cw: pussy eating, face riding, John Price's face is your personal seat, John Price is a certified pussy EATER (The 'P' in Price stands for pussy I heard)!!!!
John Price shaving his beard BUUUUTTTT, now, hear me out, he just leaves the moustache.
It's his pussy-stache.
He announces it as such when he left the ensuite, stepping out into the morning light, sporting a semi, his hands resting on his hands against his hips. Licking his bottom lip, his eyes fall on you.
You haven't moved from bed; it's a Sunday, and after a hard week of work, you really want nothing more than to just exist nowhere other than your bed. But, when you see your husband, beard no more, and a thick, dark lump of hair above his upper lip, your plans are nearly thwarted.
"What do you mean?" you ask, half joking, half wondering why he would commit, what is, essentially, an act of treason.
He approaches the bed, lays back down on his side, patting his chest. "C'mere, lovie."
Your brows raise, and you shift from under the covers, straddling his waist. An early morning lay isn't unusual, partly the reason the pair of you sleep naked and, not to mention, a great way to start the day.
Only, his large hands settle against the fat of your ass, shifting you upward. Your knees press against the edge of the pillow, and you brace your hands against the wooden headboard.
"John-"
"No whining," he says with a huff, "move up." You do, shifting until you can feel his hot breath against your cunt. "Thaaat's it. Good fuckin' girl, baby." You shudder from the feeling, a breathy moan leaving your mouth when he presses his tongue flat against your pussy lips. He only licks one stripe, breaking away with a huff. "None of this fuckin' hoverin', sweetheart. Now, sit."
"I really don't-"
You squeal as his nails dig into your ass, yanking you down against his face. The bridge of his nose presses against your clit, the hair of his moustache pressing against the centre of your cunt as his tongue parts your folds.
The noises from him are sloppy, they're dirty. He's licking, slurping, completely indulging, and you can't help but think that this - his tongue against you, hands guiding your hips so you're grinding against his face, clit pressing against his nose - is the greed they talk (at nauseam) about in the bible.
Any fight you have, any worry that you might end up suffocating go out the window, as the slight friction of the hair on his face leaves you with your head turned upwards towards the ceiling, fingers clutching onto the headboard for dear life.
You finish with a moan that could put porn stars out of a job, you pull away with shaky thighs, panting like you've just ran a marathon, looking down to find your husband, mouth and moustache lined with slick, cheeks slightly red as he tongues at the remnants of your climax. Sucking up a breath, he takes a moment to compose himself.
head rush— your mind was spinning out of control, static blurring the edges of your consciousness. stars of greys and blues sparkling behind your closed eyelids, phosphenes bursting white, pleasure lapsing through you, body trembling.
head clash— a chin, an elbow, a brow-bone to the jut of their noses, releasing rivers of red, rich and deep, molten ruby. watery smears across your inner thighs, bite marks and the feeling of bruising, grunts of pain replaced with grunts of ecstasy.
johnny and gaz can share a solid win. they can also share a pussy.
the warm seam of your pussy was another mouth to pry apart and explore— two strong tongues stretching you open, forcing your legs into a violent quiver.
and the tongues tangle, too. brushing up against each other again and again until they were swapping bloodied spit directly into each others mouths. johnny clasping gaz by the back of the neck, tongue licking over molars, moans dropping out with each mimicked movement of gaz’s. gaz grunted, nose throbbing, the heady taste of you soaked into his gums.
you could feel them against you. the movement of their mouths pressed up so tightly against you, catching your swollen lips and smoothing over them with their tongues. tongues coated in blood, the blood pouring from their noses and making a complete mess of you.
johnny looked feral. a wild cat. hair a mess, out of place, strands stuck to the sweat on his forehead, clothes sweat-soaked and dishevelled. blood and saliva dripped down his face, and his eyes hadn’t opened in a very long time.
gaz was much the same, with shining crimson passing over the bow of his upper lip and wiping along the slit of your cunt— especially each time he turned out of the kiss for a moment to give you a sweet peck too. his cock, hard and thick, pressed painfully tight in his short shorts, the material already uncomfortably restrictive around his muscular thighs.
you grasp at their hair, at their shirts, at anything you can grab as they moan into each other’s mouths, and moan into your leaking cunt.
“mmm,” gaz hums, and the vibrations have you reeling. you tremble, moaning and pushing your hips closer to them— closer so they can give you more attention, sliding their hot tongues over you, up and down. gaz moans, panting against your pussy. “such a good girl.”
his eyes are closed, and his voice is stretched over a whine. blood drips gently over his parted lips before he delves back in, tongue flat against you, before it’s sliding directly into your hole, curling.
you see stars again. a planetarium morphing behind your fluttering eyelids.
johnny pants like a dog, chasing after gaz’s tongue with a grunt and a wicked flash in his shadowed eyes. he stuffs his tongue alongside gaz’s, heads pushed up against one another as they fight for a position between your plush thighs. the feeling of him, too, knots your stomach tight, clit pulsing heavily with your heartbeat.
“tastes like a fuckin’ dream,” johnny whispers, voice muffled against you, nose nudging your puffy clit. “real bonnie like— ‘am fuckin’ soaked,” he concludes with his lower face drenched.
gaz’s dark eyes are on you now. deep, dark, pupils blown impossibly wide. you crack your eyes open to lock onto his, watching him dead-on as he moves his head and sucks johnny’s tongue into his mouth, their teeth knocking, lips locking together. johnny moans, eyes rolling. you do much the same.
“best girl i’ve ever had,” gaz whispers when he and johnny separate, a string of saliva connecting their mouths. one of his hands is on your clit before you even realise, rubbing you gently there, circles upon circles until your mind is spinning too.
“gaz,” you plead out into the hot air of the room. you smell copper and spit and sex. “johnny,” you also moan, since he had resumed his position and shoved half of his fucking face into the folds of your cunt.
gaz grabs johnny by the mohawk, a fistful of dark hair, and pulls him away. he then slots himself in replace of the scot, cleaning the remnants of blood with the tip of his tongue. his finger moves with each stroke, and johnny moans, wriggling his way back in, the movements tickling your thighs.
you moan loudly. body tense, tensing, tightening elastic. a band ready to snap.
“want her to come, gaz,” johnny whines, rucking his bulge into the mattress where he lays. “fuck, want her to come so fuckin’ bad— want her to fuckin’ gush in ma mouth, gaz—”
gaz’s fingers speed up.
“yeah, she’s gonna come. she’s almost there,” gaz replies, the pair simply talking as if you couldn’t hear them. that made blood rush straight down to your clit. “come on, johnny. give our sweet little pussy one last kiss.”
they moved in together. mouths to your cunt, opening her up for a kiss made to split you apart. splitting the atom, pulling you apart on a microscopic level and then building you up again. their words rocketed through you, straight to your core, and you wondered how long it would take for you to collapse again.
warm mouth, sharp teeth. blood and bone, gnashing and smearing. downright fucking nasty, and yet here you were— a moaning, shivering mess, as they fucked your pussy with tongues and fingers and cooed at her as though she was you. pleasure building white-hot.
“thaaat’s our good girl,” gaz utters against you. “you wanna come? yeah? yeah, baby? oh, come on then— let go, sweetheart.”
“need it so fuckin’ bad,” johnny whispers. “so fuckin’ bad, bonnie— please, please, need you—”
tackled. your orgasm slams into you, trampling you, pushing you down head-first. your thighs clamp around their heads, locking them too you as you gush against their faces. moaning, you toss your head back and grip onto them for dear life, praying you don’t slip and fall into oblivion as gaz strokes you through it and johnny humps the edge of your mattress, groaning.
you’re whining their names. you’re dizzy and disoriented, and johnny delights in licking you clean. gaz rests against your quivering thigh, sucking the soft skin into his mouth as he reaches beneath him and shoves a hand into his briefs. he gets onto his knees, blindly, reluctantly releasing your thigh, and bullies his way past johnny.
“get out’ve the way or suck my cock while you’re down there,” gaz says, pulling his shorts and briefs down as johnny pulls his head from your pussy.
you whimper as gaz fists his cock, head flushed deeply, balls already drawing up tight as he jerks himself, quickly lowering himself towards your sopping cunt.
johnny gapes, eyes glossy, but he listens— opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue. gaz runs the head along it, pre-cum marking the pink.
“good boy, johnny,” is all gaz says before he pushes johnny’s face out of the way and shoves his cock inside you— forcing a cry from your chest that rattles around your brain as though someone else had shouted it. an echo in a chamber.
johnny’s still humping the bed when gaz guides his flushed face back to your cunt— this time, to press his swollen lips and tongue to where you and gaz connect, licking up the white ring that begins to build with each desperate thrust.
“fucking hell,” gaz curses. “look at the state of him, baby. he’s gonna come straight in his fuckin’ shorts. eh, johnny?”
one of gaz’s hands is in johnny’s hair, the other on your hip. his knuckles pull taut, dewy skin stretching over bone as he grips johnny’s mohawk. this keeps the scot there, and anchors himself to you.
your next orgasm hardly takes long to bubble. the first hadn’t really even gone away.
“gaz,” you whisper desperately, body jolting with each of his rapid thrusts. “gaz, m’gonna come again—”
gaz smiles. a brilliant smile. charming and dimpled. “oh yeah, baby? you wanna come?”
“please.”
johnny moans from his position, muffled by the strength that gaz keeps him pinned to you. he does, however, glance down at the poor man, with dried blood now caked over his face, the rest washed away in the spit and come that drools down onto the bed. gaz looked much the same.
“that’s it, johnny, y’doin’ great,” gaz says, grinning downwards, before redoubling his thrusts and rutting into you hard and fast. you yowl, and gaz tuts. “so noisy, baby. so noisy an so fuckin’ messy.”
“gaz!” you cry out, body shaking. your cunt squelches lewdly, and the sound of johnny’s lapping only amplify it.
gaz’s cock is thick and hot inside you, pushing up towards the base of your cervix, sliding over your gummy walls over and over and over until your legs are locking up, and once more you’re seeing galaxies in your vision.
you come moaning gaz’s name, with a whimper of johnny too. you can’t help it— the way your body spasms and moves, white-hot pleasure coursing through you, branding your insides. you weren’t going to forget this.
“yeah, just like that, sweetheart— fuck, m’gonna—” gaz moans, eyes slamming shut as he shoves himself as far as he can get inside you, before coming with another guttural groan.
he pulls out midway through his release, spurts of milky white dashing across johnny’s face, who lays there equally with glossy eyes and swollen lips. warm ropes paint the puffy lips of your cunt, and you feel your eyes roll. johnny stutters on a moan and gaz rubs his hands over your thighs as the lot of you fizzle down from your highs. sediment settling at the bottom of the river.
you pant as though you’d run for miles. cardio. the best kind, gaz would say with a wink.
“gaz,” you begin. “johnny, holy shit.”
gaz chuckles while johnny rolls onto his back, chest moving rapidly. the slow-forming wet patch across the front of his tight shorts tells you and gaz all you needed to know.
“poor johnny, comin’ straight into his shorts,” gaz chides with a smirk.
he then turns to look down at you with that signature twinkle in his beautiful dark eyes. he gently, gently, runs a pair of fingers up and down the seam of your pussy, smearing the leaking mixture of his spend and yours.
“s’pose he should get a turn with this pretty girl, eh?” he whispers, leaning over you to kiss you. the kiss is warm and salty. metallic and heady. you feel his tongue curl around yours, and the moan you pass into his mouth is answer enough.
simon is a he/him lesbian in this fic. he’s a gender nonconforming cis woman & prefers using a masc name and pronouns
huge thank you to woolie, birdy, gougie, báir & three for being so encouraging and helping me with this fic and to kitty for making all of my oc names as always :3
this is a love letter to butches <33
Riley (he/him), 31, female.
Looking for a roommate ASAP. DM for details, don’t fuck me about.
you’d found the post on an online forum asking for a roommate and hadn’t hesitated to reach out immediately when you saw you were in the same city. your current roommate was only a few weeks away from moving in with her boyfriend, which would leave you with an apartment you couldn’t afford on your own.
although the post left everything to the imagination, the options for roommates were slim pickings and the single room apartments on the market were no cheaper, meaning you were getting desperate.
after a brief back and forth online with riley, he explained that his own roommate was moving out which was why he was looking for someone new to fill the spot. the apartment was cheap for the area - not that he told you where it was- and you’d have your own bedroom but you’d share the living room and kitchen, there were two small bathrooms, and storage in the shallow loft since it was the top floor apartment.
standard stuff but it sounded perfect.
riley was a blunt texter, but you assumed he’d maybe had his fill of people messing him about so far and just wanted to get down to business and find a roommate before he was stuck in the same position as you; paying double rent for a place that wasn’t worth it, digging into savings to stay afloat.
after covering whether you smoked (quit last year), had any pets (allergic), or liked frequent house parties (too shy), he offered to meet up to go into more detail about the place and you’d jumped at the chance, naming a cafe you liked to frequent near your work.
you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting when you arrived and found a table near the window - or more accurately, what you’d been picturing riley to look like - but you’d had to school your features into something less flustered when a tall woman in a baggy hoody and a pair of black work out shorts walked in and bee-lined for your corner.
as he walked your eyes glued themselves to his nike shorts as they rose up his thighs, indecently tight, showing off the thick muscle covered in a smattering of soft, unshaven hair, light enough that it glistened in the afternoon light. as he got closer you noticed a smattering of scars leading up his shins to his knees and stretch marks curving around the inside of his thighs.
you felt the urge to reach out and touch when you felt the weight of his own gaze taking you in for the first time.
“riley?” you’d asked hesitantly, when you finally managed to lift your head up to face him, cheeks ablaze. beneath his hood you could see that the scars continued on his face; almost prominently one ran from mid chin through his lips and up his cheek, another, smaller but thicker, ran from his hairline to two inches down his forehead slightly off centre.
you were mesmerised.
“prefer simon,” he’d corrected but nodded, his voice lighter than you’d expected but thickly accented.
he pulled down his hood with a scant look around the cafe to reveal a short cropped haircut, a little shaggy at the top. he took the seat opposite you and you sat up straight when your knees bumped accidentally. you snatched your legs back beneath your chair and clenched your thighs tightly together as the warmth of his bare skin throbbed through your jeans.
christ what was wrong with you? you had the attention of one hot, tall butch and suddenly you were a bag of nerves and fumbling all over the place. get it together.
“oh! yeah ok, cool,” you said and tried to smile normally. “simon.”
“not what you were expecting?” he asked wryly.
“uhm, no,” you admitted with an embarrassed little huff. “not exactly; i don’t really know what i was expecting though to be fair.”
“want to back out? no ‘ard feelings,” simon offered indifferently. guarded.
“no! no, i’m still very interested,” you insisted, biting your cheek when he raised an eyebrow at you in amusement. “i ordered already, uhm. got here a little early after work so i figured why not? i just got you a latte, i should’ve maybe asked.”
you felt wrong footed in front of his confidence. his legs were spread wide beneath the table, feet planted on the outside of yours and suddenly this felt less like a first meeting for a roommate and instead like your ideal first date.
you looked over at the counter and tapped your leg impatiently when you couldn’t see your drinks.
“that’s nice of ya.”
“i wanted to make a good first impression if we’re gonna be roomies,” you joked.
“mm.” he looked you up and down. “you messy?”
“excuse me?”
“i like to keep the place clean. deal breaker if you’re messy, it’s why soap had to move out.”
“soap? i don’t— yeah, i’m clean. tidy. i can keep my shit tidy,” you insisted. a waitress brought your drinks over on a tray and you thanked her quietly.
he smiled. “good, then this should be fine.” his foot tapped yours under the table. “relax. you said you came here after work?”
“yeah, i work nearby. sales calls, nothing interesting,” you shrugged and took a big sip. “pay is shit, but it covers half of the bills. what about you?”
“construction,” he said simply and your eyes drifted without permission to his hands wrapped around his mug then up to his arms hidden beneath his hoody.
“nice,” you choked out, visions of simon in a sweaty tank top throwing back a sledge hammer, not at all helping with the heat on your face and between your legs. “long hours?”
“sometimes,” he conceded. “s’why i asked about parties. don’t need to be coming home from work to an ‘ouse full’a dick’eads.”
you snorted.
“i can promise no house parties. well, maybe one around my birthday but i mean does inviting four people around for pizza really count as a house party?”
simon squinted his eyes playfully. “guess i can allow a little leniency here and there.”
you grinned behind your cup.
“what about your own friends? they swing by often?”
“not if i can help it,” simon huffed, a smile pulling at his scarred lip as you chuffed a surprised laugh. “tend to go to gaz’s or price’s house if his bird in’t home.”
the idea of a bunch of lads around the flat wouldn’t have necessarily been a deal breaker, but it was a relief to know it wasn’t going to be often regardless.
the pair of you stayed long enough to order a second drink while you discussed rent prices, tenancy agreements, and simon showed you photos of the area it was in.
“can show you the place now if you don’t need to head home yet?” he’d offered. “not too far to walk from here. could get an idea of the place and see if it fits.”
you’d nodded eagerly and followed him a couple of blocks away to a cosy, hidden away flat near the centre of town. you were surprised it was as cheap as he’d said given the location, but when the water refused to get hot in the kitchen sink when he went to wash a singular mug you soon caught on.
“boiler goes every other month, but i know how to fix it,” he’d said with a sigh, popping the kettle on instead. “taps, radiators ‘n shower all go cold.”
you winced, but it wasn’t enough to put you off. “landlord refuses to get it sorted?”
“landlord doesn’t answer my texts or calls anymore, think he got pissy w’me after i complained about him doin’ fuck all about the single glazed windows to the council few winters back.” you pursed your lips in order to not laugh but simon saw your expression and shrugged unrepentant. “arsehole needed tellin’, di’nt he?”
“i think this place will be perfect,” you settled on saying. you looked out of the nearest window and noted the working locks; the traffic was loud outside but you’d always preferred the constant buzz to send you off to sleep, the few times you’d been camping you’d not slept a wink in the silence.
he told you about the few other residents and explained the shortcuts you could take to get to work or for the shops and by time simon had finished giving you the tour of the place - a deceptively long space towards the back, hiding its double bathroom and bedrooms - you’d noticed it had gotten dark outside. when he noticed your furtive glance however, simon offered to drive you home without a second thought.
and again, not thirty minutes later when you were about to climb out of his truck with one last deep breath of his cologne, he offered to help you move in next week.
if that works for you, he’d said.
you’d started packing as soon as you got inside.
the only issue with moving in with simon - an issue you’d only noticed after having lived together for 6 months already, an issue your friends had to point out to you - was that the dating pool in manchester suddenly seemed a little drab. a little pathetic.
“i really don’t think si has anything to do with the fact that i can’t find anyone i’m interested in when we go out anymore, i think it makes more sense that all the hot women are just no longer single now,” you’d laughed when your friend had suggested it.
sure you thought simon was insanely hot, and that opinion had only solidified after spending the last half a year with him; seeing him braless more often than not beneath his muscle shirts when he lounged around the flat on his off days, pressing closer than necessary after a shower when you tried to pass by in the hallway, working out in the living room grunting and groaning as he hit his push-up goal, sweating and stretching obscenely as you tried to keep your eyes respectfully locked on your phone or the tv.
you were well aware that simon was sexy but more importantly off limits, so you didn’t let it affect your dating life. or so you thought.
“doesn’t help that you barely come out on a night with us,” emma pouted. “even less now that you hang out with simon most evenings.”
“when was the last time you hooked up with someone? even just kissed someone?” ash asked before you could defend your lack of social life, their eyebrow raised as if to prove their point.
you sighed. it had been a while, and taking care of things by yourself wasn’t really working out too well. simon always seemed to come home just when the frustration peaked enough for you to grab your vibrator, and you knew from the girls he’d taken home in the first few months that the walls were in fact thin enough to hear everything. with gritted teeth and wet panties, you always had to put it back in your drawer and wait for another day for some ‘me time’.
quotas for no nut november were being accidentally exceeded so much so that you were heading into catholic nun absolution. it was almost mid may; you needed to find someone to break you out of your funk sooner than later. get over by getting under or whatever.
“we’re not trying to guilt you into coming out with us,” emma added kindly, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “we know you don’t always like the crowd and that’s fine. but we just want you to be getting the dick or pussy that you deserve.”
you snorted and rolled your eyes. “what do you suggest then?”
emma shared a look with ash. “well…”
it hadn’t taken much more convincing from your friends to set up an account for you on tinder after that.
you spent some time on your profile, trying to find the right blend of funny but not too snarky, sexy but still approachable. it was a nightmare but the thought of getting your tits kissed and played with by someone else after almost half a year was enough to keep you on track. you just needed to focus and get it done.
——
as you walked back to your flat with ash after grabbing lunch together, you flicked through the options in your area.
“oh, she’s cute!” ash scrolled through the photos before cackling. “she’s funny too, listen, ‘if you google top places to eat out in the city, i’m the number one spot. better make your reservation quick’.”
you laughed. “oh that’s bad, si would find that funny.”
ash sent you a deadpan stare before going back to the profile. “so swiping right?”
you hummed and glanced at the phone again. “i don’t know, i don’t think she’s my type.”
“the last ten profiles ‘haven’t been your type,’ admit you’re just being picky,” ash pointed out.
“i’ve got standards is all,” you huffed. “i’m not just going to say yes to everyone.”
“she was exactly what you normally go for; strong build, blonde and funny in a dumb way according to the bio, aka you catnip,” they said. “hell, i’m surprised she’s not one of your exes.”
“fuck you,” you laughed and elbowed them. “i don’t even have a type, i don’t know why i said that.”
“oh please,” ash guffawed. “i can and will list the many attributes your exes all share if i have to.”
you sent them a scathing look and they held up their hands in defeat, a smug smile ruining their supposedly conceding pose.
“the only outlier was that weird austrian that i told you not to give the time of day to,” they continued. their face crumpled into a look of disgust, nose wrinkled and eyes pained. “could tell as soon as he opened his mouth that he doesn’t wash his dick.”
you pouted and ground your teeth in a grimace, unable to disagree on any count. he was certainly a lapse in judgement, you wouldn’t deny it.
“i’m just not feeling it, ash. i don’t want to waste her time when i don’t see the attraction. it’s not fair on her.” you shrugged and took back your phone to swipe left. “maybe my type has changed.”
ash stayed quiet a moment, looking contemplative as you both continued walking.
“ok you have a point. there’s no need to waste people’s time, but - and hear me out - everyone on there is just treading water trying to figure out who they want to fuck. she might spend a week talking to you and then ghost,” ash explained.
“great, cheers for that,” you chuffed.
“you know what i mean,” they rolled their eyes. “everyone’s figuring out if they want to go on a date or jump in bed with each other on there, you’re not wasting anyone’s time by giving them a chance. let yourself be wooed.”
“‘wooed’, i’m not looking for a mr darcy,” you joked.
“then actually give these people a shot, it’s not like they’re looking for marriage either,” ash countered. “or maybe you’ve got a specific person in mind distracting you that you’re making unfair comparisons to.”
you glared as you entered the apartment building. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed. you opened the app up again and bit your lip before swiping right on the first five profiles that appeared, showing your friend as you did. “there, happy?”
your phone buzzed and you looked down with wide eyes as all five accounts matched you back. the app directed you to the messaging centre and you looked at ash sheepishly.
“don’t you dare unmatch them,” they warned teasingly, pointing their finger at you with squinted eyes as you waited in the elevator. “go on a few dates and be spoiled for once. if nothing else, you get a good meal and some fresh air.”
you laughed as you finally reached your floor. you unlocked the door to your flat and dropped your coat on the back of a dining chair before slumping on the sofa with ash joining a second after sans their boots and coat.
“fine, fine. i’m on here for a reason, right? i might as well give them a chance,” you agreed a little reluctantly.
“give who a chance?” simon asked as he came from the back of the flat, passing through to the kitchen.
“my lovely bestie is finally on tinder,” ash said with a sharp grin aimed at simon. “hoping to find someone to fuck out the last six months of—“
“yeah thanks, ash! feel free to shut the fuck up, i don’t think simon cares about the details of my sex life,” you interrupted, cheeks hot with embarrassment.
“no?” ash asked playing dumb. they pouted and turned back to simon. “my bad.”
you hadn’t noticed simon had grown reserved and quiet at ash’s outburst, too busy trying to save face and distract yourself with thinking of a decent opening message.
“and anyway, i’m just going a few dates first,” you corrected and looked at simon. “so don’t worry about me inviting anyone around to the flat or anything.”
simon nodded tersely before swallowing. “s’fine.” he looked shiftily over to the kitchen before moving to lean over the back of your seat, arms resting behind your head as he peered over your shoulder.
“show me,” he ordered softly. you shivered at the feel of his breath on your neck as he spoke and immediately opened the app again.
you chuffed an unimpressed laugh at the profile that popped up first. “‘want to surprise my boyfriend with a threesome for his birthday, any takers?’ jesus christ, the dating pool is so dire,” you whined.
simon chuckled behind you. “bloke looks like he’d barely be able to handle ya either, look at ‘im. he’d ruin his pants before you even took ya bra off.”
“at least i’d be able to concentrate on the girlfriend then,” you snickered along with him.
“nah, best you’d get from her is a bit o’ tongue for show,” simon said. “can tell by the profile ‘er heart’s not in it.”
you swiped left and simon was immediately ready to point out the failings of this profile too, and then again when you swiped left after laughing along, and again after that.
the way he leant over you blocked your friend from your view, but simon could see the knowing look ash was giving him directly in his peripheral, but he chose to ignore it. especially when he lowered one hand into your lap to start swiping left himself.
you let your free hand rise to play with simon’s long shirt sleeve before you suddenly took in his attire and frowned.
“why are you dressed for work?” you turned to sit on your knees facing the back of the sofa as he rose up to his full height to see him wearing his work trousers and steel-toe boots, his hi-vis vest tucked into his waistband.
“john rang, asked me to cover soap’s shift when he went home sick after lunch. i’ll be back from the lot later; might be late in the evening if i have to go grab a few things for ‘im from b&q before it closes for tomorrow,” he said, contrite.
you pouted heavy and exaggerated. “movie night’s cancelled? fuck you, john price.”
simon snorted, his scarred lip lifting at one side in obvious mirth. “i’ll tell ‘im y’said that, shall i?”
“fine with me, i’m not afraid of him,” you goaded.
“he’s ex military you know,” simon winced jokingly.
you rolled your eyes. “no duh. so are you.”
he hummed a low single note.
“and you wouldn’t let him touch a hair on my head, right si?” you continued shamelessly.
“i’d tell him there’s no point wasting time trying to teach you manners. any time i try to knock some sense into ya noggin it just echoes,” he huffed, holding back a smile as he tapped his knuckles on your crown for emphasis.
you swiped at his fist with a hiss.
“you can piss off to your job already then if you’re going to take the mick,” you laughed. you kept your hands to yourself otherwise, knowing better than to try and push him away after one too many failed attempts. his stomach was always firm enough to keep your best efforts from moving him, but topped with a thick and soft enough layer that it gave way beneath your prodding fingers and roaming palm.
“i’ll make it up t’ya. another night,” he promised lowly, bending down close again to whisper. as your pout lessened he nodded before heading out.
“wooow,” ash exaggerated and lengthened the word sarcastically as they sat watching you slump back to sit normally now that simon was gone. “it’s somehow worse than i thought.”
“hm?”
“does he always fold like a cheap suit when you flash the puppy dog eyes at him?” ash laughed.
“you’re seeing things, he literally just cancelled on me,” you argued and turned to the tv to channel surf. “are you staying for tea? think i’ve got the stuff in for a curry, could pirate that new horror with kyle gallner.”
ash rubbed at their chin. “don’t think i didn’t notice the subject change… but i’m listening.”
——
you got your movie night with si a few days later with the pair of you lounged on the couch, simon’s heavy, long legs draped across your lap as you waited for the take out you’d ordered to arrive.
your phone buzzed with a notification and simon perked up. “food here?”
you took a moment to respond, looking at your phone and tapping away for a second before shaking your head. “no, just a message.”
you phone buzzed again just before you could put it back down and you unlocked it again with a growing smile.
“oh, ‘s emma asking about dog sittin’ again?” he guessed.
“it’s not emma,” you said easily, without further detail, distracted by your phone.
before simon could ask, a knock at the door had him swinging his legs down and heading to grab the bag of food. he grabbed some cutlery from the kitchen on the way back before slumping heavily down next to you, spreading his thighs wide enough to press against yours.
he frowned when he saw you were still engrossed in your phone, a little secretive smile pulling at your lips. at the smell of the food you looked up and your eyes brightened, you put your phone back on the table and ignored it when it buzzed, helping simon instead, sitting back when you had your share and pressing play on your movie. when the phone buzzed twice more in quick succession you bit your lip and glanced at it.
“answer it,” simon said bitingly, having figured out who’d be messaging you by that point. the stupid, bloody app. “but tell ‘em you’re busy with a woman already.”
your eyes widened and you coughed out a surprised laugh. “si.”
“tell ‘em you’re not hanging out with ‘em next week either, you can’t make it. you’re busy with me instead,” he continued, the weight of his hooded gaze heavy and stifling.
“but i’m not busy, we don’t have plans next week,” you said weakly, confused.
simon huffed heavily through his nose. you’d almost think it was bordering on angry but for the entire time you’d known him, simon had never gotten angry at you, even when you accidentally shrunk his brand new sports bra on a too-hot wash.
you both tensed when your phone buzzed again.
“let me turn off my notifications,” you said and reached for the phone furtively. you skimmed your notifications and felt something bloom in your chest at the mention of a date from one of your matches, but you didn’t mention it to simon. “there we go, now we can focus on movie night,” you said with a grin, scooping another forkful of sweet & sour chicken into your mouth.
simon’s shoulders dropped and he nodded. he looked to your half empty glass and stood up. “want me to grab you another drink?”
you smiled, mouth closed and cheeks full of rice, and nodded as he chuckled. he turned away before the urge to poke your puffy cheeks won out and you accidentally spat rice out on the rug.
——
>> any new matches? 👀👀👀
you pursed your lips as you read the text from emma.
<< a few. might have a date next week
<< depends if she plays her cards right
>> lol is it the librarian or the electrician?
<< electrician. might give me mates rates if i ask her to check out the faulty leccy wiring in the flat :p
>> more like dates rates ;)
>> she was cute 😍 where’s the date?
<< she mentioned getting dinner, a new place that just opened up that she said was meant to be cool
>> the thai place? omgggg i’ve been meaning to go! give me ur review after pls and ty
>> and i mean the food, but any dirty deets are welcome too 👀👀
<< ???
<< i haven’t agreed to go yet
>> 🙄 girl…
>> what happened to giving them a chance, ash said you were on board
<< idk si was acting really weird the other day
<< he got really moody about it all, practically told me to fob it all off and just hang out with him instead
<< i think he’s worried
you had been watching a few murder documentaries lately, and one too many of them had started off as innocent dates or first meet ups that ended in tragedy.
>> i think he’s jealous
you stared at the text as your stomach flipped.
<< ???
>> he’s literallyyyy had a huge crush on u since forever
>> this is not news 😐
you scoffed but felt your stomach clench and hesitated to text back.
>> don’t believe me? just watch how he acts around you over the next few days and see if he does any of these repeatedly
emma sent a screenshot from a website listing ‘things she does if she likes you’ and you snorted. it felt trivial, like you were a teenager again, but you decided to play along.
<< fine. but he won’t.
you sent your quick affirmative back before putting your phone down and finishing your break.
the idea of simon liking you was an impossible one in your mind. simon had brought home women from the moment you’d moved in, it had never been a deterrent and he’d always said you were welcome to do the same as long as they didn’t stick around when he had a day off.
recently though, you thought, there’d been less and less women traipsing out of si’s room giggling and flushed, staring adoringly up at the tall butch woman. sadly, you knew exactly how good simon was in bed from the enthusiastic sounds of his previous partners over the months, so you couldn’t blame them for tripping over their feet as they were ushered towards the exit, an eager ‘call me, yeah?’ breathed out just before the door was closed forever.
that was another reason you’d never made a move. even if sometimes there had been moments where you had thought simon’s gaze lingered too long or his touch couldn’t be excused as just friendly; you couldn’t take being a one night stand. not with him, and not when you’d have to move out when your feelings inevitably bubbled over.
you bit your lip as you cooked that evening. simon was chopping the veg for your bolognese as you were left to watch over the pasta - last time you’d burnt it when you’d turned away and gotten distracted and you refused to let simon hold that over you for any longer.
“you know i can go stay at ash’s or with emma and her partner for a day or two if you want,” you offered out of the blue.
simon stopped cutting and looked at you.
“why the fuck would i want tha’?”
you swallowed. “i just noticed you haven’t had many people ‘round recently and thought maybe it was because i was home,” you said, barely meeting his eyes. “so i can make myself sparse for a few days, it’s no bother. i don’t mind.”
“i had johnny over just the other day,” simon said as though you might have forgotten. the boisterous scot had managed to fondly wiggle his way into gaining your friendship the few times he’d popped by for simon. “and gaz and the lads are all coming by next week. y’dont need t’ leave.” he went back to chopping though much more forcefully now, the chopping board dully thumping with each downward cut he made through the courgette.
“yeah… but what about other visitors?” you hedged. “the walls are thin, si, so i thought maybe you’d want the place to yourself again temporarily so you can—“
“no. i don’t want the place to m’self. i like havin’ you here, like hearing you move around in the night and in the mornings,” he interrupted without looking up. “you stay.” he paused for a moment, doubting himself even as you nodded along. “unless you want to go?”
“god no! no, i just thought i should offer,” you laughed a little awkwardly.
he frowned deeper.
“do you want me to go?”
you paused, you mouth flapping like a fish. this was an option you’d not considered. you noticed simon’s eyes grow more and more desperate, his grip on the veg in front of him tightening as he waited for your response.
“no. never, si,” you said.
he watched you a moment more before nodding. “good. wouldn’t have anyway.”
you snorted a laugh and looked back to the spaghetti, hissing when you saw it had stuck to the bottom of the pan. “shit.”
“…tell me you haven’t managed to burn it a second time.”
——
your conversation with simon reminded you of the article emma had sent you. it took less than a week to notice how differently simon acted with others in comparison to how considerate he was with you.
he made the effort to hold eye contact at the start of your conversations, and if you ever paused too long in your reply his eyes would flicker back up from where they’d drifted to his food or phone to check why. you’d never doubted he was always listening, but seeing it first hand reassured you that he was without fail. and it only highlighted, now that you looked for it, how closely he kept to himself when strangers tried to pick up a conversation with him, how he used as few words as possible on the off chance he did reply.
you wouldn’t hesitate to consider simon tactile, soft-handed and gentle. but you knew that was a privilege. the same with his smiles, spotted in flash of crooked teeth or the slow crinkle of his dark eyes paired with the pull of his scar on the occasion he wore his mask.
at your realisation, you began to check the list religiously each night in the safety of your bed as though trying to convince yourself that you hadn’t noticed the way simon mirrored your own behaviour. how he’d lean opposite you in the small kitchen, tilting his head a second after yours as you complained about work, boiling the kettle for a cuppa after a long day.
you’d pretend not to notice him on the phone twenty minutes later, cancelling going out with his friends, again, so he could stay with you while you relax for the weekend.
you found he’d swapped the brand of peanut butter you usually bought after the last one gave you a tummy ache without mentioning it, he’d asked about your grandad’s birthday even though you’d brought it up offhandedly weeks before, he let you run your hands through his hair near his scar when he napped on the sofa. the list went on.
but you’d already agreed to that date with the electrician.
——
“i don’t know if i’ve come down with something, my stomachs not right. i don’t think think i should go,” you complained as you got ready for your date, your phone propped up on your dresser with ash and emma’s faces on screen as you video called. “i feel queasy.”
“that’s just the nerves, you’ll be ok once you get there,” emma soothed.
“want us to meet you afterwards?” ash asked.
“maybe, yeah,” you hummed. “or maybe call me an hour in just in case it isn’t going well so i can have an excuse to leave?”
“how does ‘your long lost brother just woke from a coma and you’re the only one he remembers’ sound?” ash asked.
“dramatic enough for me to make my escape,” you laughed.
“you won’t need it,” emma reassured. “you’ll be too busy flirting and fawning over her muscles to even answer the phone.”
you laughed harder and the ache in your stomach faded ever so slightly as you pulled on your shoes and got ready to leave. simon was still at work, pulling some extra hours to get the job back on schedule after johnny’s time off, which meant the flat was empty as you left.
you bit your lip and headed to the restaurant, waving shyly from the entrance when you saw jessi, the electrician, already seated and waiting on you.
“hey, been here long?” you asked as you took your seat.
“barely five minutes,” she reassured you with an easy smile. “you look stunning, by the way. worth the wait.”
you thanked her, and took in her styled hair and half unbuttoned dress shirt from across the table. you felt a little underdressed in comparison but hid your insecurity when you smiled at her across the table.
“are you always this shy?” she asked when you stayed silent a beat too long, her grin turning sly and teasing.
you laughed a little self depreciatingly and shrugged. “it’s been a little while since i went on a date,” you admitted, butterflies starting to flutter at her sharp gaze.
“i’ll go easy on you then,” she promised and winked before handing you a menu. “what looks good to you?”
——
you’d thought the date was going fine, good, even. the thought of leaving hadn’t crossed your mind and when emma had called you’d screened it and smiled at the winky face she’d sent a moment later.
jessi was fun to talk to; her humour was maybe a little more forced than what you liked but it wasn’t a deal breaker. you’d thought she was enjoying herself too given the flirtatious comments, the lingering looks and how her ankle kept brushing yours.
but just before you could suggest ordering desserts, she stood and grabbed her coat.
“this has been…” she trailed off. “maybe you’re not ready for dating, you know?”
she’d dropped a few twenty notes on the table and left before you could ask what the fuck that meant.
you called over the waiter, covered the rest of the bill and made your own downtrodden exit soon after, dessert suddenly not seeming so appetising.
“tell me you’re going to her house to stay the night and that this is a safety call,” ash said as soon as they answered.
you huffed a sarcastic laugh. “nope.” you popped the ‘p’ and scuffed your toe along the pavement as you walked.
“fuck, this isn’t a good sign then. no dessert?” you heard emma mumble in the background.
“put me on speaker if you two are still hanging out,” you said and hugged your thin jacket tighter with your free arm as you started heading down the dark street towards your apartment.
“how’d it go?” emma asked a moment later.
“i thought it was going good,” you whined. “she was nice, we were chatting, i was engaging! but she just… left?”
“what were you chatting about?” ash asked.
“just the basics; work, friends, hobbies, roommates,” you listed.
“oh god,” emma groaned on the other end of the line. you heard her voice become muffled as though her face was in a pillow as she grumbled, “you didn’t.”
“what?” you asked with a frown. “it was good, she was being flirty.”
“yeah no shit, it was a date,” ash snorted. “how many times did simon come up?”
“don’t start this again—“
“because you were literally talking about him other day when we walked by a black and white cat just because it had little ‘socks’ and it reminded you to do laundry when you got back.”
“i promised to do simon’s while he’s been picking up extra hours,” you defended yourself. “he literally had to walk around shirtless the other week when i forgot to add them in for him.”
“oh, the grown woman who can and often does do his own washing just had to walk around with just a flimsy little sports bra and boxers on all day? sure, sure.” you could practically hear ash roll their eyes. emma snickered in the background and there was a slight shuffling which was never a good sign. “yep, here it is. and i quote ‘the way he’s built… like a damn chew toy. need to sink my teeth in to him, it’s like my jaw buzzes every time i see him with the urge to clamp down on his bicep.’ those are your texts to our group chat from that same day.”
“the texts i send when im ovulating should never be repeated out loud,” you hissed. “and do we really need more evidence that he’s synonymous with my wet dreams now, i’ve already admitted that i like him.”
“so you know this is a safe space,” ash said facetiously. “answer the question: how many times do you think you managed to bring him up in conversation?”
you chewed your cheek in frustration. ash would know if you lied but thinking back on it you didn’t really want to admit how many times you managed to bring up simon for your own dignity.
“look they had the same boots on, ok? and when she talked about her work it was the only way i could try to relate if i told her how simon had mentioned the same things,” you reasoned.
ash cackled on the other end of the phone and suddenly emma was talking while their laughter grew faded.
“have you looked at that list i sent you?” she asked, her tone oddly low and sobering.
“yeah, i can’t stop thinking about it,” you huffed. you paused to cross the street. “but it feels like i’m just making them up because i like him and he’s just being a normal roommate.”
“you’re not and he’s definitely not,” emma chuffed. “and i think you know that too.”
you were silent as you walked, your steps slow and careful even as the bitter cold wind snapped at your cheeks.
“he likes me?” you asked softly.
“no duh,” ash’s voice rang from the background making you laugh. they got closer and you could picture your friends crammed on emma’s shitty little couch as they spoke to you. “why do you think he’s always walking around flexing his muscles like that, huh? we’re in manchester, i don’t care if it’s almost summer, it’s not bloody warm enough for it!”
“and simon has you as his lock screen,” emma added like a 1-2 punch before you had chance to try and explain any of it away. “he always cancels on his mates to see you instead, and don’t get me started on how touchy he is with you.”
“he’s tactile…” even as you said it you didn’t believe it. though you couldn’t keep count of how many times this week alone si had let a warm hand land on your shoulder, knee, back, wrist, neck; you knew he barely touched anyone else.
"girl. simon?" emma snorted probably thinking the same thing as you.
“he likes me,” you said more confidently into the phone.
“oh thank fuck, she’s finally caught on,” ash said as emma laughed.
“i could literally be swapping spit with him right now and instead i’ve just wasted like two hours on a shitty date, oh my god,” you bemoaned.
you don’t know when you’d stopped walking but in a second you were speeding up to a jog as you said goodbye to your friends and hung up, fumbling to put your phone in you bag. eager to get back home and to see simon.
——
you crammed your key into the front door’s lock when you got home and groaned exaggeratedly when it didn’t turn. simon must’ve left his key in the door, again. of all the bloody times.
you knocked hurriedly, loudly, impatiently.
“siiiimon, open the door, come on i’m cold out here, you wouldn’t leave me shivering and lonely just because you forgot to put your key on the keyhook i specifically bought for—“ you cut off your joking whine when the most stunningly beautiful woman you’d ever seen opened the door to you, a knowing smile on her plush lips.
“oh,” you croaked. almost reflexively, your throat closed up and your eyes started to sting. “i must have the wrong flat.”
“what? no, you’re—” her smile dropped slightly and her dark eyes grew curious, but you didn’t stick around long enough to see.
“sorry, my fault! i’m meant to be on the floor above,” you rushed out and pretended to laugh. “silly me. sorry again.” tucking tail you turned to the fire exit at the top of the small staircase without waiting for a reply.
you knew the short staircase lead to the roof, simon had shown you one time and there were enough signs pointing it out. on the other side of the door was a small, flat balcony that stuck out of the slanted roof, and had old metal ladders that dropped 3/4 of the way down along the side of the building, in between the detached restaurant next door.
given you were the top flat in this little rinkydink building the woman at your door had probably thought you were an idiot and you couldn’t blame her. you decided to stick it out for ten minutes outside before sneaking back down and heading over to emma’s with your heart in your hands ready to be mended with the power of friendship and alcohol and food.
you sat down on the shitty little balcony and groaned loudly, desperately holding back your tears lest you fell into a despair and ended up accidentally falling asleep out of exhaustion and dramatics up there instead.
you’d finally realised your feelings and it was too late; simon had clearly taken your previous offers on board and moved on. you’d given him a free night while you went on a stupid date, what else was he going to do since you’ve been continually - though not purposely - pushing him aside like he was disposable.
“fuck,” you sighed shakily.
“date that bad you’re thinking of jumping?”
you swore in surprise and span in your spot to see simon leant in the fire exit doorway.
you couldn’t help but huff a weak laugh. “yeah it was,” you said before looking back down to your hands. “sorry, i didn’t know you were busy or i’d have gone to a friend’s instead.”
simon frowned and stood up straight. “stop saying you want to go somewhere else,” he said stiffly, swallowing thickly before taking the few steps to sit next to you. “when i’m here.” he knocked your shoulders together. “gaz said you freaked out at the door?”
you looked up at him in confusion. “gaz? that was ky— she’s called kylie, not kyle isn’t she?” you asked with wide eyes. simon’s accent had hidden her real name and convinced you all his mates were men and you’d never thought to second guess it. “christ, i thought she was— never mind.”
simon tilted his head as a knowing smile grew on his face.
“you thought i’d brought someone round for a shag?”
“well, she’s very fucking gorgeous,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. he leant his weight further into your side.
“mm. haven’t noticed.” at your unimpressed look he shrugged. “got my eye on someone else, ‘aven’t i?”
you nodded but avoided his eyes. seeing an unknown woman answer your door - gaz or not - had knocked your confidence more than you’d have liked to admit.
simon snorted.
“talk t’me, thought i was meant to be the quiet, brooding one.”
you looked across at him for a moment before leaning in to hug him tightly. you let the scent of his aftershave soak in and sighed when his own arms automatically wrapped around you too.
“you’re an amazing friend, si,” you whispered. and with how close you were pressed together, you easily felt how he stiffened at the title. you squeezed him harder in response, garnering yourself some more confidence at the same time, and sucked in a cold breath to speak. “and i think i’m a little bit in love with you.”
you felt a whoosh of air against your neck as the breath left simon’s body; he went loose in your hold and you buried your head deeper into his shoulder.
he tried to catch your eyes, ducking his head as best he could, but you’d thoroughly tucked yourself in against him as you felt a stinging heat spread from your cheeks outwards, your heart kicking its way through your chest and likely thumping noticeably against his own.
with gentle and patient cajoling, he managed to nudge you back up to face him and you offered up a wobbly smile.
“are you serious?” he asked breathlessly.
you nodded. “i’m sorry it took me so long to reali—“
simon coughed out a wet and surprised laugh and pulled you in for a kiss, his scar catching against your dry lips before you were able to slip your tongue out to wet them briefly. his hands were firm as they cupped your round cheeks, not letting you break for a breath until the very last second, determined to take all he could get before it came crashing down on him.
“y’r an idiot, so fuckin into ya. been a nightmare living with you, unable t’touch,” he mumbled against your lips and suddenly it was your turn to laugh into the kiss.
“unable? all you do is touch me,” you giggled, gasping when he took the chance to flick his tongue against yours.
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you huffed. “drives me mad, si.”
“only gonna get worse here on,” he promised. “never taking my hands off ya, off your fat arse and soft tits.”
you sucked in a shaky breath. “fuck.” you’d be dripping like a tap at all times if that was the case and going by simon’s smirk, he knew it.
“i’ve had to deal with your dumb mate fucking teasing me about liking ya for months now too,” he grumbled.
“they’re not dumb.” you leant in to bite his lip meanly. “and i’m sure your friends will be teasing me for what just happened too, never mind me being so blind to be on dating apps while we were practically already together.”
simon groaned. “i fucking hated those apps.”
you kissed him sweetly in apology, a soft peck to the lips then each cheek as he greedily chased your lips.
“they’re gone now. my date was ruined because i could only talk about you the whole time. all i want is you.”
“yeah?” his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them as he tugged your jacket openand slid a hand under your shirt. his rough fingertips teased at the thin material of your bra and your nipples stood to attention under his ministrations and from the chill of fresh air biting at your tummy, bared when his arm rumpled your shirt. “want me right now?”
“always,” you panted. “but…”
you furtively glanced to the door.
“no one comes up here. i can be quick.”
“your friends are waiting,” you reminded him.
“fuck my friends,” he scoffed and tweaked at a nipple, grinning at the squeak you let out.
“would rather fuck you,” you joked weakly even as he pulled his hand back to pluck at your jean’s button and zipper.
“then what are we waiting for?” he asked.
you moaned and gasped when he slipped his hand down the front gusset of your jeans and into your panties before you gained the cognisance to pull it back out with a groan. “later, later,” you promised. “wanna get you naked.”
simon stared at you for a second and you worried he was annoyed at you for putting your foot down. he nodded however, licked his lips as he glanced back to the door and then dipped down to kiss you lightly.
“i’m kicking the lads out then, gimme five.” he stood and took few broad strides to get back to the stairs inside.
you laughed and called after him as he darted back down, taking two at a time as you followed with a grin, struggling with your jeans. “si, don’t be daft.”
“smartest move i’ve made in a long time.” he said as he walked back in to your flat. “everyone out. want some time wiv my girl.”
“ayy congrats!” soap called from the couch.
“that means now, soap.”
“don’t hafta tell us twice,” the scot stood with a slap to his knees and saluted simon on his way out. “ye coming, ky?”
“it was nice meeting ya,” gaz said as she wandered past, winking. you hid your hot cheeks in your shoulders but couldn’t help the flustered grin that spread as simon barely waited for the door to be closed before shedding his shirt, leaving him in a sports bra and his baggy trackies.
“get comfy. not letting ya leave til i’ve had m’fill.”
“funny you think it won’t be me dragging you back for more. let’s see if you can keep up, si. i’ve been told i’m pretty demanding.”
“always loved a challenge.”
you grinned wickedly. “come and get me then.”
updated mood board below (kept working on it after seeing kitty’s absolutely fantastic oc mood board and felt inspired by them!)
Context: in this one, I’m having König stay human and having hybrids in a pet role. As an insect hybrid, I’m making her small AF (like 2-3 ft tall). I did consider making her Barbie sized tho 👀. So this is gonna have size kink bordering on micro/macro just so you know!
König is stuck on medical leave, and pretty damned miserable. He sustained a break that’s put him out of commission for a while. He’s never spent so long in his empty home, and it’s driving him insane. He’s spent basically his entire adult life married to his work, so he’s woefully unprepared to keep himself entertained.
And despite being something of a loner most times, he misses the noise. He misses the bodies and conversation. He and Horangi have a phone call every so often, and text as frequently as the work allows, but that only takes up so much time in the day.
And it’s Horangi that suggests a hybrid.
That’s something that he could throw himself into to keep occupied, as well as giving company. And unlike a pet, a hybrid would be able to be mostly self sufficient whenever he returned to work.
(Horangi doesn’t want to say if he returns. But König is not a young man, and has sustained a serious injury. There’s a chance that even if he heals, he won’t be the same as before. Combined with his rank, it won’t be huge surprise if he’s pressured or forced into retirement if his utility is limited.)
König is apprehensive— so he doesn’t want something quite as needy as a cat or dog hybrid, where he’d have to deal with heats and noise. And Horangi happens to have an old friend, retired, who raises domestic silk moth hybrids with his newfound free time. You’re picked to be offered up, freshly cut from your thick silk cocoon.
And for König, it’s love at first sight.
You’re very pretty. Fluffy white fur, big, dark, eyes. And so small. You barely come up to his hip, and raise your arms, asking to be lifted. It’s only then that he learns domesticated silk moths are flightless, their wings are pretty but unable to fly. It makes him feel a little bit of kinship with you. Restricted movement, denied purpose.
And basically his life revolves around you from that point. König doesn’t have many involved or expensive hobbies, so he has a lot of time and resources to devote to your care. You’re something of a niche pet, so it’s a little difficult to find things made for you. He resorts to commissions. Don’t fucking look at his Etsy purchase history.
You live your life perched on his shoulders or in his arms (you’re much too small to keep up with him). He’s a little afraid of letting you in his bed at night, he doesn’t want to roll over and crush you by accident, but you keep crawling under his covers anyways. You can’t help having cocooning behavior.
He’s constantly sitting you on ledges. On the sink while he shaves, on the counter when he cooks, on his desk when he works. You’ve always gotta be within arms reach for petting purposes.
And the petting, the kissing… he’s so addicted to the contact. He’s been alone for so long, and you’re so soft.
And that just leads to him getting more and more curious about your body. You don’t mind— you love him! And he loves his little Seidenmotte.
He’s beyond delicate with you. You’re so small— he has to work you up quite a bit before he can even fit a finger into your cute little pussy.
God it makes him hard how he can pin you down by the stomach with just one hand. And you make these little pips and squeaks when he fingers you— it’s just too cute for words. He totally shares some pictures with Horangi as thanks. (Which might lead to a couple of other colorful character asking to see pictures of you).
Usually he fucks your soft, fuzzy thighs to get off. He’s so warm and heavy against your clit, his cockhead practically reaching your chest. He paints your tits with white, pearly ribbons that glisten against the fuzz of your chest.
If you’re on top, he likes watching your useless wings beat while you slide your wet little cunt over him, the ridge of his head making you shiver when it bumps against your clit. You usually end up making yourself cum once or twice, and when you’re too tired and sensitive to move yourself he’ll grab your waist and grind you against him, using you like a toy to get himself off.
You don’t spread your wings often, but when you do, it leaves a little bit of moth dust behind from the tiny scales you shed. König thinks it’s so cute to see it against his bedsheets— it’s like glittery fresh snow, proof of how excited he made you.
hey just so you know your protests and claims of being “too big” mean absolutely nothing and Nikolai would 100% flirt with you by pulling you into his lap while he sits in his pilot seat. he just will not hear it; the man needs an excuse to get his hands on you, now, and what better way to do that than to show you the ropes? maybe he’d light a cigarette and let you press all kinds of important buttons, whispering commands and nibbling on your earlobe to work a shy little giggle out of you — his way of working you open and warming you up. and something deep stirs in him at the sight of you playing, of following his orders; Nik’s exhaling clouds and smirking with his chin tucked over your shoulder, puffs curling into your face when he wraps his big bear paws around your hands and shows you how to steer. he’s got you squirming in his lap, soft thighs clenched together, anxiously fidgeting the closer his mouth gets to your skin. he coos graveled praise against your ear when you pull on the cyclic stick just right because you just listen so well…soft girls like you are good at listening, no? you think so? why don’t you show me how good you can listen, hm? part your legs, printsessa.
i HATE bitches who are fake buff women lovers talking about how gridlock is an ugly beast. yuore all pussies. every time i think too hard about that woman i start ovulating like a lizard in heat w a loose cloaca
Dom not going to the gym for the aesthetic, but so that they can lift up and throw their chubby sub onto their bed and make their sub feel like they weigh nothing! Their dom can easily throw their sub over their shoulder and love to see the blush on their subs face because chubby subs deserve to be manhandled and treated like pretty little rag dolls!
thinking about a chubby girl riding a cock and seeing their suckable tits, kissable tummy, and gropable ass jiggling as they're bouncing on a cock like their life depends on it!
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
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