#curtis everett

[sweeetestcurse]

Chris Evans as Curtis Everett in Snowpiercer

[lilacevans]

༊*·˚ main materlist | pete’s place’s opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

⁀➷ next chapter.

✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairings & future pairings: pete brenner x female!reader. lloyd hansen x female!reader. ari levinson x female!reader. curtis everett x female!reader. steve rogers x female!reader. jake jensen x female!reader. (and others that will be revealed at a later date.)

word count: 9083 | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚

warnings: implied abusive relationship, homelessness, alcohol, general sadness, advances, pete being a scumbag.

this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.

✧.* ೃ⁀➷ notes: two years later and the first chapter is finally here. i really have missed you all dearly and i'm so excited to share this with you. the second chapter will kick off the darker elements, but enjoy the set up! and i promise to not take two years to give you the second chapter. as always, please tell me what you think, i really enjoy hearing your thoughts, opinions and guesses on whats coming up next. adore you, mwah!!! all mistakes are my own. already had to go back and take out a section. that's what i get for not separating my notes from my actual writing. whoops.

A year after you packed brown boxes scrawled with black ink, clothes stuffed into various bags, and the hope of your true love, into the back of your car, to move across the country to live with your ex-boyfriend, you find yourself one night in a heart pounding screaming match. Thrown dishes, broken glass, picture frames on the floor. The remnants of a lost love etched by the sounds of your cries into the tattered walls of the home you shared.

With pleading cries, tear stained cheeks, and heart in your throat, you’re grabbed and shoved out the door in nothing but a pair of sweats, and shirt with a coat being darted at you whilst you laid on the ground. One too many hours were spent afterwards pounding your fists against the front door, begging  to at least have your purse so you can get a hotel room. 

Just as you were about to leave, looking down at your battered, red hands from pounding on the door, your purse dropped out of a window; the contents spilled onto the grass below. With a sigh, either sadness or relief; you weren't sure which, you bent to pick up your scattered belongings, cursing the man during. 

Luckily, you had everything you needed; cash, ID, and your shitty, overused phone. 

You called around for a cab, numb fingers shaking as you pressed the blurry numbers, but with it being Friday night, you were looking at a long wait so instead, you decided to cut your losses and walk to find the nearest hotel. 

The downside of moving, and being essentially trapped within the same four walls for months on end, is that you quickly found yourself lost– and being lost on Skid Row was the last place you wanted to be. You willed your tears to not fall after you walked by tent after tent, stranger after stranger, clutching your purse tight, old keys spread between your fingers, and finally found yourself outside a rundown hotel.  You laughed to yourself in disbelief of having to head inside and get a room; but nonetheless, you did just that. 

Lying on a dingy bedspread, surrounded by more nicotine-stained walls, you muffled your cries behind your hands and slowly fell into a somber slumber and wondered just how the fuck you had gotten yourself here. 

Over the next few days, you walked around, getting to know your surroundings and applying for jobs left and right. You were forced to ration your food while you looked around for cheaper hotel rooms. You were trying your hardest to avoid the sprawls of clubs begging for dancers but after finding yourself downtrodden as you’re dismissed after applying for yet another job and getting immediately dismissed, and it was then when you were suddenly blinded by a huge, purple neon sign:

Pete’s Place.

Underneath a small notice hung from the sign read: Dancers Apply Within. 

You looked around and whined quietly while you watched patron after patron enter the club. Two heavily built doormen eyed you. You shook out your bundling nerves, hung your head and followed the thump of the bass into the belly of the seedy club. You handed over your last twenty bucks to the red-head woman that was sitting behind a platformed desk, smiling sheepishly and giving a small nod before pushing through the curtains that framed a doorway. Purple and blue hues guided you into the belly of the club where you found red booths filled with drunk bodies that circled small stages. Girls with perfect form swirled around the pole, capturing the attention of everyone inside. 

‘’And who might you be?’’

You turned to find a man staring intensely, glass warm in hand, sharp suit and sea-blue eyes. Your mouth hung, mind blank for a moment before sputtering out,

‘’Oh, I–  I’m looking for the owner– I was hoping to… Audition…’’ You trailed off as the man began to circle you, fingers pried away your coat slightly, gaze wandering over your body. Calloused fingers tilted your chin upwards while he inspected your face before a slight smile appeared on his lips. ‘’If you’re still looking for dancers.’’

‘’Oh, we’re always looking for new girls, Sugar.’’ He gave you another once over before grinning, voice low and honeyed, ‘’Yeah, you’ll do,’’ He concluded, hand dropping from your chin before he began to walk away. ‘’Follow me.’’

‘’I take it you’re the owner,’’ you inquired as you followed the man to the other side of the club and down a dimly lit hallway, smiling back at, what you assumed was, one of his girls. ‘’You’re Pete?’’ 

‘’That’s me,’’ he confirmed as you’re led into an office. ‘’Gonna need to see ID, need you to sign a couple contracts, and for you to take your clothes off,’’ he quickly fired as he sat himself in his chair and threw a small stack of paper across the table. 

‘’Contracts?’’

‘’All my girls sign to stay loyal to the club, I don’t need anyone running off and taking my profits with them– helps limit competition, and I need to see what I’m working with here, you’re not exactly gonna be wearing a winter coat out there. Usually you’d come during the day, work the pole but, I got three of my regular girls out tonight, so it’s your lucky day.’’

‘’Oh,’’ You answer simply, pausing before a moment.  ‘’Right, yeah, lucky me– Of course,’’ you stumble out as you reach into your pocket and slide your ID on to his desk before peeling your jacket off and taking in a heavy breath before lifting your shirt over your head and sliding down your skirt with shaking hands. 

‘’You got any experience?’’ He asked simply. 

‘’Uh, no,’’ You answered, kicking your skirt to the side, fussing with your hands due to having no idea what to do with them. ‘’I’ve never done this before.’’ 

You dropped your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. When you finally looked back up, Pete was lounged back in his desk chair, eyebrow raised with a slick smile on his face. He didn’t look disappointed, he looked delighted, like the idea of a novice seemed to amuse him. Pete stood with a long intake of breath, leaving his station and stepping around the desk and moving towards you with a slow, almost predatory grace. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander the same way he did, eyeing the well tailored suit that left nothing to the imagination, large biceps crinkling the fabric as he crossed his arms. You let out a small gasp as he began to circle you, hand reaching out to smooth down your back, fingertips ghosting your sides. The floorboards creaked with each footstep until he was standing back in front of you. He reached out a hand to pluck at your bra. 

‘’Loose this,’’ he instructed casually. 

You gave a shaky nod, reaching behind to unclip your bra, slowly letting it fall down your arms before it was discarded on the floor with the rest of your clothes. You eyed him shyly, unsure if you were wanting the ground to swallow you up or if you wanted him to reach out and touch you. 

And touch you, he did. 

The back of his hand stroked down your stomach, knuckles grazing the softness of your lower belly. Nerves began to take over, you felt yourself trembling a little, and you knew he felt it by the way his mouth poked up at the side. Although, he was very obviously attractive, the bile still rose in your throat when you felt a familiar warm ache tug at your legs.

‘’I-I’m a hard worker,’’ You said hesitantly, desperately needing to fill the silence. 

‘’Hard worker,’’ Pete snorted, lips tugged up in a mocking smile. ‘’I don’t care about your worth ethic, Sugar. I care about the view.’’

‘’And?’’ You probed. 

His hand slipped around to your back, pulling you in close as he stared down at you, eyes flickering across your face. 

‘’Views are good,’’ He judged. ‘’You’ve certainly got a… Desperate innocence vibe going on. Guy’s are gonna eat that up.’’ He nodded as he stepped back, moving back towards the desk, propping himself against it. ‘’Here’s the deal: You’re gonna show me what you got, so I know whether you’ll need a few days with some of my best girls to work on those skills. Doesn’t mean you can’t work, but it means you’re limited to laps, and it’s just a bit less money. Base pay at the end of the week, tips are handed in and the house takes a cut and redistributed back to the girls. Be good to me, and I’ll be good to you.’’

You stood awkwardly nodding, arms crossing over your chest which made Pete laugh. 

‘’Drop ‘em,’’ He ordered, wagging a finger downwards. ‘’Just me and you, Sugar, how are you supposed to handle it being out there? Put ‘em down.’’ You complied as Pete carried on explaining: ‘’Pay the door, same way you did to get in, but my girls pay half to work. You gotta give to get in here, baby. VIP is for my more seasoned girls, better money, but we’ll talk about that further down the line. The contract…’’ He reaches behind himself to grab the small stack of paper. ‘’...Is so you understand that every single cent that your hand touches goes through me. No making deals with my clients, no outside work with the men that step into my club. That’s what VIP is for. There’s no need for you to be bent over in the back of some rented Bently, okay? You fuck me and you’re back on that street and you can’t go to any other club.’’ 

You nodded. ‘’Didn’t plan on it.’’

‘’That’s my girl,’’ He praised. ‘’Or, you will be, when you sign.’’ 

‘’So, I would start tonight?’’ 

He nodded and rattled the paper. 

With some hesitancy, you took the paper and the pen that quickly followed and stepped around him to lean and sign the dotted line, looking back up to find him staring down at you. He slipped the contract off the desk and stood straight, moving around the other side to slide into a locked draw before grabbing his glass and wandering over to a small couch in the corner of his office. He sat down, thighs spreading open, gaze locked on yours as he took a long swig of the amber liquid that sloshed in the crystal. 

‘’Come show me what you got, Sugar.’’ 

You let out a shaky breath, attempting to rid your body of the nerves, as you slowly stepped towards Pete’s open thighs. You turned in a fluid motion, hoping to God that it looked good, and lowered yourself onto his lap. Using the muted thumping from the club's belly, you began to wind your hips, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. The cigarette smoke that clung to his suit assaulted your senses, mixing with the alcohol on his breath, making your head spin.  Your eyes closed, breathing unsteady as you continued your dance. You heard the soft thump of his glass being placed down and soon felt his fingers on your chin, guiding you to look behind. 

Your eyes fluttered open and were met with his intense gaze. Your breath hitched as his hands then found your waist, helping to guide you into a better rhythm. He hummed low in his throat, taking in a deep breath as his other hand slid over your thigh, goosebumps following in a traitorous line.

‘’There we go, just like that,’’ He coached, voice low and breathy. ‘’Gotta look at ‘em, Sugar. Gotta make sure they feel like the only man in the world, but they don’t touch you like I am, okay?’’ You begged your heart to slow as his hand smoothed over your stomach, heavy and strong. ‘’You’re good, Sugar, but you’re not ready to be out on the pole yet. You gotta put in some work, gonna set you up with one of my girls.’’ 

He tapped your thigh and motioned for you to stand. He followed suit, getting to his feet and looking down at you. He swept a stray lock of hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear. 

‘’You can work tonight. You got anything to wear?’’ 

You shook your head. He let out a little laugh. 

‘’Didn’t come very prepared, did you, Sugar?’’ 

‘’I– I used my last 20 bucks to get in here. I didn’t plan on coming in–’’

‘’You did what?’’ He questioned sharply, eyebrows raising. He sighed when you nodded your head. 

‘’S’why I really needed this to go well. I promise I’ll get better–’’

‘’Yeah, yeah, I don’t care about that right now,’’ Pete cut off. ‘’Where are you staying?’’

‘’The hotel at the end of the street, the–’’

‘’Yeah, the shitty one. How long have you got the room for?’’

‘’Three more days,’’ You confessed.

The room suddenly felt smaller, the silence was heavy with the weight of him knowing the situation; with admitting just how fucked you were. You searched his expression, he didn’t look even the slightest bit sympathetic. He looked like he had just found a really good loophole in his contract that made a smirk tug at his lips.

‘’Totally broke? Not a dime?’’ He asked, and nodded his head and let out a slow hum of contemplation when you confirmed. ‘’Alright. I can help.’’ 

You reached down for your shirt as he walked to his desk.

‘’I can’t really have you sleeping on a park bench. I need my girls at their best, so, here’s what I’m gonna do.’’ He sat down at his desk, elbows resting on the wood, his gaze getting more intense as he lingered on you as you dressed. 

‘’I’m gonna give you… An advance, you could say…’’ He trailed off, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a book and an envelope. He plucked a pen from a pot and clicked it before flicking open the ledger, and scrawling inside. ‘’I’m gonna take a little bit more of a cut until it’s paid off, but it means you can pay your door fee, you can eat, have a roof over your head and have a bit of time to work on those skills. It also means, you won’t actually have to work tonight if you’d rather rest up and spend the day practicing.’’ 

‘’Are you sure?’’ You raised a brow. ‘’Why would you–’’

‘’Consider it good faith, taking a chance,’’ He quickly interjected. ‘’Shows how sure I am that you’ll be one of my best.’’

There was a look in his eyes, predatory, and you weren't sure if he was throwing you a lifeline or a noose. ‘’What do you say, Sugar?’’ 

He held out the envelope. You hesitantly reached out for it, feeling like you were signing a deal with the devil. Your eyes locked on his as your fingers gripped the paper, an easy smile pulling at your lips in response to the smirk on his. 

‘’’Atta girl.’’

You lowered your head, looking down at the dusty patterned carpet. The weight on your shoulders felt heavier than ever, but at least you could get a decent meal. 

‘’I really don't have to work tonight?’’

‘’Nope,’’ He said, popping the ‘P’ and reaching over the desk to hook a finger under your chin as he stood, drawing your gazes back to each other. ‘’But, I wouldn’t mind a ‘thank you’.’’ 

He didn’t release his hold as he guided you around the desk, the smell of stale cigarettes, alcohol and a woody aftershave assaulting your senses again. Your heart kicked up speed, like someone had set off a tiny jackhammer in your chest, as you stepped into his space. You lifted onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, sucking in a breath and praying that it’ll be enough to please him. His touch moved to the side of your neck, his hand heavy and splayed across the column as he leaned down. 

‘’S’that all I get, Sugar?’’ He teased, hushed and sickly sweet. ‘’Not got anything else for me?’’ 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and opened your mouth to speak, but nothing wanted to come out. You took to shaking your head instead and gripped the envelope tight and pushed it against his chest as you turned your head. Your eyes closed and shoulders sagged when he let out a laugh, dropping his head to your shoulder and releasing the hold he had on your neck. 

‘’I’m fucking with you,’’ He chuckled darkly. ‘’Go on, get out of here before I decide to charge you for breathing the same air as me.’’

You stepped back, a small smile tugging at your lips and you reached for your bag from the floor.

‘’I’ll walk you out, actually. Need to check on my girls.’’ 

He walked to the door, swinging it open and motioning for you to step through. As you did, his hand found the middle of your back, heavy and guiding. The thumping base hit you as you walked back into the neon-lit chaos of the club, the night still in full swing. Pete nodded to several men on the way to the exit, hand slipping to your waist, pulling you close and keeping a tight grip and by the time the cold night breeze hit you, his warm palm was sitting on your ass. 

‘’I’m gonna be here at twelve tomorrow, I want you here,’’ He instructed, guiding you to face him, his voice taking on a sudden professional coldness. ‘’Do not be late, hmm?’’ 

You nodded. His eyes scanned you one last time, sea-blue eyes still holding that uneasy glint that made your stomach turn and your toes curl. 

‘’That’s my girl,’’ He praised with a tap to your backside before stepping away. ‘’See you tomorrow, Sugar.’’ 

You sucked in a breath and began your walk back to your hotel, the envelope weighing down your bag  and filling your throat with bile. The neon sign buzzed in your ears as you watched the purple hue on the sidewalk fade.  The rest of the walk was a blur, your mind filled with the flashing of lights, the booths of men, the smell of smoke and sweet drinks and the terrifying anxiety that clawed at your chest when you thought of having to sit in those men’s laps, strip down on a pole, vulnerable and exposed, for the sake of a roof and warm food; all while owing a man you’ve just met. 

The next day, you made your way back to Pete’s Place. 

The seedy club seemed less terrifying in the daylight. The neon sign hung unlit, the velvet red rope enclosed the open air and not the multiple bodies of men waiting to feast their eyes on women who couldn’t give a single shit about them, and Pete… Stood with his hand in his pocket, the other lifted to his lips as he took a long drag of a cigarette, eyes gleaming as he caught your eye. 

‘’There she is!’’ He greeted, cheerful and honeyed. ‘’My new favourite, fresh and ready for the day. How’d you sleep, Sugar? Room booked for a little longer?’’ 

You nodded, ‘’All secured for the next two weeks, and I’m gonna go and get some groceries when I’m done–’’

‘’Yeah, sounds all golden, Sugar,’’ He laughed. ‘’One of my best is waiting inside for you. She’s gonna show you the ropes, how to shake that ass good enough to empty some wallets for me. I’m gonna come and see you in a few hours and see how you’re getting on and hopefully we’ll get you on that pole and not stuck in laps.’’ 

With that, he stepped out to the curb as a black Sedan pulled up. 

‘’Off you go,’’ He ordered.

You nodded once again before heading inside of the club. 

You searched the club’s belly for the woman but she was seemingly nowhere to be found until you made your way into the dressing room. The atmosphere was stifling despite it being empty. It stunk of hairspray, multiple different perfumes blending together and smoke. The vanities were a thing of chaos, make up strewed, rollers and different hair tools. Rails of sequins and fishnets and a wall of lockers that were decorated in different styles, showing off the aesthetics of each woman that owned them. 

You turned to leave when you bumped into a woman, already kitted out in something Pete would absolutely have chosen, she gleamed brightly, seemingly genuinely happy to be here.

‘’So, you’re the new little lamb Pete picked up?’’ She asked sweetly, cigarette hanging from her lip and adjusting the band under her bust. She moved into the room and towards the railing of clothes with a grace and confidence you prayed to acquire as quickly as possible. ‘’I’m Rachael, Pete’s asked me to show you how to not get eaten alive tonight.’’ 

She plucked a simple, sheer black slip and held it out, ‘’Let’s see if you can actually move, or if you’re just a pretty little lamb.’’ 

After you changed you gave yourself a second, third and fourth glance over before she playfully rolled her eyes and pulled you out to the club floor and towards one of the smaller side stages. She left to flick on the club lights, shy under the sunlight that waved through the balcony windows and clicking around inside the DJ booth until the bass rattled through the floor. The polished chrome gleaned under the purple and blue lights, cold and intimidating as she made her way onto the stage. She demonstrated multiple moves with an effortless ease, her heels clicking softly against the platform floor, fluid and languid. 

‘’You see, it’s not about dancing, not really,’’ She said as she swirled around, leg hooked around the pole. ‘’It’s about the tease. You never give it away all at once, you gotta make them ache for it. You gotta make ‘em think that if they throw just the right amount, they might just get a chance to touch you, have your attention.’’ 

You nodded watching her closely.

‘’Now, get up here and try a basic spin. Just copy exactly what I did.’’ Rachael slid down and stepped off the stage, motioning for you to step up.

‘’I’ll try my best,’’ You said earnestly. 

‘’Your best doesn’t pay the bills, honey. Confidence and ass does.’’ 

You stepped onto the platform, the polished surface feeling slippery beneath your heels. You wrapped your hand hesitantly around the pole. You attempted the spin she had demonstrated, but instead of a fluid glide, your foot caught the edge of the stage and stumbled. You cursed yourself as she smiled and waved for you to try again which while the second attempt was better, the grace Rachael had exhibited was nowhere to be seen. She circled you like a hawk, eyes watching every move, often reaching out to make you arch your back more, to drop your shoulders, to reposition your legs. 

‘’You’re like a newborn lamb, stop thinking about it so much,’’ She giggled, sweet and light until her tone suddenly turned serious. ‘’Never look them in the eye for too long. Makes ‘em think they own you. Keep it light, fleeting, make them chase it,’’ She coached. ‘’The pole is a tool, it’s your friend, use it to hide what you don’t like and highlight what you do like. Use it to your advantage. Do not fear it.’’

The next few hours passed in a blur of twirls, clicks of heels and red knees. Exhaustion clung to your skin, damp and slick under the spotlights, the sun dipping behind the clouds casting a golden glow into the club as you spun and dipped for the hundredth time, finally gaining some semblance of control of the cold metal. Rachael  gleamed and squealed when you would find your footing, hit a dip in time to the music and get through at least a minute without a stumble. 

You were trying to follow another of Rachael’s demonstrations when a familiar voice cut through the air and drifted its way over to the stage. Pete had returned, leaning against a pillar on the far side of the club floor, drink in hand and watching with an amused glint in his eyes, tracking you carefully. 

‘’What a clumsy little thing you are, Sugar. Tell me, baby,’’ He said, a tinge of playful annoyance coating his words as he sauntered forward and towards the edge of the stage. ‘’You always like this or is it the thrill of being in my presence?’’ 

Rachael rolled her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

‘’She’s getting there, she’s just… A little cautious… Shy– It’s cute!’’ She defended, a sweet grin as she returned the kiss to Pete’s cheek and then looked back at you with a wink. 

‘’I don’t need cute, I don’t need cautious. I can’t sell that,’’ Pete spoke, short and to the point. ‘’It doesn’t make me money. Desire does.’’ 

He made his way to the base of the stage, looking up at you. The spotlights casted deep shadows across his face, making his eyes seem black. You let out a breath as he eyed, not as a person, but as a product that was ineffective. He rapt his knuckles on the platform floor, his voice dropping,

‘’Get down here.’’ 

You practically leaped from the platform, steading yourself on his arm as your footing faltered, your chest heaving from a mix of exhaustion and nerves. Up close, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses, your head spinning as he pulled you in closer. He looked you up and down, shaking his head with a disappointed frown. You couldn’t help the shakes that swam under your skin as he peered into your eyes. He walked you back slowly, the back of your thighs digging into the edge of the stage. 

‘’Look at you,’’ He began to scold gently. ‘’Shaking like a leaf, like you’re waiting for the firing squad rather than a paycheck.’’ 

Pete then reached up a hand, finding the back of your neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the dip at the base of your skull, forcing you to keep your gaze on his. The amusement was long gone and replaced by a demanding, icy intensity. He leaned his head down, breath hot against your cheek.

‘’The men that come through those doors do not pay for ‘nervous’. They pay for a fantasy. A fantasy of a woman who knows exactly how to drive them crazy. If you walk out there looking like a lost puppy, they’ll smell the fear, they’ll take advantage, and then you’ll owe me for that nice advance I gave you and I’ll want it in full and I know sure as shit…’’ He leaned down further lips brushing against your jaw as he whispered in your ear. ‘’You don’t have it, and we’ll have to work something else out, won’t we?’’

He released you abruptly, and you fell against the edge of the stage, willing the tears to stay at bay as he stepped back and guested at Rachael and then towards the stage.

‘’Keep working her. I want her ready.’’ 

The next two hours were full of exertion, exhaustion, sweat and damn near tears until it finally came time to go back to your hotel to rest up for your shift. Rachael seemed happy with where you managed to get to, she had taught you how to use your shyness as a weapon, how to perfectly arch your back and how to breathe through the nerves but whether Pete would end up sharing the same feelings was still to be determined. Your muscles ached and cried out with each step back to your hotel, palms raw from the friction of the pole, and the fear of ending up on the street sat heavy in your stomach along with the feeling of feeling less like a woman and more like a piece of property, catalogued and highly priced. 

The night swept in with a heavy tension, the club hummed; scattered voices from the line outside as you walked through the front with a nod to security and a crisp ten slipped into the hand of the woman on the door. You shucked up your bag higher on your shoulder, watching as the staff at the bar moved with a frantic energy, attempting to keep up with the hoards of men tapping their fingers for a drink while their eyes leeched on the dancers at the pole. 

You made your way to Pete’s office, rapping your fingers on the doorframe and smiling when he looked up at you with a grin. 

‘’Hey, Sugar, what d’ya need?’’ He asked, stepping from around the back of his desk and moving towards the door. 

‘’Is it okay if I borrow an outfit for tonight? I didn’t get a chance to run and grab anything– Maybe a pair of heels as well?’’

Pete nodded, ‘’Yeah, take what you want from the rails in the dressing room, shoes are underneath. Just make sure they’re returned or I have to charge you for it.’’ 

‘’Thanks,’’ You replied sweetly.

Pete then pressed his hand to the small of your back, leading you towards the dressing room. The girls were in full swing, the clatter of make up and the clicking of straighteners and curlers mixed with their laughs and banter as they applied finishing touches. 

‘’Alright, my lovely ladies, this is Sugar,’’ Pete addressed loudly, adopting the nickname he gave you as your dancer name without giving you a chance to argue about it. ‘’She’s the newest addition. Be nice, look after her, she’s a shy one… And get out there and make me some money.’’ 

You felt cornered as the other dancers scanned you from head to toe, receiving a mixture of curiosity, warm welcome and cold competition. You wrung your hands together as Pete stepped away to grab an outfit from the rack, bending to snag a pair of shoes and walking back over to you. It may as well have been a collection of strings rather than an outfit; baby pink and covered in sequins. 

‘’You’ve got twenty minutes and then I want you on that stage,’’ He ordered, firm but oddly sweet. ‘’I’ll be watching from the balcony booths so don’t fuck this up, alright, Sugar?’’ 

You hummed in agreement as he bent down, presenting his cheek to which you quickly pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Pete grinned and gave a wink, and without saying another word, he laid a soft tap on your ass and walked out the door, leaving you with a tightness in your chest and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You walked to a spare vanity, setting your bag down and started at the reflection, finding a girl you barely recognised anymore. Even more so once you had changed, the baby pink set Pete had chosen, clung to every curve and valley, and left nothing to the imagination. The soft colours contrasted painfully with the dark circles of fatigue which you had tried your best to cover with multiple swipes of concealer. 

You wondered if this is exactly how Pete wanted you; looking like a daydream on the verge of a deep, dark nightmare. 

‘’Hey,’’ A voice spoke, drawing you away from your thoughts, and you looked up to find a woman standing behind you, a smile on her face and dressed in green. ‘’He’s really trying to push the ‘barely there’ look tonight, isn’t he?’’

You nodded, a shy smile on your face as you smoothed down the outfit.

‘’I’m Crocki. Like, crocodile. Pete found a stuffed crocodile in my bag once– totally forgot it was there, and hasn’t let me live it down since,’’ She laughed, genuine and comforting. ‘’Just do your job, keep him happy and you’ll have no issues. Most of the girls here are really nice. They just wanna make their money and dip. It’s not all bad, okay?’’ 

You nodded again, struggling to find the words to speak, nerves were eating at your vocal cords and tugging at your throat. 

‘’I’ll see you out there, you’ll be great, don’t worry,’’ Crocki reassured, giving a comforting rub to your arm before disappearing out of the dressing room. 

The other girls soon left, leaving you on your own. You took another minute to breathe deeply, eyes closed; the thumping of the lion’s den pounded in your ears. 

The transition was jarring to say the least; one moment you were safe in arms of bulb lights, perfume and mirrors and the next you were willing your footing to not falter as you stepped into the club’s belly, the music shifting and deepening into something primal, visceral. The lights were a bruised purple, the smoke from cigars and cigarettes acted as a map to the men huddled around the stages and perched in the booths. It merged into a hungry roar and you were the meal. 

High above the main floor, a singular familiar figure leaned over the railing, elbows propped against the metal, swirling a drink with keen eyes locked on your every move. Pete gave you a grin, nodding towards the stage, that predatory glint on full show; it crawled over your body like a physical touch, sending a shiver down your spine and forming a lump in your throat. 

You made your way to the stage as another dancer collected the cash from the floor, the crowd dying down a little as the smell of alcohol, flashing lights and the sea of hungry eyes waited in a subdued anticipation as you climbed the steps and clicked onto the stage. You smiled weakly at the dancer as she passed you and gave one last glance at Pete before gripping the pole. 

A heavy, industrial beat slammed into the room, the bass rattling the panels of the stage as your body began to react to the rhythm. The sequins caught the strobe lights, sending shards of glitter and gold dancing on the floor and faces of the crowd. You focused on the pole, remember your tutelage, hiding your sloppy footwork behind the pole and using it as a grounding point amidst the chaos, spinning and arching your back. 

The atmosphere shifted to expose a raw hunger, men leaned forward, their eyes fixed on your every move. You earned whistles, dollar bills and captivated silences from others. You dared to glance again up at the balcony, finding Pete still stood in the same spot, watching you with an intensity you just couldn’t pinpoint, the cigarette in his hand glowing a cherry-red as he took a deep drag and blew out the smoke slowly. It didn’t seem like he was looking at you like just another dancer; more like an investment he was ready to wring out for as much cash as possible. 

The next song started, giving you no time to recover, switching to a slower, haunting ethereal pull. The lights dimmed a bit further, the purple lights casting a shadow across your body which helped you feel more hidden. You relaxed a little, finding a hidden ease in the slower, more languid movements. You transitioned into a slow descent on the pole, body arching, a softness that was stark against the grit of the club. The air felt thick and charged as you locked eyes with Pete once again, a smug satisfaction written across his face as he stubbed out the cigarette and took a swig from his glass. 

As the song reached its end, you gave a slow swirl around the pole with a lingering, new found seductive grace, and slowly dropped to your knees. Your chest rose and fell heavily, hand still gripping the pole as money rained and Pete grinned. He didn’t move an inch, his stare was like a physical weight, like he was claiming every inch of your skin by his force of will. 

You stayed in that pose for a short moment, before getting to your feet, and quickly scooping up the bills. You didn’t dare to give another look towards Pete as you left the stage. The adrenaline hummed through your veins, crumpled bills sticking to the sweat of your chest as you made your way back to the dressing room to have a moment to gather yourself before heading back out to the floor. 

The transition from the blinding lights, to the grim reality of the backstage area was discordant and bleak, but the weight of the cash in your hands felt like a small victory, one worthy of essentially selling your soul. The other dancers glanced with small smiles and nods of newfound respect. As you reached your locker to stow your earnings until the end of the night, the door to the dressing room opened with a slow, deliberate creak. The girls quickly cleared out, pressing kisses and giving hugs to Pete as they exited. 

He stood in the doorway, suit jacket hung over his arm, hair disheveled and shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, his large biceps bulging under the thin fabric as he crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. He looked less like the shady business man you met the night before and more like a predator who had decided to stop watching and start pouncing. He didn’t say anything at first, simply stared at you, eyes seemingly peering through you and the way you clutched the money in your hands. 

‘’Quite the show, Sugar.’’ His voice was low, dangerously sweet. ‘’Didn’t know you had it in you. Proves hard work pays off when you really want something.’’

He stepped into the room, the click of his shoes sounding like a countdown. He stopped just inches away, his presents suffocating and overwhelming; the scent of bourbon and expensive tobacco enveloping the air around you both. He reached out, fingers sliding under your chin to keep your gazes locked. 

‘’You enjoy the attention, baby? The money make you move like that?’’ He asked in a hushed tone, breath ghosting your cheek. ‘’You playing me, Sugar?’’

You shook your head, ‘’Beginners luck, I guess.’’

Pete let out a soft, dark chuckle. The grin didn’t reach his eyes as he grazed your lower lip with a gentle, but possessive pressure. 

‘’Beginners luck,’’ He parroted, husky and contemplative. 

He didn’t release the hold on your chin; his grip tightened, ensuring you couldn’t escape his eyes. It was heavy, stripping you bare more effectively than the skimpy bundle of strings of your costume ever could. He seemed to be savouring the simplicity of your answer. He then shifted his weight, pushing you back against the cool metal of the lockers. The heat from his body crept over your skin, pricking at your senses as he leaned down, his voice barely a whisper.

‘’You’re a terrible liar, baby. I saw the way you looked at them; saw the way you looked at me.’’ His lips grazed your ear, his other hand gripping at your waist, bringing your middles together, eliciting a muted gasp that settled in your throat. ‘’You played the room, the hunger… And now, you’ve got me wondering how much more of that ‘luck’ you have hidden away.’’ 

He looked down at your hand as he stepped back, his expression shifting to something more demanding; the softness vanishing and replaced by the cold authority of the man who owned your entire being.

‘’Hand it over, Sugar,’’ He commanded, gesturing to the cash bundled in your hand, palm up and waiting. 

You placed the money in his hand and sighed as he counted the bills with a rapid, well seasoned motion, eyes flicking over the amounts. The soft snap-snap-snap of the bills drummed in your ears and drowned out the muted thump of the bass as you waited with bated breath to see how much your cut would be.

Once he reached the total, he folded the bills and stuffed them into his pocket and then reached out to pull a smaller, measly stack from the other, holding it out to you with a satisfied grin. You took it, splaying out the few bills between your fingers, a lesser amount than what would even be considered a fair pay, but regardless of your feelings you looked up and smiled with feigned gratitude. 

‘’I had to deduct your newcomer's fee, and the prime slot on the main stage, of course,’’ He said casually, arms folded across his chest again, he watched for your reaction with a cruel sort of curiosity. ‘’An investment in your future here. You understand, right, Sugar?’’

You nodded with a strained smile. He didn’t wait for you to say anything else, he turned his gaze towards the door, checking you were still alone, before he looked back at you with that same predatory, hungry gaze.

His voice dropped to a low, purr. ‘’You’ve got a lot of potential, Sugar. I can’t wait for the day I get to be on the receiving end of it.’’ 

He reached out again, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you flush against him for one last, possessive moment. He lingered, nose brushing against your temple, taking in a small inhale and making your heart jump in your chest.

‘’Get back out there, Sugar.’’

Pete released you abruptly and sauntered out the room, door clicking shut behind him. The tension that had brewed broke instantly and you exhaled sharply, unaware of the breath you had kept clutched in your chest. The silence in the room felt a thousand tons heavier than the atmosphere on stage, the few bills in your hand felt like a slap to the face; the feeling of the effort you had put into being stage-ready felt wasteful and sour. You wondered if this was going to be worth it, if you should keep putting all you had into pleasing a man who wanted you rob you blind and keep your livelihood wrapped in his hands. 

You were pulled out your thoughts by a group of dancers making their way back into the dressing room, some giving empathic glances.

‘’Welcome to Pete’s Place, babe. Hope you like pennies,’’ She said simply, a tight smile on her lips.

Another was re-applying her eyeliner when she spoke; ‘’Don’t let him see you cry. It’s like he smells it, like a shark.’’

She didn’t offer anything else; in this place, empathy seemed to be a luxury only a few could afford. They all continued their routines like the small conversation never happened, the sounds of brushes and small talk the only sound in the room. You stuffed the cash in your bag, shutting the locker with a frustrated slam before sucking in a sharp breath and heading back out into the club. 

A few hours later, after spending the rest of the night in laps and grinning sweetly at horrible men, you moved in front of your locker as you changed, movements mechanical as if all parts that were human had been stripped away and shoved inside a box. As you pulled on the clothes you had arrived in, you felt a cold knot forming in your stomach; the desperation that had dragged you through the club's doors was starting to form into a quiet rage.

As you stepped out of the club and into the night's cool air, the neon sign flicked overhead and the meager amount in your pocket laughed at you as you sulked back to the dingy hotel room. The click of the lock sounded like a gavel, finalizing your sentence of struggle. You slid down the door, the cold wood pressing against your spin as you melted into an exhausted puddle. You stayed there for a while, staring down at the carpet, breath coming out in ragged hitches as the adrenaline of the night wore off. 

You looked down at your shaking hands as you mulled over the contract, the debt, the sick smile on Pete’s face— his hands, his arms, his smell. You groaned and covered your face with your hands, hating how he continued to invade your thoughts despite the hatred that pooled in your guts. 

With the adrenaline long gone, it left behind the crushing weight of exhaustion. You let out a long, suffering sigh as you got to your feet. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that your first big night wasn’t just a hurdle to get over, but the beginning of a slow, wretched descent into Pete’s sordid world. 

The following weeks were a blur of exhaustion and frustration. Every night followed the same pattern: the blinding lights, the squeak of the pole, the hungry eyes;  the exhilarating rush of the dance, the red knees, bruises and blisters and the crushing disappointment at the end of the night when Pete handed you your pitiful earnings. Pete became increasingly bold with his touches, promises of bonuses were always tied to how much you were willing to tolerate his advances in the office, and having to deal with his monetary retaliations when you refused.

The heavy bass vibrated under your feet, tickling your toes through your high-platform shoes. Your hands clutched at the cold, silver pole as you delicately swirled yourself around. The past few weeks your skills had improved; although, not enough according to Pete; though you were dead sure that his thoughts were an excuse to pull you into his lap for impromptu lessons. 

You kept your gaze loose, swinging from patron to the girls sat in laps with glowing smiles and fingers twirling through their hair as the grasped dollar bills. Blue and purple hues danced over your body as your hips swayed the best they could in time to the beat as you prayed for the song to finally be over. 

The interest in you was dwindling; the allure of a shiny new girl was fading fast and you were no longer receiving tips just for being there. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, but you damn sure hoped it’d last long enough to pay your bill at the hotel. You had five days to come up with three hundred bucks, and by the measly few dollar bills in your pocket and the couple of fives on the floor; things weren’t looking good. 

You made your way into the dressing room after your set, finding girls in various stages of getting ready and touching up their hair and walked over to Rachel's chair. 

“Can I talk to you about something?” You asked, standing behind Rachel's chair.

“Yeah, anything, babe.” 

She set her brush down and turned back to face you.

“I know I need to get better on stage, but how did you get Pete to let you into the VIP section?”

“You have to pay, didn’t he tell you that?”

“Yeah, I know that, but he keeps wanting me—“

“Oh, yeah, you need to pay him. Treat him well, look after him…” She trailed off as you looked completely lost. “Head, Sugar. The man wants head. Just do it. You’re gonna be doing more than that in VIP.”

“I thought it was just more private—“

“Nooo. No, no, no,” She snickered, grinning brightly. “They want more than just a dance, which is why you’ve gotta pay Nick to get through the door because they have to work harder to keep you safe.” 

“I have to pay security?” You whined, throwing up your hands. ‘’Am I gonna have to start paying to breathe?’’

“Pay, tip, all the same. He’s really explained none of this to you?”

You shook your head as she gave an empathic smile before tapping your arm as she passed you to leave to go out the club floor. You stood for a moment, trying to find any other way to survive the next week that didn’t require sulking into Pete’s office and grovelling for another loan. You let out a pained groan when you realised you had no other choice.

You trudged into Pete’s office, heavy heels weighing down your steps as if trying to pull you back from your impending doom.

‘’Pete, I have a favour to ask,’’ You spoke sweetly as you stepped into his office.

‘’Shoot,’’ Pete replied, sorting through papers on his desk, brows knitting together as he discarded one after another, letting out huffed sighs. ‘’Quickly, now. Things to do,’’ Pete prompted sharply.

‘’I– I don’t have enough for rent– Well, the hotel bill–’’

‘’You’re still there?’’ Pete paused, eyeing you with a slight disgust. ‘’Why are you still there?’’

‘’Yeah, it’s cheap and no point wasting time finding somewhere else,’’ You explained, sighing and wringing your hands. ‘’I was wondering if you’d let me work in the VIP section, the girls said they make more money–’’

‘’Not happening,’’ He cut in sharply, pulling on his suit jacket.

‘’Why?’’ You asked, feeling already defeated and slightly offended.

‘’Because you refuse to do what the other girls do in order to work in VIP,’’ He snorted, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a familiar envelope. ‘’Gotta treat me like a VIP to get to the VIP’s, Sugar.’’ 

‘’I really need the money,’’ You pleaded. 

‘’Work harder,’’ Pete said bluntly. ‘’Learn how to actually dance, you’ve gotten better, but the shy, innocent, little baby out of place act isn’t gonna get you far, it doesn’t last long–’’

‘’Yeah, I know,’’ You muttered under your breath.

‘’What was that, now?’’ He questioned, making you shrink as if you were a child that had just been scolded and before you could say anything else, he waved a hand;  ‘’Doesn’t matter. Look, you’re no good to me if you end up on the street and get swiped and thrown into a van, so I guess I can loan you the money.’’

‘’Thank you,’’ You gushed, rushing over to him and placing your hand on his forearm. ‘’Thank you so much. I swear, I’ll work it off for free–’’

‘’I’ll just take a higher cut until you’re paid up. Not much good to me either if you don’t have the energy to stand on the stage and do whatever it is you do. And it means you can spend more time here working on your skill… Oh, do you need more lessons, sweetheart? I’m always available for practice, you know that, right?’’

‘’I just need to work on my confidence, but thanks for the offer, Pete,’’ You said earnestly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and taking the envelope. ‘’And thank you for the money. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’ 

‘’Oh, you’re not done. It’s barely 1 A.M.’’ Pete huffed out a short laugh, hands stuffed in his pockets.

‘’I’m really tired and I’m just not getting any attention,’’ You replied, exhausted and pouting to hopefully gain a little sympathy. 

‘’So work for it,’’ He commanded and guided you out of the office and departed with his usual tap to your ass.

You parted from him at the dressing room doorway, watching him as he disappeared into the club, the money feeling sickly heavy in your hand. You huffed as you sat in your hair, stuffing the cash into your bag and shoving it under your vanity.

‘’My advice,’’ Crocki said, matter-of-fact but sympathetic. ‘’Stop borrowing money from a man that already underpays you. There’s better things you can do.’’

‘’You can always find work on the side,’’ Alexa said, fiddling with a curl that wouldn’t sit just right.

‘’I thought we couldn’t go to any clubs. None of the restaurants or anything I can do during the day want to hire me. I mean, I get it, all I have are stripper outfits and a leather jacket,’’ You huffed as you threw down your makeup brush, smoothing out the edges of your eyeshadow with your finger. 

‘’Not talking about another club, not talking about waitressing,’’ Alexa laughed. ‘’The girls do home visits, parties, entertainment; others do more. You just gotta talk to Pete, he sets it all up.’’ 

‘’I don’t think I could do that, I can barely give a lap dance, and plus, I asked about VIP, he won’t let me unless I sleep with him.’’

‘’He ain’t bad in bed,’’ Rachael smirked, hand on the back of your chair as she popped her hip, her brow jumping teasingly.

‘’I sleep with him for free,'' Navy cut in, giggling as she joined Rachael, smoothing a finger over her lip gloss.

‘’I did not need to know that,’’ You groaned, a little laugh. ‘’Seriously, how am I supposed to be alone with these men?’’ 

‘’Because here you’re surrounded by people, you’re both watching and being watched. You might find it easier within the privacy of someone's home. You could make some serious money,’’ Alexa explained, standing and fluffing her hair.

‘’Come on, we better get back out there,’’ Crocki probed, shooing you up and out of your seat.

It was on a rainy Tuesday night that an opportunity presented itself in the form of a man who eyed you all night. You were finishing a slow, grinding set when the man dressed in a charcoal suit with a look of wealth and hunger in his eyes approached the edge of the stage as you were collecting the cash. He didn’t toss any himself, but he leaned in with a low, urgent plea:

‘’You’re breathtaking,’’ He breathed hotly. ‘’I have a private booth, if you want to join me. I can pay you for your time, more than whatever that boss of yours would give you.’’

You contemplated, knowing the rules were explicitly clear: No off the book dealings. Then you thought of the dwindling cash in your pocket, your overdrawn account and the money you already owed Pete. You knew it was risky, but you found yourself offering a different deal.

‘’Not here. Write down your address and I’ll come get it from you after I give a few dances,’’ You instructed quietly and then motioned for the man to leave. 

The man nodded frantically, excitement crossing his face and his gaze lingering on your body before he stepped away, blending into the crowd and up to the balcony booths. You navigated to the dressing room with a sharp focus, not paying any mind to the other dancers as you quickly stuffed the cash away and made your way back into the club and passed the time on a few laps before making your way up to the man. He slid his address in with a wad of twenties and you spent a song or two in his lap before rushing to change and leave.

You hailed a cab and met him back at his apartment.

With that single night, that simple exchange, began your secret hustle– right under Pete’s nose. 

The following weeks became a dangerous dance of their own. You honed your art of your side hustle. You began to keep a mental note of regulars that eyed you with the specific, desperate hunger; the ones who had more money than sense and a certain distaste for Pete’s heavy-handed management. With folded bills containing addresses and phone numbers, the whispers of something more and thick envelopes pressed into your palm at the end of your nights, your stash began to grow. 

You had to be careful how you spent your money, having excuses at the ready when you showed up with new outfits and shoes, passing it off as second-hand or cheap online purchases. For the first time in a long time, you felt a shred of agency; you were no longer having to beg, no longer having to be a victim of Pete’s scraps– you were creating a life of your own. However, the risk grew with every encounter, having to be wary about where you met them, how you kept in contact, keeping yourself hidden from them inside the club. 

The most dangerous part though, wasn’t the logistics; it was the change in your own demeanor. As the list grew, so did your confidence. The desperation that once made you easy to intimidate was quickly replaced and you started to look at Pete with a secret, mocking amusement and no longer with fear. 

Friday night was a blur of shimmering pale blue lace and the suffocating scent of cigars. Pete had suggested the outfit, claiming he just knew the attention it would attract and sadly, he was right. It drew in a specific breed of predatory men. You felt less like a dancer and more like a piece of sordid art that was subjected to lingering touches and hungry whispers. You spent time moving booth to booth, lap to lap, your movements fluid and hesitant, playing your usual role of the trembling innocent to practiced perfection while counting the seconds until the night was over.

As the night progressed, you made your way back downstairs, heading over to the bar to grab a drink of water when you caught the eye of possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen; the kind of man people wrote about, the type that you thought couldn’t possibly exist. 

The man was an absolute mountain of a human being.

He had to be an easy six-foot-nine, he towered ridiculously over the other men at the bar, his broad shoulders blocking out the purple lights behind him, casting a halo around him. His open flannel showed off his tight black shirt, stretched thin over his muscle. His face was set in a stony, grumpy expression until he noticed you were looking right back at him which made him break out in a grin as you stepped closer to him. You took in the thick beard, long hair and sucked in a sharp breath as a warmth spread over your stomach. 

You smiled shyly up at him and offered out your hand to him, and happily let yourself be guided into his space as he spoke in a low rumble which vibrated in your chest.

‘’You’re the new one,’’ He stated, wetting his lips as he pulled you closer.

The smell of expensive sandalwood and aged leather clung to him, making your head spin as he leaned down to hear you in the deafening noise of the club. 

‘’Hi,’’ You said breathlessly, ‘’I’m Sugar.’’

‘’Hi, Sugar,’’ He replied, voice gravelly and honeyed. ‘’I’m Ari.’’ 

[veltana]

A present for the Demon King

✦ Pairing: Curtis Everett/fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings/tags: plus size!reader, demon king!Curtis, Curtis is like 250 cm/8,2 feet, Curtis has horns, kidnapping, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex, belly bulge, dirty talk, cum marking, pet names (lamb). ✦ Summary: For Lloyd, that meant more work and less play, and he was not happy about that at all. So he devised a plan to ease the king's temper. ✦ Note: Is this among the dirtiest things I've written? Probably... but it was so much fun! If you like it please reblog it. Comments and asks are always welcome!

✦ I don't keep a taglist, but you can follow @veltanawrites and turn on notifications to get notified when I post something new.

Masterlist | AO3

The demon named Lloyd looked on with dismay as the Demon King threw yet another of the lesser demons into the abyss of no return. It wasn't that Lloyd disliked the king’s actions. No, it was just that over the course of a thousand years, since the king had been betrayed by his then betrothed, his patience with mistakes had grown shorter, and the number of lesser demons in the realm had started to dwindle.

For Lloyd, that meant more work and less play, and he was not happy about that at all. So he devised a plan to ease the king's temper. If there was one thing Lloyd knew, it was that the king needed to get laid and to have someone to care about. Despite being the ruthless king of the demon realm, Lloyd had been there when the king and his betrothed were together, and the king showed a softer side, and a more even temper, back then.

But another problem was also that, since the betrayal, the king had refused to consider an alliance with any of the other factions that inhabited the demon realm. So Lloyd had done the only thing he could, and looked to other realms, close to the demon one.

No demon alive today had been there when the veil between the realms had been thin enough to pass through regularly, but many attributed that to the demon's humanoid bodies. The fact that humans and demons could mate and produce viable offspring both Lloyd and the demon king were living proof of.

And as such, the demon Lloyd looked to the human world. And he found you.

You stand still just inside the door to the apartment you share with two other people. The air is suffocatingly hot outside, and you looked forward to the cool air inside as you walked home. Except your roommates are having a party, with the windows wide open for people to smoke from. It's as hot inside as outside. You're already sweating through your shirt, blazer, and skirt, and you want to take a long, cool shower, but not when there are twenty other people in the apartment.

You make your way through the throng towards your door, happy that you locked it before going to work. Some of your things have started to disappear lately. Inside, with the door locked once again, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s a tad cooler in your room with the blinds pulled and the window closed. You turn on the fan and stand in the breeze while taking off your clothes and throwing them in the hamper. No reusing those for another day. You need to do laundry too, if you want to have something to wear to work at the end of the week. Exhausted, you lay on the bed in just your underwear, limbs spread, waiting for the fan to cool your heated skin.

Everything seems to crash into you all at once. Your shitty work day, your stealing roommates, the never-ending tirade of chores, the unbearable heat you won’t be able to escape until winter, and then the apartment will be freezing cold instead. Tears run down the side of your face. Also, there is a gaping hole in your chest from feeling lonely. There are only so many romance books a girl can read before starting to long for that kind of connection of her own, and you really want a connection like that. You just want someone who cares about you and wants you, despite all your flaws. “Is that really too much to ask?” you say out loud to no one in particular.

“Of course it’s not,” a voice answers, startling you up from your bed. Standing by your desk is a man, dressed smartly in well-fitting clothes with a mustache that could be from an eighties porno, with his hair combed back. He doesn’t look like the kind of guy your roommates would hang out with.

“Who are you?” you ask, voice trembling with fear, throwing your arms up to cover your exposed chest as you back as far away from him as you can, but in the small room, you don’t get far. You’re sure you locked the door behind you. The man must have been in your room before you entered, hiding somewhere, and now he’s going to rape and kill you. The music is blaring from the party. No one is going to hear you scream. You eye the door, but you have to pass him to get to it. The window is not a quick escape since it’s closed.

“I’m Lloyd,” the man answers, and you realize just then how tall he is, a good bit over two meters. “And I’m here to take you somewhere better.” You’re frozen stiff. “No,” you manage to press out. “I can assure you that no harm will come to you, if that eases your mind,” he says, and you notice that his eyes seem to be unnaturally blue, almost glowing. “What?” “You will not be harmed, you have my word.” “I don’t understand,” you say, more tears are running down your face now. The man is clearly insane.

“There is no need to cry, you will have a much better life than whatever this is,” he says, looking around your room with clear distaste. “I guess humans like their earthly belongings, so if it makes you feel any better, we can take all of it with us.” Then he holds out his hand, “Come on, let’s go.” But you don’t move, you can’t, fear is gripping your chest so hard you can barely breathe.

When he takes a step closer to you, your body suddenly switches to flight mode. With a burst of adrenaline, you go for the door, needing to try at least to save yourself. You feel an arm band around your waist, and the world turns upside down and somehow also inside out. It’s like you're on a roller coaster for zero point one second, screaming as you drop down into nothing, before you’re suddenly in a room again, except it’s completely different from before.

“What in the actual fuck,” you say, before throwing up.

Demon king Curtis stalks through the winding corridors of the ever-changing castle on his way back to his room. He needs a drink and to not see anyone else for a good long while. All day, he’s spent dealing with emissaries from the nearby realms, trying to negotiate trade deals so his people can continue to thrive, but all their offers involve some kind of marriage, and he is not doing that. He shouldn’t even be in those meetings. It’s Lloyd’s task to manage that, but Lloyd claimed he was busy. Whatever the fuck that means.

Think of the demon, and he shall appear, Curtis thinks as he nears his room, because waiting outside is Lloyd, with one of those shit-eating grins that can only mean trouble. “What have you done now?” Curtis asks, irritation thick in his tone. “Only what I deemed necessary.” “That can’t be good, then.” “We’ll see,” Lloyd’s smile widens, and then continues, “There is a present waiting for you in your room, and I hope it will bring you much joy.”

After staring at Lloyd a moment longer, Curtis opens the door with some trepidation. A present from Lloyd could mean anything, literally, and he isn’t sure he would like any of it. To his surprise, he finds a woman standing in the middle of the floor. A red band covers your eyes, while a soft robe drapes your body, tied at the waist. Curtis can feel the nervousness radiating off of you, and you jump when he closes the door.

Walking up to you, he takes you in more carefully, noticing that without a doubt, you are human. It’s an odd present coming from Lloyd. A human woman. But he also can’t help but notice how the robe hangs off your voluptuous body in a way that makes his mouth water. Even if it’s Lloyd’s doing, Curtis is king for a reason, and a present never comes without an ulterior motive.

“Who are you?” Curtis asks, and you jump again, before stuttering out your name. “What are you doing here?” is his next question. “Your… friend, Lloyd, was in my apartment. He brought me here. He said you needed a… companion.” “And what’s in it for you, human?” You swallow. “I don’t know. No work? No chores? I won’t be lonely anymore.” Curtis can sense no lies in your words. “And Lloyd said that… that you’d bring me pleasure.” Curtis can’t help but give a small laugh. “And what if I just kill you instead, human?”

You stiffen even more, if possible. “Lloyd said I wouldn’t be harmed,” you manage to answer, voice tight with fear. “Did he now. You’re under his protection?” Curtis glances back at the door, and for a second, thinks of calling for the other demon to make him explain, but if he knows Lloyd right, the demon is already gone. “I guess,” you confirm.

Curtis muses on that for a moment. It’s not that he wants to hurt you or kill you, but he is big even by demon standards, taller than Lloyd, and his touch could break your bones. “He gave me a ring,” you hold up your hand and show Curtis a black band around your middle finger. “He said it would protect my body, make it strong enough to withstand whatever you’d want to do with me.”

Now, the faint smell of arousal rises from you. You clearly don’t know what's good for you, but that only makes Curtis want you more. “And what else did Lloyd tell you about me?” “That you’re the demon king, ruler over this realm, and that you’ve been alone for a very long time. And that you won’t hurt me.” Curtis hums and reaches for your face, dragging his finger over your cheek, but you don’t flinch or pull back. The fear coming from you actually lessens. “No, I won’t hurt you,” he promises. “Remove your robe for me, my sacrificial lamb.”

With surprisingly steady fingers, you undo the knot and let the robe fall open, revealing your body that he’d only guessed at, and it’s far from disappointing. As the robe floats to the floor, Curtis takes you in, now only covered in a bra and underwear. Your breasts will fit perfectly in his hands, he knows right away, and his face will fit just as well between your plush thighs. With all your soft curves on display, there is no keeping Curtis’s cock from hardening.

That a human would undo him is hard to believe, but you seem to be removed from the politics of the demon realm, and therefore, he decides to take a chance and accept the offering given to him. You’re here because you don’t want to be lonely, and Curtis is quite fed up with that himself. It’s been a long time since he felt lust as he does now.

He lets his finger go up to your blindfold. “Let’s get this off so you can see what the king of the demon realm looks like, before I take you to bed, lamb.” He slips it off your face, but your eyes are squeezed shut. “Are you sure my face won’t melt off when I see you?” Curtis chuckles, “I’m quite sure.”

The light in the room is not bright, but your eyes still take some time to adjust from being closed. When you finally see the demon king, you have a hard time taking it all in.

He looks human-ish, except for his height and the horns on his head. They sprout from his forehead, curving back over his skull and the short buzz, before curving back up and slightly forward again, sharp points pointing upwards. It just adds to his height, and he is the tallest person you’ve ever seen, and you thought Lloyd was big. He is best described as massive, with thick, broad shoulders and a wide torso left bare to reveal hard muscle beneath a scattering of dark hair.

After you took a bath and got new clothes, Lloyd had been kind enough to conjure a picture of the demon king while he explained everything, and you thought Curtis looked good then. But up close, he's gorgeous, and so big your knees feel weak from both nerves and arousal. So what if the majority of your romance books on the shelves had monsters in them?

“Hi,” you manage to croak out. He smiles, and you're relieved that he doesn't have sharp teeth; neither does he have claws or cloven hoofs. “Hello, my sacrificial lamb,” he reaches out his hand, and you take it. His skin is much warmer than a human's, but not uncomfortably. With a yank, he pulls you into his body, right into his bare upper body.

You look up into his face, and his eyes glow with the same eerie blue that Lloyd’s did. Power and strength radiate from him, but you're not afraid. This whole thing is crazy and fucked up, but if you don't take it at its word, you're going to drive yourself insane.

Therefore, to calm your mind, you place a chaste kiss against Curtis' skin and tell yourself it's going to be alright. Strong hands close around your waist, and you're suddenly lifted. A shriek escapes you because you've never been lifted before. Sure, some dudes have tried, but it mostly ended with them grunting with failure and you feeling miserable. Curtis does it effortlessly. He only says, “Come up here and do that instead,” with a wicked grin.

As you're face-to-face with him, you realize he is even more gorgeous up close. You wrap your legs around his body, and he holds you with one hand on your ass, while the other grips the back of your neck. A low rumble seems to come from Curtis' chest. “Your ass fits perfectly in my hand, it's like you were made for me, my lamb.”

You stroke your hands over his face, feeling the scruff of his beard, making his rumble louder, which you think means he likes it. The grip on your neck hardens, and a second later, he's pressing your mouth against his.

He's not shy about kissing you in any way; he knows what he wants, and he takes it, opening your mouth, exploring with his tongue, which is human-like, if a bit more pointed. You wind your arms around his neck, holding on as he starts walking towards a bed that is bigger than any you’ve seen before. But you're not surprised since Curtis is so big. He sits down on the edge with you in his lap, straddling him, and the unmistakable feeling of his bulge presses right into your cunt.

You want to blame the fact that it's been a long time since a man touched you, and that's the reason why you're already so horny and wet. But it's not. It's everything about Curtis. The way he feels, smells, and tastes. And the way he handles you like you weigh nothing.

Experimentally, you grind down, and when Curtis moans into the kiss, the whole room seems to vibrate with it. You find you need to ask an important question, though, before this goes any further.

“How…,” but you feel a little embarrassed at asking. He raises an eyebrow. “How is it gonna fit?“ A slow smile creeps up his face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Don't worry, my lamb. I will make it fit.” That shouldn't turn you on even more, but it does. Your eyes flutter for a moment as a moan unbidden falls from your lips. With a growl, Curtis flips you onto the bed, then tears the bra and panties from your body, leaving you naked and exposed.

“Does my lamb like that idea?” he asks as he kneels between your spread legs. But he's not looking at your cunt, he's keeping eye contact with you as he picks up your foot, kissing your ankle. You have a hard time forming words, even thoughts, so you just nod as he moves higher up your leg with kisses and licks. “Do you want me to force my demon cock into your human cunt? Want me to watch as you struggle to take it?” Ashamed, you hide your face in your hands before nodding again. “I'll have to thank Lloyd for finding the filthiest little lamb in the human realm for me,” he chuckles. His kisses stop in the middle of your thigh, and you peek from your fingers to see why.

Now his gaze is glued to your exposed cunt, his chest heaving heavily, the grip on your leg hardening. Without looking away, he commands, “Clench.” For a second, you're confused, and then you do what he wants, clenching the muscles in your vagina. As you do, more wetness leaks out. “I'm going to enjoy ruining that wet cunt after I've feasted on it,” he says, letting go of your leg and lying down on the bed.

His massive hands spread you open, but he's not hurting you; he's careful with his touch, you can tell that, despite your mind being overrun by lust. The moment his mouth lands on you, all thoughts go out of your head, though. There is only the feel of his tongue and lips, exploring all the most sensitive parts of you. His eyes are closed, and there is a content, constant hum coming from him. You try to keep your eyes on him, because he looks divine nestled between your full thighs, but he's doing things you've longed for, and it's hard not to sink back into the bed and just let him do what he wants until you break.

He suckles on your clit, using his tongue to play with it, before sliding his mouth down and pressing his thick, long tongue into your channel, over and over again, driving you insane with pleasure.

You're scrambling for something to hold onto. The sheets on the bed aren't enough, and you want to touch him, but you're not sure you're allowed to touch his horns, and you're not coherent enough to ask. But still, your hands creep down your body, itching to feel him, and before you know it, your hands close around the ribbed surface of the horns, right as he does something devilish with his mouth, and you use the grip to pull him even closer and grind against his mouth.

He looks up at you, and your eyes meet for a second. Your chest rises and falls, but he doesn't look mad. “It feels so good,” you say, almost pleading, even though he's giving you everything. He hums in response, because he can't talk with his mouth so closely pressed to you, before continuing like before.

When a thick finger slides into you, searching, then finding, there is no way for you to hinder the orgasm crashing into you. With a strangled cry, you come around Curtis' finger and against his mouth. Wave after wave of blinding pleasure envelopes you until the only thing you feel is the point of contact, where his finger is still working you over, and his tongue plays with your bundle of sensitive nerves. And he doesn't stop, even when it starts to become too much, and you whimper instead. When you try to push at his head and move away, he simply pulls you back.

For every orgasm after that he pulls from you; you get more delirious, but something is missing. Even with two fingers in you now, fucking you in times with his tongue, you want more. “Curtis,” you plead, again, “I need more!“ He pulls back, kissing your cunt one last time, before sitting back on his knees. His mouth and chin are wet with you, and he licks his lips as he undoes his pants.

Curtis’ cock is, well, it's a monster, bigger than anything you've had before, bigger than your toys, and fucking gorgeous. You're scared and aroused at the same time. His massive hand closes around it, stroking it a few times, and precum leaks freely from the tip. At least it's one; you've read books where the main male characters have had two, and you're not ready for that yet.

“The ring will protect you,” Curtis says, his voice tight, clearly holding himself back. “It will only be good for you. Now turn over, on your knees, head down.” You do as he says, nervous energy fluttering in your chest despite your previous orgasms. Curtis places a steadying hand on your ass, and you take a deep breath as you feel the nudge of the big cockhead against your opening.

The ring might protect you from splitting in two, but it doesn't take away the feel of the delicious stretch as Curtis pushes into you. Your body somehow gives, and there is no pain, only pleasure. He takes his time. You can hear him breathing heavily behind you, and if you look over your shoulder, his eyes are fixed at the point of connection, watching your body swallow inch after inch of his cock, until he bottoms out with an almost painful groan.

He leans forward and grabs one of your hands, guiding it in under your body and pressing it up against your soft stomach, until you feel what he wants you to feel—the bulge of him. “It fits perfectly, my lamb. You're filled to the brim with me now.”

“I- I love it!” you confess, and you keep your hand there as he starts fucking you, feeling the bulge in your belly over and over again. His heavy balls slap against your exposed cunt with every thrust, and it's so sensitive from previous orgasms that you're quickly on the brink of another again.

“I feel you, lamb, pulsing around me. Are you going to come with a demon's cock in your tight cunt?” “Yes, Curtis!” you answer with a moan. Suddenly, you hear him spit, and cool saliva hits your skin, right against your asshole. A moment later, Curtis' big thumb enters you there, too.

It's simply too much for you. You come like you've never come before, cursing and screaming, losing all strength in your body. Your arms and upper body lie limply against the sheets, drool seeps from your mouth, as Curtis continues to fuck you. It's a miracle you can stay on your knees, but you do it for him, because it continues even after, the pleasure he brings you over and over again never stops. It could be the fact that you're in a whole other realm, or it could be because of Curtis, or maybe both. He's unstoppable, pulling many more orgasms from you, until your head is empty of any other thoughts than that of his touch. But finally, it's his time too.

The walls of the chamber rattle and shake the louder his moans get, things fall from shelves, and you hear glass breaking somewhere. With an inhuman growl, he flips you onto your back, and then he comes inside you with a roar until it overflows, and he pulls out to continue coming over your stomach and tits, painting you and marking you with his seed. “Mine,” he says, over and over again.

Curtis' eyelids feel heavy, but he doesn't want to sleep. Even though you're already snoring softly in his arms, he doesn't want to look away from you, his lamb. His chest has felt so hollow for such a long time, so it's a strange feeling to now have it filled with contentment and a bit of happiness.

He sent Lloyd a message that he won't be available for anything, for the foreseeable future. Curtis might have made you come multiple times tonight, but he also needs to take time to show you the realm, or more importantly, show the realm you. They need to know what their new queen looks like after all.

[witchywithwhiskey]

Hi hi! ‘matching pajamas’ with Curtis, if it sparks your inspiration, please!❤️

the beast inside

pairing: boyfriend!curtis everett x female reader

summary: you convince your boyfriend to wear matching pajamas, and even though he's reluctant at first, he comes around to it—with some help from you.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, light orgasm control, light dacryphilia, light degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names (doe, baby), aftercare, established relationship

word count: 2.0k

a/n: thank you for sending in this prompt, Stormy!! it inspired some fun and filthy smut with grumpy boyfriend Curtis (who might actually be my favorite version of Curtis??). i just have to imagine that he'd be so grumpy about wearing a onesie, even if it's for his girl, but of course, she proves to him how fun it can be 😈 anyway, i hope you enjoy what i came up with—thanks for playing my blizzard bacchanal game ♡

"I look ridiculous."

The growled statement came from your boyfriend, Curtis Everett, who'd just stepped out of the bedroom the two of you shared wearing a red and black buffalo plaid onesie. 

It matched the one you wore exactly, but, in your opinion, it suited him much better. 

The flannel fabric pulled tight across his broad shoulders, the sleeves hugging his biceps and broad chest so deliciously, you started drooling a little bit. And that was before your gaze trailed down to his thick, tree-trunk thighs that were testing the limits of the pajamas—not to mention the far-too-enticing bulge nestled between his legs.

Somehow, the onesie made him look even bigger and burlier, like the big, handsome beefcake you always knew your man was.

"No, you don't," you said honestly, rising from the couch and padding over. You stopped right in front of Curtis, pressing a hand to his broad, beefy chest and brushing a kiss to his cheek above his beard. "You look hot,” you murmured in his ear, letting your voice go husky with desire.

"No, you look hot," Curtis muttered, grabbing your ass in his big hands and hauling you into his strong arms. "Don't think I didn't notice the flap in the back, doe—you better believe I'll be fucking you bent over on the couch before the night's through."

With a breathy giggle, you pressed your soft curves flush against the hard lines of his body, feeling his cock thicken and grow between you until he was hot and hard against your stomach. Smirking, you rubbed yourself against Curtis shamelessly, feeling his hard length twitch with need. 

"Mm, don't threaten me with a good time, bear," you purred before giving him a deep, lingering kiss. 

Heat built between the two of you as the kiss went on for a small age. Curtis groaned when he slipped his tongue into your hot mouth, his hands groping your ass shamelessly while you rubbed your body enticingly against his. Already, you were as wet for him as he was hard for you—and you were eager for more.

Before you could decide what exactly you wanted to do with your man, though, Curtis pulled away with a growl of frustration, his pale face flushed pink. He yanked at the collar of his pajamas, swearing. "Jesus, do these things have to be so warm, I feel like 'm suffocating."

His words gave you an idea and you jumped into action, tugging at the zipper beneath his chin. “Here, let me help you with that.”

Oh so slowly, you bared his broad, hairy chest for your hungry eyes. There was so much pale skin and dark hair, so much soft flesh and hard muscle, that you felt your desire dripping down your thighs. But still, you kept going, revealing more and more of your boyfriend’s body.

When you lowered yourself to your knees, Curtis finally seemed to catch on to what you had planned and his eyes darkened, his hands falling to your head. He held you like you were something precious, his fingers brushing reverently over your cheeks and chin as he stared down into your upturned face.

“You had this planned all along, didn’t you, doe?” Curtis teased, his voice low and gruff like an animal’s growl. “Get me all hot ’n bothered, then suck me off so I won’t change out of this fucking onesie.”

You tugged his zipper the rest of the way down, then reached inside the warm flannel to pull out his thick cock. He was already leaking precum and you ducked your head forward to lick it up like it was a dripping ice cream cone, reveling in the low groan Curtis let out.

"Maybe," you teased right back, pressing a kiss to the underside of his hard length and closing your eyes as you breathed him in. You loved the smell of him, warm and musky and all Curtis. When you opened your eyes again, they were glassy and unfocused as you looked up at your man. "Is it working?"

“Fuck, better than it should be," Curtis confessed, his head hanging low and his eyes going impossibly dark as he watched you press kisses all over his cock. “Jesus, just look at you, doe, so pretty on your knees for me.” His fingers shook slightly as he stroked your cheeks affectionately, making you smile. 

For the moment, Curtis was content to leave you to your own devices. He simply watched you with that dark, hungry gaze of his while you worshipped his cock with your lips and tongue, getting him nice and wet with your spit and kisses. 

His sounds of pleasure were music to your ears, and you were eager for more, so you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock and took him into the tight heat of your mouth. Curtis moaned, low in his throat, his fingers flexing against the sides of your face as he fought to let you remain in control.

You worked his cock deep into you throat, bobbing on the shaft and taking him just a little bit more with every inhale. After a few moments of this, your nose finally brushed the hair at the base of Curtis’s cock, and the edges of your mouth curved upward in a pleased smile. 

Looking up at your man, you found Curtis nearly undone above you, chest heaving with heavy breaths, his eyes dark with a feral kind of lust. His handsome face was twisted into an expression of pure desire, and you felt his fingers tremble that much harder against your cheeks as he kept his control on a tight leash. 

But you were ready for that tether to snap. You wanted your bear of a man to let loose and take what he needed from your mouth, so you braced your hands on his thick thighs and peered up at him with wide eyes. Then you hummed, the vibrations of your throat making Curtis’s cock twitch violently in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he cursed viciously. "Want me to fuck that pretty throat, doe?" he rumbled, brushing a tear from your cheek that had fallen from the corner of your eye. 

Even though he was practically shaking with need, Curtis waited until you nodded your head as best you could before he finally gave in to the beast inside him.

In a split second, Curtis grabbed your head in a firm grip, bracing you between his hands while he pulled his hips back, until only the tip of his cock remained on your tongue. Then he shunted forward, burying his thick cock back in your throat with one brutal thrust, his balls slapping against your chin, which was already coated in drool.

“That’s it, fucking take it, doe. Take my cock deep in that tight throat,” Curtis growled, pounding into your mouth with a ruthless strength, making you gag as tears streamed down your cheeks. “Choke on it, baby, choke on my fat cock.”

Since he had such a good grip on your head, there was nothing for you to do but take his cock as he skull-fucked you—and you fucking loved it. You knew you that if you pinched his thigh, he would’ve stopped immediately, but you were happy right where you were. 

There was something so glorious about seing Curtis Everett completely unleashed.

It made your own slick desire drip from your cunt, and you moaned around Curtis’s pounding cock, drawing a grunt from the big man, who fucked your mouth harder.

“You’re so pretty crying on my cock, doe, y’know that?” he cooed down at you, his voice a deliciously patronizing growl as he rubbed your tears and spit into your skin. “Such a pretty, slutty little mess.”

You moaned, long and low, around Curtis’s thick cock, and he rumbled a pleased sound low in his chest. It felt so good to let him use you that your hips began rocking, humping the open air between your spread thighs, trying desperately to rub your clit on the seam of the pajamas with no luck. 

“Shit, fuck,” Curtis cursed, catching what you were doing at his feet, his eyes growing sharp and intent on your body as his mouth twisted into a snarl. “Your throat feels good, doe, but do you know what I really want?”

A second later, Curtis pulled his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, and then he was hauling you up from your knees and tossing you onto the couch. 

You bounced once, gurgling a gasp as you tried to catch your breath, your head hazy with pleasure, before Curtis was grabbing your hips and flipping you over onto your hands and knees. Your cheek pressed against the couch cushions while he ripped open the flap covering your bare ass. 

Without anymore warning, Curtis shoved the full length of his cock into your needy, dripping cunt, and you pressed your face into the cushions and screamed your pleasure. The stretch of his girth in your tight hole, the hot, heavy weight of him inside your slick hole—it was glorious.

"Fuuuuck, that's good,” Curtis groaned, pulling his hips back and slamming forward, wrenching another cry from your parted lips. 

You turned your face to the side, panting with pleasure as he began to ramp up his thrusts, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass filling the room.

"Sooo good," you agreed in a slurred, blissed out voice. 

You were right where you wanted to be, ass up and head down, your cheek pressed against the couch cushions so you could watch over your shoulder as your man rutted into you like a beast. 

His teeth bared in a feral grin, Curtis curled his big body around yours, his chest to your back, and wrapped his hand around your throat, tucking your head against his shoulder. Then he set a brutal pace, fucking you hard and fast, his hips clapping against your ass in a cacophony of pleasure.

It wasn’t long before you right on the precipice of your release, your entire body wound tight, only needing another little push to send you crashing over the edge. 

"Cum on my cock, doe, give it to me,” Curtis growled in your ear, choking you with his big hand. “I want to feel you cumming all over my dick before I fill you up." His other hand slipped between your thighs and rubbed your clit over your matching pajamas. "Fucking cum for me."

The dam of your pleasure burst and you came with a choked scream, pleasure crashing over your body violently, making you shudder and shake and weep in his arms. It was all you could do to cling to your man as you weathered the storm of ecstasy as you came.

Curtis followed you over the edge a moment later, pumping you full of his cum while your pussy sucked him deeper, milking him dry. He fucked you through your releases, brushing sweet kisses to your cheeks, his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle softly, your throat feeling raw and ravaged.

Once both of you were spent, Curtis gently pulled free from your body and closed the flap of your pajamas, ducking down to press a kiss to the base of your spine—a promise of another round later in the evening. Then he tucked his cock away and zipped himself up to his belly.

Your legs were still shaking when Curtis pulled you into his lap and cuddled you tight, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You threaded your fingers through his beard and held him close, kissing your man until your lungs were aching for air.

“Told you matching pajamas would be fun, bear,” you murmured huskily when you finally pulled away, looking up into Curtis’s handsome face with a pleased smile on your lips.

Curtis Everett had the grace to admit when you were right, and he nodded solemnly. “I’ll wear matching pajamas any time you want, doe,” he promised, stealing a quick kiss before he tucked your head under his chin and held you tight. “Especially if it always ends like this.”

thanks for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡♡

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Criminal Intent

Warning: noncon, stealing/crime, fear and intimidation.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Curtis Everett

Summary: An act of desperation leads to a moment of retribution.

Note: this idea popped into my mind so I quickly jotted it up. No plans on a series but I could see a couple of continuations if y'all want. Let me know, pls!

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You got over should or shouldn't a long time ago. This isn't about morals, it's not even about greed. This is survival. You just need something, anything you can hock for a couple bucks.

Your stomach is a siren, crying out for anything. You listen to that, not your conscience. When it boils down to it, ethics are as much a commodity as a gold watch or designer purse.

Confidence is key. Not real confidence, just the appearance of. People only notice what you let them notice.

It's dark. Late. You move between the shadows of house, trailing behind the bumpers of pickups, stopping to stand on tiptoe and peek in the beds. Empty bottles won't even get you a return anymore. Fucking pricks in their suits, writing down new rules for everyone but themselves.

Just a small thing. Nothing that's too much. If they can afford them, they can afford to replace them, surely.

You stop and rub your eyes. The streetlights soften the edges. You see something further down a lot.

The long drive is full up. Three pick ups, an outdated corvette, and a couple bikes near the unlit garage with four doors. You weave between, pausing to test the handles and peek through the windows.

Huh. One's unlocked. You find greasy receipts for a burger place this end of town and coupons for more. Jesus. Fat fuck.

You keep on towards the bikes. Usually, you don't get much off of them. You might manage to twist off a mirror or couple pieces of metal to sell at the scrapper.

You check the first. Nothing. The second turns up a couple pills tucked inside the handlebar. If they're any good, you can get a decent profit. You don't touch the shit. Makes you an easy target, even if it would ease the ache in your gut.

The third bike is nice. The silver cobra painted on the matte grey tank catches a glimmer of moonlight. You feel around slowly.

There's a leather pouch right behind the seat. Someone must've been distracted. You unbuckle it, the metal clinking louder than you like, and sift around blindly.

You take out the only object inside. A folding knife. You'll be lucky to take ten from the pawnshop. They have a whole fucking bucket of knives.

A click makes you clumsy. The knife falls between your feet and you stand sttaight. Stiff. The gravel mulches behind you.

"Hands up." The grizzly voice sneers.

Fucker. You raise your hands. The man comes close and kicks the knife under the bike and you hear it skitter to the other side.

"You law?" You ask.

"Shut up." He growls.

You sigh and stay as you are. His body heat clouds around you as he pokes you with the barrel. You huff.

"Keep your hands up and turn around." He commands.

"I'm just hungry--" you say.

"Yeah? Bet those pills are real filling." He jabs the gun deeper between your shoulder blades. "Turn the fuck around."

You close your eyes and deflate. You face the man and look. He's just a black silhouette but you can tell he isn't with the force. You stare at him, bracing for something, anything.

"You know what I do with thieves?"

"I can guess," your fingers droop weakly.

"Don't you know where the fuck you are?" He steps closer and angles the barrel under your chin. The silver glow of the moon limns his long nose and lights his grey blue irises.

"Somewhere I shouldn't be."

"You're goddamn fucking right." He pushes until your jaw aches.

He glares at you as the shadows coil like a basilisk. He drags the gun along your cheek and presses against your temple. He hooks his finger in the top of your hoodie and tugs it away from your neck. He scoffs.

"Listen to every fucking word I say and I might let you limp out of here."

You sniff and shake your head. "What the hell am I gonna do?"

He clicks his tongue. "Turn around. Walk up to that wall. Put your palms flat." He gestures with the barrel.

You obey and march stiffly up to the front of the garage. He follows you. You stare at the obscure siding and resign yourself to whatever comes next.

"Pay for what you took and we're even."

"You think I'm out hear stealing cause I got money--“

His knuckles snap against the back of your skull.

"Point is you took what's mine. You owe me." He shifts behind you. "I didn't say nothing about money."

He kicks your heels.

"Pull your jeans down."

Your body locks up and your fingers curl to fists. You swallow dryly. You reach down.

“Ah, move slow. I’m still being nice.” He warns. “You still got all your fingers.”

You ease your motion. You don’t bother with your fly. You slip your thumbs under the denim and elastic and shove your jeans down. You stop just at the midpoint of your thighs.

A gristly hum climbs up his throat. You flinch as his hot hand spreads across one side of your ass. From that alone, you’re assured that it’s not just the darkness playing tricks. He is indeed a very formidable man.

“Stay like that. Don’t make a noise.” He drawls.

You don’t move. You dip your head forward and lock your legs. You’re terrified but you know better than to show it. Even if you’re not bawling and begging, you’re sure he knows.

He grabs your wrists and guides your arms up. He forces your hands against the side of the garage. He lets go and you stay as he put you.

You close your eyes as something clinks. His belt buckle. A thick breath chafe and his zipper cuts through the still night. You bite down until your jaw throbs.

He grabs your hips and guides your feet back, just a little. With a heavy boot, he moves your legs further apart. He squeezes and tilts your lower back. He traces his fingertips across the top of your ass.

“Be nice, still, and quiet for me.” He rasps.

He steps close, pumping himself slowly. His knuckles brush the curve of your backside. He smells the crown of your head and his hot breath puffs into your hair. His large hand frames your hip as he trails his tip beneath your as and along your thigh.

He rubs up along your cunt as he bends his knees. You clench and clamp your eyes tight. He pushes against you. His slow deliberate intrusion burns. The resistance of your body makes it worse and when he slips inside, you grunt. Just his tip has you trembling.

He brings his other hand to your hip. He grips you tight as he tilts his pelvis up, splitting you with each inch. A long groan grinds from you as you push your hands hard against the wall. You lean your head on the side as you gnash your teeth.

When you think he’s done, he jerks his hips and plunges even deeper. You cry out and he hushes you, digging his nails into your skin. You quiver and nod. You swallow down the pain.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

He stays buried in you as he drags his touch up your sides. One hand slips under your hoodie and the crumpled shirt beneath. He cups your tit as his other arm hooks around your neck. His squeeze just under your jaw and he pushes his head next to yours, his cheek against your temple.

He slides out of you until just his tip. He urges back in and you chuff out another tight breath through your nose. He rolls into you, over and over. Each thrust is long and measured. Torturous.

He turns so his nose presses your temple. His breath dampens your skin. He rams into you harder. Your feet arch so you're on your toes. He bends you until you’re crushed between him and the garage wall.

He snarls as his hand snakes down your stomach and a thick finger delves between your lips. You gasp and gulp, bracing the crook of his arm as your nerves spark. You moan and shake your head. He curls his arm until your knuckles are against your neck and you can’t breathe.

“I said be quiet.” He sneers as he snaps his hips meanly. “You wanna take from me?” He ruts up into you harshly. You keep an elbow against the wall as you clutch at his arm with both hands. “You’re gonna take all of me.” 

He hammers against your ass mercilessly, flesh slapping between your stifled whimpers. Your head hangs over his thick arm as his leather coat opens around you, tickling your sides as his tempo picks up with each tilt. He growls and nips your ear.

“Then we’ll see if you can walk away from this.”

[thezombieprostitute]

Curtis, the wood worker. He has a stall at the market but he's not very personable. Still, he takes an interest when you buy one of his 'cute' wolf figurines. But he wouldn't call it that himself.

The Sweetheart Discount

Curtis really doesn't like he Farmer's Market. There's so many people who look over his offerings, getting their grubby hands all over the woodwork, and then never buying anything. People complain about the price no matter what he sets it at so he often opts for a higher price than if he'd sold it from his shop or through Etsy. If they're going to complain, might as well give them something to complain about.

At the very least his time at the Market was good for drawing up plans and supply estimates for bigger projects. Hal was working on some house renovations and the customer wanted shelving built into the walls. Curtis needed to get the contractor some cost and time estimates ranging from cheap and simple to expensive and extravagant.

He's broken out of his mental math by a pretty voice cooing over his figurines.

"Oh my goodness! These woofies are just so cute!" you exclaim.

That's a new one, Curtis thinks while keeping his features schooled. He doesn't want to be accused of scaring people away with his side-eye

Pointing to one of the figurines you ask, "is it okay if I take a closer look?" Curtis is pleasantly surprised at actually being asked so he gives you a nod. "Thank you!"

Carefully picking up the beautiful woodwork, you turn it over in your hands a few times. The cost is higher than you'd like but it would also make a wonderful graduation gift for your nephew. So, swallowing your disappointment, you tell the handsome, if grumpy looking, man at the stall that you'll take it.

Curtis saw your reaction to the price so he's curious, "getting yourself a little something?"

"Oh, no, it's for my nephew," you explain. "He's loved wolves since he was just a toddler and...and now he's graduating college! I can't get him much so I like to make sure my gifts are meaningful."

Curtis nods and takes his pen to the price sticker. He then tells you the new cost which is much lower than the price you saw.

"I...I don't understand, sir."

"Lotta people like to add what they call 'the asshole tax' to their items," he starts. "I automatically add that tax to all the prices, removing it for polite customers. Then I take off a little more for kind people. I nickname it 'the sweetheart discount' because it's only for people who are sweet."

"Oh! Thank you so much, sir!" you beam, happy tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

"Curtis," he replies, holding out his hand. "And if you need more, please let me know."

Tagging: @agustdboyoongie; @alicedopey; @alphabetically-deranged; @blobfishlol; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63;

[andjusticeforjames]

Chris Evans has the type of beard I wanna get a thigh burn from.

[sweeetestcurse]

Chris Evans as Curtis Everett in Snowpiercer