#And help your young master down

[fumifooms]

You’re the resident chilchuck expert, so I was wondering about it there’s any canon evidence that he did smoke or drink alcohol when the kids were younger. I always thought it was something he picked up due to the strain of long jobs, when the kids were already older, but you seem to think differently and I was wondering if there was anything in canon that made you think that way!

Now that you mention it I guess it’s true there’s no evidence he did. Smoking we literally only know he does at all because of one post-canon panel where he has a pipe, so no, maybe this stick-looking thing in the panel below too though, I’m not familiar with medieval blunts eh. We’ve only gotten one panel of him and his daughters interacting when he was younger so that’s not too insightful on that end, and every time we see him young and freckled it’s in a job context so again not really where we’d expect him to be drinking. The earliest proof (/heavy implication since we don’t see inside his cup I guess) is 3 years before canon when Laios hired him, where he’s at a bar, classily placed in front of all the bottles ✨

Yes alcohol is almost certainly a way through which he copes especially with stress, so if we go with the theory he started around when work got stressful, well… Chilchuck started working as a dungeon diver ~10 years ago so when he was ~19, making Mei, Fler and Puck ~6 and ~4 respectively, so from that draw the ‘stressful enough to start drinking’ line wherever. We don’t know what he did before that with any certainty, and it could be he did odd jobs, lived off mostly mutual aid and community work, or just focused on only raising the girls. Half-foots tend to be poor and I see a lot of that in Chilchuck specifically so I don’t think he could have afforded to not have some paying work though.

Alright, so then why do I think he did drink when the girls were younger?

I give a more complete rundown of the info we do have on his alcoholism & his family with panels and references + all the speculation I make from it here. But the most targeted and objective answer I can give is:

Of course there’s just very very little we know of Chilchuck’s life with his family, and I think that’s by design too. I think the details being up in the air is to allow more nuance of the topic, like, will trying to reconcile go well, is their relationship salvageable? We don’t know, because we don’t know. So the message of giving hope a chance even if it’s a long shot, that things could truly go either way, is more relevant, impactful and meta in that way. How long was he usually away for work travels into dungeons here and there? How did he act with them? All we can really do is "it’s likely that", it’s a game of which way we think it’s more implied. There’s no right and wrong answer, it’s all Marcille-like larping the events out.

My main reason for thinking he did is that his father died from overdrinking and Chilchuck is very aware of that. He mentions his death casually in the extra about their stance in alcohol and in his Adventurer’s Bible profile, etc. He acts towards the alcohol presumably the same way his father did: with abandon, uncaring for the health effects, probably happily too considering Chil says "dying doing something you love is a good way to go". Very nonchalant. So you see what I’m saying here right, wether he started early or late, his view of alcoholism is very influenced by what he saw of his father growing up, it’s something he’s always been aware of and saw in a mostly positive light, something that was inherited you could say. It’s something that was normalized to him from a young age. Regardless or where it goes from there I do think this part is pretty inarguable. If he views it positively and we know that in the present alcohol is his favorite food that he loveees, why would he have held out on it? Personally that all makes me think he started drinking very young, especially since I don’t think they limited alcohol to age as much as modern standards (and I mean, teen drinking is obviously still a thing). And here you could argue, maybe his father only started being more alcoholic later when Chilchuck moved out, or something! And to that there’s nothing I can say except I think that’s a strained theory, and that Chil might even have largely cut contact with his family after moving out (since he and siblings are listed as almost strangers and he doesn’t seem to have much emotional attachment to his parents, but also we know he rents out his place to "a relative"), but it’s true we have no evidence. "I’ve picked up the same unhealthy substance abuse as my father haha! No big deal right haha" repeated several times to me just reeks of intergenerational trauma, & the alcoholism gene as they call it. Like effortless sliding into drinking as if it’s second nature, it’s natural after all, it’s normal after all, it just makes sense, it makes you feel good and that’s what matters.

BUT from my interpretation then we have a whole other layer: Alcohol is of course not all bad always. I think he’s always liked alcohol and drank it on occasion and it brought him joy etc etc, but I think here the implication in the question is, how much effect did his drinking have on the family relations and how early? And that isn’t so much about when him drinking started but when the alcoholism started. Addiction is defined by a habitual need, that has negative effects from filling that need (physical, psychological, social, etc) and negative effects from withdrawal. If Chilchuck drinks to cope and he can’t not cope without it, that’s addiction, if it affects his relationships, if it’s a need he has, it’s addiction. Addiction can be very insidious or look very casual, and how much people around the person are affected by it is case by case. Cheerful drunks can be sooo annoying and uncomfortable though let me tell you. Drunks are drunks. And this sounds harsh, but even if people around them don’t mind drunks it’ll still have some effects here and there, living with one can be such a challenge, ily drunks good luck with everything much like Chilchuck you deserve good things 🫡　

Ok so with the dad thing and the "ok well maybe he’s always drunk casually but it grew worse with time around when he started working as a dungeon diver" precision made, the other bit of info we have that can inform this is that Chilchuck is on a harsh diet and that alcohol is a hunger suppressant. We know Chilchuck "used to be fine not eating for two days", that literally on screen to quench his hunger so it doesn’t keep him awake he goes to drink water, drinking is his instinct to hunger. Again alcohol is a hunger suppressant and if you want info on that the internet has a lot of research and anecdotes about it. He diets to be light enough to not trigger traps, so it’s something he’d have started after dungeon diving most likely. Between the stress and the diet, yes it’s extremely likely he started going harder on alcohol after he started working in dungeons. There’s arguments on wether two days without eating is less bad for half-foots than humans, but apart from smaller portions there’s nothing that indicates half-foots should get less than 3 meals a day. They need less food but that’s because their bodies are smaller: the need is proportional to the body, not smaller than others’ races, the % of need is similar even if the kg amount of food isn’t. There’s also a popular headcanon with support basis that half-foots run hot and have a faster heartrate and whatnot, and that points towards a faster metabolism rather than a slower one: a bigger need for eating rather than a smaller one. He has the same bmi, 18, as Mickbell, but perhaps because Chil is much taller he’s less intensely visibly underweight with ribs showing than Mick during the bath extra, it’s most apparent when he becomes tallman.

Alcohol is something so important and omnipresent in his character that I have trouble believing it’s something that was part of only a small fraction of his life. It’s his immediate go-to, his no-brainer solution to a good time, I’ve sort of always assumed especially after looking at his family that it’s something he discovered decently young. Like he just acts like someone who’s always had alcohol to fall back on and started young idk. Alcohol is one of his 5 keywords. Alcoholism is very ingrained into his world view and life, his "it doesn’t matter" stance his ‘work hard play hard’ mentality his idea that the world is harsh so you get relief where you can, so it just makes sense to me that it’s always been in his life, if not actively then at least looming.

So yes, in summary, my take: Alcohol was always something he wholly enjoyed to an unwise level, but it could have been considered casual until he started working into dungeons and his need for it on a regular basis intensified. Alcohol has always had positive association to him as far as we see, so when it started being a problem he didn’t see it as such. To quote him, "I drink anytime I get the opportunity to". Why always? Approval of father’s alcoholism. Why alcoholism at all? Diet + stress & coping mechanism & emotional stunting + relationship issues, and she decided she had enough after they went out for drinks.

Conclusion

Chilchuck having drunk from a young age makes sense to me and it’s the strongest narrative angle I see on the table, but that’s objectively a me opinion, yes! There’s no evidence, moreso there’s canon basis and supporting info, but it’s all very left up to interpretation. I’ve made my own interpretations of things from the scraps we see, like everyone else making Chilwife and daughters content. Wether you have a stance on the topic or prefer to leave it vague in your takes, it’ll be a matter of what you think makes most sense, or what you’d rather believe I suppose (which is literally fine)

There’s a lot of subjectivity in even just setting up causal links like you probably noticed during this and I was careful with my word choices, because we’re just extrapolating from what we see and unless Kui states it explicitly from a reliable mouth all we can do is have informed opinions on most things. This particular interpretation is influenced by other details I’ve come to form about my interpretation of Chilchuck too, the more psychological and emotional sides of him and the timeline and how his marriage even happened, unplanned pregnancy imo. Like I hope you see what I mean, this wasn’t supposed to be a speculation post just a quick simple answer but there’s sort of just no other and concise but complete way with the subjectivity nuance to put "maybe it could be yes because of this but maybe it could be no because of this" haha

[myfirstandlast]

im scared bc now that i’m essentially getting this public school job i know my body and mind have begun to settle into its fugue state where i have no thoughts and make no progress and waste literally all the time in the world because i just can’t imagine any other options it’s how i wasted four years with my major it’s how i ended up joining gr**k life it just feels like this is it and i trap myself

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Nanny Wilson

Little Danny is almost lost in the mall when his parents suddenly run too fast in an attempt to catch up a ghost that their equipment has detected. Young Fenton is not a crybaby at all, but being alone without daddy and mommy is a little scary, so he begins to whimper and run around, trying to find familiar features in the blurry figures around him. Finally, he bumps into the thigh with a gun. It doesn't look much like an ectoblast, but dad is always inventing something new, so Danny quickly hugs this leg as hard as he can and begs loudly.

Danny: Daddy! Don't leave me! Slade: What the hell… Boy, I'm not your dad.

Danny blinks a few times and realizes that this man really doesn't look like Jack.

Danny: Oh. I'm sowwy. Can you help me find my daddy?

Slade: What makes you think I'm going to do this?

Danny: You have a gun and dad has a gun, so you're good. Are you here to hunt too? Slade: Something like that...What's your father's name, kid?

Jack: Danny! There you are!

A huge figure in a hazmat suit rushes towards them and Danny notices that his new friend is hastily hiding the weapon. To cheer up the man who is obviously meeting Jack Fenton for the first time, Danny smiles broadly. Dad may look scary, but he doesn't steal other people's toys.

Jack: Oh, thanks for looking after him. Our goal turned out to be too fast and we didn't even notice when our boy started to fall behind. Slade: No problem, colleague. Maddie: ? Danny: Kind uncle is also a hunter. Maddie: Oh, that's great! Em, sorry, but is there any chance that you have a time to look after our boy for a few days? We'll pay you well. You see, he rarely trusts people so quickly, and we absolutely do not have time to look for a replacement for our old nanny, and we really need to complete the last project as soon as possible.

Looking at the giggling boy trying to see if there are any other interesting things on him, Wilson decides that this will not be a bad experience in case he decides to establish a relationship with his found daughter.

Slade: All right, I'll take your order.

~~~About ten years later~~~

Danny, who is much more familiar with death than in canon, after being freshly ghosted: Damn, nanny will be so mad at me.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey, Slade. Do you want me to show you something cool? Slade: Not now, kid, nanny is cleaning up. Danny: Yeah, about that. *makes a corpse go through the ground* Ta-da! Can we talk now? Slade at the first second: *Surprised Pikachu face*. Slade when he notices a strange glow around Danny, like from ectoplasm in the lab of the boy's parents: >:( … >:( … >:( Danny: S-stop it!

~~~~~ Slade: And take out the bloodstains from those shirts too, they're my favorites. Danny: Oh dude, have you heard that child labor is illegal? Slade: Whoever doesn't help uncle Slade doesn't get a new knife for Christmas. Danny: Pfff…Now I'm my own weapon, come up with something new or I'll find myself a cooler mentor. Slade: Jackanapes!

~~~~~

When Wilson stumbles upon a distraught runaway Robin, he sincerely tries to take care of him as well as he took care of Danny. Deathstroke is an experienced babysitter, so there shouldn't be any problems with vigilante child being around on his missions. All children love knives, workouts and guns, right? Plus, staying alone when they are upset, as Jazz says, is unhealthy.

~~~~A few days later~~~~

Dick's thoughts: He wants to make me his evil sidekick, oh no! Wilson's thoughts: What's wrong with this kid? Batman so fucked up? Wayne needs to be stripped of his parental rights. I'm calling Jazz.

~~~~~

Wilson, who does not understand that he has been hanging out with Fentons too long, looks with perplexity at Grayson, who's running away from flying pieces of Maddie's pizza, then shoots some pepperoni and sits down at the table. It's going to be a long way. Poor boy.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fenton family is visiting Masters for the first time. Vlad tries to flirt with Maddie and then pretends to be good-natured while getting to know Danny.

Danny: I know 54 ways to kill you with this fork. If I were you I think I'd watch my mouth. Jack: He's joking, V-man. Danny: I'm not. Jack: He's just like his babysitter. They have such an unusual sense of humor. I think our boy really likes you! Usually Danny is too shy to talk like this with strangers. Vlad: Babysitter? Maddie: Yes, Mr. Wilson helped us out a lot and often did not even take payment. He's an angel. Vlad: I think I've heard that name somewhere before... Jack: Ugh, I want to introduce you anyway! Danny: Me too. Jack: Great. What about Wednesday? Danny: Dad, uncle might be busy. Let me ask him when he has time to, um, pay your old friend a visit.

[norrisleclercf1]

Max seeing you sleep in his shirt with your baby bump barely visible and both Jimmy and Sassy are next to you

A/N: Honestly this is so fluffy and homy I've got a cavity from it

"Max, baby, going to bed," You whisper, from the side, crouching down as you lean in, Max leaning to meet you halfway for a kiss smiling sweetly, his giant headphones making you giggle at how young he looks. Just like the first time you met him.

"Awww, tell the misses we wish her well!" Team Redline yells in the headphones, Max annoyed and mutes them, even turning the camera off real quick. "I'll join soon," Max whispers, pulling you in for another kiss before bending down and kissing your very small bump.

"Okay, don't stay up to late," The cats swim through your legs and meow in protest almost herding you into the bedroom. Max chuckles and goes back to his game, his voice quieter and the guys making fun of him, but he doesn't say anything back as he doesn't want to disturb you sleeping.

"Lay off, she hasn't been sleeping well since becoming pregnant," Max snarks, and the guys fall quiet knowing when Max get's snarky about you, it's best to stop. "Not been an easy pregnancy mate?" Max nods his head and sighs looking back wanting to crawl into bed with you.

"Alright, logging off," Max doesn't wait for a reply as he's already clicked off and hopping up like a frog, carefully moving around the trophies and set up as he stretches and heads to the master bedroom. Pushing open the door, the light from the hallway casts over you and the cats, making Max smile.

Jimmy and Sassy were lying on either side, curled up into your stomach, your belly barley showing through the thin material of Max's black shirt, adoring your body. Leaning against the door, Max admires you, and can't help but thinking about the day he comes home and sees you and the baby waiting home for him.

Moving into the room, he gently rubs his fingers over your cheek, smiling at the way you lean into his touch. "I love you," He whispers, moving down to brush his fingers over the bump, excited for the day when the little one will kick his hand. "Love you both,"

---------------------

tagging: @leclerced

[arizcross]

Things Danyal has said to his new family and some other interactions:

1.

Danyal, as casual as if talking about the weather: I can make you a new spleen if you want.

Tim, flaggerblasted: Whah-?! How?!

Danyal, calmly saying what he needs as he writes it down on a post-it: I’ll need a microwave, a cellphone and a gallon of lazarus water, maybe two since I have to cleanse it, oh, and some of your blood.

Tim, so very done with everything as he takes the post-it: Sure, why not.

2.

Alfred is driving Bruce somewhere out of Gotham so the siblings are alone in the city. Dick is in charge for the day.

Dick, answering an incoming call as he merrily drives to Gotham from Blüdhaven: Hey Danish, what’s up?

Danyal, slightly worried: Uhm, a was told to call you if Tim said anything about cooking?

Dick, alarmed and worried: Don’t let him near the stove! I’ll be there soon!

Danyal: Yes, Damian is trying to stop him. It is quite impressive how Tim is fighting back.

Dick, now even more alarmed and worried: Don’t let them fight in the kitchen!

Danyal: Too late, they found the japanese knives.

3.

Danyal, slightly disgusted but worried about his new older brother: You stink.

Jason, offended: And you’re fucking ugly.

4.

Danyal, looking at Duke while he eats cereal straight from the box: You know you’re not fully human, right?

Duke, eating his cereal because it’s his midnight snack: Neither you are.

Danyal, rising his mug of warm milk: Touché.

5.

Alfred’s first meeting with Danyal.

Alfred, looking at Danyal with wide open eyes and dropping what he was holding. He looks at Bruce expecting an explanation.

Bruce, pointing at Damian: This one Damian can explain.

Alfred then looks at Damian, one perfect british eyebrow up.

Damian, tightening his hold on Danyal’s hand: This all will be one more fond memory for the future, Pennyworth.

Alfred’s other eyebrow also rises in incredulity, the older man looking menacingly at the teen.

Danyal, whispering to Damian: I do not think that’s what he wanted to hear.

6.

Stephanie at Sunday breakfast: Alright D; Kiss, marry, kill. Your options are toast, Crepes and bagel, go!

Danyal: Kiss bagel, marry crepes and kill toast.

Duke: You don’t like toast?

Danyal: I don’t like box bread in general.

Tim: Why?

Danyal: It’s the Karen of breads.

Jason: Wtf?

7.

Dick walks into the living room to watch some T.V. before patrol and finds Cass recording something on the couch with her cellphone, Cass signals him to stay quiet as he walks closer to her. When Dick sees what his sister is recording his heart almost melts due to pure cuteness overdose. There, curled up on the couch with a sleeping Alfred the cat is a sleeping Danyal, both content and both purring.

Dick, crying: Send it to the family chat.

Cass nods in agreement.

8.

Danyal accompanies Damian and John to patrol around Gotham.

Danyal: Thank you for been his brother while I was away.

John: Thank you for saving him and for coming back.

Damian: What are you two doing up there?! I can’t fly you jerks!

9.

Danyal while helping Barbara update her firewalls.

Barbara: Are you sure this is safe?

Danyal, while drawing Tecnus’ summoning circle with a white glass marker on Barbara’s computer: Do not worry, Barbara, Tecnus will make sure no one messes with your systems ever again.

Barbara: That’s not what I mean.

10.

Danyal enters the kitchen and hides behind Alfred: Please make Damian stop.

Damian entering the kitchen right that instant: It is only fair Danyal.

Alfred standing between the twins: What is this about boys?

Danyal: Damian wants me to attend the gala instead of him.

Damian: It is only fair, Pennyworth. I’ve attended these ridiculous pleasantries for far too long, it is only fair for Danyal to take my place in some.

Alfred: Oh, but young master Danyal is also attending this one.

Danyal: What?!

Damian: Justice!

Alfred: The launching of the new product it’s just an excuse, this party was actually planned by Master Bruce and master Timothy to make your official social debut, young master. Master Bruce has even called Mister Clark and misses Lois for the surprise press conference.

Danyal: Ugh!

[gurugirl]

Sex Tutor

Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!

Word Count: 10k

Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink

. . .

“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough

You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.

So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.

“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”

“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.

“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”

You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”

Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.

“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.

“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”

You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.

And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.

Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.

Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.

Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.

Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.

Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.

You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.

Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.

You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.

Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.

You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.

He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”

You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.

When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.

He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”

Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.

You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.

“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”

He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”

Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.

“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.

Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”

You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.

“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”

He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”

You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”

He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”

You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”

“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”

You nodded again.

Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”

“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”

He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.

But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.

Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.

And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…

You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”

“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.

“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”

Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.

“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”

You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.

“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.

So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.

Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.

“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.

When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.

He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.

“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”

You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.

“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”

You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”

You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”

“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”

“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”

Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.

“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”

It made sense you guessed.

“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”

He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”

You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.

“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“

“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”

“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.

You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.

“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”

You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”

Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”

Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”

“Did it turn you on?”

Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”

Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”

You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”

“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”

“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”

It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.

“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”

Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”

You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.

“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”

“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”

It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.

He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”

You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.

 “So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”

You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”

Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.

For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.

“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”

He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.

You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.

Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.

Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.

“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”

You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”

Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“

“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”

“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”

Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.

The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.

Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”

“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”

You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.

Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”

You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.

You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”

You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”

“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”

You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.

You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.

He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.

He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.

“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”

He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”

You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.

The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.

“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”

You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”

You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”

“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.

After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.

Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”

You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”

Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.

When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”

The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.

The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.

And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.

Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.

It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).

The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.

He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.

When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.

Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.

“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.

“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.

Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”

You nodded.

“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.

He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”

Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.

You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.

“Fuck! Yes…”

You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.

You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”

You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”

He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.

You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.

When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.

And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.

But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.

Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.

He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”

You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…

You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.

“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.

A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.

Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.

“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”

Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.

And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.

Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.

The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.

“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”

Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.

When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”

He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.

You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.

You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.

He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.

When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.

You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”

But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.

When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.

“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”

He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.

He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.

The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.

Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.

You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.

“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.

You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.

If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.

He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.

“Did that all for me? Yeah?”

You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.

“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.

Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”

“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.

You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”

You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.

“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”

There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.

Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.

You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.

When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.

“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”

He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”

“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“

He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.

You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”

“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”

PART 2

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran

@luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou

@itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge

@damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @babybunharry @anothermannharry

@love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme

@butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry

@hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @bananabk9756

@gotdrxnkonu @freedomfireflies @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@certainlysyko @tiredinwinter @lightsoutstyles

[prettyboykatsuki]

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [8]

The observants have been pestering Danny for a while now. Something about a ‘kingly’ duty. 

Apparently there is this collective of ghosts who wish to conquer the infinite realms and have been sporadically trying to do so for the past… give or take six hundred years or so? maybe longer. 

After asking around it’s clear to Danny that they get more zealous with each year that passes.

so, ghost cult, world domination, realm domination? doesn’t matter, but usually dead cult folks settle down after their deaths, in this case however from what Danny understands these people are continuing what they started in life. And this is one hell of an ancient cult that’s somehow still relevant considering that ‘new’ members still show up and join their ranks.

But Danny is King now (much to his dismay) so it would probably be best if he just put an end to this matter once and for all.

Danny went in prepared and with backup that he told to wait for his signal should things go sideways. and then went in.

he expected a big fight, a huge mess, he would probably need help at some point cause unlike with most of his rogues this was a big group who were probably a lot more organized.

he did not expect the haunt of the cult to look like a mix between middle eastern and asian, a bad feeling was starting to creep up Danny’s spine.

The bad feeling got worse when Danny got close enough and was promptly surrounded by a group of ninja’s who had their weapons out. He felt himself promptly fall into a defensive stance that he thought he had long forgotten. Danny isn’t exactly sure what to do now though.

the stalemate is broken when one ninja speaks up in arabic “the heir has finally come to take his rightful position” and all of a sudden the tension is broken and Danny is left dumbfounded and with anxiety creeping up his spine as the ninja’s fall into kneeling positions.

“young master Danyal al Ghul, we are most honored by your arrival and here to serve you in death as we have in life”

Ah

Well shit

[peachpitfics]

Wildest Dreams

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Your Father has betrothed you to his eldest, most despicable friend. You confide in your closest friend, Benedict Bridgerton, that you wish your first time could be with somebody else, somebody you liked.

Length: 3.5k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Propositioning a friend, first time, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm.

a/n: Wildest Dreams is part i of iii ~ requested by anon here.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

The blood drained from your face, your hands clasped together in clammy nervousness – your father had just told you that since you have failed to successfully find a husband within the first year on the marriage mart, he will be arranging a betrothal between yourself and Lord Roger Howard. Lord Howard was six and sixty, he was your father’s eldest friend. Every interaction you ever witnessed was filled with contempt and disrespect, especially with service staff. His words were often filled with bigotry and unfairness. You found him repulsive, his yellowing chipped teeth in his villainous smile. The way his poorly maintained fingernails curled at the ends. His white moustache stained into unsightly colours from cigar smoke. The thought of having to be near this man, be intimate with this man, nearly drove you toward deaths door.

Your knees shook, standing from your armchair in the sitting room, not speaking a word to your father as you exited. Scurrying up the stairs, throwing yourself onto your bed, you felt your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Tears streamed down your face, you did your best to suck in deep breaths, but panic continued to wash over you. There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this fate. There had been some suitors interested in you, but you had chosen to wait, to see if the one person you had wanted would make himself available to you. Now it was too late, those suitors had moved on with other young ladies, and the man you wanted was nowhere to be seen.

Your lady’s maid knocked meekly on the door, having come to prepare you for this evening’s ball. The Queen would be there, and you knew she would be disappointed in this match your father had forced upon you, not that that would help you.

“Shall we get the family jewels out miss? I hear it is to be quite an exciting night” You could tell she was putting it on, trying to sound excited. It seemed to come off as patronizing instead.

“Whatever you should think is appropriate” You tried to keep your feelings to yourself, but the streaks through your makeup sold you out at first glance. You spent the rest of your preparation in silence, usually the two of you indulged in a little gossip, it was supposed to be fun.

All evening you hid behind larger groups, behind servers carrying trays of champagne, doing your best to ensure the inevitable could not happen. Finally, considerably late in the evening, your closest friend deigned to arrive. Almost surging across the dance floor and into Benedict’s side, you linked arms and impishly whisked him out through the conservatory doors.

“Miss Y/n” Benedict exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this?”.

You breathed heavily, ducking, and weaving through overgrown plants and florals. You scouted each entrance, paranoia clinging to your side like a child in a sack race.

“My father has committed a most heinous act” You spill to Benedict, there is only concern etched on his face, “I am to be married to Lord Howard”. Your breath never steadied, sweat beaded where your forehead met your hair line. There was that panic you remembered so fondly, only hypervigilance had eliminated that feeling from the centre of your chest.

“Oh lord,” Benedict’s mouth hung open, utterly flabbergasted, “I cannot believe he would do that to you” Both of his hands found their way to your shoulders in compassion.

“And yet he has. My own father has bargained me away to some elder beast! There is nothing I can do to stop it” Your hands ran through your hair, untangling one of the twists.

Benedict did not know what to say, all he could do was lurch forward and take you into his arms. His strong arms reached around you, pulling you tight. The sound of his steady breath and rhythmic heartbeat calmed you quickly.

“When I was a little girl, I wished on a falling star I would find someone who loved me as their equal. I now wish for that same thing on this very night. To think that I have wasted my life dreaming about love, finding someone like me, with the same interests, the same age as me even!” You thought aloud. Benedict was always someone you could tell your innermost thoughts to, he never judged you once, and he was the kindest of listeners.

Benedict Bridgerton also knew exactly who you were dreaming about – it was him. You had been friends for several years, and it had always been obvious to anyone with sight, that you and Ben were infatuated with each other. But Benedict was young, and impulsive, unlikely to marry at this time.

“I do not want to spend my life with that old simpleton! I want to experience life and love!” You cried out, “My elder sister divulged what it is married couples do on their wedding night – I do not want that with him! I cannot live my life without having ever experienced the touch of a man who cares for me!” Your cries turned into whispers; whimpers scattered throughout.

He held you close to him, making a caring swishing sound, it kind of sounded like the ocean. Benedict sure knew how to comfort you when you were in need.

“Y/N! Where are you?!” Your father’s voice echoed off the glass walls, sending you into a frenzy, quickly separating from Benedict, dabbing your cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Yes father?” You responded.

“Lord Howard is here with me. There is something he would like to say to you” Your father called. Benedict hid low amongst the broad-leafed plants, the darkness of the conservatory shading him. You appeared from the shadows without explanation, not that your father was seeking one. Lord Howard stood hunched next to your father, who was 20 years his junior. It appeared as though he bowed, but it was hard for you to discern.

“M…m…miss Y/n?” He stuttered, struggling to see through the spectacles at the end of his nose, “There is a question I must ask you. With the permission of your father, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage” Spittle flew from his mouth in between sharp consonants. Dread flooded your body, you felt like you were being submerged in a pool of water, the tears in your eyes, simply the only way for the water to escape.

There was animosity in your father’s gaze, warning you there was simply one answer to the question asked. Taking in a deep breath, “Yes, Lord Howard, I will accept” You murmured. Lord Howard did not look pleased, he did not appear bothered either, he simply nodded once and turned about, marching back to the main ballroom. You wondered if this was what your marriage was going to be like? Would he ignore your existence and leave you to your own life if you produced an heir? You could not ascertain whether this was a good thing or not.

Benedict hung his head, having watched this entire exchange from the shadows. There was an element of guilt on his part, he blamed himself, unable to give you what you wanted in time to save you. When your father had left you standing still, tears staining your dress, Benedict slid out from the darkness.

“I think I am going to ask the footman to take me home… I only have so much time before my time is not mine any longer” You lower lip trembled; the peaceful silence of the conservatory disturbed by the soft sounds of sobs.

“Y/n,” Benedict muttered, his hand running down your upper arm. Electricity connected your flesh in a zap, your breath caught in your chest as his skin joined with yours. His tender hands grazed yours, tickling the palm of your hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head, moving to take your hand away before he closed his around it. His tongue flicked over his lips several times as he contemplated what he had to say. Sometimes you heard the other young ladies tell stories about Benedict, you never knew if they were true. They spoke of how he was finest of the Bridgerton brothers, they also spoke of his rakish tendencies, however mostly in a jealous fashion.

The forecast in Benedict’s eyes swiftly shifted from clear blue to a stormy grey. You had not noticed how tall he was before, looming over you like a dark cloud. His face illustrated apathetic gloom, his hand boring you into him, like he was the eye of the storm.

“There is something I must speak with you about, in private” Benedict rolled his tongue aggressively on his teeth as he spoke. Everything about his demeanor was confusing, you felt strangely like prey, wondering why it felt good. Benedict snuck out the conservatory door, your hands clutched together while he led you to his carriage, asking his footmen to make way for the Bridgerton house.

“What is this about Benedict?” You asked as soon as the door was secure and the carriage moving.

“Y/n, please give me a moment and I will explain everything. I do not know if I have a solution to your problem, but I may be able to offer a compromise. Something I would only do for you, if you asked, because I care about you so deeply” Benedict paused, this intense look of thoughtful worry about him, “If you would be agreeable, I would like to suggest that I… bed you for the first time” Benedicts voice was low and resounding.

Your lips parted abashedly, your cheeks flushed pink, blinking became uncontrollable. All you could do was sit completely still, astronomically stunned by what Benedict had proposed. You understood that for whatever reason, Benedict could not give you everything you wanted, but he was offering you something. He was offering you an experience you may never have gotten to have otherwise, a chance to feel loved and wanted in intimate affection with another person.

“Say something, anything, please. I cannot stand this silence” Benedict rubbed his temples after a few minutes. His eyes were still dark with longing, he looked over with you a deviating sense of ownership.

“You would do that for me?” You entreated, hands shaking so hard you nearly sat on them to make it stop.

Benedict nodded surely across from you, the carriage pulling up at the Bridgerton house. Your eyes locked, the carriage completely still and silent, you took a moment to consider the ramifications of your choice. Ben’s posture was resolute, his gaze expansive, eagerly waiting for your reply.

“Yes” You swallowed hard, Benedict snatching your hand from your lap and dragging you from the carriage, running up the walk and into the house. You made short work of the very many stairs on the way up to his bedroom, sure that nobody could have seen you, as you ran that fast.

Blood rushing around your body, you stood just inside Benedict’s door, trying desperately to catch your breath. Benedict shuffled about the room, lighting a few candles, closing the windows for the evening. He looked back at you, having already stripped into your underclothes while his back was turned. A most shameful lust driven smile sketched lightly onto his face, he made the long voyage acrost the bedroom to stand a foot or two in front of you.

“Thank you for doing me this favor. I will owe you always” You remarked, your eyes dancing figure eights on the lush carpet squishing under your wiggling toes.

Benedict’s shoulders were more relaxed than you had ever seen them, his posture always just so. Strands of hair bled onto his sticky forehead, dark eyebrows brewing overhead transfixed eyes. That charming smile, filled with foolishness, had not been seen since leaving the ball – this was something so chronically serious to him. He effortlessly tugged at his maroon cravat, casting it to the floor, his proud neck craning to get another glimpse of you from another angle. His throat bobbed when he stepped closer again, just one more step. Fiddling with his waistcoat buttons ardently, watching the frustration set into your eyes, Benedict finally shed his coat and pitched it across the room, knocking over something unbreakable in the corner. It did not steal his gaze; his eyes were set on you. Benedict lifted his suspenders off his shoulders, allowing them to dangle by his hips, the chest of his white, silk undershirt gaping open. Your teeth instinctually bit into your lower lip at the slightest sight of skin you had not ever seen before. The corner of Benedicts mouth upturned smugly, his lips rolling together as his breath became audible. Standing just one foot apart, the tension between you was palpable. You wondered if someone had struck a match, might the room simply explode, there seemed to be so much chemistry between the two of you.

“Please, continue” Your hands pressed to your stomach, you watched as Benedict unlaced his boots, one foot at a time on the stool at the end of his bed. His blistering eye bore into you even still. Making his way back to you, still at hardly an arm’s length, his brawny arms crossed his body to pull his undershirt off over his head.

You swooned audibly, almost gasping seeing the entirety of his torso bare for the first time. Your lips wet, your eyes unblinking, Benedict smiled cheekily, knowing the effect he had on you. His hands moved past his navel, your eyes following, to the button atop his breeches. Benedict made quick work of his trousers, having teased you plenty. Your back straightened, your gob smacked jaw snapped shut at the sight of his naked body.

Benedicts tongue flicked over his teeth, “Would you like me to redress, y/n?” He badgered, pretending to reach for his shirt on the floor. You careened forward, lessening the space between you to essentially nothing.

“I do not know what to do, not truly” You admitted, feeling yourself choking on nothing. Benedict reached out to your hands, taking them in his, placing them on his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the feeling of his light chest hair beneath your fingers. His sculpted pectoral muscles and taut stomach, a trail of dark hair leading you downwards made you feel ravenous for him. He looked at you as you looked at him, eyes filled with desire, faces pink in the candlelight. Benedict leaned in to kiss you, pulling away left at the last second to place a single kiss on your neck.

“You. Are. Wicked” Your face flitted over his, grazing your noses and lips together in potential kisses. Benedict leaned into you, his kiss soft, warm, and breathless. You gasped at the first separation, taking in hasty breaths before crashing back into each other. Everything you were doing felt completely wrong, reprehensible – but with a kiss as intoxicating as Benedict Bridgerton’s, you were afraid not even heaven could help you.

Your hands slipped into his thick, dark hair, pulling him down and into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and climbing up onto him. His hands rested under your thighs, carrying you toward his bed, you could feel his hardness pressing against you. 

This was not what you had been expecting, this was no impish boy. Everything about his movements was intentional, well-practiced. His hot, amorous kiss; the way his tongue slipped thankfully over yours, how his teeth greedily nipped at your auspicious bottom lip. His hands moved passionately across your back, his long kisses surprisingly hard on your neck, laying you down on the pile of bedding. He frantically shoved it off the bed, throwing pillows, knocking himself in the face once or twice. You laughed together, slow sizzling tongues dancing as one as Benedict removed your floor length under gown.

Benedict knelt above you on the bed, gently stroking himself, looking down on you. There was that dark cloud you had noticed earlier.

“I want you to enjoy me” Benedict rumbled, making you a promise. You did not yet understand, but you would. Taking his finger, Benedict dipped it into your mouth, bringing it to your nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb at a glacial pace. His touch was peculiarly possessive, his lips rested around your other nipple now, sloppily dragging his tongue around in spontaneous circles. Big open-mouthed kisses surrounded your breasts, your shock and surprise manifesting in noiseless writhing.

Benedict positioned himself between your legs, lying down forcing your legs apart. Wanting to snap your legs shut, you refrained, trusting Benedict with your life. His breath was agonizingly warm on your inner thigh, his lips parted and gliding up from your knee. Benedict dotted small, chaste kisses along your hips – you deduced he was headed for the pinnacle of your thighs, a place you had never felt burn and ache quite like this.

His tongue slid gently up the slit of your pussy, you breath shuddered, his harmless laps amazed you with every movement. Eye lids fluttering, breathy moans filling the room, Benedict’s graceful tongue swirling your clitoris in curious patterns, drinking in your wetness as though you were a drug to him. Your fingers crawled down into his hair, your hips bucking toward his retreating tongue, you squealed lowly for more.

“Are you quite alright?” Benedict groaned into you, the vibrations of his voice set you on edge, your toes clenching in different ways.

“I do not know what you are doing, but I would like for you to keep doing it” You moaned intermittently, between gasps as his tongue flicked roguishly at your clitoris.

Benedict spread your legs wide and high, taking his finger and resting it at your entrance. He tediously sunk his finger inside you, curling up, making you yelp out in astonishment. Finding a steady pace, his finger already snug inside you, Benedict began at you again, never failing to find exactly the spot he was looking for. His alteration of speed and pressure backed you onto a cliff face, body incandescent and damned to revelry. Pressing his fingers into you rhythmically, Benedict pushed you over the edge, the sensation of falling and flying all erupting at once as you moaned and yelped uncontrollably. In the aftermath of your pleasure, you watched Benedicts eyes, his head still clutched between your legs gently sliding his tongue over you, his charming, sexy smile reflected in his eyes.

Slowing rising to his knees, Ben positioned your legs higher, resting your calves on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, his pressed his tip against your wet skin. Your skin erupted in a tingling sensation, unbridled attraction and hunger liquefying your brain.

You looked up at Benedict in clear understanding, nodding gently, your eyes focusing on the powerful look of restrained urgency on Benedict’s face. He pushed forward smoothly, eliciting a groan from each of you, not even pressed to the hilt yet.

When Benedict filled your pussy fully, it felt like being winded. Panting like a dog under him, Benedict stilled himself, noticing how full and tight you felt, his cock twitching with pleasure. Benedict moved slowly at first, long unbroken strides forward, thrusting into you. Every drive forward, simultaneously blissful, and hot, curving to pound into that sensitive spot just inside you. While every drawback, was likened to slow-motion, devastating deprivation. Ceaseless, savage moans made Benedict grin above you, thrusting harder, wholly triumphant in setting you alight. You knew you would burn for him for the rest of your life.

“Make that sound for me again” Benedict grunted sinisterly, thrusting back into you brutally, forcing that loud intonation from you again.

Your fingers clawed at his back, your hips moving with his in most divine unison. Benedicts teeth grazed your ear, your breathing syncing in ceremonious adoration; his momentum increased, driving into you with new eagerness. Your nails buried in his plump behind, pulling Benedict tighter into you. With propulsive sureness Benedict plunged into you one last time, his cock twitching inside you to his irrevocable release. Never had you felt so full before, his face exquisite above you, leaning down to a soulful kiss.

“I’m proud of you, taking me like that” Benedict panted, taking a second before withdrawing and rolling next to you. He lay on the flat of his back, chasing his breath, his heart thumping through his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear it. His words made you blush, hiding your face in your hands, his seed leaking out of you onto the linen.

“It is not always going to be the same, is it?” You pondered aloud, staring at the detailing on the ceiling above you.

“I will not lie, y/n darling, I do not think every single instance will be the same” Benedict reached over, gently slapping your thigh in solidarity.

“That is disappointing to hear” You sighed dramatically.

Benedict chuckled sweetly, “Perhaps at his age, he will not have the capacity to complete more than the marital act”. You knew he was joking, trying to lift your spirits, but you genuinely hoped that might be true. Other worries began to plague your mind, worries of potential children. What if you were unable to conceive his heir due to his age?

You rolled onto your side, looking into Benedict’s clear, sky-blue eyes, “There may be another favour I ask of you, dear friend”. Benedict's eyes widened curiously, prepared to do most anything for you.

--------------------------------------------------

Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr // @marvelouslyme96 // @moreover-clover // @saintmagx //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me, please let me know!

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen! Little Sister! Reader prompt: When the small council plans to marry off once again, you turn to your older brother for help. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were the youngest and third daughter of Alicent and Viserys. A few months younger than Helaena and Aegon's little shadow in your childhood. Your older brother at first hated it, the way you cling onto him and gawk at him with an innocent awe.

It was your ninth name day, your Father had not paid much attention to it, but your Mother had ordered a celebration for it. You had trailed after him, babbling about nonsense as he tried to lose you. It was at dinner that night that everything had boiled over. Instead of receiving gifts, you had taken to giving everyone a gift.

He had not expected anything. He hadn't been the most kind to you. But was surprised when you had gifted him an embroidered cloth with Sunfyre on it. It was not the best and some threads were loose, but you proudly had told him you learned embroidery for him. Seeing those big doe eyes of yours his opinion changed. He adored you. You were the only one in the family that did not care about his worsening reputation. You just...adored your big brother, flaws and all.

It was why it killed him on your eleventh name day you were shipped off to the Reach, married off to a Lord as old as your Grandsire. He was haunted by your wails, of the way you clung onto Helaena and Aemond, the two of them wailing as Ser Cole carried you off to the carriage.

His young sister, the only one in the family who truly cared, was sold off like a piece of cattle. Not even your cold Grandsire was able to protest the marriage as politically it was a good match and good enough reasoning for the small council to approve it. 

As years ticked by, you gave birth to two children, a stillborn daughter and a healthy son. Your husband kept you away in the Reach, so no one in your family had seen you since you were twelve and given birth to your only surviving son.

He remembered the look in your eyes, so void and almost dead. Of how you tried to stay positive. Saying, "Tis' not so bad. He mostly ignores me, except when he wishes to bed me. But even then tis' not so bad, he finishes quickly."

When he became King, he swiftly ordered you to return home, regardless of your husband's wishes. No one would take his baby sister away from him. Not whilst he was still alive and had the crown placed upon his head.

Watching you bounce your son on your lap, he attempts to pay some attention to the small council, but his eyes keep straying back to you. It was odd to think that you were now a Mother and all grown up. Snapping out of his little daze, he glances back at the small council, each member arguing intently. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Ser Criston slides a piece of parchment in front of him, an uncomfortable look on his face. Raising a brow at what he had just returned to, he glances at the parchment, reading the words quickly. 

Your cunt of a husband was dead, finally croaked in his sleep. There was no reason for you to go back to the Reach. You could stay here in King’s Landing once more. Softly smiling at the good news, he goes to speak up when Lord Lannister stands up from his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. His face red from anger, his eyes wild like an untamable beast, and voice booming loud enough that it would make a dragon’s roar put to shame.

“To speak of the Princess in such a manner is dishonorable, I will see to it personally that your tongue is removed, Lord Wydle.” 

“The girl is of age, she has proven she can bear heirs, healthy heirs. To not give her hand to another Lord would be foolish.” 

“We need allies, the common folk are starving and soon the coin will run out. Surely as Master of Coin you can see reason, Lord Lannister.”

“Your grace, please, listen to reason we should⎯”

It takes a moment to realize what they had been discussing so intently. Then it clicks, they were speaking of having you remarry. 

"What?" He whispers, his voice shaky and full of disbelief.

"No, Aegon, please don't make me do this again. Please." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.

"It would be best to have your sister marry someone⎯"

"Think of the war, your grace⎯"

Seeing the tears building up in your eyes, it reminded him of all those years ago when you were whisked away to the Reach. Struggling to speak up and dismiss their suggestions, you kneel in front of his chair, gripping onto breeches as you beg and plead for clemency to their plans. Your son starts to wail on the other side of his chair, making motions with his hands to be picked up. 

Feeling his heart break a little at the sight, he shifts his gaze from you then your wailing son then back to the small council. Everything is hectic and he doesn’t know who or what to focus his attention on. Does he console you? Does he tend to your wailing son? Does he handle the small council? Struggling to find his voice, he just stays frozen in his chair. 

“Please, please, do not make me do this again, Aegon.” You beg, “I did what was asked of me before. Please do not ask this of me again.”

“We need allies, your grace. The Princess is still desired by many men, men who will look past her past marriage and son. Think of the kingdom⎯”

“Send treaties, then!”

“Please, Aegon. I ask as your sister, not a member of the Court. Please do not make me do this again. I do not wish to marry again. Please do not send me away again.” You beg, your voice cracking. 

Watching as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, he clenches his jaw tightly, anger boiling up at the sight of you. His precious little sister, the one person in all of the Realm that he truly cared for, was crying by his small council's hand. Slamming his hands down hard on the table, the room goes deadly silent, minus the soft sniffles of you and your son. 

“There will be no marrying off my sister! If you wish for such alliances as much as you claim, do offer your daughters instead, for I will not be doing the same to my sister nor my daughter.” 

“Your grace, if you would just⎯”

“I am King, no?” He snaps back, “There will be no questioning of my decision. The matter is settled.”

----

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[notmyneighbor]

Back Alley - Doppelgänger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count 5k

Rating Explicit

CW - minor blood/injury, fluff and smut

Also available on AO3

The end of your shift. The quiet part of the evening.

Nestled downtown in the oldest part of the city, the diner you’re employed at as a waitress caters to DDD members and civilians alike. The final patrons have already filed out the front entrance, a pair of glass front doors with shiny chrome handles. You begin the process of closing the establishment for the evening, starting with a final wipe down of all the surfaces in the dining area while the young man that washes dishes works his way through the last batch of soiled utensils and plates and cups. You count the money in the register and gather the receipts, placing everything on the owner’s desk in the tiny office in back of the restaurant.

The adolescent has finished the washing in the kitchen and finds you putting leftover food scraps onto a plate, a snack for the stray cats that dwell in the alley behind the diner. He rocks on his heels, the apron he’d been wearing already removed and now anxiously wrung between his hands. “Did you want me to wait, or…”

You smile softly. “No, that’s alright. I’m just going to set this out and bring out the trash and I’ll be locking up. Go on home. Be safe.”

Needing no further encouragement, the youth darts from the kitchen. You shake your head ruefully, gathering the ends of the plastic bag in the kitchen’s rubbish bin together and knotting them. Balancing trash in one hand and the plate in the other, you manage to open the heavy steel door at the rear of the diner that leads to the alley.

Normally there are several strays to greet you as soon as you open the door, accustomed as they are to this nightly routine.

Tonight it takes you several moments to locate one solitary form after you’ve lobbed the bag into the dumpster and closed the lid, retrieving the plate you’d set by the back door.

You spy one of your usual clients hovering near the stockade fence further down the narrow passageway, a raggedy looking gray tabby with a torn ear that’s normally the friendliest of the bunch.

“Hey there. What’s wrong, you’re not hungry?” You walk forward a couple of steps, crouching down and holding out your empty hand, making little affectionate sounds to lure the animal closer.

In the distance you hear voices shouting. Not uncommon in the city, but you’re still wary as you straighten, leaving the plate on the ground.

The cat, still hunched by the fence, issues a warning growl.

You turn and see a shape moving from the opposite end of the alley where it divides into the main road, the hair on your bare forearms rising, the skin goose pimpling.

You whirl around, already making for the open door at your back, that slice of light inside a beacon that’s frustratingly so close and yet so far.

You don’t quite make it.

A hand reaches the door before you do, slamming it shut. It becomes a wall at your back as you shrink against it, recoiling from whatever just closed it.

No, not whatever. The strays knew what it was. Now you know, too.

A doppelgänger.

This one dressed in the uniform of a milkman, though his outfit had seen better days. Spattered with blood, you cannot find a single patch of the white shirt that doesn’t bear some trace of scarlet droplets. Shouting again in the distance, though this time it sounds closer.

You open your mouth to yell for help and a hand instantly clamps down over it. The doppel is breathing heavily. It must be the DDD pursuing him. Without the light of the diner’s interior, you can’t see much of the creature’s replicated features in the night shrouded alley. You wonder why he hasn’t killed you yet, your heart hammering like mad.

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you help me, I’ll do something for you in return.”

He was trying to bargain? Bad idea. Doppelgängers were notorious liars. By definition of their very existence they had to be masters of deceit. He must have been desperate if he was making this offer. Definitely being chased by the disposal team officers, the likely source of the shouting you’ve been hearing, the details of the situation coming together in your mind.

You can’t imagine a single thing the invader could offer you that you’d desire.

“I’m going to remove my hand. We’re going to go inside. You’re not going to make a sound. Agreed? Nod if you understand me.”

Wide eyed, nostrils flaring, you move your head, signaling your acceptance of his terms. What choice did you have?

The barrier over your mouth lifts and you’re pushed aside, firmly but without malice, the heavy door wrenched open. You’re shoved inside and the door is quickly shut again.

“Is the front door locked? Lights off?”

You nod, swallowing past a panicked lump in your throat as you take a couple of steps back away from the intruder.

The male copycat sighs, shoulders visibly sagging with relief.

He’s still hiding.

Still wearing the visage of the human he’d duplicated, a tired looking brunette male probably in his early thirties with tousled chestnut hair, shadowed under eyes, a long nose with the slightest bump along the bridge—an old injury that had never healed quite right, perhaps—set above thin lips.

The arm that’s been tucked tightly against his side the entire time, never once in use to restrain you or open the door, you realize, now lifts, exposing a gash across his lower abdomen, rent right through the fabric and severing the flesh beneath.

You’d incorrectly assumed the blood had been from a struggle with the original milkman he’d replicated, not from the alien himself. You suck in a deep breath, wincing as your eyes linger on the injury. “What happened?”

“Got cut jumping the fence.”

“That’s going to need stitches,” you observe as he drags the shirt’s hem free of his belted pants, hurriedly thumbing the buttons open and shrugging out of the garment, thrusting it into the garbage bin you hurriedly point to. The undershirt is similarly stained, but this he leaves in place, merely lifting the edge to better expose the wound.

His eyes meet yours. “Can you do it?”

“I mean, I’m not a physician. All I have is the sewing kit I keep in my purse to mend tears in an emergency. You need to see a doctor, go to the hospital…” Your voice trails off. Of course he couldn’t. He’d be killed instantly.

“Get it.”

You hesitate. Were you really going to risk helping this foreigner?

“Please,” he adds through gritted teeth. Perspiration beads his forehead. You wonder if he hasn’t already been exposed to something that would prove infectious later on. Not really your concern, though. You just needed to survive until you could get away from him. Somehow.

“Alright.” You don’t spare any more time debating about what the right course of action is. You grab one of the clean dish rags from under the kitchen sink and your purse stashed in the bottom desk drawer in the office.

The doppelgänger’s eyes remained fixed on your every movement, watching as you soak the wash cloth in warm water and pull the sewing kit from your purse, the fingers threading the needle shaking. You drag one of the chairs from the dining room for him to sit on, kneeling on the linoleum beside his seated form.

You hesitate again. You really didn’t have the appropriate kind of materials for this. Should you have heated the needle to try to sterilize it first? Was there even time for that? Would it be easier just to attempt to cauterize the area? Somehow you don’t think the invader would be keen on the idea of getting burned, even if the intention was to aid and not harm. “I don’t know that this is going to work, but I’ll do my best. This is going to hurt,” you caution.

“Worse than being cut open?” He asks bitterly.

“No, I suppose not.” You begin washing around the cut, scrubbing at the dried blood, trying to clean the edges of the laceration. It’s still weeping blood but the flow has slowed, the body’s natural clotting process coming into effect. The milkman he’s replicated is on the leaner side, with little softness in the abdomen you’re cleansing. “Why can’t you just replicate the skin again? Make it intact?”

“It doesn’t work like that. It’s penetrated through the outer layer. You humans are so fragile. It doesn’t take much to tear through…” He lets that thought remain unfinished.

You shiver, thinking of how, were circumstances different, he would’ve torn you to shreds without a second thought, murdering you at best, devouring you at worst. You can’t help but wonder if the doppel will turn on you once you finished patching him up.

“Okay, I’m going to try to start sewing.” Your heart is still thudding rapidly. Your eyes narrow in concentration as you pierce the skin, hurriedly seeking the adjacent flesh to sling the thread between, then drawing it taut. You’re feeling a little nauseous and lightheaded. You tell yourself you’re not piecing a person back together. Urging yourself to pretend it was something else. Mending a torn shirt. A ripped stuffed animal. Anything but the gruesome sight before you.

At last the task is completed, the pale skin sutured together. You sit back on your heels, heaving a raspy sigh, your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, willing them to stop trembling.

“You’re skilled,” the doppelgänger murmurs, looking over your handiwork, probing the closed incision gingerly. It is a rather impressive job if you’re being honest, a neat line of even stitches despite your shaking hands.

“You’ll need to keep this clean so it doesn’t get infected. And you can’t move around too much. I don’t know how well that thread will hold.” You gently push his questing digits away, applying gauze and tape from the first aid kit in the office to cover the wound and he eases the ripped undershirt back down.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes meet his. You’ve never heard of an invader asking a human for help. Being grateful. You don’t know what to make of it.

“I won’t forget this.”

You rise, tossing the used wash cloth in the trash and returning your sewing kit to the depths of your handbag. You return the chair to the dining room once he’s slid from it, watching as you settle your purse strap on your shoulder, keys to the diner in hand. The replicant opens the back door a crack, peeking outside, head cocked slightly, listening. No shouting. The DDD had passed through the area. He glances back at you a final time before slipping through the gap.

You lock the door behind him, then sag against it, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’d let you live, as promised. A doppelgänger that kept his word.

What did it mean?

***

He’s in the alley again.

You tell yourself you weren’t looking for the milkman’s clone every night for the last three shifts, merely taking out the garbage and feeding the strays per usual.

Your stomach does a little somersault as he approaches. His skin color is better, no longer so ghostly pale. The milkman uniform he’s wearing looks clean and crisp and starched. Where had he gotten it? Was he keeping a low profile, pretending to be the human he’s dressed as? There certainly seemed to be some transfer of knowledge that occurred when the replicants adopted a human form, intelligence information that surpasses beyond what could be obtained through just casual observation. The doppels knew so much about humans, and humans still knew so little about the invaders, what should have been a home field advantage hampered by the persistence of these alien visitors.

“How are you?” You greet him cautiously.

“Healing well. You did a fine job.”

What should you say to that? You’re glad you helped the enemy? You shudder to think what would happen if anyone ever found that out.

The doppelgänger steps closer. “Are you going to invite me inside?”

As if he was a vampire, seeking permission to grant entrance. You can’t imagine what he wants from you now.

Still, you push the door open wider. He eases past you, his body lightly brushing yours.

“What do you have to eat?”

“Um…” As far as you knew, the invaders only ate human flesh. “What…what did you want? I haven’t cleared out the displays yet. There’s pie, donuts from the morning, though those are probably stale by now. I can make you a sandwich, or…”

He follows you into the dining room as you list the possible offerings, reaching for one of the chocolate iced pastries tucked under the nearest glass dome. He takes an experimental bite and his mouth turns down in disgust at the flavor.

“I warned you they’d be stale.”

“It’s not that. It’s the sweetness. Overwhelming. We’re primarily carnivores.”

“Is turkey okay? Or maybe ham? I don’t know what to offer you.”

He tips his head to one side, considering. “Cow?”

“Yes, we have ground beef.”

“That would be preferable.”

“You just want it…raw?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” There are a couple of defrosted packages in the fridge. You resolve to put some of your tip money towards the meal. You don’t like the idea of stealing from the restaurant.

It feels weird just handing him the styrofoam tray, but also silly to dump the mass of pink pulverized meat onto a plate. You refuse to watch him eat, studying one of the laminated menus resting on the counter intently, unfortunately catching a glimpse of him licking the traces of blood lingering at the bottom of the package when you dare to glance over at him.

“I’m aware this adds to the debt I owe you,” he says.

You discard the tray and fold your arms across your chest, trying to exude more confidence than you felt. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

A slight frown appears as the creature processes the phrase.

“It means adding it to the list of things you already owe that you intend to repay.”

“Ah. Yes, that.” He watches you finish cleaning up after his grim repast, wiping the counter down a final time before accompanying you to the front door and waiting as you lock the entrance from the outside, tugging on the chrome handles to make sure they’ve been secured properly. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yes,” you answer, suddenly wary.

“This is not a very safe part of town for humans,” he muses.

Is anywhere safe anymore?

“Is your living space guarded by the DDD?”

“Not internally. There’s just the street patrol.”

“I’ll accompany you as far as your destination, then.”

“You don’t have to.”

The doppelgänger insists, now walking beside you. It feels unwise to allow the invader to see where you live, but then again, had he done anything to harm you thus far? Surely there had been opportunity if that was his main goal. What was his main goal? What did he want, if not to consume, to take over control of the planet like his brethren?

“You’re not like the others,” you murmur your thoughts out loud, feeling the mimic’s eyes flick in your direction.

“Do you know many doppels?” He sounds bemused.

“No,” you reply, stepping over a broken bottle littering the pavement.

“Is every human the same?”

“Of course not.”

“So why should we be any different?”

“I guess you’re right,” you concede.

You’ve reach the end of the street you’re traveling on and take a right, leading the invader onward into another back alley. You’ve barely taken a few paces before the sound of heavy footsteps alerts you to someone else’s presence.

“Disposal team.” You hear the disgust and fear in your companion’s tone as he tenses, jerking to a halt. The sounds are getting louder as the guards draw closer. “Play along. They won’t be suspicious if they see a couple.”

Suddenly you’re pushed against the wall, so abruptly the air leaves your lungs, your next desperate intake of oxygen interrupted when the doppel’s mouth covers yours.

You feel you stomach do that little somersault motion again. His tongue finds the inside of your mouth. He tastes slightly metallic. The movements are inexperienced, clumsy. Imitating something he’s seen. The teeth that nip your bottom lip are sharp.

“Hey! You there! What’s going…” The DDD officer halts, the beam of the flashlight illuminating what appears as your lover pinning you against the wall, caught up in a moment of passion. You don’t even have to fake the look of embarrassment as your eyes shyly meet the guard’s, the doppel’s mouth sliding from yours.

“Sorry, sir. Just picked my girl up from work and I couldn’t wait.” He offers a sheepish grin that looks extremely convincing.

The DDD member’s partner draws even with his cohort, the gun in his hand lowering, looking over the pastel yellow dress you’re wearing.

“I know you. You work over at the diner.”

You nod frantically.

“You should get on home. It isn’t safe out here. Even with your man with you. Especially not down the side streets.”

“Sorry, that was my idea. My feet are killing me and I just wanted to get home faster.” You pause, reaching for your purse still slung over your shoulder. “Did you want to see our IDs?”

“Nah, that’s alright. Imagine a doppel making out with a human. Right?” He elbows his companion, grinning.

“Get home safe, now. No more dallying,” the older of the pair cautions before abandoning you, resuming patrol with the more inexperienced member who’s still wearing a smirk as he trails slightly behind, darting one more glance in your direction as if hoping to catch you in the act again.

The copycat heaves a sigh of relief when they’ve both finally departed, the booted steps receding in the distance. His eyes lock with yours, and you see his nostrils flare slightly, a slight frown wrinkling the bridge of his nose, then his eyelids lift, whatever mystery he’s been puzzling over solved.

“You liked that.”

“What?” It’s your turn to be confused.

“You liked what we just did.”

Oh. Your cheeks flush again. “No, I…I was just playing along, like you said. You caught me off guard.”

“You did a good job. Thinking on your feet. Admirable, really. How deep in debt I’m getting,” the doppel hums beside your cheek. He hasn’t shifted much since your discovery, one hand still braced on the wall at your back, his body leaning close to yours. “You smell good. Good enough to eat.”

You shiver and gasp. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“No, no. Not what I had in mind at all,” he hurriedly reassures you. The clone of the milkman plants a kiss on the side of your neck. Gentle. Not rushed, not under the guise of something to trick the guards. Repeating the process, getting accustomed to using the human body he’s replicated for this new task. He kisses your lips again, and you know you should be repulsed.

You’re not.

Your mouth parts for his, inviting him inside. He’s already growing more skilled, the tongue against yours slick, deft, curling and stroking, the fire he’d begun stoking in your core flaring anew.

You’re French kissing a doppelgänger, and you like it.

You feel a hand caressing down your body, pausing to drag the purse off your shoulder, then kneading one breast before sliding down to your hip, moving neatly around to grope the curve of one buttocks cheek. The fingers curl, dragging up the fabric of your dress.

“I can smell your arousal. Your body wants to mate.” It’s crass, vulgar, sheer filth the alien should be slapped for uttering, but there’s nothing derogatory in the way he mentions it, the words of observation that he spreads before your lips lilted with a kind of wonder, fascination, curiosity. He’s finally reached the hem of the skirt portion of your work uniform, shifting quickly to the waistband of the panties you’re wearing, dipping underneath and nudging at the fork of your body.

To be doing this, with a doppelgänger, in public…

Your legs are already shifting, your stance broadening slightly to grant him better access. A little grunt of satisfaction, and then his fingers glide through your slickened folds, searching for the source of that dampness.

You moan softly, disappointed when the fingers do not linger, instead brought up to the invader’s lips, his thumb rolling the slick of your sex over the pads of his index and middle fingers curiously before he thrusts them into his mouth, a fresh flood leaking from your canal as you watch his eyes slide closed, a sound of some rapturous enjoyment hummed around those digits.

He kneels down, the movement swift and smooth, your eyes darting nervously to the lit street so close and yet so far, the last of the street lamp glow’s reach ending just beyond the shadows you’re standing in. The doppel looks up at you and you bury a hand in the thick mane of chestnut hair, a tender gesture of permission, pleading. You don’t know if he’d stop even if you’d declined the offer, that ravenous look in his eyes intense as he impatiently shifts the hem of your dress again, dragging away the flimsy undergarment that clothes your sex, this last barrier discarded carelessly on the pavement nearby.

Your low heeled pumps scrape against the dirty gravel of the alley as you adjust your position, the alien’s face instantly at your pussy, nose digging into your mound, tongue laving the rosy sensitive flesh. He groans and you echo the sound, your legs already trembling as his tongue delves deeper, dragging fluid back, the inadvertent flick of the tip of the curled muscle against your bud making you gasp and moan, your head rocking back against the brick and mortar.

His attention focuses on that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, mouth clamping over it and sucking, slurping, nursing at it until you see spots in front your eyes. You know you’re being loud, your only saving grace being that the building at your back is a long abandoned shirt factory with no one to hear your lewd sounds of pleasure.

His fingers are at your entrance again, paired to penetrate into that opening. The milkman he’s imitating has long fingers that reach deep, curling and twisting inside, scooping out more of your arousal for him to lap at before he sups at your pussy, drinking straight from the source.

You bite your bottom lip until it bleeds when you climax, shuddering against that incessant mouth worshipping your cunt, your fingers knotting restlessly in his tresses. You cum like a freight train, hard and fast, an unstoppable force driving you right through into bliss.

He’s still lapping, enjoying the taste of you, this new creamier substance that emerges from deep within after your release. You can’t tolerate it any longer, now shoving gently at his shoulders, pleading you’re too sensitive, it’s too much, you feel as if you might faint if not for the strong building exterior supporting your spine.

The doppelgänger rises, face wet with your juices smeared across his mouth and chin and cheeks, a distinct shine visible even in this dim illumination. “Delicious,” he growls softly, dragging his fingers over his dampened features and then nursing them clean.

His gaze focuses on the smear of crimson on your lower lip and he licks at that spot, sucking the wedge into his mouth, tasting that little copper tinged leakage of your lifeforce. You whimper and keen, feeling his hand guide one of yours to his crotch, pressing it against the erection straining there.

You squeeze gently and he huffs in pleasure, dragging your hand up and down. Needing no further guidance, you begin struggling with the belt buckle and button closure and zipper keeping you from your goal, dragging his cock through the opening flap of his briefs, smearing precum over the tip and eliciting another deep growl, the mouth nuzzling your throat vibrating in pleasure.

“Want to fuck you,” he gasps, and you find yourself nodding, no longer caring about the exposed location or what you’re about to let invade your body. You want it, the brief satiety you’d just enjoyed already dissipating, leaving you hungry for more.

His hands loop around the back of your thighs, his body crouching slightly then lifting you up, your dress scraping along the bricks. He fucks up into you and your legs wrap around him, your wrists draped over his shoulders as you’re thrust into and back against the building.

The milkman’s copycat prick is large, long and thick, stretching you as he fills you when his hips snap forward. Your unprotected buttocks suffers abrasions each time you’re impaled but you couldn’t care less. The pain is lost amidst the pleasure you’re experiencing as he buries himself deeply, withdrawing just slightly before driving forward again. Your mouths seek one another’s but it’s difficult with all the jostling, a sloppy collision of wet lips and wetter tongue, trails of saliva linking your panting openings.

“Your stitches…the strain, you shouldn’t…you’re bleeding,” you gasp, the hand that snakes down finding his shirt sticky with blood.

“Don’t care…fix it later…”

Your breasts are tender from the repeated battering of his chest against yours. You’re being pummeled mercilessly now, the invader pushing so hard it’s as if he’s trying to merge completely with you. You almost think you can see, just for a moment, a shift in the facial features, a glimpse of the doppelgänger’s true form lurking beneath the false human surface, but then it’s gone and it’s just those soft tired eyes and that slack, generous mouth as his cock pounds into your cunt until your body finally surrenders to another release, your muscles clenching, sucking at his member. He chases his own climax, moaning against your mouth, pumping streams of hot seed inside of you.

You realize then you’re both sweating, both drenched in perspiration and saliva, blood from his reopened wound and cum that leaks out of you and coats the erection he withdraws from your body as he slowly lowers you back to the ground, your stockinged feet touching the dirty road, your shoes lying nearby where they’d tumbled during the rough intercourse with the alien creature.

The doppel retrieves your panties and you hastily shove them into the purse he hands you. There’s no way you’ll be putting those back on after being in the dirty alley, almost laughing aloud at the idea when you’ve just been soiled by something you should consider disgusting. The amusement fades as you watch him brush the sole of each nylon clad foot clean before assisting them back into your pumps, the gesture almost oddly tender and thoughtful.

The doppelgänger straightens, his fingers reflexively reaching for the bloodied area staining his shirt, then moving to refasten his pants. His eyes meet yours again, waiting to see what you’ll do next. Wondering if there is regret, perhaps. Or if this is the start of…something.

“I…I live two streets over. We’re nearly there.” As if you hadn’t been interrupted on your journey home. You don’t know what to say, just wanting to fill the sudden silence.

He nods and you begin walking in slow, measured steps. Your limbs are still tingling, the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm still firing through them.

You and your companion reach your destination. The building looms up between two shuttered shops. Five stories. No elevator. You resided on the top floor. A lot of stairs to tackle on a good night when you’d merely worked a shift at the diner. Now, after this…

“It’s a long trek. I’m on the fifth floor. Will you be okay walking that much? I don’t know where else to stitch you back up again. I need to wash it, I need a good light source, I…” You’re inviting him inside your apartment. The realization suddenly dawns on you.

“Yes, I’ll manage.” He pauses. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“Helping me avoid the DDD earlier. This. Letting me into your home.”

You nod, your hand resting on the rusted railing that borders a flight of cement steps leading inside the building. The nearby street lamp flickers, a bulb that was long overdue for a change, the filaments within struggling.

“Of course. People should help each other.” You ascend the stairs, holding open the door for him.

He nods gratefully. “I’m not human, though. I’m the enemy.”

“Are you?” Your voice sounds wary at this reminder and you pause at the top of the first landing.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, following you up the next flight of stairs.

“Until the debt is repaid?”

“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement, not a query.

“I don’t know how I feel.” You’ve reached the third floor. Despite his bravado earlier, you see him wincing slightly, his breathing ragged as he keeps one hand pressed to the injury. You wait for him to recover but he waves his other hand, indicating you should continue your journey.

“Did you enjoy it?”

The words make you halt abruptly and he nearly collides with you. You hurry up to the next landing and clear your throat before you give voice to your admission. “Yes, I enjoyed it,” you say when he reaches your side.

“Will we do that again?”

“Now?”

His solemn features break out into a smile. Handsome. The milkman whose appearance he’d copied was attractive, especially like this. You like the curve of that mouth, the flash of his teeth. “No, not now. I’m hardly in any condition to…I meant later,” he adds for clarification. “Another time.”

“Oh. Yes.” A sudden thought occurs to you. “Will you be safe from the patrol? On the way back, to wherever…”

“I’ll manage. Don’t worry.” He steps closer to you. “Are you that anxious to be rid of me?”

“No, I only meant…” You shake your head, feeling flustered.

“Were you looking for me tonight? When you were behind the diner. Hoping I’d be there, maybe?”

“Why would I…I hardly know you.”

“You know me a little better now though, right?” He crowds you back against the wall of the stairwell. You’re thinking maybe injury or not, he still wants you. You can feel the desire radiating from his eyes, his lips hovering close to yours. “You’re really something special, aren’t you? Out of all the humans to run into, and I find the only one who’s willing to take a chance on me, risk…” His voice trails off before he kisses your mouth. It seems impossible there would be any passion left inside of you to respond but you find your lips melting against his, one hand curling around the nape of his neck, holding the doppelgänger close.

[devildomcuties]

Obey Me: Climb into Bed [Dateables]

🕷 pairing: diavolo, barbatos, simeon, and solomon x gn!reader

🕷 wc: 961

🕷 summary: Unable to sleep, you sneak out of the House of Lamentation

🕷 warnings: making out, pet names (my love, sweetheart, babe, little one, implied smut, oral sex

🕷 a/n: I don't know what to call this line and I'm not fond of calling them side characters, so from here on out they will be dateables and the brothers will be demon brothers :)

Diavolo 

“Barbatos wouldn’t approve of your late-night shenanigans,” Dia says as he rolls over to see you at his bedroom door. 

“How did you know it was me?” You ask as you shut the door and head towards his bed. Diavolo sits up, moving the covers to welcome you into his bed. 

He’s shirtless, and in the glow of the lamp on the bedside table, you can make out every delicious ridge of his torso. 

“You expect me not to recognize the footsteps of the love of my life?” Dia asks as you strip your pajamas and climb in beside him.

You smile, melting into his side as his arm drapes over your waist. You lock eyes with him, bashful as he looks at you for a few moments in silence. 

Diavolo leans in, capturing your lips with his own. His large hand cups your cheek, and the other moves down to your lower back. Your leg ends up between his thick thighs, moaning as you rock up and down on his thigh. 

“Barbatos is going to kill me tomorrow,” Diavolo whispers in between saccharine kisses. 

“Why’s that?” You respond as his lips kiss their way down your jaw toward your neck. You grip his broad shoulders, cursing when he rolls on top of you between your legs and you feel his hard cock against your thigh. 

“Because we won’t be getting any sleep tonight, my love,” Diavolo grins as he kisses your lips again, moaning your name softly. 

Barbatos

“You really shouldn’t be in my bedroom this late,” Barbatos’ voice startled you as you shut his bedroom door. 

Across the room, he stands in nothing but a towel as his hair drips slowly onto his shoulders. You follow a drop of water running down his chest until it disappears into his teal bath towel. You gulp, pulsating as you blink, forgetting what he’s said. 

“Sweetheart?” Barbatos takes a few steps toward you while you try not to drool over his perfect physique. He smirks when he catches your gaze, your cheeks flaming hot.

“Yes?” You blink as he cups your face, his thumb tracing your lips. He doesn’t say a word as he kisses you, leading you to his bed where you fall with a gasp. 

Barbatos is on top of you, kissing your neck and helping you out of your pajamas before he drops his towel. His hair is still damp between your fingers when you tug it, pinning his face to your neck as he licks the column of your throat before his teeth sink in. 

“Barb!” You gasp, arching into him as his hands settle onto your hips. Your legs wrap around him as you pant, moaning when he moves lower. 

“I suppose the Young Master shall have a late start to his morning tomorrow,” Barbatos chuckles. “For I will be busy attending to your every need tonight.”

Simeon

“Baby?” Simeon looks up from his journal when he hears his bedroom door open. 

“Hey,” you wave shyly. 

“You shouldn’t be out so late,” Simeon scolds gently as you approach him. He closes his journal and sets his pen on his desk. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I sent you a message on the D.D.D. but you didn’t respond,” you explain. 

Simeon blushes as he reaches for the device. He was still learning how to use it and knew better than to ignore it when it pinged but inspiration had struck and he’d been writing since after dinner with Luke and Solomon. 

You take Simeon’s hand, leading him to the bed. Simeon takes his shirt off, tossing it onto the desk chair as you lift the covers and slide beneath them. He joins you a second later, pulling you to him. His dark hair falls over his eyes as he leans in to kiss you. 

“Did you miss me, little one?” Simeon teases as he kisses your jaw, cheek, and earlobe. “Couldn’t sleep without me next to you?”

“I wanted you to come to me,” you answer him, your hands running over the broad expanse of his back. “Wanted to feel you, kiss you, devour you.”

Simeon groans, moaning your name as he pulls you on top of him. His hands grip handfuls of your ass, kissing you deeply as you grind down on him. 

“Well, you’re here now and I aim to please,” he whispers before he kisses you again, his fingers unbuttoning your top easily as you grind on him once more. 

Solomon

“You know, I could have just popped into your bedroom instead?” Solomon smirks as you appear in his bedroom beside his bed. 

You jump, not expecting him to be behind you. 

“I tried sneaking out first but Lucifer caught me,” you sigh as you climb into bed with him. “I had to barter with Satan to get a spell book.”

“Resourceful,” Solomon laughs as he pulls you to him. “Next time just call and I’ll be right over. You know Lucifer won’t be able to keep me from you.”

“But isn’t it more fun to sneak around?” You grin as you kiss Solomon. He moans as you push him onto his back, your legs straddling his hips. His hands find their place on your ass.

“You do love the thrill of danger,” Solomon whispers as you kiss your way down his shirtless body. When you reach his sweatpants, you run your hand over his erection, licking your lips before tugging his sweatpants down with his boxers. 

Solomon curses, eyes shut as you wrap your lips around him. His heart rate spikes, pleasure coursing through him as you take him into your mouth. 

His fingers thread in your hair, moans escaping his pretty lips until he’s nothing but a puddle of lust underneath you.

©devildomcuties - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms.

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.

Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.

Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.

Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.

Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”

… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.

Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.

It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.

“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.

“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).

“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.

“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”

The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”

——

The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.

Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.

Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.

The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”

Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.

———

Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.

[ghostgirl101]

I just wanna say that I am SO excited for the part 2 to your Paul Destiny fic. I have so many questions and Im excited to see if they get answered. Like if Paul is pledging his love to the reader then is the romance plot with Chani still relevant? Is the reader still the princess here? Very interesting

Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅱ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.7K || Fluff ||

A/N: Honestly, I didn't think this would blow up so much- 1k+ likes??! Thank you all, it's sick 🙃 in answer to your questions, I didn't really specify if the reader (you) are part of a Great House or the Emperor's daughter, or maybe someone else, that's kind of up to your imagination. And yeah, sorry Chani fans, I kind of kicked her to the curb lmao; This is all about you, and so enjoy the second and final part of this destiny trope before I work on some relationship headcanons for Paul and Feyd-Rautha... Requests are open for Dune 2, so don't be shy 📩

You can't escape fate.

It's as real as the Spice that threads through the grains of sand blanketing Arrakis in heavy, warm golden waves. It twists and turns in the air, in the tides of change, something beyond understanding roping together reality and its lives to bond, whether in love or hate.

At least, with the newly ascended young Emperor, you know which side you're on. Since the day of his declaration and claiming of you as his Empress, you've never once left his sight, unknowingly or not. The boy is almost ridiculously close and observant, as if testing the depths of the events unfolding around him, testing to see whether you'll try to run from them, from him. But you can't run from fate, either.

"You aren't resting."

Paul's soft, low voice slices through the silence of the dusk, the only words you hear before you feel his warm, firm arms slipping under your arms and around your middle, pulling you into his front in a smooth, protective motion. His chocolate brown locks tickle your neck and cheek as he gazes up at you from your shoulder; wandering, curious eyes study yours knowingly, his natural hues tainted blue with the Spice.

"What troubles you?"

You hesitate in your response, unsure of the right thing to say. There's no point in lying, not to him, to a boy who could easily use the power of his Voice to make you tell him everything and anything with just a few words. He's done it to the Bene Gesserit, to those who speak out of turn and challenge him cluelessly, but never to you. And something tells you that he never will.

"I'm sorry," is how you answer instead, in a small whisper, trying to read his expression before his reaction.

But all Paul does is give you one of his soft, amused smirks, a brow raising slightly, unconvinced.

"Don't apologise to anyone for anything," he murmurs, his fingers drifting to lock with yours, his hand hot and strong in yours. "We are to be wed, you and I, soon. So what troubles you?"

"It's not you," you tell him as earnestly as you can, his eyes capturing yours and holding them as you blink up at him. "I'm just... nervous."

"Nervous?" Paul repeats gently, his hands squeezing yours for a moment, his face an inch away from yours. "What have you to be nervous about?" He grins slightly, not attempting to hide his teasing amusement. "A wedding?"

You can't help but smile at his tone, savouring the unguarded moments of the new, young Emperor, his boyish traits lingering beneath the newfound power and promises passed down to him.

You were nervous, because you weren't so familiar with destiny and its quirks, and yet, Paul Atreides seemed to be its master. Nervous, because although there was a strange pull between you and him, a deeper part of you somehow knowing him, at an instinctive ease with him, you had never met him before these past few days, and now, you were going to be joined together for time indefinite by marriage. Nervous, because he didn't just want you to rule with him, but alongside him, as a partner, a second part of him. His second half who's with him in soul, not just spirit, physically, not just mentally. And he's relishing in it.

"I've never had one before," you shake your head with a light smile, "I don't know what to expect. Or what's expected of me."

Paul hums to himself at your reply, pausing for a while as he thinks over his words.

"It isn't just a wedding," he tells you quietly, "it's so much more. This... this a beginning. A new dawn."

"Beginning?" You echo in bemusement, looking up at him in wonder. "Of what?"

"Of a new era," Paul says thoughtfully, his hands moving from yours to run over and down your sides, tracing over your figure absentmindedly, a gesture that makes you hold your breath for a beat as you watch him, "the first of many. You are more than a mere future. You're the future. My future. And the future of my people."

The sincerity and conviction in his voice makes you stare back at him in slight awe, taken by his certainty of what he's seen in the deepest stretches of his mind, the flickering images of you, adorned in all your natural beauty and grace that he could find nothing short of perfect. You were a fantasy and a hope materialised. Someone he'd wished and dreamed for so much, that you came true, just as you should have.

"Anything that happens to you," Paul continues, looking you straight in the eye as he speaks, "happens to me. You have always been mine, and I was yours before then. Absolutely and completely."

And his words make a home in your head, everything he says so poetic and beautifully surreal, but so honest and unwaveringly confident. He didn't need to practise what he said before he whispered the sweet words in your ear, in a voice only you could catch, in the long, warm nights on Arrakis. There was no need for practice. He had been made for this, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You let yourself relax slightly in his grips, giving him an earnest smile. "That sounds nice."

Paul smiles back at you, a bright, sweet smile that makes him seem so soft and normal, almost forgetting for a moment of his utter strength and glory over the planets, his dangerous darkness that he occasionally allowed to rule over his actions at the tensest of times, until those who stood up against him retreated in bewilderment and fascination and fear.

"It does," he agrees, his gaze dropping to look out at the dunes beyond you, "you can't imagine..."

You couldn't. But every part of you wanted to. And those parts won.

"Won't you tell me?"

Paul's attention shifts back to you after you speak, before you can stop yourself.

"Would it be kind to tell you?" He asks aloud, speaking half to himself as his eyes go to search yours again, studying every inch of you, almost unsettlingly intently.

"Do you dream?" Paul questions you softly, and you dither before shaking your head.

"Not like you do," you answer steadily.

"Like I do. Seeing your face amidst the streaks of sunbeams and every kind of ethereal power that could create wonders, planets, worlds. Waking up, and you're not here, though it felt so real," he goes on, his voice laced with longing, as if it pained him to remember the feeling. "Realer than I've ever felt anything before. Every sense in me was awakened, because with destiny, I saw hope. And I did not know that hope could be so.... beautifully... angelic."

Paul draws closer and closer with each word, pulled by invisible strings to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a long moment to breathe, breathe you in. The sight of it is almost dizzyingly hypnotic, staring at the little scattered freckles over his fair, lightly tanned skin, cheeks flushed golden. He moves his face to rub his cheek against yours, seeking out affection in an irresistible rare, vulnerable move. Your hand reaches up to brush your fingers against it, and he takes it in his immediately, pressing his lips against your fingertips as he speaks.

"I need you," Paul insists, his voice firm and pressing again as he stares at you with a spark of desperation. "I need only you. More than you can comprehend. By my side, always, where you belong."

"I'm right here," you reply a little giddily, looking away from his eyes slightly bashfully from the intensity and unbridled longing of his gaze. "I suppose I'm just not used to this."

"To what?" Paul questions, his fingers tilting your chin up softly to force your eyes back up to his, his face a little closer than before. "To being an Empress?"

Before you can respond, he's pushed himself closer over you, his warm, damp lips sliding and pressing against yours and parting to encourage you to deepen his affections. It sends hot shockwaves rushing straight through your blood, as Paul crouches over you, all patience and purpose forgotten in the moment where it's just the two of you in the calm, lingering desert night.

You fit together perfectly, too perfectly for his words to be untrue, and his head tilts keenly where your fingers skim his neck, his lips parting from yours as they tangle in his hair with a short gasp. He loses none of his confidence and persistence, his azure blue eyes a shade darker as he watches you with an open trace of adoration.

"A queen?"

"Paul," you start shakily, as he smirks at you fondly, his head ducking to trace his tongue briefly up the skin of your neck, with a faint chuckle.

"To being desired?"

You glare at him weakly, hanging onto his hands tight to find some sense of grounding. "You're just playing with me."

"I intend to do so much more than that," Paul grins at you, kissing your cheek before burying his face against your shoulder. "And so should you. Test the depths of our connection. Push it to its limits. Push me. Please."

You find yourself speechless again at his way with words, simple and truthful, but full of passion and unthought romance, a sensation he's been craving since the first shadows of your being in his hazy dreams and visions.

"Give into your destiny, sweet girl," he croons to you in a whisper, his lips brushing against yours and pressing down against your skin needily, hungrily. It takes almost inhumane strength not to crumble and shiver under his touch and desire radiating off him and his dark glare, the wanting over years of dreams and prophecies building up to its peak. "Give into me."

"I think I will," you whisper back in awe and giddiness, your arms having to hold tightly around his neck to stay upright. "I think I want to."

"That's good," he praises you with a soft smile, as his voice lowers. "And besides," Paul mutters in your ear, nuzzling against your cheek breathlessly, with that subtle, teasing look in his eyes, "I plan on taking you as mine well before the wedding."

══════════════⊹⊱≼ fin ≽⊰⊹══════════════

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @minaxcarter @milaeth @ennycutie @weird0o0 @aoi-targaryen @jindongdongie

[sguidwards-bestfriend]

Young Old Things

I like the thought of a deaged Dan causing a misunderstanding between Danny, Vlad, and the batfam.

TW: sexual assault hinted at

....

Danny, Dan, and Ellie go to see Jazz in Gotham. They've been waiting to "visit" her for weeks since she moved out. Only waiting for her to get a big enough place for all of them. Danny already said he'd share a room with Ellie and Dan, especially now that they found out if she is her true age she'll start to stabilize more permanently with Danny's ecto. Plus, having Dan be the same size helps, or so she says (he might be desperate for a new family and Ellie is trying to help, Danny and Jazz never bring it up in front of him).

The Fenton parents don't know about Danny being Phantom, instead believing that some big ghostly event caused Danny to have a ghost daughter.

And that he tried to clone himself mixed with a ghost to use that body to stabilize her. They may be proud of their scientist son, they are not proud that he won't let them experiment on his ghostly "creations".

Of course they are entirely wrong:

Ellie is one of Vlads' attempts to clone him, the only one that survived.

And Dan is an amalgamation of Danny and Vlad from an alternate timeline. He doesn't know why he's keeping that from his parents. He owes nothing to that scumbag, but Jazz says many victims try to keep their abusers safe from facing consequences. Before Dan was deaged, and much before he met the Fenton parents, he'd pointed out that he'd be scared who his parents would have chosen to believe too.

Jazz gets a full ride scholarship with Gotham U, the Wayne's new massive donation to the psychology department, as well as her well written letter about being the head of her home, helped immensely.

She felt bad using a slightly blurred version of their story to get a good scholarship, but Danny pushed her to go for it.

Hence her, Danny and his 3 year old "twins" were at a gala for the university.

It was being held in the museum after closing hours. The invitation she got had specified that her brother was invited, each with a plus one.

They couldn't exactly get a babysitter for two super-powered toddlers in the city known for hating metas. Besides it wasn't like they had time to get dates anyway.

The night started out fine. There were scholarship students, student council members, some Gotham U staff, and a few rich folk mingling and eating tiny foods that both Ellie and Dan adored.

Ellie fell asleep in Danny's arms almost the second she'd finished eating, and Dan was overly protective of the both of them as always. Of course the dense crowd and constant noise wasn't helping calm him down.

A Wayne, he wasn't sure which one exactly, had brought Danny a plate of food and sat with him as he tried to distract Dan. At first Dan didn't care for him at all, but he mentioned reading about the constellation on Dan's shirt and he loosened up. He never let go of Danny's pant leg though.

The night turned sour when all three's ghost sense went off. There was no immediate threat, but even the Wayne kid noticed them tense and turned to the hallway.

Dan was the first to spot him. "Vad."

"Bad?" The man mimicked.

"He has trouble with his Ls."

"No! I can say Ellie." Dan huffed, poking the side of her sparkly green shoe.

"Vlad, the guy that walked in." Danny said, decidedly looking down into his daughter's sleeping face, squished into his shirt and drooling.

"Vladimir Masters?"

He nodded, before he could continue however Dan spoke up.

"He is bad. He's the reason I was born. And Ellie too." Dan put himself in front of Danny, his little legs going over Danny's feet like a guard dog.

He could see the Wayne's hands tighten into fists, he tapped the inside of his wrist a bit and watched as he squirmed in his seat.

"Hey, Tim." Another dark haired light eyed Wayne and a girl came up to them. "Who's this?"

"Danny, these are my sibilings. Dick and Cass. Guys, this is Danny."

"Hi, nice to meet you Danny. I'd shake your hand but it looks busy." He gestured towards Ellie. As his hand swept nearer, Dan tried to swipe it away. "Oh, and who's this."

"I'm Dan. You can't touch Mommy." His little face contorted into his best toddler attempt at scaring them off.

"I would never do that. No one here would." Dick said as he crouched down to be eye level with his son.

"He would." Dan pointed at Vlad, all three turned to look at the man. Before anyone else noticed, specifically Vlad himself, Danny pushed his arm down.

"Don't point, it's rude."

"He's a rude butt." Danny laughed softly and Dan continued. "It doesn't mater that I'm half of him, I'll never be evil like him." He yawned and laid his face on Danny's leg.

"I think that's enough signs that we should head home. Thank you for talking with me, Tim."

"No problem, it was m-"

Dan grabbed around Danny's legs and whined "I don't wanna gooOOOooo. I want more of the tiny hot dogs."

Danny looked up to see Vlad infront of the food table. The Wayne sibilings followed his gaze "I'm sorry buddy, but-"

Tim stood up, "I'll get you guys a whole mountain of the tiny hot dogs. Why don't you guys wait for me at the door." Ever so softly he heard Tim whisper, "Go with them." To his brother.

"Where are your things? I'll help you get ready." Dick looked around like he didn't know where the coat closet was. He'd probably been to events like this hundreds of times, but Danny appreciated the sentiment.

"Their stroller is at the entrance, I have to get my sister though."

The girl who hadn't said a word hummed and went off, "Cass can find her, I'll help you and we can meet at the entrance."

"Alright, thank you."

It wasn't until they had both kids in the stroller with their coats on and Dan had a bottle of milk (with a lot of ectoplasm in it) that Danny realized he'd never mentioned who his sister was.

Dick waved towrds the end of the hall and saw his sister and the two Waynes he'd met walking with Brucie Wayne himself.

Jazz looked down and pat Cass' hand. "Thank you for getting me."

"Danger." Her voice was soft, but she didn't seem shy like he had expected.

"All four of you seemed to get along well with my kids. Would you like to come by for dinner next week?" Brucie asked as he looked between the four of them.

"I'd love to!" Jazz said enthusiastically. "Would Tuesday ight work?"

Danny could see the gears start to speed up in her head and he huffed a little. "Jazz, I need to get them in bed."

"Right, of course. Thank you again, for everything."

"Tuesday night works perfectly," Brucie Wayne said with a massive smile on his face, "we'll send someone to pick you up. Have a good night."

With that they walked down the ramp and down a few blocks to their two bed room apartment.

"Jazz," She looked over to Danny, "I think they know more than they are letting on."

She lent over the stroller a bit to check if the kids were asleep, before adding, "I agree, I think there is something up with them, but I don't think they're bad."

"Dan was okay with them mostly, and Ellie was fast asleep even with then around."

"I guess we'll just have to find out, then. Besides, it would be good for you to make friends your age and not at the car shop."

"Yeah, alright."

[katz-chow]

any thoughts for pervy könig? i know he'd be so gross amd clingy, constantly stealing panties and huffing at them :( or watching you across from the showers, fisting his leaky cock and making eye contact with you :(

i bet he'd be stalk you 'nd everything !!! being so creepy and openly desperate :(

ignore this if you're uncomfortable !!

warnings: nsfw, gn! reader, pervy, toxic, power play, corruption kink, stalking, somnophillia, not proofread :D

all the things that lead up to that though, waiting and stalking you to see your reaction to everything hes doing.

him purposely putting a hand on your lower back to walk past you, his large hand traveling a bit too far down until you feel a squeeze on your ass

the next time he does it, you quickly arch into his grasp and look at him with those doe eyes of yours, all innocently. from then on, he knows how cheeky and desperate you are

always teasing you by making you go shower last, saying he needs some…help with paperwork. you always agree because he’s your superior!! why wouldn’t you??

ends up with the both of you in the empty showers late at night, you rubbing the soap down your body with the open curtains, allowing him to lean back on the benches by the lockers to feel his pants tighten, your freshly worn underwear in his hand.

by the time he finally pulls his stiff, leaky cock out, he can’t help but use your underwear to jerk him off :( it’s the closest thing he’ll allow himself to you, you’re just so young and precious!!

will keep your cum stained underwear to “wash for you”. you ended up never seeing them again…along with a few other pairs

pervy konig who sneaks into your room while you’re asleep using his rank to get the master key. he sits there kneeling on the floor next to your bed as he sniffs your hair and your musk, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat from your sleep

he inhales your scent and just like that, he leaves his own potent one, cumming on your sheets…or if he’s feeling rather possessive, he’ll grind against your arm or hand until he cums all over you

pervy konig who grinds up against your ass when you’re both supposed to be focusing on a debrief, but he doesn’t care, it could’ve been an email. not his fault you’re standing next to him, your smell just turns on something feral in him

making you go into parade rest, your hands behind your back to grope and touch his growing bulge while no one dares peep a word about him grinding and grunting in the back of the room, he’s their superior too!! why would they risk getting in terrible trouble? especially harsh when someone that’s not him making you embarrassed

pervy konig who thigh fucks you, rarely ever allowing his dick to your oh so needy parts, slick dripping down your thighs and mixing with his own precum. when he thinks you’re doing particularly good, hell intentionally slide higher and rub against you, making you tremble and moan, edging you and denying. it leaves you all needy, allowing him to do all the pervy stuff just for the chance that he might authorize you to cum

“you’re too good for me, schätzelein…can’t stand ruining you yet…”