you.
“Professor Targaryen has kindly agreed to proctor this quiz while I attend an important meeting,” Dr. Rivers tells you, placing a manicured hand on his forearm. You glance at her expression, the sly smile she gives him.
“Fuck me eyes, girl, don’t forget what they look like ever again,” is what Sara had said to you when you’d call her spilling all the details about your dirty rendezvous in Aemond’s office.
Dr. Rivers was definitely giving Professor Targaryen that look. You found yourself pulling your shoulders back as you took the paper from him, his fingers barely brushing against yours. Dr. Rivers is a beautiful, older woman; tall with flowing dark hair that matches her eyes. She always looks her best when teaching, red bottom Louboutins making her appear even more graceful.
She’s wearing a form-fitting forest green dress today accentuating her curves. She’s got that perfect Marilyn Monroe hourglass shape; Aliandrawould be foaming at the mouth and calling her mommy if she saw her. I mean, you’re practically on your knees as well, but the feelings of jealousy suppress your adoration for her.
You move your gaze to Aemond. He briefly meets your gaze, before smiling politely, lifting his hand to usher you into the classroom. You flick an eyebrow up at his dismissive behavior. Aemond’s face remains neutral, and Dr. Rivers glances at you, as though you’ve been standing there too long.
“You’ll do fine, Ms. Y/L/N,” she encourages, assuming you’re nervous about the quiz.
You force a smile back at her, adjusting your bag before heading inside the classroom, brushing by Aemond. You move to your seat and drop your bag, reaching for a pen. So he’s ignoring you now? How typical of a man who finally gets some pussy.
The door slams shut as Aemond walks down the aisle; you can’t help but admire the suave way he saunters between the desks toward the desk at the front. You’re barely listening as he instructs what to do when you’ve finished the quiz, eyes trained on the curve of his lips, the definition of his jaw. The veins on the back of his hand as he writes on the whiteboard.
Fuck.
You wish he didn’t fuck so well, didn’t dress so well, wasn’t so smooth, and easy to talk to. You shake your head before beginning your quiz. Aemond Targaryen was not going to distract you anymore today.
Fucking liar.
You wish you dressed up and wore a sexy little skirt like you did that day in his office. You glance up from your desk. Aemond is mindlessly flipping through papers, tongue darting out to wet his forefinger as he turns a page. His attention is focused on the task at hand. Annoyance creeps up your spine at his indifference.
Had you known he would be here you would’ve taken more time picking an outfit. You had pulled your hair out of your face, utilizing a claw clip, and had settled on a spacious, baggy sweatshirt. At least you wore shorts so you could show some leg, but that’s doing little good right now. You nervously chew the back of your pen, cracking your neck as you attempt to focus on the questions in front of you.
Your eyes flicker back to him. He doesn’t spare you a fucking glance.
Your annoyance quickly turns to irritation, liquid fire burning through you at his indifference. You can feel your face heating up, becoming almost uncomfortably hot when an idea strikes. You place your pen on the desk. You grab the edge of your sweatshirt, pulling it slowly over your head, revealing the skimpy tank top you have on underneath. You didn’t wear a bra with it, you hadn’t planned on removing your sweatshirt at all.
The cool air flowing from the vents causes goosebumps to appear on your arms and you fight the urge to shiver. You let the sweatshirt drop with a thump on top of your backpack. Aemond glances up at the noise, eyes trained on your discarded sweatshirt, not looking at you. He lets his gaze rest there a moment before returning it to his papers.
You lean back in your seat, nipples hardening in the cool air, straining through the thin material of your top. Oscar Tully sits beside you at a neighboring desk, propped on his elbow leaning his face against his hand. His eyes widen as you reach for your claw clip, shaking your hair loose. Oscar’s jaw slacks slightly as you cross your legs, raising your arms over your head in an exaggerated stretch.
You glance at him, noticing the auburn-haired guy staring at you, awarding him a small smile. At least someone’s paying attention. Oscar gives you a lazy smile, eyes falling to shamelessly look at your chest. You run a hand over your hair, twirling some around your finger while reaching for your pen once more. You can’t help yourself and let your eyes glance at Aemond.
He’s looking at you now.
Violet and blue eyes stare back at you as you place the back of the pen in between your lips, gently nibbling on the tip. You tilt your head to the side, before leaning forward, making sure to rest your chest on your forearm, letting the top of your cleavage spill, before returning to your quiz.
Oscar Tully’s mouth has fallen open in a wide grin as he appreciates the sight in front of him; his eyes trained on your chest that rises and falls with each breath. You answer the next question before glancing at Oscar again. He’s handsome, in a frat boy way. You recall hearing he once signed up for this class because he’s into crystal girls. You give him a sultry smile, running a finger down the side of your neck, over your collarbone and the top of your breast. Oscar raises an eyebrow at you and you stifle a giggle.
“Ahem,” Aemond’s voice flows from the front of the classroom.
To make a point, you don’t look at him, letting your gaze fall from Oscar back to your quiz. You finish early, grabbing your things and bringing them to the front of the classroom, depositing the quiz in front of Aemond. He doesn’t say anything, just glances up at you as you turn away, heading for the door. And yes, make sure you swing your hips as you do so. Maybe that will get his attention.
“You did not,” Aliandra Martell snickers as you tell her about your shenanigans from earlier that day.
You were happily seated in your shared apartment, splitting a copious amount of Chinese takeaway with Aliandra as you recounted the tale. You’d been friends with Aliandra since freshman year and had to fill her in on your scandalous hookup with Professor Targaryen.
“And look,” you tell her, showing her your phone, “Oscar Tully has been messaging me all afternoon.”
Aliandra inspects the messages before clicking on his profile. You grab a crab rangoon, biting into it as she squeals with delight.
“He wants to meet up!” she says, handing you back your phone.
Still chewing, you read the message Oscar just sent.
“Drinks,” you say nodding, “Yeah, I could do drinks.”
Aliandra can see through you easily, and she frowns at your lackluster reaction.
“Girl, he’s cute!” she encourages, “And it’s just drinks, you don’t have to suck him off of anything.”
“Ali!” you scold, but she merely shrugs.
“Look, all I’m saying is you’re hot, you’re funny, and you’re all-around awesome. If Professor Orgasm can’t see it, then find someone who will,” she finishes, reaching for the spring rolls.
“Professor Orgasm?” you ask, “Not your best work in the nickname department.”
“I’ll work on it,” she assures, “But, how many times was it again?”
A shiver rolls through you at the memory, all the way down your body and straight to your clit.
“Like four times?” you recall, cheeks blazing red.
Aliandra’s eyes are wide.
“Damn. I think I’d be dick-whipped too then,” she tells you.
“I’m not dick-whipped,” you tell her.
“Then prove it,” she challenges, eyeing your phone.
Though your stomach flips and flops, you respond to Oscar’s messages, telling him you’d meet him at the Silk Street Tavern in an hour. Plenty of time to get dolled up.
You go for something simple and sexy; a little black dress to do the trick. You fix your makeup and hair just the way you like it and settle on your best heels for the occasion. You look good. And Aliandra is totally right, you’re hot and deserve the attention.
You tell Aliandra goodbye; she’s wrapped up in blankets on the couch preparing for a much-needed night in, as you leave the apartment.
As you make your way out of the apartment and down the front steps you notice a familiar sleek black car parked outside. You slow your steps, as Aemond exits the car walking around to the passenger side. He’s still wearing his button-down, but a dark jacket has been paired over it, matching his slacks. You release a small, breathy laugh as he watches you.
“Are you following me?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.
“Thought you might want to go for a drive,” Aemond tells you, leaning against his car.
You fold your arms across your chest, jutting your hip out at him. Your heart beats erratically in your chest as you force yourself to stare back at him.
“I have a date.”
He opens the passenger side of his Mercedes before walking to the driver’s side.
“Get in the car,” he instructs, not turning around.
His tone suggests he will not ask again. You glance at your phone, greeted by an excited message from Oscar that makes you wince. You look up at Aemond, who waits with the driver-side door open.
Sorry Oscar.
The drive to Aemond’s apartment took little to no time at all, he flies down the streets like a man possessed, going well over the speed limit. His right arm lays lazily on your lap, fingers curled into the meat of your thigh as though he’s worried you’ll leap from the vehicle.
He lives further into the city, pulling in front of a tall skyscraper, a doorman standing in front. Aemond throws the car in park, holding out his key.
“Fiftieth floor. Number 531,” he tells you, voice a low growl, “Go inside and wait for me.”
You look at the key he holds out to you, then back at his face.
“What should-”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he cuts you off, “You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.”
You swallow the lump forming in your throat, take the key, and exit the car. Aemond speeds around the corner, presumably parking his car. You walk toward the building on shaky legs, not meeting the doorman’s eyes as he holds the door open for you.
You walk through the lobby and towards the elevators, heart in your throat. You barely register the time it takes you to get upstairs, finding his door. Nervous anticipation curls in your belly as you walk into his apartment.
It’s as you expected; clean, and modest, with sleek black furniture and stainless steel appliances in the large kitchen. A black marble counter that matches the modern fireplace in the living room. It’s dangerous, yet inviting, much like Aemond himself. You take a few steps inside when you hear a loud hiss.
Glancing down the hallway you spot an old large tabby cat, with its tail completely poofed out in anger, ears flattened against its head.
“Don’t mind Vhagar,” Aemond tells you, appearing from behind and shutting the door, “She’s an old grump.”
“I like cats,” you tell him softly, and Vhagar hisses again, showing all her pointy teeth.
Aemond hums, moving to stand directly behind you. He brings a hand to your arm, letting his fingertips trail a path up toward your shoulder. Your breath catches in your throat.
“You live here?” you ask, wetting your lips.
Aemond hums in confirmation. His long fingers play with the thin strap of your dress, slipping underneath. You can feel his breath on the side of your neck, and smell his cologne. It's dizzying having him this close to you. He brings his free hand to rest against your waist as he presses a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut at the sweet gesture.
“That’s the only kindness you’ll get from me tonight,” he murmurs against your neck.
Goosebumps break out across your skin and your eyes snap open in confusion. You turn your head slightly to look at him, feeling his grip on your waist tightens. There’s a dangerous glint in his violet eye, as his lip tugs upward into a small, satisfied smirk.
“You think you can behave like that, and be rewarded?” he asks, before tutting softly, “We could have had a lovely night together, a little continuation of our last encounter.”
Aemond spins you to face him, bringing his hands to cup your cheeks. Eyes wide you stare at him, lips parted in shock.
“But someone is a bit greedy, isn’t she?” he asks.
You don’t answer, feeling as though your heart may burst from the confines of your ribs.
“I asked you a question,” he tells you, “It’s rude not to answer.”
You swallow, lower lip beginning to tremble.
“Yes,” you answer quietly, “Yes I was greedy.”
“Hmm, and what do you think happens to greedy little girls?” he asks, letting his thumbs stroke your cheeks.
Holy shit. Is this really happening? You can feel yourself growing wetter with every word he speaks, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable. You shift on your feet, lashes fluttering against your cheek as you avert your eyes from his.
“They need to be taught a lesson,” you answer him, beginning to chew on your lower lip.
“And I’m a good teacher, aren’t I?” he asks, bringing his thumb to your lip, releasing it from between your teeth.
You raise your eyes to meet his once more.
“Yes professor,” you tell him, face set in a pout.
Aemond squeezes your chin before releasing you, dropping his hands to his belt.
“On your knees,” he instructs while unbuttoning his pants.
You sink to your knees in front of him, reaching up to assist him with his undressing. Aemond swats your hands away. You frown but wait for him as he removes his hard cock from his trousers. Your mouth waters at the sight of him; long and thick, slightly curved, and just as pale as the rest of him with a tuft of silver curls around the base. He strokes himself a few times, enjoying the sight of you on your knees before him.
Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head, fisting it in your hair and tugging harshly. Your head snaps back and Aemond taps the head of his cock against your bottom lip.
“You want to act like a little slut, I’ll treat you like one,” he says, shifting his hips, “Open up.”
You widen your mouth as he eases his cock in, trying to remind yourself to breathe through your nose as you gag around his length. Your eyes water as he rocks his hips, thrusting himself down your throat.
“Fuck that's good,” he says, the grip on your head unrelenting with each roll of his hips.
Saliva pools in your mouth, dribbling out the corners and down your chin.
“Look at you making a mess,” Aemond comments and you hum around him.
You try to move your head, but it's hard with how tight his grip is. He’s completely controlling the pace, relentlessly fucking your mouth for his pleasure. You bring your hand up to cup his heavy balls, rolling them in your palm and squeezing gently.
You’re rewarded with a throaty moan, as Aemond’s jaw slacks with pleasure. You look up at him through tear-soaked lashes, admiring his expression hazed with pleasure. His eye is on you, watching his cock slide in and out between your lips, watching as your throat constricts every time he thrusts in.
“There’s my good girl,” he murmurs, cock twitching in your throat.
You choke around him as you feel his release; warm and salty down the back of your throat. He pulls out suddenly, leaving a string of cum and saliva dangling from your lips and his cock.
“So pretty like this,” Aemond comments, doing nothing but admire the sight of your swollen lips.
He helps you to a standing position, before lifting you up and seating you on the counter. Aemond’s hands disappear under your dress, looping around your panties and dragging them down your legs. He leaves your heels on as he discards them, pushing your dress up to your waist.
You lean back against the counter on your elbows, breathing ragged as he spreads your legs.
“You think that silly little boy could satisfy this pussy?” Aemond asks, pinching your inner thigh when you don’t respond, “Answer me.”
“No,” you breathe.
“No, what?”
You bite your lip, earning a sharp slap to your throbbing center.
“No sir,” you tell him, barely a squeak.
Aemond hums at your words letting his long fingers part your soaked folds. He tilts his head to the side, admiring your glistening sex before delivering another harsh slap. You can’t help but cry out, abdominal muscles contracting together painfully.
“No sir,” he mimics, shaking his head, “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Aemond sinks two of his long fingers into your tight, wet heat curling them upwards toward your sweet spot. Fire pools in your belly, every curl of his fingers bringing you closer and closer toward the precipice of your orgasm.
“Please,” you beg, “Please sir, please-”
“Already?” he mocks, “That didn’t take long at all, you can do better than that.”
Aemond removes his fingers, the sudden emptiness causing tears to form in your eyes. You whimper pathetically, feeling him spread your juices lower, toward your puckered hole.
“Have you been touched here?” he asks, swirling his forefinger over the ridges of your asshole.
You nod slightly. You’d explored anal fingering before with other partners, and by yourself.
“Yes,” you tell him, “Yes sir please.”
Aemond presses his lubricated finger gently into your tight hole, easing into you slowly and with care. No matter what he said earlier, he’s being gentle, making sure you can take what he gives you. Your belly tightens as he leans forward, pressing his mouth against your soaked cunt, as your ass completely takes his finger.
“G-gods,” you stutter as his tongue flicks against your sensitive clit, “Oh my gods.”
The words come out as barely a squeak as Aemond dips his tongue into your dripping center, finger fucking your ass in tandem with his tongue. It’s so fucking good, your hands bury themselves in his hair, nails digging into his scalp hard enough to draw blood.
Aemond moans against you as he continues his movements.
“Please sir, please I need to come,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs to slow his movements.
You cry out in desperation, begging him not to stop though he continues to do so, easing his finger from your ass and peppering your soaked mound with feather-light kisses. You flinch at each kiss he presses against you, far too overstimulated.
“I knooow,” he murmurs, condescendingly, before rising from between your legs and heading toward the kitchen.
You hear the water of the sink and turn your head, watching as he washes his hands. Aemond turns to look at you.
“Have you learned your lesson?” he asks, shutting off the water and drying his hands.
You frantically nod, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.
“Please,” you beg, voice cracking with desperation, “Please sir, please!”
Aemond tilts his head to the side and appears convinced by your broken cry, the way you tremble on his countertop. He walks over to you, moving some hair from your face before lifting you into his arms, and cradling you against his chest. You nuzzle into him desperately as he walks down the hallway and into his bedroom.
He deposits you on the soft silk bed sheets, discarding his pants, and unbuttoning his shirt. You rise from the bed, hurriedly removing your dress with shaky limbs. Aemond sinks to his knees before you, undoing the straps of the heel on your right foot, then your left. He places kisses up the side of your calf as he makes his way back to a standing position, finally letting his mouth meet yours.
You’d missed kissing him, moaning into his mouth as his tongue slips past your lips. His thumbs tease the hardened peaks of your nipples, before tugging on them, sending more wetness pooling between your legs. His arms then wrap around you, pulling you onto the bed with him.
Aemond lays on his back, motioning for you to straddle him. Eagerly you climb onto him, legs on either side of his slim waist. The head of his cock nudges your slick folds and you lift your hips before sinking down on top of him. You throw your head back, crying out at the delicious stretch as he bottoms out in your warm pussy. Fuck his cock is perfect, it's not fair truly.
You roll your hips, nails digging into his pectorals as you begin to ride him, chasing the high he denied you so far. Aemond’s hands rest comfortably on your hips, his eye never leaving your face. He soon grows tired of your languid pace, placing his feet against the mattress and thrusting upwards, meeting you as you slap back down onto his thick cock.
Wet slapping noises fill the room along with steady whimpers and moans you are unable to silence.
“Please,” you beg, desperately grinding your clit against him, “Please professor I need to cum, please let me cum, make me cum-”
You continue to babble as you ride him, warm pleasure leaking into your limbs, but never quite enough to let you reach your peak.
“You’re going to behave now, aren’t you?” Aemond taunts, laughing slightly as you nod, eyes squeezed tightly shut, “Let me take care of you, baby.”
You open your eyes as Aemond flips you onto your back, his cock never leaving you. He slings your leg over his shoulder and pounds into you desperately. The fire in your belly ignites, abs tightening, toes curling from pleasure.
“Cum all over my cock pretty girl,” Aemond tells you, snapping his hips furiously against you.
The coil inside you snaps and your pussy tightens around him, constricting him as your orgasm shatters through you. Aemond fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure until he finds his release inside of you. He doesn’t pull out, simply lays beside you, with his cock inside your warmth.
“I think I’m going to keep you,” he murmurs, lips ghosting across your cheek, “Keep you right here, would you like that?”
“Yes,” you breathe, drunk with pleasure and wanting nothing more than to stay right in the position you’re in.
Aemond hums, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder.
“What kind of breakfast do you enjoy?” he asks, after a moment of comfortable silence.
“You’re letting me stay the night?” you ask.
Aemond’s arms tighten around you.
“I said I’d like to keep you,” he tells you, chuckling.
You snuggle closer to him, keeping a leg wrapped around him so he can stay inside you as long as possible.
A meow comes from the doorway, causing you to lift your head. Vhagar watches you, less defensive than before. Perhaps she’s warming up to you as well.
note: as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are GREATLY appreciated (but never expected) though you will receive an internet kiss on the forehead from me if you do so, okay love you bye!!
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That’s My Sister
Relationship: Sean Renard x Reader, Monroe x Monroe!Reader
Fandom: Grimm
Request: No
Warnings: Brief Strong Language, Fluff, Light Angst
Word Count: 3,540
Main Masterlist: Here
Grimm Masterlist: Here
Summary: Bringing home your significant other for the holidays is always stressful. Even more so when you are a wesen, with another wesen coming, and a Grimm to top it all off!
Love is like death, it must come to us all, but to each his own unique way and time, sometimes it will be avoided, but never can it be cheated, and never will it be forgotten.
The spice shop was gorgeous this time of year. Smells of nutmeg, cinnamon, and juniper with just a hint of pine filled the room. Lights strung up along the banners and shelves. There were not enough to distract or take away from the business, but it added just enough of Yuletide cheer to the area.
“Rosalee? Are you in?” Someone called out into the shop. She looked around in wonder as she waited for the person to appear.
���Hey, it’s my favorite Monroe. What can I do for you?” Said Fuchsbau emerged from the back, dressed in a cozy cardigan.
“Don’t let my brother hear you say that,” the Blutbad teased, “but seriously. I’m looking for a gift for my boyfriend and was wondering if maybe I could poke around and see what I could find?” Her timid tone, and now shy demeanor intrigued Rosalee as she watched the woman.
“Oh. Your mysterious boyfriend that we have yet to meet. I’m sure we could find something. Tell me a little bit about him.” Breathing a sigh of relief, the Blutbad relaxed and went back to her usual self.
“Well, he’s super sweet and oddly loaded. Which makes it difficult to buy him a gift because if he wants something, he already has it. I just- I want this to be good because it’s our first Christmas. But he does like tea when he’s not working to wind down. So maybe something to do with that?” Her rambling encouraged the other woman to begin scouring the shelves for something that might peek her interest.
“Is he wesen? Just incase I give him something poisonous.” Rosalee stopped to look at the sister in her shop.
“He’s half zauberbiest, if that helps.” She offered, to which Rosalee confirmed that it did, in fact, help in her search. But all the while the Fuchsbau’s thoughts were racing as she tried to think of anyone who was half zauberbiest. It was not a very common type of wesen, especially if he’s half.
“Aha! This might do the trick,” she pulled something from a shelf in a glass container, “it’s a calming blend. Rose, chamomile, lavender, mint, and green tea. It’s delicious and should help calm him down from stressful days.” The other woman’s face perked up, and she excitedly followed Rosalee to the counter, where she began to dispense an amount to take with her.
“So this boyfriend of yours, are you bringing him to dinner tomorrow night?” Rosalee tried to sound nonchalant, but her curiosity was eating away at her.
“Maybe. We’ve only been dating a few months. I’m just worried about my brother going off on him.” She pulled out her wallet as she continued to speak.
“I mean, the last time I was dating someone, Roe went full Blutbad on the guy and I could never get a date after that. This is the first guy I’ve dated in years, and I really like him. I don’t want to mess that up.” Taking to leaning against the counter and watching the Fuchsbau measure out the tea and square it away, she continued her lament. Rosalee looked up at her future sister-in-law.
“Look, I get it with your brother. He can be a bit intense. But I will keep him on his best behavior. Is that why you don’t want to introduce them?” She asked, ringing up her family discount for the tea.
“Yeah. That last guy, he looked at me like I was a freak after my brother woged at him. Haven’t been able to get over that stare since. And then he told every other wesen at our school to stay away from me and my ‘psycho’ brother. Never wanted to hurt a Hundjäger so badly in my life.” Placing some bills on the counter, she grabbed the package of tea from the woman, who held her hand gently.
“Bring him to dinner tomorrow. Juliette and I will make sure everyone is on their best behavior. There won’t be a repeat of that.” Rosalee reassured the Blutbad in her care. The other wesen nodded, and placed a hand on top of the other.
“I will, Rosalee.” They both smiled, and let each other go. As the female Blutbad left her shop, the Fuchsbau could not help but let her mind wander as she began to clean up a little bit. Did she even have zauberbiest come into the shop? It’s so hard to tell sometimes, let alone if they are half. All at once, Rosalee had a revelation. She knew who it was.
“Oh no.”
Meanwhile, in the precinct Nick watched from his desk as his captain seemed preoccupied with his phone. It was an unusual behavior which is why it drew the young man’s attention.
“What are you staring at so intensely, Nick?” Hank asked from his desk right next to him.
“It’s the captain. He’s been on his phone more and more today.” The detective pointed out.
“Maybe he’s making plans for Christmas dinner tomorrow night. It’s not a crime for him to be on his phone to make plans Nick.” He tried to explain the behavior away, but Burkhardt shook his head.
“See that?” He called attention to a certain quirk of the face. “He’s smiling. There’s no one in his life that he smiles genuinely for anymore. I think he’s got a girlfriend.” Nick said finally in disbelief.
“If anyone needs a good woman to keep him grounded, it’s definitely the captain. Just be happy for once and don’t profile the man.” Griffin shook his head and turned back to his files, prompting his partner to follow suit. But their attention was called away again as the captain’s office door was flung open.
“Where are you going?” Hank asked, watching the man move fast; it was as fast as he would move if they were on a case.
“Oh, I need to go pick up something for someone. You two should go home, and enjoy Christmas Eve with your families. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he was gone. The two detectives sat there, dumbfounded.
“I’ll be damned; the captain has a lady.” Hank muttered to himself, stopping his work for a moment. Checking the time, Nick stretched his back while standing from the chair.
“Alright, you heard the man. Let’s get out of here. Hey, see you at dinner tomorrow night?” Burkhardt asked of his partner. Griffin nodded and followed suit; both men grabbing their jackets from the back of their chairs in order to leave.
“You know it. I’m not one to turn down a free meal.” Hank joked, stepping out into the parking lot of the precinct. The men said their goodbyes and made their ways home.
In the Calvert-Monroe household though, a full blown argument was about to boil over. They had been going at it since the subject was brought up at dinner. It had lasted from the appetizer, all the way to clean up before dessert.
“All I’m saying is that I would like to meet her boyfriend before he comes over. What if he’s a lowen?” Monroe complained, handing washed dishes to his girlfriend.
“Do you honestly think your sister would date a lowen?” Rosalee countered, drying off the plate to stack.
“You’re right. Still,” he continued, “I just don’t want her to date someone that’s just going to break her heart. I mean, all the guys in high school she liked were totally not for her.” The Blutbad paused for a moment, and rested his soapy wet hands against the sink. Setting down the towel, Rosalee wrapped her arms around her boyfriend and cradled his face.
“She really likes this guy, Monroe. Don’t go over board. Besides, he’s not the worst choice for her.” Turning back to the task at hand, it took the man a second too long to process what the Fuchsbau had said.
“Wait, do you know who she’s dating?” Monroe questioned, watching Rosalee’s face take on an air of faux innocence.
“Maybe. Maybe not. She didn’t explicitly tell me who it was. I just worked it out from what little she did tell me.” She began to place her dishes away, but it seemed that Monroe was not yet done.
“Come on, who is it? Who is she dating?” But the woman said nothing.
“Rosalee.” He growled out in a warning tone, to which she finally faced her boyfriend and rested her hands on her hips.
“The only thing I will say, is that you have met him before. That is it. Now, cake?” Rosalee went to retrieve the chocolate cake from the fridge, leaving Monroe there in the kitchen.
“I’m gonna be kept up all night now.” He complained, but followed his girlfriend into the dining room to have dessert.
The next morning, was a morning of rest. Christmas had come, and everyone was preparing for the festivities that would soon come. Sneaking out of her shared bedroom, a Blutbad began to make breakfast for her lover that was still asleep in their bed. It still astounded her that she could even call this place, this bed, this man, her’s.
Vegan sausages were being fried, toast, pancakes, and several smaller side dishes covered the counter in the kitchen. It continued to shock her at how far vegan alternatives had come as she put the fake eggs in the pan to scramble. As she cooked, two strong bare arms wrapped around her waist. A kiss was placed to her head from behind as the mystery arms relaxed.
“Good morning. It’s not often that I get breakfast made for me.” The voice grumbled out, still thick with sleep.
“Who says this is for you?” She teased. Making sure that nothing would burn, she turned briefly in the man’s arms to come face to face with him. Sage green eyes gazed lovingly into her own, but shut momentarily as they met for a kiss. Her lips molded to her own, and reluctantly she pulled away from the beautiful shirtless man before her, in favor of ensuring their breakfast would not be wasted.
“It’s almost done. Want to go ahead and start putting food on the table?” One last kiss was pressed to her head, along with a squeeze at her waist, and he was off. Soon, the whole table was littered with food.
“Thank you for making this.” He commented genuinely, holding her hand over the steaming food. Suddenly, she hoped up as if a light bulb went off in her head, and she made her way to the kitchen. When she came out yet again, a mug was in her hands this time around.
“What is that?” Came his question, taking the mug and maneuvering it next to his other cup of coffee.
“It’s one of your Christmas presents. Try it.” Sitting down, she watched with bated breath as he brought the mug to his lips, and took a tentative sip. His face lit up and he eagerly took another sip.
“This is delicious. What is it?” Another question, and he was reaching for her hand once more.
“It’s a tea blend from a friend’s shop. I thought it’d be nice to help you wind down after work.” She explained, happy that she was able to get one of two correct.
“This is wonderful. I genuinely appreciate this. Let’s eat though. You went through all this work.” And with that, they dug into the food that littered the table before them. It was not too much longer before they sat themselves on the couch, and enjoyed each others company with presents to either side.
“Here you go.” The man placed a rather heavy wrapped present in her lap, and watched her with eager eyes. She tore into the paper, and leveled her boyfriend with a look as she saw what she had.
“Really, Sean?” Her tone was dry, and she tried to fight the smile coming onto her face. However, with her boyfriend sporting one himself, it was rather hard.
“What? You could always use another book, and I thought you might enjoy the stories.” Said man tried to explain away.
“You gave me a collection of brothers Grimm fairytales!” She exclaimed.
“And you’re not wanting to read them?” He leveled her with another look, which made her shrink down into herself.
“Yes. I’m going to read them.” Muttering under her breath, she placed the book to her side and grasped the other box that was next to her. She placed it in her lover’s lap, and awaited his reaction. Sean gently unwrapped the present, and opened the box that was in his hands. His face dropped in surprise, and his eyes danced over the present he had.
“Do you like it?” Timidly, she inquired. There was no telling what his reaction was going to be. Sean’s hand reached in and pulled out the small object that was awaiting him. It was a ring. Tiny and unassuming, which described his lover but that was not what caught his attention. It was what was on the inside of the ring. An inscription dated September 23rd of that year; their anniversary.
“You don’t like it? It’s fine if you don’t. I just thought maybe you would. I can take it back though if you don’t want it. I’m sure I could at least get store-” she never finished her rambling, because her boyfriend had surged forward and captured her lips in his. They remained locked in their embrace for who knows how long, but she was pushed against the couch in the midst of it. Alas, they pulled away for some much needed oxygen.
“Do you like it?” She repeated her inquiry.
“I love it.” He replied, breathlessly. Helping her back up, Sean allowed her to slip the ring on to his left pinky finger. On the outside, it just looked like a simple silver band, but the fact that he knew that there was that inscription inside made it feel like a known secret. And it was all his.
“This is funny actually.” Sean reached behind him and found the box next to him once more. She was confused as to what he was talking about, and took the box gingerly from his hands. Opening, she let out a small chuckle as to what was inside.
“Now, now, you still have to get my brother on your side.” Once again, she was teasing him. He chuckled as well, but pulled the ring from the box.
“It’s a promise ring.” Sean slipped the ring on to her right ring finger. The emerald in the center, with the silver surrounding it instantly drew her eyes to the sparkling stone.
“This is going to turn some heads at dinner tonight.” Her mind could not help but think about what was going to happen.
“I’ll be right by your side.” Drawing her into his arms, Sean pressed a kiss to her head, and cradled her close.
A few hours later, the couple was dressed up and ready to leave. One last spray of perfume and the jewelry was placed on her body before they left for the evening. Her leg could not stop bouncing as they neared their destination. Sean reached over and held her thigh in hi grasp, which allowed her to calm down just enough. He parked on the side of the road and helped his girlfriend safely exit the car onto the icy sidewalks. They walked up to the door with stained glass, and she took a deep breath.
“You can still back out, you know?” She tried to tell her boyfriend, but he just held her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes.
“I’m not scared by meeting your family. It’s going to be fine.” Sean tried to reassure her.
“Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that, she knocked. Just a moment later, the door opened and revealed a festive looking Fuchsbau.
“You made it!” Rosalee cheered, hugging her boyfriend’s sister close. Letting go, she turned to face the man standing next to her.
“Captain.” She greeted politely, and held out her hand for him to shake.
“Rosalee. It’s good to see you again.” This confused the Blutbad standing between them.
“You know each other?” She wondered aloud. Renard and Rosalee looked at each other.
“I think you’ll find a lot of the people here have met each other at least once.” Rosalee responded cryptically. She pulled them in and out of the cold, before taking their coats to their spare room. The couple wandered through the house and found where the rest of the group was hanging around. She got to watch Sean’s eyes take in her brother’s Christmas decorations that littered the room. The sheer amount of tinsel, lights, and fake snow that was around the house was enough to make even the most Christmasy person take a step back. There was a pause as everyone stopped to stare at the couple.
“You’ve got to be joking.” Monroe stated, setting down his beer. Nick, Juliette, and Hank all turned to face where the Blutbad was staring.
“Captain? Nice to see you?” Nick drawled out confused, and followed his friend’s motion.
“Roe, everyone, this is Sean. But I’m guessing that you all know each other.” She was looking around at the rest of the guests.
“Oh, you’re dying now.” Rounding the corner at an incredible speed, there were shouts as Monroe grabbed the collar of Sean’s more casual sweater she had convinced him to wear instead of his suit. He shoved the zauberbiest against a wall, narrowly missing some decorations as he woged. By this point, Nick and Hank were trying desperately to pull him off of the man, while Juliette and Rosalee were holding and shielding the other Blutbad.
“What are you playing at? What do you want that you feel the need to date my sister?” Monroe growled out, eyes no longer human but red and black and unearthly.
“I am not dating her for a plan. I love her for her.” Sean held up his hands in surrender.
“Roe, let him go.” His sister growled, stepping out from behind the women. The man in question turned his head and let the woge fade back into his skin
“This man is not who he says he is. He’s a royal, little sis. He only told you he loves you to find a way to fit into his plans. Whatever they are.” The longer he spoke, the angrier his sister became.
“I know he’s half-royal, Roe. But that doesn’t mean that Sean doesn’t love me. Now get off of him.” Fully woge out, she grabbed her brother’s arm and threw him back enough to create some distance. The three men that were currently in front of Sean were replaced by one angry Blutbad woman. Her woge disappeared as soon as it came, and she checked in on her boyfriend.
“It’s been lovely seeing everyone, but if this is how it’s going to be, we’ll be leaving.” She said after whispering to Sean for a few moments. It shocked everyone in the room. Rosalee went to reluctantly grab their coats, while everyone else stared at Monroe with pointed glares.
“Wait!” The Blutbad called just before the couple left the party. Sean was helping her into her coat when they paused. He was entirely following her lead on this, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable or unwanted.
“I’m- I’m sorry, okay? You’re my sister and I’m always going to be protective of you. But you are an adult so I need to accept your choice. I’ll tone it down just, please, stay for dinner?” He was keeping his eyes on his sister, who returned with a less believable stare.
“You’re allowed to ask him three questions about our relationship, and three about himself. That’s it.” She replied, allowing Sean to once again, help her out of her coat. Rosalee took it back and happily went to set them on the bed once more. Monroe pulled his sister into a bear hug in the foyer of his home. When they pulled away, Sean stepped up to properly greet the Blutbad.
“You hurt my sister, I’ll break my pledge.” Monroe stared the half zauberbiest dead in the eye as he shook his hand. Renard brought out a smirk, and shook the man’s hand firmly.
“I’m slowly starting to realize the amount of people who will hurt me if I hurt her, including her.” He replied smoothly. The couple were pulled back into the fray easily. Everyone was laughing and eating, and in general, just having a great time. Looking at each other over their glasses of wine, and plates of food, Sean gave her a small wink, and held her hand. With the other, he thumbed a small velvet box the was in the pocket of his slacks. Perhaps next Christmas she would be more than a girlfriend. He needs to get through to her brother first.
#rebelliousstories#writing#grimm imagine#grimm#hank griffin grimm#hank griffin#monroe x reader#monroe grimm#nick burkhardt x reader#nick burkhardt#nick burkhardt imagine#sean renard imagine#sean renard#sean renard x reader#juliette silverton#rosalee calvert
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got any theo fic recs?
of course!!! let me pull up my faves, linking them under the cut cause it might get long (also some fics are nsfw some aren't i didnt tag them all bc by the time i realized i had been through so many already)
Theo Raeken Centric (sometimes gen/sometimes w/pairings)
Why are Werewolves Always Teens? by Everlasting_mediocrity
Crossover. In which Tony Stark is Theo Raeken’s biological father and they’re going to have to do some growing about it. Thiam. Ongoing.
i lost my heart under the bridge by infernal_gay_mess
"The Doctors said, years later, that Theo had taught them that true evil came from corrupting something truly good. What they didn’t tell him was that the best way to make someone into a monster was to convince them they already were one." Angst & Tragedy
blood is running deep, some things never sleep by likelightninginabottle
Aka theo raeken’s mid-season six hot girl summer. Introspective. Thiam.
a rose that won’t bloom by wormhusk
not theo centric, but a cute fic about stiles-scott-theo as kids and theo being scott’s first crush. thiam.
pyrrhic victory of knowing yourself by painting_ethereal
a two part series of stolen memories, theo joining the mccall pack, leaving, and choosing to come back
even in the darkest places, flowers grow by strawberxi (Tupipsie)
a theo raeken-centric fic where he grapples with his sister's birthday, and the implication that he doesn't have to do everything alone. Thiam
On Theo Raeken and Manipulation by wormhusk
Theo Raeken Did Nothing Wrong 2k23. Not A Fic/Pure Meta
Thiam
Secondary Drowning by marrowbite(wingfooted)
in which theo is a selkie.
hey i think he likes you (but honey, i do too) by fallingforboys
in which liam is oblivious and wants to help theo get a boyfriend.
Im not ready to die yet, should i pray? (i’m wasting time, haunted by the ghost of you) by petitommo
the one where theo leaves for Florida. out of necessity, not choice. voicemails, missing liam, waiting–and going home.
tell me no more secrets, i’ll tell you no more lies by likelightninginabottle
“You were attacked. It was self defense.” Theo. “Okay, but what if it wasn’t.” Liam
when oblivion is calling out your name, you always take it further than i ever can by likelightninginabottle
In which Liam is terribly high and completely smitten, Theo is allergic to emotions and totally whipped, Mason has the patience of a saint, and everybody wins, except for Stiles
when you crave someone (to be there at dawn) by likelightninginabottle
(In which, for once, Liam and Theo aren't oblivious, even if the pack very much is.) Post-Monroe, Pack in College, Thiam Being Shameless
burning bright red till the end (now you’ll be missing from the photographs by likelightninginabottle
MCD, Angst
You Missed, Dumbass by Sailorscout7
(OR 2 times Liam trying to kiss Theo ended in disaster and 1 time it mostly didn't)
a fire without a spark by lexisaurus
Liam asks are you alright? it never occurs to Theo that Liam could be asking him, too.
Commemoration, Cauterized by Ty_Winn_Roa
Meeting his parents for the first time in a decade is terrible enough without having to do it all over again. And again. And again. But Theo's never done anything halfheartedly.
Hunting Hearts by l_t_m
“My heart is missing.” Liam blinked. Theo’s way of saying ‘hello’ wasn’t encouraging.
no angels in this bleeding heart town by fallingforboys
“Please don’t make me do this,” Liam says, pleads. His jaw clenches and he squares his shoulders. Theo’s claws flick out.
Happiness is (where you are) by crier_emperor
in which theo gets a home and a hug. Angst. Getting together.
pride before a fall, wolves will keep you warm by likelightninginabottle
Liam comes out of the closet, in more ways than one. Or rather: his friends break him out. Cute, fluffy, and funny
look at the wonderful mess we made, we pick ourselves undone by likelightninginabottle
In which the supernatural does not exist. But Beacon Hills still went through a war, of which this is the aftermath. Liam and Theo pine for each other, but Liam thinks he cannot have Theo and so he dates other people. And yes. They are roommates. Mutual Pining, Jealousy, Misunderstandings.
your slightest look easily will unclose me by likelightninginabottle
Liam thinks about the people who left and how he is almost alright without them. Post-Canon.
just steps across the tower bridge by eneiryu
Guilt, injury, angst–Theo’s body is failing, and he’s hiding it from Liam. Happy Ending.
Use and abuse me ‘til I’m gone by THENINTH09
5 times Liam makes Theo bleed and the one time (two times) he doesn’t.
don’t you hear me howling, babe? by THENINTH09
Theo and Liam in Theo’s truck, after Gabe and the hospital. NSFW
Iron and Copper by TheOceanIsMyInkwell
Or: A witch grants Theo's wish to turn human for a day and be loved for who he is. Liam shows him just what that wish might look like.
drove him underground by justt_ppeachy
Liam and Theo, but they are Orpheus & Eurydice retold. It always ends the same.
so cruelly you kissed me by wormhusk
A series of two one-shots, one with liam realizing his feelings for theo and the second on theo
this love is difficult, but it’s real by wormhusk
a two part series of oneshots with thiam secretly dating, liam telling the pack, it not going well, and the aftermath
all sunny days are on by wormhusk
Remember the hunger games au? This is an alice in borderland au. A lot of people will die but not thiam. incomplete
the smell of smoke would hang around this long by wormhusk
theo quits smoking
and in ever crowd, it's you i'm looking for by fallingforboys
in which theo is unfortunately very attractive and needs a fake boyfriend at a party--and oh look, liam is right there
Thiam Fics That Are Part of This One Orphaned Series So I Have Put Them Together
this is why they shouldn’t kill off the main guy by wormhusk
a first-kiss fic with theo angst and liam bullying theo into staying with him instead of his truck
and i remember thinking by wormhusk
a fic exploring the theo train track theory AKA where they talk about a past suicide attempt
Oh i love it and i hate it at the same time
Established Thiam, Theo gets his wisdom teeth removed.
256,000
The one where Liam calculates how many times Theo died down in Hell and has a panic attack.
cut it out then restart by wormhusk
Theo has a bad day and gives into old habits. Angst. Self-harm
argumentative antithetical dream girl
it’s a pwp but I'm including it because it's the same ‘verse
i just wanna stay in that lavender haze by wormhusk
thiam get high and and play the 36 questions that lead to love and then have sex about it
and i wouldn’t marry me either
Liam has a plan to propose to his boyfriend. Theo thinks Liam is acting cagey
fighting in only your army
The skinwalkers want Theo back. No one reacts well.
are there still beautiful things
a witch’s curse makes Liam hate the one he loves most–his fiance. Angst.
i know my pain is such an imposition
the boys finally get to go on their honeymoon. so of course it goes wrong.
long live the look on your face by wormhusk
Theo and Liam go to build-a-bear
he was sunshine i was midnight rain by wormhusk
Liam does a 30-day love challenge
Sceo
Shall I sleep within your bed by voices_in_my_head
In which Theo wasn't expecting to be rescued
fake my heart by LuthienKenobi
In which Theo is captured and a femme fatale all in one
gonna make you a believer by queerebrum
in which the battle is over, the Anuk Ite defeated, and Scott McCall can finally see things clearly–things like how he has been pretending he is not in love with Theo Raeken
Expelliaramus! by tabbytabbytabby
Gryffindor Scott and Slytherin Theo are secretly dating.
Sons of Monsters and Monster Sons by TheOceanIsMyInkwell
“i think,” theo says slowly, “my father tried to kill me when i was seven.” Sceo+Thiam, bc Theo is terribly in love with them both. Child Abuse Mention, as well as Mentions of sexual assault done to Theo by his Father. Theo did NOT have a happy loving childhood.
Unbreakable Heaven by tabbytabbytabby
Theo thinks he and Scott are FWBs while Scott thinks they are dating. Theo starts pulling away once he realizes he has feelings for Scott. Scott wonders what he did to make his boyfriend distant.
our hands dirtied by the other’s desire; i will declare my love with a slaughter by clementinecalls
When they lay in the grass and stare at the stars, Scott runs his thumb over Theo’s wrist. Feeling his pulse steady under his touch. He thinks about the sun in comparison to Theo. He thinks about how he was Icarus and he loved Theo just as he loved the sun — too close, too much.
Homeless Theo/Theo + Pack
Too Afraid to Follow Through by dangerouscoffeetheorist
for your melissa & theo needs, and theo being forced to join the pack against his will.
wither under the iridescent glow of the sun, moon, and stars by fallingforboys
Theo digs the bullets out himself, using them to cauterize the wounds, and the air around him becomes hot and a little sticky with the smell of his flesh burning, but he ignores it.
He ignores it and saves himself, because that’s all he knows how to do. He saves himself because he knows that no one else would bother trying. (He’s wrong.) Thiam but mostly pack focused
Heart coming up my throat, think I’m getting worse at breathing by Multifandom_damnnation
Jordan Parrish & Theo. Thiam
murphy’s golden rule: whoever has the gold makes the law by game_ender
Coach Finstock & Theo. In which Theo gets adopted by the Coach. Thiam
Vanlife Style! by onyxthroughtheages
In which Alec and Theo are bffs, Theo was raised in the sewers and so learns about TikTok scandals and instafame through Google, and mentions Liam in almost every TikTok he ever makes.
built a ship in the morning but the hull’s worn through by eneiryu
in which theo makes a deal with the pack: after Monroe, he gets to walk away. Thiam
waves on the ocean for the wavering kind by eneiryu
a two parter series. part one is where Theo leaves Beacon Hills with exactly the same things he came into it with: his truck, a duffel bag full of clothes, and the permanent taste of blood and grave dirt in his mouth. part two is argent’s pov. thiam
Fics That Deserve a Category of Their Own
You only feel one emotion at a time by likelightninginabottle
Theo doesn't feel pain. It makes him reckless. The pack doesn't notice, until they do. Incomplete. Pack Dynamics. Thiam. Theo’s Past, Theo’s Present, and Hopefully, Theo’s Future.
Take my heart (and put it somewhere safe) by not_carrying_on
The one where Theo reluctantly helps the pack capture Monroe, deals with the aftermath of his upbringing with the Dread Doctors, saves the lives of not so few people (despite the will to deny it until his dying breath), practically adopts Alec and pulls his head out of his ass.
#theo raeken#scott mccall#teen wolf#sceo#thiam#fic recs#answered asks#anon ask#this isnt everything ofc and one of these fics are mine#but it got too long lol#NONE**#NONE* of these fics are mine#prone to updates!
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THE STORY
Music has always been a part of you.
You could hold a bow (violin/viola/cello) before you could hold a pencil. Unfortunately, life has catapulted you into a downward spiral. Your college band disintegrates. A close friendship goes up in flames. You’re doing nothing with your life. Death and a personal betrayal have left you bereft. You have never felt more worthless. Everything culminates on the night of your sister’s wedding when you drunkenly form a Faustian contract with the entity that haunts your apartment.
For better and for worse, you are now destined for greatness.
The devil has but one thing to ask in return: absolute domination. You are to conquer anything and everything through the power of good ol’ fashioned rock n’ roll. And you’re not alone. Armed with friends (new and old), a new band, and quite literal hellspawn to help, you are going to conquer the world.
Not because it’s what you want, but because failure is not an option.
Not for any of you.
CONTENT WARNINGS
Retroghouls is intended for mature 18+ audiences for dark topics including abuse, violence, explicit language and sexual content, and more.
FEATURES
Customize your MC from their physical appearance, personality, sexuality to their musical background (violin, viola, or cello), familial relationships, and more.
Choose your band’s concept and determine its overarching message. Is your group activist, a sex symbol, or a harbinger of destruction? Will you tell your fans that they’re not alone? Will you challenge them to persevere no matter what? Or will you encourage them to burn it all down?
Manage your newfound inspiration and the cornucopia of side effects that come with it.
Protect the anonymity of you and your bandmates.
Outwit a demon or two – if you play your cards right.
Romance a cast of troubled individuals.
Make objectively terrible decisions! Ruin lives! Or don’t. You will face the consequences of your actions either way.
ROMANTIC INTERESTS
Camille ‘Ilim’ Vaughan [she/her or he/him] is the drummer of your new group. Having been involved in the music industry for over a decade, they are a person who invokes a myriad of opinions. Both beloved and reviled, Ilim themselves operate in extremes. They make no effort to hide their agenda. So the question follows – what part will you play in the reckoning? [MORE]
Tuesday ‘Needle’ Nelson [he/him or she/her] is the bass of your band’s guitar trio. So, whether it is during concerts, midnight comp sessions, or just casual riffing at hq, they are always close by. Music has always been their one true love and so they’re determined to pour their blood, sweat, and tears into this project. Tuesday has very little else otherwise. [MORE]
Micky Monroe [she/her or he/him] You two took orchestra together in high school and haven’t given a passing thought towards one another since your graduation performance. Now, courtesy your prodigious manager, Micky & Archangels are the feature on your upcoming album. Once the album is done, you’ll surely fade from one another’s lives just like before. Both of you agree, it’ll be just like before. [MORE]
Jack/Jackie Graves [he/him or she/her] is the heart of your PR team, coordinating with managers, publicists, and social media specialists to ensure no unnecessary information about the band leaks. Your privacy is their bread and butter. Your security pays their bills. Don’t mistake their friendliness. Don’t mistake their kindness. It’s just common business to look out for one’s best interests.
#interactive fiction#interactive novel#interactive game#twine game#dating sim#retroghouls if#interact if#if wip#interactive fiction wip
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Hands on You
Jay White x F Reader
Genre: smut minors DNI NSFW
Summary:
Reader enjoys Jays promo and it gives her an idea
Tags @madhatterbri @midwestmade29
“ I can remind you on any given night exactly why I’m the catalyst of professional wrestling “ Jay said as I watched from the locker room. He was pure switchable, the crowd eating out of his hands, he was sex personified.
He walked back through the locker room doors, “Hey Sweetheart “, a kiss on the top of my head , “ Having fun?” he asked grinning as my eyes never left his upper body. “ Do you want to remind me that you’re the catalyst? “ eyeing him up and down. “ Did you watch the match or did you just watch me?” his cocky smirk “What do you think?” I asked “Sweetheart, I think you heard my promo, and have been staring at me all night. If the look you’re giving me is any indication. Normally I’d remind you that my eyes are up here, but I’m curious what’s been on that mind of yours.”.His eyes locking on mine as he changed , his movements slow and methodical.“Sorry it’s been a minute, since I’ve seen you this …” I said biting my lip. “I’ll tell you later what I was thinking “standing up kissing him, what was supposed to be a quick kiss, turned into a kiss where we both were fighting for control, he relented. “Later it is then” a wink and a grin as he put his arm around me.
We stayed for the remainder of the show,and a little while at the after party. “ I still want to hear, what you were thinking about earlier.” he whispered in the crowded room. My face blushed “Jay stop” I said “ So prim and proper in public. Isn’t there a song about “a lady in the..” I play slapped him on the stomach. “You’ve been waiting all night for a reason to touch me. Let’s get out of here.”
In the back of the car, Jay pulled me close to him. His lips finding the spot behind my ear “are you going to tell me, or are you going to show me?” his voice warm in my ear. I sighed his lips moved down my neck. “What is that you want? I haven’t seen you this desperate for me in a while. So what was it tonight?” Come on Sweetheart tell me,” he said as the car came to a stop . He offered his hand as we got out of the car, and headed into the hotel and up the elevator.
In the elevator I don’t know who moved first, one moment we were inches apart the next we were melded together. I sank my teeth into his bottom lip, and his hands squeezed my ass. His mouth moved on mine, fighting for control, I relented,as the ding of the elevate signaled our floor . Walking down the hallway to our room, he grabbed my ass and playfully swatted at it.
“We are alone now, so I’m going to ask one last time, what was it tonight?”his voice low and warm, “ Jay, there was just something different about you, your confidence, your command of everything, the way your abs and arms looked in that cut down the middle shirt, that little peak of the V. I thought about grinding on your abs…” he cut me off with a kiss I knew how much he liked it when I praised him and his body, that he needed that.
There was nothing slow about the way that we disrobed I reached for my bra" leave it for now" he mumbled his mouth on my neck. “ Give me a second” he said climbing into bed, he situated himself laying flat on the bed, “Come here sweetheart, I know just what you need but first strip the rest of the way”his voice in full command I climbed into bed, “straddle me” I followed his direction situating my self above his very obvious hard on “No sweetheart move further up, there you go” as I hovered over his stomach his hands on my hips lowered me on to him his hands rocking my hips. “Go ahead fuck yourself by grinding on my abs” his hands encouraging me to move faster. “Jay I …” I felt myself get wetter as he guided my hips, “ I guessed right, this has been what you wanted all night. Now show me how much you want it.” He released my hips but I kept rocking, my hands firmly planted on his chest rocking harder, he flexed and released his abs, causing me to moan. “ How long have you thought about doing this. Making a mess on my abs , all you had to do was ask sweetheart. “ Jay I can’t” my words failing me. “ Yes you can, your doing so good for me. Your legs are squeezing me so tight” his voice a low rasp. “ Touch me Jay” I begged. His hand reached up and began playing with my breast squeezing and rolling my nipple. “ Jay so close, it feels so good.”I cried, “ I know, you’re so beautiful”he tightened his abs again making them rigid as my body moved on his “Go ahead and cum for me” and that’s all it took my body tensed and I leaned forward enough that he captured my lips as I moaned in pleasure, his hands going to my hips making sure that I got every ounce of pleasure. As my body collapsed on his, he removed his hands from my hips and began to stroke my back before he wrapped his arms around me.
“Sweet girl, you did so good” his voice softer. I buried my face in his shoulder, “Jay, I can’t believe I did that” I mumbled. He just laughed and rolled us over.
#aew fanfiction#aew smut#breathe with the switchblade#switchblade jay white smut#jay white x you#jay white fanfiction#jay white imagine#switchblade jay white#jay white smut#jay white x reader#Spotify
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trick or treat <33 something landoscar if you have anything handy but dealers choice tbh!! ALSO. OVI FIC SEQUEL YES PLSSS.
hiii anon! another one from the fic graveyard — we’re talking WAY back now. this is a daniel/landoscar las vegas threesome i started writing almost a year ago and then lost interest in, but i really enjoyed writing the very OTT banter.
The group splinters over the next hour or so. Oscar’s trainer or whoever bails first; Oscar leans over the back of the chair to coordinate some extremely boring-sounding details about workout schedules. Lando’s eyes are glued to his arse. Dan gives it a once-over. In fairness to the guy, it’s a good arse.
When he looks up, Lando’s absolutely clocked him checking his little mate out. Well, whatever. Dan shrugs, pokes his tongue into his cheek in the internationally-accepted expression for a suckjob and drains the last of his wine while Lando splutters into laughter.
“Alright, kiddos,” he announces. “One more drink. Anyone for another? Lando, want another smoothie?”
He doesn’t quite put on a baby voice as he says it, but he’s confident Lando will get the jibe.
“Fuck off, old man,” Lando says, sure enough. He’s so hilariously easy to rile. “I’m twenty-four tomorrow. Mid-twenties.”
Daniel snorts, has enough sense not to follow this line any further. Age jokes never end in his favour, these days. “Yeah, yeah, you’re practically a real boy. D’you want one or not?”
“Coke,” Lando says. “Diet.”
“Please,” Daniel adds, and Lando smiles prettily, bats his eyelashes. Daniel shakes his head and turns to Oscar, who’s been regarding the whole back-and-forth with a raised eyebrow.
“Uh, yeah, cheers. One more of those,” he says to Daniel, indicating his almost-empty beer bottle. “Please.”
“See,” Dan says to Lando. “Where we’re from, we have manners.”
“I’ve got manners,” Lando says, and slips from his chair to the sofa Oscar’s sitting on, curling his feet up with his shoes all over the fabric, which would be undermining his point if his sneakers didn’t look box-fresh. “I’m lovely, me.”
“Yeah, I bet,” Daniel says, and bails to the bar. As he goes, he sees Lando from the corner of his eye, leaning in to whisper something in Oscar’s ear. God, if they start acting like a loved-up couple around him, Dan might just be sick on Lando’s nice new shoes.
He’s waiting for the guy behind the bar to rouse himself from his stoned stupor – Dan can smell the green on him, considers asking if he’s got any left over except knowing his luck this year, this is the weekend he’d be called up for an FIA blood screening – when Lando sidles up next to him. He sits down on the stool next to Dan and props his chin on one hand.
Alarm bells start going off in the back of Daniel’s head.
“He-ey,” Lando begins. The alarm gets louder.
“What,” Daniel says, keeping his voice as flat as possible so as not to encourage whatever lunatic scheme he can see brewing behind Lando’s eyes.
Lando’s drawing little spirals on the polished oak bartop with his index finger, looking up at Dan coquettishly. “Me and my partner have seen you around and we like your vibe.”
He’s using his special breathy happy-birthday-Mr-President voice, a comparison Daniel chooses not to voice as he’s fairly certain Lando will pretend not to have heard of Marilyn Monroe just to be a cunt about it.
Also – what?
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Stranded (Gender Neutral!Reader x Mike Monroe)
Could I request Mike going out on his first date after the mountain and trying to act like his usual self before it cracks too much? Just a bit of comfort when his date stays and helps him through it instead of bolting like Mike expected.
College had been out of the question for Mike after getting down.
He could have lived with having to have amputated his own fingers, but the worst part was the PTSD. The idea of being on his own in an unfamiliar location just sent him into complete panic.
He can see those... things every time he's not sure what's around the corner. He needs the light on at night or he can't sleep, and he feels pathetic for it.
It's been so hard not to completely break down, even if his therapist has encouraged him to feel everything he's been repressing.
Mike just wants to prove he can hold it together.
Be... at least somewhat normal.
No matter how hard it seems.
With Jess gone to stay with family in the Midwest, Mike is newly single, and maybe a date is the perfect way for him to get back in the ol' Mike Monroe swing of things.
So when you ask him out, he treats it like the lifeline it is, and tries to help himself as much as he can.
A familiar venue - an old 50s style road diner. Greasy burgers and creamy shakes. The good stuff. Brightly lit.
Early lunch. It's not so crowded, but also it's in daylight, so he knows that even if they came down from the mountain, they wouldn't be on the hunt.
Some answers rehearsed - how've you been, what happened up there, are you okay, blah blah blah.
He had mentioned to his parents about Wolfie, and turned out once he was officially diagnosed with PTSD and associated anxiety, insurance covered him getting a service dog that helped a lot.
It almost feels like he's back to the old Mike.
Gregarious, smart, a little goofy, even a little douchey.
As you meet him there and start chatting, it almost feels easy to him now. He used to talk like this all the time. Aimless chatter, meandering around subjects.
He forgot how easy it had been before knowledge of what was out there set him so far apart from all but a handful of people.
Even so, there's little hints that Mike's carefully crafted facade is just that. He taps an odd little rhythm to try and soothe himself, but it's always just a little incomplete due to his missing fingers - the remaining joints moving instinctively to finish the rhythm but failing.
His smile's a touch manic, even now. He's always had a bit of a weird grin, but it's just tough for him to remember how to move his face.
His eyes flit about anxiously, looking upwards, sometimes tracking some fast-moving object only he can see.
But he's making it through it.
Until...
until...
Somewhere in the back, someone curses and a loud crashing noise erupts, the sound of dishes breaking.
It startles Mike and he chokes on his words, instantly freezing utterly still.
"Don't... move... a fucking... muscle." he grunts, his eyes not even moving.
He's somewhere far away right now, maybe trapped in a nightmare.
The service dog rears up and places its head in Mike's lap, making a muffled bark that seems to jolt Mike back into reality.
"I..."
You nod. "It's okay, Mike. Whatever you saw just now... it's gone."
He nods. "Yeah."
"Here, have some of my water, we can get a refill."
He guzzles the whole cup and looks at you warily. "You're... still here."
"Yep."
"I mean... usually, that scares people off, when I have an... episode. Shit, now I know how Jos- never mind."
"I'd be a pretty shitty date if I ran off while you were... indisposed. In fact, I think I'm gonna have to see you again to make sure you're okay."
He turns red. "I don't... I'm not a charity case."
"No, you're not." you agree. "What you are is strong. You're a survivor. Whatever happened, you came out alive, and you're still going."
"It feels sometimes like I never really left. Like I'll open my eyes at some point and I'll still be fucking back there."
"Some things are... sticky. Can't always brush everything off. Only thing we can do when the road gets long is keep on truckin."
Mike sighs. "Well, thanks for... keeping me truckin."
"I tell you what: how about we ask to move into that corner booth so that you don't have to keep checking behind you, and we can sit together so I can watch your back?"
"You... noticed that."
"I'm very observant."
"Thanks, but... let's just try to stay here. There's nothing to worry about here. I'm not... there."
"Whatever works for you. I don't plan on bolting either way."
"I wouldn't blame you if you did. But as long as you're here, wanna split another basket of fries?"
"Hell, yeah."
#mike monroe x male reader#mike monroe x reader#until dawn x male reader#until dawn x reader#until dawn headcanons#headcanons#male reader
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More ideas/headcanons for the ‘Nerds Corruption AU’
Link to the original post for those who aren’t familiar: https://www.tumblr.com/rhondafromhr/738012368733356032/dont-get-me-wrong-i-love-max-redemption-arcs-in
-The LIB adopt their human forms after the first time Max, Steph and the nerds summon them and RELENTLESSLY make fun of their true/eldritch forms. “our real forms would melt your minds” yeah sure whatever you need to tell yourself Pokey
-Tinky tries to use having Ted in the bastard box as leverage against Pete, but he just doesn’t care because that’s not his brother, it’s some other Pete’s brother from another timeline so it’s not his problem.
-Once everyone in the group starts acting like an agressive bully the way Max does, Grace finds herself attracted to all of them and has a crisis over it.
-At some point Max tries to apologize for before (“sorry for bullying you guys all these years, you never deserved that, everyone we’re currently bullying does but you didn’t.”) Now that they’re all literal monsters too they just dismiss him like “don’t apologize, we get it now, the power trip is fucking awesome!“
-Max’s signature move of using anti-bullying slogans to justify and get away with bullying is their favorite. They always tell Max how smart he is for coming up with it.
-They decide Kyle can date Brenda now but plot twist! Brenda leaves him for Ruth. Ruth taunts him for this every chance she gets and purposely makes out with Brenda in locations where he’ll have to walk by. Cue Kyle sobbing in the bathroom while Jason comforts him, leading to one of very few sweet, wholesome scenes we get in this universe.
-Ruth is confident enough to perform now, which obviously means they need to sabotage the lead in The Barbecue Monologues so she can take the role. They either just straight up intimidate them into quitting or frame them for vandalizing the school and get them expelled.
-One day Pete randomly remembers the time Brad Callahan pantsed him and he and the rest of the crew just drop what they’re doing to go beat him up. When they get called into principal Blim’s office they tell him they did it because Brad was picking on Hannah Foster earlier (“what do you want us to do? Stand by and do nothing? Being a bystander is just as bad as bullying, we learned that at the anti-bullying assembly!”) Brad has been known to do that so he believes them and lets them off with a warning. When word gets around people actually do mess with Hannah a lot less.
- (already mentioned this in a separate post but I’ll put it here too) after graduation Max, Steph + the nerds run an anime/comic book store together and Richie’s the only one who knows or cares about any of it. He’s rude and condescending to customers, everyone else is not knowledgeable and completely unhelpful, Grace tells every customer they need to go read a bible instead. They have like 1.5 stars on yelp but stay in business because the next closest similar store is in Clivesdale so nobody’s going to go there
-At some point Linda Monroe comes in and sees the gang being rude to Becky Barnes, so of course she takes an instant liking to them. She becomes an investor in the store and sort of a mother figure to all of them. She encourages their bad behavior, giving them tips for manipulating people in a more sophisticated way. Max and Steph get especially attached to her (the three bond over their dad issues) and they go to her house once a week to drink wine and and hear all the hot gossip about Linda’s rich frienemies.
-When Roman finds out about Linda’s new investment he comes to check out the store and he’s as icy towards her as usual. True to form, Max, Steph and the nerds say the rudest, most out of pocket stuff to him (Richie goes after his appearance HARD, not realizing the irony that he looks pretty similar) and eventually he storms off. Linda’s touched that they stood up for her. She cries and tells them how proud she is. Max and Steph cry a little too because this is the first time a parental figure’s ever told them that. After this they become obsessed with impressing Linda so they can hear it again.
-Grace babysits Linda’s kids sometimes and Linda pays her an outrageous amount due to being so out of touch with regular babysitting rates (“it’s one banana, what could it cost, ten dollars?” energy). Grace refuses to babysit for Tom anymore because he can’t match these rates. One night he can’t find any other sitters, so he tries to cancel on Becky but she suggests they spend a night in with Tim instead, leading to some nice family bonding (okay there can be one more cute wholesome moment, I’ll allow it.)
-They’re rivals with Frank Pricely. They hate him because Toyzone cuts into their merch sales. He hates them back for stealing Linda, who used to drop thousands per week at his store. They always scheme to screw each other over. Black Friday doesn’t happen in this timeline solely because they pay Lex to destroy the entire shipment of wiggly dolls. This is also what gets them on the LIB’s radar, Wiggly is absolutely furious.
- (This one relates to the popular “Paul is Richie’s uncle” headcanon) At some point, Paul is at his wit’s end with Richie and makes him move out in the hopes it’ll force him to reevaluate his life and stop being so awful. He doesn’t just throw Richie out, he gives him a timeline and helps him find a place. But he’s not sure if he did the right thing. He mentions this to Ted at work and Ted says his parents did the same to him and he’s totally well-adjusted. Paul just gives him a look and says “Ted…no.” This is the catalyst for him getting involved with the group and eventually getting his own corruption arc.
-After moving out, Richie becomes roommates with Max and Ruth. Steph and Pete have a luxury apartment together downtown (Solomon pays for it because he can’t deal with her anymore and wants her out of his house). Grace has a two bedroom apartment to herself - she had a roommate at one point, but they got fed up and left. Luckily she can afford it with her cushy babysitting gig.
#npmd#nerdy prudes must die#npmd corruption au#max jagerman#stephanie lauter#peter spankoffski#ruth fleming#richie lipschitz#grace chasity#linda monroe#lords in black#wiggog y'wrath#nibblenephim#pokotho#tnoy karaxis#bliklotep#paul matthews#ted spankoffski
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Paperwork Papa
Any Papa | General Audiences | wc: 2,652
The grind over paperwork is never ending and Papa needs an escape where he can focus and catch up. Unexpectedly, he finds just the place.
I jokingly said "I'm starting to think that with the amount of shenanigans that happen in Papas’ offices they must all keep secret offices where they can actually work as well." And, well, the idea got away from me. Enjoy!
Read on AO3
Or in full below the cut
Papa gently lifted the arm still thrown over his chest and slid away from the sibling—Lucien, was it? Lucerne? Lucas?...Luca? He wasn’t entirely sure, something in that ballpark—trying not to wake them. They had come into his office earlier on some thin excuse of a task. After some heated looks, playful banter, and seeking touches they’d both ended up naked on the rug, worshiping the Olde One in his favorite way. Vestiges of satiated pleasure still swam in his blood, but he needed to go.
The work that he had been trying, and failing, to do for days still sat undone across his desk. It taunted him as he located his trousers and shirt and pulled them on. Socks followed, but he picked up and carried his shoes across the room to his desk. He set them gently down then gathered up the papers, stuffing them into a plain manila folder, then grabbed some extra pens and slid them in his pocket. Supplies ready, he gathered his folder and shoes and padded across the room on silent feet. He eased the door open, thankful for the well-oiled hinges, and slipped into the hall. This late, or perhaps early, no one was about so he paused to pull on his shoes before he set out on his mission: to find some place to work.
He had no fondness for the paperwork that came with his holy office. He had always been a more hands-on leader; relishing the chance to guide people into sin over the nitty gritty of management. He could only read so many requisitions or duty rosters before his eyes got blurry. The quarterly budget review meeting always gave him a headache. But he loved his flock and would suffer for them. He knew the importance of the paperwork; they were still occasionally surprised by chaotic ripples left by his own father’s bureaucratic neglect decades earlier. He wouldn’t make the same mistake. But that required him to find time to actually do the work. Time that had been evading him.
If it wasn’t some sibling looking for guidance, either the spiritual or the carnal kind, it had been the roster of formal events he was supposed to attend, or the services he led, or even his brothers pulling him into meals or discussions that they said just couldn’t wait. He had managed to sign two timesheets in the past two weeks. And that just wasn’t good enough. He needed some quiet. Some space to disappear to where no one would think to look for him.
He pondered where to go as he walked down the corridor away from his office. His private chambers were never nearly as private as the name implied. And the blustery and damp weather meant that the walk over to the greenhouses was less than appealing. Coming into the main hall he paused, glancing down the various hallways and debating the merits. The sibling dormitories might work—if he knew which rooms were supposed to be free. The ghoul den was obviously out. The chapel might prove quiet, but it might just as easily not. The library carried a similar risk, but at least there he might be able to find a study room that was unoccupied. With a shrug he set out for it, hoping for the best.
He eased the door open and quietly stepped inside. Silence greeted him and encouraged him to shut the door behind him. Most of the lights were off, but a soft warm light poured from the lamp on the reception desk. Behind the desk sat a woman, and he walked across the plush carpet to stop before her desk.
Her hair was platinum, done in a 1950’s style that was obviously influenced by Marilyn Monroe. The 50’s theme continued on her face, with restrained cat eye makeup and bold red lipstick. She was also chewing gum. As he watched, she blew a bubble. It got larger and larger until it popped. He couldn’t help jumping. She seemed unaffected, and with dexterity and not one smudge of her lipstick she gathered the deflated bubble back into her mouth and resumed chewing.
“Excuse me,” he said, breaking the all-encompassing silence.
“Papa,” she replied calmly, turning the page of the book she was reading. He waited for some further acknowledgement, but none came.
“I was hoping to use a study room,” he prompted further. “Can you tell me which one is free.”
She blew another bubble, it popped, he jumped. With a sigh she set down her book, keeping a finger to mark her place. He couldn’t help his curiosity and glanced down at the cover. A woman and man, both barely clothed, embraced on the cover, rendered even more fantastic by the soft oil-painted colors. A romance novel. A bodice ripper, if he judged right. He couldn’t fault her choice.
“You looking to work, or to...” she trailed off, a brow lifted in question as she finally met his gaze.
“Work,” he replied firmly. She studied him and he had to fight the urge to squirm under her scrutiny.
“If you’re serious, the study rooms on the top floor are being remodeled. Or should be. Work has been stalled for two months. Something about a paperwork mishap.” She shrugged and reached for a bookmark then set her book down. She then turned and pulled out a box and pulled a thick woolen blanket from it. “They’re a little drafty, not heated as well as they should be, but no one goes up there.”
“That will be fine,” he said and accepted the blanket. He pointed to the main staircase, and she nodded. He waited a moment more for further instructions, but she picked back up her book and began blowing another bubble.
With a shrug he set out for the stairs. He climbed, and climbed, until at last he reached the top. He couldn’t remember ever being up here, right next to the ribs of the roof, but found the slightly cramped hallway inviting. As the librarian had said, it was obviously under renovation. Stacks of wood and paint cans lined the hallway and one of the doors was covered in protective plastic. Selecting another door, he pushed it open and paused long enough to locate the light switch.
The switch turned on not some ghastly florescent light like he had expected, but instead a number of lamps about the room. A large desk with chairs for four filled the main space, each spot having its own reading lamp. Two stuffed armchairs were also pushed into the corners, separated by an empty sideboard between them. Lamps hung over each chair and another cast light from the sideboard. A dark window reflected his surprised face back at him. Shaking off his stupor, he walked into the room and pulled out a chair at the desk. This space would be perfect. He opened up his files and got to work.
It was an hour or two later, when the lines of the printed spreadsheet before him began to run together, that he pushed up his glasses and pushed his fingers into his eyes. He was less than halfway done, but his body was fighting him. What he needed was a break. And maybe a coffee.
He rose with a roll of his shoulders and made his way to the door. He could at least go down to a floor where he knew there were facilities and splash some water on his face. He pulled open the door and only barely caught himself from kicking over the cup of espresso sitting on the floor just outside.
He bent down and reached out a finger to poke the cup. It was solid, and warm, so he lifted it and the saucer it sat on. Bringing it to his nose he took a deep inhale. It smelled like coffee. Bravely, he took a sip and sighed at the smooth taste. It was good, very good, and exactly what he needed.
He walked to the end of the hall and looked down the stairs, wondering if he could see the librarian on her way down. With as warm as the espresso was, she couldn’t have left it long ago. But the stairwell was empty. Silence and darkness were all he could observe. Reminding himself to thank her later, he took another sip and made his way back to the study room, ready to conquer the spreadsheet.
The growl of his stomach stopped his progress later. He had had a light dinner, all the better to return to his office and try to do some work—for a well as that had turned out, and now regretted it. He glanced at the window, but the world was still dark outside. The chances of the kitchens being open this early were slim, but he had best check. Once again, he got up and made his way to the door only to pause outside it. Earlier he had thought of coffee and espresso had shown up outside. Perhaps now food would be waiting for him. He could hope.
He pulled the door open and grinned to see a plate with a sandwich and an apple waiting for him. He wasted no time in gathering them up and taking them back to the desk but chose another spot as to not stain his work. The sandwich was simple, but flavorful and he devoured it. After using his fingers to pick up crumbs from the plate he grabbed the apple and bit into it, leaning back and savoring its juices. He ate it slowly, enjoying his reprieve, but eventually it was nothing but a core and he had to put it down.
Refreshed by his full stomach he was ready to finish his work. He shifted over to his original spot and pulled the pile of pay stubs closer, flexing his hand, before taking up his pen and signing the first one.
With a deep, victorious sigh he pushed the last document away from him and leaned back in his chair. He let his eyes slide closed and rolled his head around to loosen his neck. Soft daylight warmed his hand nearest the window now, but he had done it. He had caught up, maybe even gotten a little ahead in his work.
He smiled softly as he carefully stacked his papers back into the folder, straightening them and making sure none were folded or creased. He reached over to pull the plate with the apple core near then stood, taking both the plate, the folder, and the unused blanket with him. Despite the librarian’s warning, the room had been an even, comfortable temperature all night. He placed the folder on top of the blanket then the plate on top of it all to open the door, then descended the stories back to the main level.
The abbey was starting to come alive; he could hear the hum of some gardening tool outside and occasionally catch the song of birds when he passed a window. However, the library was still empty as he reached the first floor and stepped off the stairs. Or it had been until the door was pushed open and a sister with wild blonde hair rushed in, stopping at the desk and slamming both hands on the surface.
“Have you seen Papa?” the new sister demanded. The librarian behind the desk hadn’t moved, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even looked up.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he slipped behind the first row of shelves, peaking between the row of books to watch what happened.
“Excuse me,” the sister demanded, picking up one hand from the desk to wave it between the librarian and her book. “Hello! I’m looking for Papa. Is he in here?”
Slowly the librarian looked up, her face still blank. If anything, he thought to himself, she looked bored. The room waited in silence as she began to blow another bubble. As the bubble grew, so too did the smell of old books. He took a deep, silent breath, wondering if it had always been that strong—his nose was currently wedged right above several volumes as he peered through the shelf—or he had only now noticed it. The bubble grew more still, now larger than his fist, and he realized that the noises he had been hearing before, the distant hum and the birds, had gone silent. The silence wasn’t like earlier, comforting, inviting. It was oppressive, threatening to any who had the gall to break it.
Still the bubble grew, until the librarian stopped blowing. It had grown so silent that the absence of breath was noticeable, even across the room. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, wondered if they two across the room could hear as he slowly exhaled. And then the librarian shifted the bubble, and it popped.
The sister shrieked and ducked. Staying crouched, hands protectively over her head, she looked wildly about the room. The librarian lowered her chin and went back to her book. The ominous air lifted, the smell of books faded, and he could hear conversation float in from the hallway door.
“What was that?” the Sister demanded, gradually lowering her arms and looming over the desk again. The librarian gave no response. “Are you not going to answer anything?”
The librarian started to blow another bubble and the Sister stepped back.
“Fine!” She threw her hands down by her sides. “Well, if you see Papa tell him people are looking for him.”
The bubble, only the size of a golf ball, popped. The Sister flinched. In a huff she turned on her heel and stormed from the room. He waited a minute or two to be sure she was truly gone before ducking out from behind the self and making his way to the librarian’s desk.
“The study room was perfect,” he said softly and placed the unused blanket on the desk and then the plate on top of it.
“Good,” the librarian said. She marked her place and put down the book. She reached across the table and pulled the blanket from under the plate and returned it to its box under the desk. “You finish all your paperwork?”
“I did,” he said then paused. With a heartful of sincerity, he added, “thank you.”
The librarian met his gaze and slowly nodded. “You’re welcome back any time. Good day, Papa.”
“Good day, sister.”
She nodded again and then picked back up her book, bubble already forming on her lips. Taking his cue, he turned and walked to the entrance, his mind already on the shower he would take before he triumphantly presented his completed work. He opened the door by rote and stepped outside. He turned to draw the door closed softly so as to not disturb the librarian but froze on the spot.
She was gone. The light was off. The desk that had been free of anything except a lamp and her book on the rare occasions she put it down was burdened under haphazard piles of books and loose paper. Unable to help himself, he left the door open and crossed back to the desk. It seemed to be a returns table, he could make no other sense of the mishmash of books and documents. One that was not minded very often if the dust on the books at the back was any indication. It was like she had never been here.
“Thank you,” he again told the air and then turned to leave for good. The ministry was home to many a strange thing, a librarian the appeared when he needed quiet was hardly something to worry about. Besides, she had invited him back, and he figured that in another month or two he would need to take her up on that offer.
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Cryptid Crawl! 6
The problem– The main problem– The– Okay, the problem that was pertinent at the moment was that the hunters, cryptid and otherwise, had to leave having seen nothing even remotely interesting, nothing that could be a draw for tourists.
That meant that, whatever else they did, they could not be seen being anything other than unbelievably lame by the general population. Of course, the best way to do that would be to keep them from seeing anything.
The very first piece of prep work Danny and Tucker had done was getting into Jack’s YouTube account and setting it to private. That was, however, a temporary measure, and in addition to not wanting tourists flooding into Amity Park, Danny didn’t want his parents in hot water with the GIW. Again.
Once they filmed, Jack or Maddie could upload videos at any time, so something that would have to be done afterward was getting back into the account, deleting the videos, and corrupting the original files. Not too difficult, considering that Danny lived with them, had a hacker friend, and could possess technology.
But for the other groups? Especially the ones that were filming live? Not so much.
They could not see. Any measures Danny and the others took to stop them had to look either like local kids playing pranks, incompetence, or nothing at all. Luckily, they were local kids playing pranks, and there was a lot of incompetence going around, lately.
Danny and Tucker ran through eerily empty streets, listening for the GAV. They paused, seeing the GAV hurtle past the mouth of an alleyway.
“Okay, well,” said Tucker, “there it is. You sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah,” said Danny. “Who else is going to?” He went ghost. “Show me again where the GGBE are.”
Tucker held up the PDA and pointed.
“Okay, yeah, I can do that,” said Danny. “I can do that. Sam, you still managing?”
“Haven’t made contact yet,” admitted Sam, over the Fenton Phones. “This wig is surprisingly high quality, by the way.”
“Cool,” said Danny. “Remember, call us if you need help.”
“I’m dealing with two completely normal YouTubers who think you’re some kind of endangered species, not ex-military super-spies.”
“He kind of is an endangered species, though. Even Skulker says so.”
Danny shook his head and pushed off from the ground. “Can hybrids even be considered a species?” he asked.
“The New Mexico Whiptail–”
“It was a rhetorical question!”
.
William Monroe Delaney Montrose Woods the Fourth, generally known as Bill, was remarkable for three reasons beyond his name. The first was that he absolutely and entirely believed in the existence of cryptids and loved helping Crawly, who he’d met in college, with their YouTube channel.
The second was that he was a former Navy Seal, discharged due to an elbow injury that had never healed right.
The third was that his last job was in data analytics… for the CIA. Nothing special. He just collated data in a nice, boring, quiet room. He’d hardly call himself a super-spy. And he’d quit. Too stressful.
But… All his training did have the side effect of giving him a very good sense for when he was being followed.
He tried to watch the figure out of the corner of his eyes, excited. Finally, he was going to see a real life cryptid. He’d just have to be careful… it was clearly trying to stay out of direct view… he didn’t want to spook it. Crawly hadn’t noticed yet, either. He’d have to figure out some way to let them know. Maybe he could angle the camera towards the cryptid…
“Oh my gosh, Bill, look!” Crawly jabbed a finger at the space behind his shoulder, and Bill quickly turned to see something black and white skittering around a corner. “Quick! Chase it! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!”
Bill needed no further encouragement. Camera in hand, he ran.
.
Danny flickered ever so briefly into view in front of the GAV, and to the right. He probably would be picked up on the cameras like this, but, again, his parents’ videos were the only ones he could afford to be caught in. As expected, Jack turned the wheel so hard the GAV rocked up on one set of wheels before slamming back down. Danny reappeared further down the street, at the mouth of another road.
“STOP MOVING, GHOST!” roared Maddie over the intercom.
“YEAH! WE’RE FILMING YOU FOR PUBLIC EDUCATION!” added Jack. “THE PUBLIC NEEDS TO KNOW HOW TO BLAST GHOSTS LIKE YOU TO SHREDS!”
“NOT TO SHREDS, JACK. WE NEED HIM INTACT FOR OUR RESEARCH!”
“OH, YEAH!”
“Wow,” muttered Danny under his breath. “That really makes me want to stop, guys.” He could, just barely, understand them thinking ghosts were evil. He didn’t understand how they were still under the impression that Phantom, specifically, was that unbelievably stupid. “Tuck, am I still on track?”
“Man, I don’t know why you’re asking, you know Amity Park better than I–”
“Why… parkour… expert… how?”
“Uh, Sam?” said Danny. “I think you’re breaking up.”
“I’m being… chased!”
“Maybe I should–”
“Just a few more roads! At the rate your Dad drives, that shouldn’t be any time at all!”
“Sam, can you hold out that long?”
There was no response for a long moment, during which Danny almost lost his lead on the GAV.
“Managed to hide,” said Sam, audibly panting. “Where did that camera guy come from? He’s built like a tank and he can move.”
Danny let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” He let himself fade into view again, luring his parents down a blind alley. He phased easily through the brick, turning invisible again. He did a quick check to make sure none of the people on the other side were too close to the wall - they weren’t - and that no one saw him - the tiger might have - and then the GAV plowed through the brick wall, sirens blazing and PA system blasting.
“YOU WON’T GET AWAY THIS TIME, GHOST BOY!”
Danny flared his aura, well aware of how that would show up on the GAV’s sensors at this point, and snickered as the GAV crunched over the Groovy Ghost Blasters Extreme’s illegally parked ATVs and dirt bikes in an attempt to get to Danny.
“My bike!” shrieked Brenner.
“Dude, not cool! Dude!” repeated Sullivan as Jack hit reverse and rolled over the bikes again.
“Okay,” said Vid, pulling out her blaster (a Dalvco ripoff). “We already knew these guys sucked, but this means war.”
She took aim at the GAV. Of course, according to his parents, anything attacking the GAV had to be a–
“GHOOOOOOOOOOOST!” hollered his parents in unison. And then the shooting started in earnest.
Danny didn’t stick around. Unlike all the humans here, he actually could be hurt by most of the weaponry going off.
Besides, Sam needed him.
.
“Hey,” said Az, falling back slightly as Ned expounded on some made up personal story that had only tangential interest to the actual investigation. “Jimmy. Do you hear that?”
“Hnh,” said Jimmy.
“Like, a sort of electric sound. Like the world’s biggest bug za–” For the fourth time that day, Az tripped over his shoelaces.
“Oh, I know what’s really haunted now. Az’s shoes!”
“Screw you, too,” said Az.
“Yeah, yeah, they’re haunted by the ghost of his coordination.”
Az climbed to his feet and angrily redid his laces. “If you’re doing this somehow–” he started, threateningly.
“No, no,” said Ned, “I don’t need to make this look any more ridiculous than it already is. Are you sure you researched this place?”
“I’m sure,” said Az, gritting his teeth as yet another crepe-paper and balloon ghost drifted down into the camera’s view from who-knew-where. “I researched. Extensively.”
“Because as fun as these are, I don’t think they’re actual ghosts.” He grabbed the balloon and waved it at Az. “Fun times with local pranksters who are really into the whole Halloween aesthetic? Yes. Haunted? No. The way things are looking, Amity Park falls squarely into the hoax category.” He gestured broadly, exaggerating his mannerisms for the camera.
“At least let us get to the next location before you say that, Ned.” He got back to his feet and smiled at the camera. “Locals aside, this place is spooky. An old observatory that was damaged and shut down under mysterious circumstances, it has had numerous reports of lights moving inside, strange sounds, and even the dome opening and the telescope inside moving. Is this the ghost of an astronomer? Or, like certain others believe, something else?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me of the cryptid YouTubers. Those lights, though, I’m going to bet they’re kids smoking on the sly, or someone squatting.”
“And on the way there, we’ll drive by a few other points of local interest, such as–”
.
“They’re going to the observatory?” hissed Dani. “They can’t go to the observatory, Danny will flip!”
Valerie looked at her sideways. “Which Danny? Your cousin, or Fenton?”
“Does it matter? Both of them love that place.”
“Didn’t it get shot up by the GIW?”
“Yeah, and that’s why you don’t mention those guys to him. He hates them.”
“He’s… a ghost.”
“Yeah, and the observatory is why human Danny hates them. Keep up.” Dani leaned forward, careful to keep both her feet on Val’s hoverboard. She was the one providing invisibility, after all. “We need to stop them. We need to get… more drastic.”
Valerie made a face and waved a crepe paper ghost at Dani. “I’m not sure how much more drastic we can get without advertising that Amity’s got something to hide.”
Dani scrunched her nose in thought. “Then we don’t do it while hiding anything. We do it while showing off things.”
“Not my hoverboard or your ghostly face, I hope.”
“No. We’re going to take a page from my cousin’s book.”
“We’re going to chase a dog into all their equipment and ruin them financially?”
“I mean, that sounds like a good plan ‘B’ if you’ve got a dog we can use. But, no. How do you feel about fake-out make-outs?”
.
“Uh, Sam? I’m looking for you, but–”
“Running… again… swear… last time… I dress up as you.”
“Okay, okay, but where are you?” There was a sort of scraping sound from the Fenton Phones. “Sam?”
“I’m okay! Nasty Burger.”
“Gotcha.”
Danny changed direction and arrowed down to a very familiar alleyway, where Sam was stripping off her costume. She threw the wig at Danny as soon as she saw him.
“Get ready to run,” she said breathlessly as Danny transformed. “Those weirdos are fast.”
“I don’t know if we have any room to call other people weirdos,” said Danny. He pulled the wig over his hair, then phased the rest of the suit off of Sam, who was struggling with the zipper. He didn’t like his chances of fasting the suit on, though, and phased off his shoes before starting to pull the costume on. The material was much thinner and filmier than his own hazmat suit, and wouldn’t be much protection against, well, anything. “How’d you get away if they were so fast?”
“Cut through Amity Antiques,” said Sam. “Ms. Larson made them go around. No cameras in the store.”
“Smart.” Danny phased his feet back into his shoes.
“Thanks. Contacts.”
“Right, right,” said Danny. He phased his hand through his suit and into his pocket. “Contacts.”
He hated this part. Putting stuff like this in his eyes felt wrong. Worse than swallowing sporks. But, the ‘Amity Park Phantom’ had super noticeable glowing green eyes, so the ‘fake’ Phantom had to as well, and for Danny’s sake, those glowing eyes had to be caused by contacts.
These ones had been produced by his parents after Walker’s invasion. The idea was that a human could use them to walk unmolested among the overshadowed, but when no testing opportunities came up, the concept was abandoned.
Danny opened the case, and already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment, stuck one in his eye. “That hurts. I don’t know how people do this.”
“You get thrown through buildings daily.”
“That’s different,” whined Danny.
“I’m getting pings from Cryptid Crawl’s phone, moving to your location,” said Tucker. “Better get a move on.”
“Heck,” said Danny, squeezing in the other contact. “Go rest in the Nasty Burger, I’ve got this.”
“I’ll try to shadow you after you leave,” said Sam, “but don’t expect anything fancy.”
“I’ll zig-zag,” said Danny.
Sam patted him on the back and moved past him. Time to do this.
Danny ran back out into the street, but stuck to the shadows, scanning everything. He had no idea how cryptids were supposed to behave, but he figured–
Holy moly, Sam was not kidding when she said that guy was fast! He wasted a disbelieving second staring at the sheer speed at which that absolute tank of a man approached him, but he was too used to being chased by unreasonably huge and fast guys to hesitate any longer. He bolted, using every piece of cover and concealment he could.
He glanced over his shoulder. The guy was actually gaining on him. After chasing Sam on and off for at least ten minutes. What was this guy made of?
Danny tapped into his ghostly strength and put on a burst of speed.
… The guy also put on a burst of speed.
That was scary.
“Tucker,” said Danny, “which way am I going?”
“Give me a second.”
“They’re hanging out in front of the Skulk’n’Lurk,” said Sam. “They’re posting live, Tucker.”
“I’m just trying to find the best route!”
“A better one than he can find on his own?”
Danny looked back again. What was this guy made of?
.
Valerie and Dani stepped onto the street just within view of the cameras. They were both wearing glasses, to protect their identities, and had swapped headgear - Valerie’s headband for Dani’s beanie.
“Are you sure about this?” asked Valerie.
“Absolutely!” chirped Dani.
“I don’t think this is actually going to stop them from going to the observatory.”
“But it might make them stop and think, right?”
“... You know, I saw the post about this on the forums, right? And the whole thread?”
“Shush. Threads don’t matter, now,” said Dani as they crept deeper into the camera’s field of view. “I think this is good. You ready?”
Valerie rolled her eyes. “Ready when you are.”
This had the side effect of making Dani freeze for a solid minute. “Uh,” said Dani.
“You can back out if you–”
Dani rammed her face into Val’s, probably way too fast, because kissing didn’t seem like the kind of thing that was supposed to hurt. They did various things with their lips for a few seconds, and then pulled apart.
“Uh,” said Dani, eloquently.
“Yeah,” said Val.
They both looked towards the ‘Investigation,’ the members of which were, in fact, staring at them.
Val pumped her fist in the air. “The only ghost here is Sappho of Lesbos!” she said, her voice wobbling. “Yeah! Girl power!”
“Girl power!” repeated Dani. She hadn’t heard of any ghost going by that name, but she supposed that Danny couldn’t keep her one hundred percent up to date on his rogues gallery. There were just a lot of them.
At that moment, Dani was slammed into from behind by none other than her beloved cousin-clone, who was dressed as a bad caricature of himself and running at what had to be something approaching a world-record pace. Danny, who didn’t have the worst set of reflexes in the world, but did have the most ridiculous set of reflexes, picked Dani up, threw her over his shoulder, and kept running.
“Is he still following me?” asked Danny.
“Wh- Who?” asked Dani, lifting her head to see that Danny was being chased by either a red-faced fridge or an extremely buff dude who was pushing himself so hard all the blood in his body had gathered in his skin in preparation for exploding (if that was a thing humans did; Dani was a bit uncertain on the finer points of anatomy). “Oh my gosh, that’s scary.”
Meanwhile, Valerie had recovered from her surprise. She started running after them. “Hey!” she shouted. “Bring back my girlfriend!”
“Oh,” said Dani, pleased that Valerie was getting so into the act.
“What are you doing standing there?!” shouted a man wearing a hat that said ‘DIRECTOR,’ his voice starting to go tiny from distance. “Wasn’t that one of the ghosts?”
“Ahhh!” said Danny. “Why is that guy so scary?!”
“Why are you scared?” demanded Dani, who had already forgotten that she, too, had been scared. “You’re a ghost!”
“He’s just scary!”
“Bet I’m scarier!”
Danny’s fingers clenched tightly on her hoodie. “No. Are they following us? All of them?”
“Not yet?”
“Rrrrrrgh,” said Danny, rounding a corner and doubling back down the other road. “I hate this!”
.
Ned had never thought any of their ‘investigations,’ not even the Investigation, would ever lead to something real. The image of that thing chasing that boy and grabbing that girl… It filled him with equal parts wonder and fear.
This special was going to make them. They’d be famous forever as the ghost hunters that proved the existence of the supernatural.
Jimmy put a hand on his shoulder.
“Not now, bud,” said Ned. “We’ve got a chase.”
Jimmy did not let go. Not even when Az and the rest of the crew packed up and took off after the ghost.
“Edward, dearest,” said Jimmy. “My heart has been uplifted by the actions of those two young women, and I should like us to express ourselves as they did.”
“Aw, come on, Jimmy. That’s sweet, but the network would kick us both out in minutes. Not to mention we’d pasted across every TV in America as the latest scandal. The shame would kill me.”
“You said it yourself, my love. What paranormal investigator has self respect? Let us throw it all to the winds of chance, and let them carry us away.”
Ned blushed. “You make these things sound so nice. But… maybe after we get the ghost. You know how much this means to me.”
“Hng,” said Jimmy.
.
Danny re-emerged on the original street, which still held some of the crew and cast from the TV show. “Help me find somewhere to crash believably.”
“There!” said Dani, pointing at a small lot with some abandoned construction in it.
“Perfect!” said Danny, throwing himself in that direction. Time to absolutely eat it on live TV. He cast himself on the mercy of the lot, and wiped out spectacularly, coming to rest against the fence at the back of the lot.
The buff guy just… Stopped. Then very slowly sat down.
“Hi,” said Danny.
“Ow,” said the guy, which was fair, actually.
The guy from the Investigation got there next, and spent the next thirty seconds staring reverently at the buff guy while the camera people set up. “Incredible,” he whispered.
“Oi!” shouted Crawly, clambering over a stack of pipes. “Back away from the cryptid! We’ve got evidence to film!”
“You step away from the ghost!” countered Az. “Our evidence is more relevant to the human condition!”
“The Amity Park Phantom is not a ghost!” Crawly countered in return, stabbing a finger at Danny.
“What are you talking about, that’s a kid in a costume!”
“No it–! Wait, who are you talking about, then? What ghost?”
“The one standing next to you!”
“Wh– This is Bill. My cameraman. Is this because he gets flushed when he exercises really hard? That happens to everyone!”
“No, actually, it–”
Danny shifted, which was enough for Crawly to zero in on him, only to recoil. “What,” they said.
“Well,” said Danny, coughing only a little bit as he got to his feet and pulled off the wig. “I am just a kid in a costume.”
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GITJ Post 297: Painting His Apartment, p3
I felt every inch of my nudity now, naked and exposed.
My legs had failed, yes, through my climax in her hand. Their strength was now slowly returning, but my new Office Manager and even more newly-appointed girlfriend Melissa Monroe still held me up. It was the casual strength of her left arm down across my chest that supported me as we gazed at the spectacle of ourselves in the mirror. My massively outsized cock was deflating in her right fist as she towered over me from behind, now resting her chin atop my head and smiling with a grin that was huge and satisfied. She had just made clear to me how excited she was to have a new man in her life that could make her feel so big and huge and strong. The television was still broadcasting the enormous rallies of women across the country who likewise were striving to gain the same thing.
”you w-want to feel big?” I asked, as my eyelids fluttered under the attention of her obliging right hand, which still gently squeezed and massaged my spent, sagging member, floppy and goopy with my own come. It felt nice, indulgently warm.
My query brought her smile a new sparkle, and she answered me with honesty after a moment of thought. “Every time, Jay, that I walk in front of a mirror these days, or watch myself as I step out of the shower,” she began, “I can see, little by little, how my body is changing. Expanding. Getting taller.” She watched my face, how I listened to her with rapt attention. The concept of her growing, the experience of every day her waking up as a larger and larger woman was exciting not only to her but obviously to me as well, and she enjoyed how enthralled I appeared. “Every time I step on a scale I’m heavier,” she continued, “Every day I’m putting on more mass, more weight.” At that she paused and regarded me with a new tenderness. “And with each pound I gain, I always say to myself, ‘It´s for him…’”
That came as a surprise. “F-f-for me?”
“Yes, for you,” she smiled.
“B-but…why?” I asked, half in disbelief again that I had the attentions of such an incredible, beautiful woman. My fantasy girl, in so many ways. What was I but a middle-aged schlub, destitute and failed, sickly and small? A physician still, yes, her employer and erstwhile boss. Maybe my education and accomplishments were attractive to her, a simple girl of little sophistication. But I was older than her by more than a decade, ruined by divorce, and had seemingly so little to realistically offer.
“‘Why?’” she repeated, “Why do I want to keep growing through clothes and busting through bras and - haha ripping through jeans? It’s so I can be more for you, Jay. It’s so I can take better care of you, protect you.” Still she gently massaged my softened member in her hand, all squishy, comfortingly. “And, besides…it just makes me feel sexy,” she giggled, “because I know you like big boobs.”
At that I flushed, in chagrin, caught dead to rights. ”Jesus, Melissa, you are sexy, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, already…”
”mmmm thank you…” she purred, her eyes flashing into mine in the mirror, contented, “go on…”
In my post-orgasmic bliss I didn’t need any encouragement to continue singing her praises. “…a-and this w-weight you’ve, uh, put on…the height you’ve g-gained…”
“Yes?” she urged, lowering her head, now, leaning in a bit more on my left so our faces were right besides one another in the mirror - hers larger than mine, jaw strong, cheekbones perfect and eyes bright.
“…it’s all…it’s all,” I struggled, fighting my hardest not to sound the sniveling simp but failing miserably, “…it’s all so amazing.” I felt her big warm breasts pressing into my back.
“You think big is sexy, do you?” she asked, eagerly curious, “Big women? Amazons?”
“oh g-god yes,” I admitted, all caution apparently gone.
My confession made her smile grow, to that of a jungle cat’s, feral. “Well, if big girls turn you on then I, little man…” she purred, still staring me straight in the eye, still casually playing with the wet, flaccid smushiness of my spent member in her right hand, “…I want to be the biggest.”
I groaned, despite myself, and felt myself somehow starting to waken, in her hand. Maybe it was what she was insinuating, or maybe it was her tits or her pretty face or her perfume, but - though my legs still felt weak and unsteady - my cock was coming back to life.
“Oooo, you think I should do that?” she laughed, obviously feeling a pulse of my new vigor in her hand, and hearing it in my throat, “You think I should go to the gym more, eat healthy, eat lots, get nice and big and strong for you?”
“oh, god, Melissa,” I moaned, eyes fluttering again and leaning back into her strength. I was so far past gone I didn’t even realize what I said next until it was too late. “Is it…is it just that you want to feel big..?” I stammered, now unable to keep her gaze and letting my eyelids droop, “or…d-do you like seeing me be small?” It was like all my submissiveness was pouring forth, the floodgates opening.
“Oh, honey, yessss…” she growled, her eyes flashing again into mine in the mirror, her mouth dropping open in thrill. With that, she delicately peeled her palm away from my now-spongy cock, taking with it a handful of my thick jism. In one smooth motion she slowly wiped it across my belly and lower chest, frosting me with sticky glaze, and showed me her hand. It still shone with wetness.
“oh god, Melissa…” I sighed. I knew - I fucking knew - how pathological the deviant psychology of this moment was. I tried to wrestle with it, resist, exert myself…but it was also just so fucking hot, sinking into this meek, obsequious role.
“Here, do this," she chirped with a new smile, holding her hand up with all five fingers extended, as if to indicate the number "5", “It’ll be fun…”
Compliantly, I mirrored the gesture, and she placed her hand against mine, sticky. My eyes widened at the revelation that my hand was roughly a full digit’s joint smaller, in terms of extended size, than hers.
"Now, you've got really nice hands," she continued, "smooth, soft...and small." She smiled, coyly and innocently, looking down at the size comparison, her hand being so much bigger, and then into the mirror, to watch my own reaction.”Haha, I bet that makes you feel pretty small, huh sweetie? Seeing my hand look like it’s gonna absolutely swallow yours?”
At the word “swallow,” Melissa had curled her fingers down over the top of my fingertips, wrapping her long fingers around mine, emphasizing even more obviously our size difference; it actually did look like her big hand was about to “swallow” mine. And worst of all, my reaction to all of this was to feel even more aroused. Why was I getting turned-on by this craziness!? What was sexy about Melissa dwarfing me?? Despite the ignominy, I answered her.
“y-yes…” I replied, “I…I feel small.” I looked up to see her staring intently into my eyes in the mirror, still holding my hand, threatening to fully engulf it in hers as the two stuck together with the crust of my climax.
She cocked her head, watching me, and then gently released my hand. “Here, turn around,” she said, using her hands now to move me by the shoulders, spin me until I faced her.
I wobbled a bit, my legs now on their own in supporting my weight now that she was no longer holding me up with her left hand. But they found purchase, and I found myself staring into her chest, mere inches from her formidable bosom in her big black bra. Jesus christ her tits were enormous, filling my vision.
“Y’know what else would make you feel pretty small..?” she next offered from above as she stood up straighter in front of me, once again absolutely dwarfing me, my head now barely at the level of her breasts. I needed to lean back for fear of being knocked over, and I watched as she put her muscular arms out to the side above me and continued: “...This.”
At that, she clenched both her hands into fists, curled her arms and flexed, producing two solid, round biceps that I could not believe were that of a female, let alone my Office Manager and new girlfriend. “I’ve been working out a lot, for years, and more since I first met you,” she said, flexing again and watching as my line of vision had moved from her tits to her arms, right, then left, my mouth gaping in awed admiration, “And I’m pretty proud of the results so far. What do you think?”
My jaw trembled, and I watched as she continued to flex, to pump her arms up even larger, smiling proudly as she swelled up with the efforts of her hard work. It was ture, watching this woman demonstrate her strength and size above me like this was making me feel absolutely small and meager, bubbling with insecurity. “I…I don’t know what to s-say…” I finally admitted, piteously.
She smiled knowingly. "Not bad for a girl, huh?" she quipped, flexing once again, making her biceps dance and peak with muscular rhythm. “Here, give them a feel," she offered, standing straight and now posed in a perfect, double-biceps pose. Because of her distinct height advantage, her raised upper arm was above my eye-level and I needed to reach up to my right, raising my hands to place one on top and one below the swell of her muscle. Even with both hands I could not fully encircle the bronzed upper arm of this young, voluptuous beauty. Spellbound by her brawn, I squeezed, and then gulped audibly. She was soft, her skin smooth and warm, but below she was solid as oak, and her bicep didn't budge one bit to my effort. As I held on she lowered, then raised her forearm. flexing twice, and then laughed loudly at my amazed expression as my tightly gripped hands moved in sequence to her actions.
“You like that, hm?” Melissa chuckled, “You like my ‘gains’?”
“It’s incredible, Melissa,” I said, honest and earnest.
"Well, then, since we're on the subject of ‘gains’,” she beamed, as she lowered her arms and begin to turn around, presenting her huge, amazing rear to me, “how about checking out some more of my progress?"
“Whoah,” I couldn’t help but gasp, as her butt turned to meet me, halfway up my chest. Torn asunder as the seat of her jeans were, the glorious cheeks of her monumental ass cleaved by a black thong bloomed out from ripped, time-faded denim under the dramatic light.
She posed, like a professional figure model, lower back arched, shoulders back, presenting her rear for my inspection. I fought with all I had for self control to keep from grasping my hands onto her stupendousness and planting my face on her. I struggled with the urge…but then she invited me to do just that.
“My butt’s gotten so big. Can you help me, hun,” she asked, “to get these ripped up things off it? It needs a kiss…”
My heart leapt, and I let out the feeblest of little cries. She giggled, looking down over her right shoulder at me, seeing me absolutely overcome by the sight of her. Her waist, so narrow, and then the giant, muscular swell of her rear was a sight not meant for mortal eyes.
“Is that a yes?” she asked, with another giggle, and pushed her butt out another fraction of an inch towards me.
“Y-y-yes…yes, okay…” I managed, raising my hands now to take hold of the hem of her jeans on either side of her broad hips. I took a moment to marvel at the sight; she was wider across than me, possibly twofold. What would that feel like, on me? Me gripped to her, hanging on like a baby monkey to-
Shaking myself back to reality, I tugged down, tentatively, and immediately knew this was going to be a harder task than it sounded. I tugged some more, and then with all my strength. She giggled, because all I was doing was sending jiggles through her hips and flesh, cheeks bouncing up and down with my efforts.
“Do you need some help, sweetie?” she cooed, still looking over her shoulder and down at me, “Is it too much?”
I eyed her, and tugged again. “Yeah a little,” I admitted.
At that, her hands came behind her to join mine and, with a few giggles, wriggles and jiggles, together we were able to lower the jeans off her massive hips and begin to scooch the torn jeans down. Peeling them down her butt slowly, her big, vigorous glutes were grabbed lower by the tension and then *bounced* back upwards with seismic energy when the taut hem cleared their biggest swells.
“*Boop!*” she giggled, as her cheeks quaked mightily and caused me to gasp, her ass now free of confinement. Lord god in her black thong little was left to the imagination, each tan cheek presented proudly like it’s own small planet. She stooped, a bit, bending at the knees to allow the jeans down her thighs, to her knees. Pushing me back even further her butt was huge, wider by far than my entire body. If I’d thrown my arms around it I’d have little hope of encircling her hips.
“Making you feel small, sweetie?” she cooed, as she dropped her tattered jeans to her ankles, wriggling her hips at me.
“Jesus Melissa you’re big,” was all I could answer, marveling at the perfection of her round, majestically muscular ass, “so much bigger than me.”
She seemed to like that, and with a series of giggles off came her sneakers and socks, allowing her to kick the ruined pile of denim across the room. Next, she spun me around again so we were both facing the mirror, stepped next to me, her left side to my right, and put her left hand on my right shoulder.
"Do this," she chirped, and extended the toes of her left leg, stretching it out and planting her bare foot a pace or so in front of her. Following her lead I imitated the move with my right leg. This time, she actually seemed to embarrass herself with the volume of her laughter, a sudden snort. "I'm sorry baby, but jeez! Look at the difference." She was actually holding her hand to her mouth to stifle her nearly uncontrollable giggling. Smiling along as best I could, I actually had to agree that the comparison was almost comical. Out of shape, my lower limbs were thin, yes. But not terribly below average for a guy of my, uh, size. Five-two? Last I checked…But, anyway, compared to hers my leg looked like a children's stickball bat, almost a full foot shorter. By simply wiggling her toes, Melissa was able to generate a ripple of well-defined muscularity that put my own leg to shame. Her thigh was toned and tan, thick and long, smoothly perfect and obviously powerful. Mine, lightly hairy, was thin and pale and weak.
“What do you think?” she asked, beaming down at the comparative sizes of our legs and taking my right hand, suddenly, and laying it on her thigh. She glanced again at the sight of us in the mirror, her smile changing, and then back down to my small hand on her massive leg. I had to shake my head, disbelieving the size difference. “How’s it feel?”
It was, this huge expanse of female muscle, so smooth and warm of skin I actually shuddered. “P-pretty impressive,” I praised, appreciating the strength I could feel through the soft upper layer of her thigh, “you obviously put a lot of work in at the, uh, gym…”
“Yeah my legs get big quick,” she agreed, flexing her quadriceps for my benefit, making them ripple and pulse under my hand. She then playfully swung her hip into my direction, catching me in the middle of my rib cage as an unspoken reminder of her considerable size advantage.
Smiling down at me, our eyes meeting again in the mirror, Melissa made another non-verbal gesture of her physical superiority by placing her right palm on my head, then moving it horizontally in her direction until it stopped an inch or so from the top of her broad left shoulder. I smiled wanly at her and once more gazed at our reflections, side-by-side in the mirror on the back of my door.
“I mean, godddd, look at us,” Melissa marveled, a new excitement deepening her voice. She’d pulled her leg back in again, my hand falling back to my side. She stood there, proud and tall, in her black thong and matching bra, while I stood naked, emaciated and emasculated. I was struck again - and, I’m sure, so was she - by her blatant physical superiority over me. It set my heart quivering once more, and it was all I could do to keep from whining.
She took the moment, watching us in the mirror, to raise her arms and release her hair from its ponytail. Her huge mane of raven hair fell in great waves around her shoulders, making her seem even larger in the mirror and even bigger in comparison to me as she shook it out to full volume.
In an involuntary spasm of my own submissiveness, I had the sudden urge to give her what she wanted, to look even smaller, to emphasize and embellish even more the vast difference in our sizes. I gave in to the instinct and began to huddle myself, stoop, cave in my already thin shoulders, bend my neck, tuck in my chin.
“What…what are you doing?” Melissa asked, chuckling at first but then a husky arousal taking over her voice as she watched me seem to physically start to recede next to her in the mirror, “Are you…trying to look smaller?”
I decided I couldn’t say anything, and merely grunted a weak reply, huddling down even further, bending slightly at the knees. Jesus what was wrong with me?! This was pathological, but immediately I could tell it was working. Melissa’s pheromones began to fill the air again, and I felt her left arm reach around my shoulders. I shifted down, further, under her arm.
“Oh my GODDDD, Jay!” she groaned, wide eyed, putting her right hand over her mouth and stepping into my game, “You’re, like…you’re trying to be tiny!”
“I…uh…yeah…” I peeped, unsure of myself, inadvertently playing even further into this submissive role, “i-is that okay?”
“Yes yes yes please,” she urged, obviously excited, her voice dropping, and then adding: “do it some more.” She eyed me with new, aggressive eyes, and I could see her pick up her role in this little game…if it was really just a game, that is…and stand up demonstrably taller. “You’re getting so fucking small these days…” she breathed, nostrils flaring.
This shouldn’t…this shouldn’t have been a surprise to me. Women everywhere were getting into this “vulni” thing, looking for smaller, thinner, more submissive guys. It was the latest trend; why should I expect Melissa to be any different, right? I could…play along, right? But still, my male pride did have a bit of life left. “Hey, I- I mean, come on now,” I attempted, thinking I could maybe save some dignity with some ironic humor, “I’m not…not that small. Just smaller than I was...”
“Uh, compared to me, you are small,” Melissa insisted, her voice sounding dead serious, and not about to let me go. To prove her point, she again pulled me into her body, so that our sides were squished into each other, side by side. Naked as I was, she in her undies, there was ample flesh contact, and I shuddered as I felt the pure pleasure of her warm, smooth flesh pressing all into me. Her thigh and her hip into my flank, and her JJ-cup breast plastered into the side of my head. I saw in the mirror that my cock, unsurprisingly, had sprung back to life. Melissa seemed to be focused on other things, though, and hadn’t acknowledged it yet.
“I mean, just look at us, Jay,” Melissa breathed. It sounded like she was as in awe of the comparison as I was, if not more. “Just a couple months ago we were basically the same height, maybe you were even taller than me,” she said, “And now, I’m so much bigger, so much taller, so much stronger than you.”
“Don’t remind me,” I muttered weakly, lapsing into the sullenness regret that I knew would spur her on into even greater indulgence.
“And now,” Melissa continued, taking the feed, her voice quickening, “I’ve gotta be twice your size, twice your weight. Wouldn’t you think? I mean, my thighs might weigh more than you. They’re thicker than your waist. My ass totally dwarfed you, and my breasts…”
At that, she pulled me tighter to her, using her left hand to press the side of my face and head into her left breast.
“…my breasts are bigger than your head, Jay.”
I groaned, losing my fight with the urge to just turn my face to the right, nuzzling my nose into her bra and the firm form of her enormous left breast, a swell of which was bare under her armpit. I closed my eyes, breathed her in, and mewed little words. The scent of her deodorant, the scent of her perfume, and the swell of her side tit had me absolutely enthralled. I’d thrown all caution and dignity to the wind and decided to become utterly obsequious to her breast.
“Oh my god, Jay…” she moaned, palming my head even more firmly into her, rotating her torso just a fraction so as to push more of her enormous breast into my face, “Wh-what are you doing…?”
My submissiveness was working, I was revving her up, and I felt myself responding in kind. As I nuzzled into her I fought the instinct to reach down and grab my stiffening rod, show her tribute by stroking myself to her. She would like that, I knew, but even I had enough self control to resist that urge. Instead, maybe I could get her to-
“Flex,” Melissa suddenly spoke, calling my attention to us again in the mirror. I’d opened my eyes, seeing myself hideously plastered into her left tit, and I met her heavy-lidded gaze with my own questioning one. What did she mean?
“Flex,” she repeated, her voice deep with arousal now, and as I felt the mass of her body alongside me seeming to gather itself for something, I immediately understood. To the best of my ability I did as she asked. Watching myself in the mirror, I curled my skinny left arm and flexed my bicep. I tensed my shoulders, stiffened my legs. The result was, yes, maybe you could now see through my pallid skin the meager framework of what muscles I had. It was pathetic, but it was me.
And then it was her turn.
Still with me nestled into her left breast, her left arm curled around me and holding me to her, Melissa began to flex. Not just the arm around me, not just the leg I felt alongside, the one I’d unconsciously started to straddle, but everything. I watched in the mirror, and felt all around me, as her musculature just swelled and grew, each muscle growing again to twice its size. Her shoulders ballooned, her lats flared. Her traps peaked and eclipsed her neck. Legs burgeoned, abs solidified. And all the while she watched me as I watched her, seeing me stare in rapt awe at the spectacle of a beautiful woman growing right in front of my eyes.
Melissa’s body had become superior in every way, to nearly every human on the planet. Her muscles were becoming bigger, her limbs were longer, thicker and stronger. Her breasts were freakishly huge and firm, hips and legs shapely beyond belief. Her body’s perfume was a powerful aphrodisiac, her hair grew like a god’s, and even her skin was smoother and tighter, with a healthier-looking sheen than any mere mortal I’d ever seen. But even beyond this, unbeknownst to me at the time, there were other things that were becoming plainly superhuman with Melissa. Her strength, already you’ve witnessed, was unnatural…but what we’ve seen so far, what she’d shown me, was at that point nothing compared to what she’d been able to do now in the secret gyms and labs in which she’d more-or-less been raised. Her lung capacity had grown to match or exceed even the most elite of the world’s athletes, her reflexes and coordination were becoming extraordinary. The list could go on - her immune system, the durability and density of her bones, the fucking strength of her fingernails, for god’s sake - and I don’t think even she realized what she was becoming. She still couldn’t add a simple column of figures, though, or alphabetize a stack of files. But physically she was becoming unparalleled, especially by someone who was becoming as…well…feeble as myself. It wasn’t that I was sickly or unhealthy per se, it was more that I just looked fantastically unimpressive in the mirror next to my accentuated and augmented new Office Manager, who was currently flexing every single fucking superhuman muscle she had to make me look like a twerp.
“It’s…it’s not even really close, is it?” chuckled Melissa, winking at our reflections and pulling my face more firmly into her massive bosom, “You and me?”
I mumbled something into her breast - I can’t recall what, now - and in the next moment she bent and I felt her pass her right arm behind my knees, her left coming to support my back, and I was scooped up into her arms. She looked down at me, and with a nod of her chin she directed my gaze back to the mirror where I was greeted by the sight of my girlfriend holding me in her arms like a small child. My head lolled, and I leaned back into her embrace, onto her strong left arm in an admission of my subduction. Her huge, beautiful smile beamed back at me, white and bright under the single light above us, as pleased as Punch at the figure we struck. “Look at us, honey,” she said, in fact, “It’s perfect.”
I had ended up in Melissa's arms again and - turned back up to my caretaker's beaming face, her brilliant white smile and her twinkling golden-green eyes - would have been content to stay there forever. She wrapped her embrace around me tightly, practically sandwiching my torso between her enormous breasts and spun me around in a circle, laughing a bit like a crazy lady. It made my stomach twirl and head spin, but before I could protest she’d plunged her mouth onto mine, parting my lips with her tongue. Waiting for my world to stop whirling I attempted to resist for a full half-second before I gave up and kissed her back. Well, Melissa did all the work, really. She made out with me passionately, squeezing my body into hers. She spun again, and again, as we kissed, overcome and overjoyed in the moment, but then after a particularly quick twirl-
oof!
She suddenly had me pinned up into the wall again, hands holding my by the shoulders, her face scant inches away from my own.. Thankfully, the paint behind me had dried. “Did you like this before?” she asked, a crooked smile full of mischief making my heart flutter.
“Oh god yes” I was just able to reply before she crushed me with another deep, soul-sucking kiss. My limbs stiffened as - god lord - her tongue was once again nearly down my throat. I moaned into it, letting her know she could do anything she wanted with me.
She broke our kiss, though, after just a moment.
“I can’t wait to get even bigger for you,” she said in a low, lusty voice, consumed by a passion that seemed to be gathering more and more steam,. “It’s, like...oh my god...I just can’t wait.”
I throw any caution I still had to the wind. “I...can’t wait either,” I returned. I was so aroused that I was having difficulty breathing…plus my breath was caught in my chest because she had suddenly started massaging my torso, running her hands down my chest, holding me to the wall with the exertions of her affection.”I want you to get bigger too…” I further admitted.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, not quite believing what she was hearing, “I’m gonna do it…I’m gonna do it for you…”
“Jesus Melissa I can’t believe what you do to me already…”
“Yeah I can see…You’re so hard again...”
“Y-yeah...” I whispered back. It all seemed so crazy, and yet, somehow I could tell, to the both of us this moment had been a long time coming. I, at least, had just been too blindly proud, in my stereotypical thick male conceit to see it.
She kissed me again, and I seemingly had not a care in the world as I made out with this goddess of a woman. I didn't care that she was five, ten, fifteen, whatever years younger than me, that she worked for me, or that I was only recently divorced from a woman who would be hell-bent on ruining me if Melissa and I ended up together. At that moment she was my dream girl and exuded more raw sexuality than any woman I’d ever met. I was completely under her spell, and if she’d have me I was hers.
Now beyond any sense of reason - if you want to feel big, does this help? - I instinctively wrapped my legs around Melissa's waist, to get into an easier position and put my weight on her hips. This had the effect of making me seem to cling to her larger body, like a stripling. Of course, it also had the effect of pressing my crotch directly against her stomach.
She moaned, feeling me both hard up against her and my placing my smaller body on hers. “Oh god Jay yes let me carry you,” she sighed, kissing me and stepping away from the wall, sliding her arms behind me, under my bottom for support. She began to carry me around the room like that, me clutched to her body with thin legs wrapped around her lithe waist, her breasts ballooned voluptuously between us.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was gently bucking my hips against her. Melissa chuckled into our kiss, driving her tongue even deeper into my mouth again. She tightened herr embrace, essentially giving me the 'go-ahead' to keep doing what I was doing. She held me to her as she carried me around the room, each of us driving the other wild. She kissed me with abandon, but pulled back after a while to allow me air and speak to me.
"You know, I've…” she began; I could feel an unusual new trepidation in her voice, “I've done this a little before, as you can probably tell. Well, not like this haha but, y’know…”
“Yeah, I get it Melissa,” I said, my breath shallow, “y-you don’t have t-”
"But I never... I...I realize now that I didn't really like doing it until I met you,” she continued, a big smile now blooming on her face, gorgeous and earnest enough to melt my mind, “and now I want to do it to you every waking minute! Some days it's all I think about!"
“oh god me too Melissa..!” I cried.
She groaned, and pulled me back to her mouth again, holding me to her like she never wanted to let me go. She kept doing that, driving me to the edge of madness with her kiss and the press of her breasts sandwiching themselves between us and covering nearly my entire torso, then gazing into me with such a lovestruck look and pouring out her heart to me.
“The only thing I can think about is turning you on,” she’d say.
"I want you every minute of the day," she’d repeat.
And finally:
"I love you more than anything," she admitted.
I stiffened, in her embrace, my eyes going wide.
She kissed my face, my cheeks, my nose and chin, my eyes and lips, in a frenzy of motion and emotion, and pulled my hips more firmly into her abdomen.
“You don’t have to say it back…” she said.
<smooch smooch smooch>
“…I know it’s really soon…”
<smooch smooch smooch>
“…and there’s a lot going on…”
<smooch smooch smooch>
“…but I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”
“Melissa I-“
“Shh,” she stopped me, bringing a quick finger to my lips, “Not now, think on it. I just needed to tell you how I’ve been feeling.” She then took to kissing me again, first on my forehead, then down my face.
Thank god. For myself I couldn't think or move or focus on anything except those lips, those plushly exquisite lips, kissing my cheeks, my ears, moving all over my face and down my neck as she hoisted me higher in her arms, that and the rhythm I’d picked up, humping her waist. Melissa had me bent backward by the irresistible force of her massive boobs, and I was hanging in her arms as she ravished my upper chest now with kisses, so insistent that all I could do was hang my arms back limply as I swam in the onslaught of her lips. .
She was tireless, never wavering, never slowing down in her urgent kissing, and her hands held me pressed into her, rubbing me against her strong abdomen, with these sexy little cries coming from her lips every so often as she kissed me, now back on my mouth.
“Oh god Jay I love you so much,” she gushed.
“J-jesus are you sure?” I stammered, caught in this hurricane of emotion that was Melissa Monroe, my new Office Manager. I was, I have to admit, a bit incredulous. Look at her, and then look at me. “I mean… “
“Shh!” she stopped me again, almost in a scold as she read my thoughts, "I don't want you to ever think you're not right for me, Jay." Her eyes searched deep into mine and she squeezed me into her boobs so hard I saw stars. "I love you as your funny, smart, friendly self, not someone worried about not being good enough, or rich enough,” she continued, “These last few months have been like heaven to me. I've never been treated so wonderfully by any guy - boyfriend, boss, whatever - and now that you're mine I never want to let you go-“
“Melissa I-“
“Please, Jay, let me keep going,” she said, earnestly, a wild look building in her eyes, “If you wanted to quit everything and move away together I would do it without a second thought. If you wanted me to drop to my knees and worship you from the moment I woke until I couldn't keep my eyes open, I would do it. Or I can be your Queen, if that’s what you want…”
“oh god Melissa, I-”
She was speaking more quickly now, right over me, her fervor building. “I would do anything for you, Jay. I want to be your perfect woman. I’d quit working out, or work out so hard I'd be a hundred times stronger than you. I’d make my breasts smaller, or grow them so big they’ll fill the room. I'd do it all. I'd do anything you wanted. All I want is for you to please please just let love me you and trust me. Don't worry about rich guys or bigger guys or any of that. They don't even exist to me."
“Melissa I…I don’t know what to say…” I offered. It was so overwhelming, and I felt both so confused and so on top of the world. This goddess was practically begging me to just be hers, and not worry about any of the stupid things I was so concerned about. Because what is there, really, but love?
“I told you, sweetie, you don’t have to say anything,” she repeated, once again looking into my eyes like she was trying to decipher me, a crazed, passionate intensity in her expression. “But, Jay,” she then asked me, “can you handle a girlfriend who's changing like me, with emotions like mine? I’m big, baby, and I’m only getting bigger.”
I looked into her face, overcome by the strength of her passions and seeing in her eyes the huge, cresting wave of her feelings and shaking with the thought of being swept away in her tsunami, taken into her ocean storm like fragile flotsam. Was I man enough to ride the wave out, surf her swells? God, I’ll stop with the wave metaphors but…yikes. You know what I mean?
What was my other option, though? To say no, pull away, be so cautious with my feelings and fragile frame that I’d rebuff her, tell Melissa that it was better for us to be apart? That way I could try to rebuild my life, my health, maybe start to repair my marriage. I…I knew what the reasonable, adult thing to do would be, and I knew already what my decision was.
“I want you, Melissa, I want all of you,” I said to her, “Get as big as you want - I can take it.”
At that, she basically exploded.
In a motion both smooth and violent, her hands slid up to grab me by the sides of my bony ribcage and I was lifted from her waist only to be <*SLAM!*> slammed onto my back onto my small kitchen table, which was right behind me. <*snAP!*> came from the tabletop below me, as she’d cracked the wood with my body.
As I regained my senses and, half-panicked, tried to sit, I felt her push me firmly back onto my back. I raised my head off the table to see what she was doing next. I followed her eyes to my own erection, which now stood once again huge and monstrous, rising up from my bony hips. Being manhandled by my girlfriend like this had thrown fuel on my excitement, and though I’d climaxed just a short while ago there was no denying how ready I was for her again. I felt the adrenaline of fear and arousal pump into my system as I watched her. Standing over me, towering between my outstretched legs in her pumped-up glory, her phenomenal musculature shadowed strikingly in the dim light, she looked down at me like a woman possessed. Her huge breasts heaved with each deep, mighty breath she drew as she looked down at me like a conqueror with their spoils. She’d grabbed my ankles and spread my legs.
“Did you like the movie?” she asked me, plainly.
“W-wh-whu-what?” I stammered, voice quivering, suddenly confused.
“Did you like ‘She-Hulk’?” she clarified, speaking more slowly, more evenly now, but still with the eyes of a woman of the wild, like someone unhinged. Her ardor and passion burned behind her eyes like flames inside two arcane gems. “The movie we just watched last night?”
“What? I-i-I uh…” I continued, still confused. I’d slept through most of it, but-
“You love the she hulks I can tell,” she said, cutting me off, raising my ankles now off the table in her hands, spread-eagled up high into the air. Suddenly I felt more exposed and vulnerable than I’d ever been, before her and her immeasurable strength and manic passion. My legs were spread nearly as wide as they could possibly stretch, and all my intimates were laid bare. She looked down at me, her mouth dropping open, my cock responding to the sight with a surge of new vigor. I felt like, as she held me like that, that she could snap me like a wishbone.
And then she started to flex.
“I’ll give you the fucking She-Hulk,“ she then growled, pulling my ankles up and towards her, doing a modified double-biceps pose while holding me akimbo. And then, with a deeply primal <*ROAR!*> of feminine rage, I watched as she suddenly redoubled again in size, muscles flaring all over her body, her frame quaking with the effort and the room around us shivering. My eyes watered, I turned my face away from the sonic assault, and if plaster began to fall from the ceiling or the windows exploded outwards from her impassioned fury I would not have been surprised.
As she continued to completely control me, she began to get even more aroused and her muscles continued to grow, every muscle in her body bulging. Her back arched and
it seemed that each muscle in her massive body was at least twice its normal size. My rear had been lifted off the table in the meantime, lofted into the air, and my cock waved wildly between my legs. Her eyes went once again to it and she became focused, like a laser, upon it.
<*SLAM!*> I was back on the table, my ankles still held aloft in her hands, and now her head was buried between my legs. Like a serpent dragoness she had struck, and impaled herself upon my already throbbing member. I was sunk down deep into her throat and I felt her lips and mouth and teeth spread wide and clamp themselves around my entire scrotum. She could have torn me out by the root with a single, fierce toss of her head, but instead she took to sucking on me, pushing my ankles back towards my head so my knees came closer and closer to me. This was an amazon-position blowjob if there ever was one, and I watched the mighty arms of my own personal Amazon Queen flex and ripple, surging and swelling as they held my legs up and my back down, helpless.
“oh god…!” I cried, “oh god oh god oh god!” My pleas, my whimpers and moans only spurred her on to greater brute force, and at a point I felt my legs might be torn out at the hip. But the pleasure was unearthly and my orgasm was imminent, and as I threw my head back I knew what she really wanted to hear. “H-how t-tall are you?” I asked, in a voice labored and cracked.
“I’m six-foot five, two-hundred and twenty pounds,” she snarled in a deep thunder, raising her face from my crotch for just the mere moment it took to answer before diving back onto me again.
In answer I craned my neck back, tilting my face to the ceiling and clamping my eyes shut as I prepared myself to be destroyed by my climax. “a-and how tall am I?” I retorted, whining, whining whining.
“You’re fucking tiny,” she told me, and I exploded in her mouth.
============================================== big credit to Anuar at @artaibyanuartor for the original image, before my rework. Also check his NSFW Patreon. And once again I have to tip my hat to authors, particularly Pac, whose style I am absolutely stealing here, along with some blatant passages and lines of dialogue.
My own Patreon is Here
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UNHOLY GIFT (OC STORY)
This is gonna be me just kinda summarizing the changes made from my old tmc au to make it into an oc story.
Firstly, name changes: Sarah -> Thea Rogers (she/he, 5'6") Evelin -> Eva Cruz (she/they/xe, 5'10") Adam -> Peter Aquino (he/they, 5'4") Jonah -> Carter Jackson (he/she, 5'7") Mark -> Nathan Rogers (he/him, 6'0") Cesar -> Mateo de la Garza (he/him, 5'8") Dave -> Thomas "Tommy" Rogers (he/xe, 5'6") Gabriel -> Lilith (she/they, 6'3") Six -> Seth Monroe (he/him, 6'1") Stanley -> Estrella Cruz (any/all prns, 5'2") Preacher -> Maria de la Garza (she/her, 5'5") Alt!Thatcher -> Adam (he/they, 6'5") Tiffany -> Lilith "Lily" Amanda (she/ey, 5'9") Eden (he/hymn, 7'0") has no name change
Thea and Nathan are siblings (Nathan is older by a couple of years), and Thomas is their uncle on their mom's side. Eva and Mateo are cousins (Mateo is also older by a couple years), Stella and Maria are sisters (both are Eva's and Mateo's mothers respectively and Maria is younger), and Seth is Stella's boyfriend. Lilith and Adam are twins, Adam being a few minutes older. Lily is Lilith's daughter.
Overall plot: Thea Rogers aspired to make her own music group and make it big like her older brother Nathan did in the city of Otoville, New York. Unfortunately, he was found one day in his apartment dead, the most suspected cause being suicide. Thea denies this possibility because of a journal Nathan had been keeping that was passed down to her after his death, giving subtle hints that the company that licensed his music, Divine Records, was behind it.
Thea recruits her friends Eva Cruz, Peter Aquino, and Carter Jackson to help build their own music group, beatCRASHERS, as well as do some snooping to investigate the truth about Nathan's death. However, the bigger they got as a group, the stranger their reality became...
Brief character info: Thea: Leader of the group beatCRASHERS, a group that performs street music, also investigating the death of her brother. Eva: Member of beatCRASHERS and daughter of one of the managers of Divine Records, strives to overcome her intense stage fright and general shyness. Peter: Member of beatCRASHERS, joined the group to get away from the stress of having divorced parents who hate each other but have to split custody. Carter: Originally going into classical music, he joined beatCRASHERS to experience the weird sensation in his chest whenever he hears street music. Nathan: Leader and vocalist of a rock band, Sub-ZERO, who's death was allegedly planned by Divine Records for an unknown reason. Mateo: Solo artist in reggaeton music and son of one of the managers of Divine Records. Tommy: Owner of a music shop in Otoville called Otobeats, passed down from his father a few years before he retired. Lilith: Co-owner of Divine Records with her brother, Adam, and owns a snake named Malus. The more composed of the twins. Adam: Co-owner of Divine Records with his sister, Lilith, and is a solo artist in street music under the pseudonym, PUPPET333R (Puppeteer). The more charismatic of the twins. Estrella: Manager of Divine Records who managed Nathan's band. Also part of a pop music duo, Star CrXssed, with her boyfriend Seth under the stage name "Stella". Seth: Boyfriend of Estrella and manager of Divine Records. Part of Star CrXssed with Estrella under the stage name "Sirius". Maria: PR Manager for Divine Records Lily: Rising solo artist in street music, in direct competition with beatCRASHERS. Eden: Someone Thea found in an alley and took home, surprisingly aware of Thea's situation and is willing to help out in any way he can.
Asking questions is encouraged!! However, please don't feel forced to!!
#unholy gift#ocs#might update later but i NEED to put this out rn#theyre my new blorbos#a bit rambly#if you guys know my inspiration for this you get a cookie#posts#<- forgot this tag 😭😭
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