#IT'S SO FUCKING QUIET THOUGH IF YOU YOURSELF ARE PLAYING HIM GOOD LORD

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astarion origin playthrough worth it just for all the extra moments where he does the "sad wet cat" face

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bluebird — Part V — (Azriel x Reader)

Hi! Sorry it took me a while to get this out! Hope this looong chapter makes up for it a little. Enjoy!

Warnings: None for this part.

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Azriel was close. 

His hands gripped the female’s full, sumptuous hips, fingers digging into the flesh. And in the throes of pleasure, he didn’t glance once at those hands he hated so much.

His head falling back, he released a deep, guttural groan; release stormed him. Coursed through his body. 

As his panting breaths evened out, the female flipped onto her back, shooting a sultry smile up at him. “Feeling a little better?” She asked. 

No. Not really. He nodded all the same, shrugging his shirt on. “Thank you.” 

In reality, the pleasure hall probably wasn’t the best place to come to in such a foul mood; he didn’t make for very good company. But he’d needed something — anything — to occupy him for a little while.

Sex, as it turned out, did not make everything better. 

As he finished dressing, he dipped into his pocket, producing a coin that he held out to the pretty, plump redhead on the bed. 

She blinked up at him. “That’s way too much.”

Azriel shrugged. “Buy yourself something nice.”

In all honesty, it was rare that he left the pleasure hall in a good mood. He found, despite the nature of the place, that fucking someone and leaving straight after made him feel like a wretch — even if that was what he’d paid for. 

He wasn’t sure why he continued to come here, really. He’d only started to do so upon Rhys’s encouragement, to sate the desires he felt around Elain. 

And maybe it was working. He hadn’t felt them recently.

“Thank you.” The female looked genuinely touched by the gesture. “See you soon?”

Azriel dipped his chin. He didn’t know if he meant it when he responded, “Absolutely.”

He left the private room, weaving his way through the dark, narrow corridors of the pleasure hall. A chorus of breathy, sultry moans followed him wherever he walked, and he found himself desperate to get back out to the main bar area. To cleanse his thoughts for a little while.

He was restless. Had been restless for over a month.

He’d abided by Rhysand’s orders — of course he had. There was no justifiable reason he could muster to overrule what the High Lord had said and continue his surveillance of the human villages. Of one village in particular. 

Everything had itched and pawed at him to go back, though. Every day, he thought of that piano music. The beautiful hands that played it. The fact that the sweet woman who had feared him so absolutely had also helped him. Showed him kindness.

It hadn’t been easy to stay away. But stay away, he did.

He ran a hand through his hair, heaving a quiet sigh as he made his way towards the bar. He needed a drink strong enough to chase away his thoughts, to remind him that everything that mattered was this side of the Wall—

But he stopped in the hallway. And almost scowled to himself at the sound of the piano music that snaked over to him. 

It was a male who sat at the keys, entertaining those nursing a drink around him while scantily-clad females sauntered in between tables, touching shoulders, coaxing punters to join them somewhere private.

The music was…clanky. Strange and off-kilter. There was nothing beautiful about it, nothing soothing and ethereal. The male’s fingers practically pounded the piano keys; he seemed to be under the impression that the louder he played, the better it sounded. 

Azriel didn’t care to stick around and hear any more. He knew the music that he craved, and where to find it. 

But Rhysand had given an order.

So he turned on his feet and went home.

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Az traipsed into the sitting room, slumping down into his usual chair. Cassian already had a glass of amber liquid waiting for him.

“You smell like sex.” The General commented.

The Shadowsinger downed the drink in one go, staring into the embers of the fire. The entire flight home, he’d heard piano music in his head, felt it in his bones — could have sworn it floated to him on a wind, coaxing him in the direction of the Wall.

He was desperate for it. For the music, and for the person who played it so stunningly. 

He was so, so sick and tired of being forbidden. 

Sworn off Elain and sworn off going near the human lands and sworn off having a fucking life. He didn’t mean to be bitter. Rhysand was his brother as well as his High Lord, and Azriel loved him dearly.

But it was easy for him to bark orders from the cushy comfort of his settled life. He had a mate; someone to go home to. Someone he could hold in the cold, long nights. Someone he could sound off to. Someone he could give his best and worst to. 

And judging by the direction things were going in with Cassian and Nesta, it wouldn’t be long before Cass had that, too. And gods, Az didn’t begrudge his brothers these things — not for a second. 

But could he not have, at least, the soothing presence of music? Something to fill that lonely, aching chasm in his life? And perhaps a…a friend, too. 

He dragged a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. The sound of a piano played distantly in his mind. Maybe if he just…allowed himself to hear it once more—

“What’s wrong with you?” Cassian studied him, a frown pulling at his features. “Is it—did you hear about Elain and Lucien?”

Az hated how quickly he looked up. “What of Elain and Lucien?”

“There’s been some progression in their relationship, apparently. I don’t know the details.”

Azriel stared forward, pursing his lips. Waited for that telltale sting of jealousy to wash over him. 

And it did. But it felt…different. Misshapen. Not jealousy about Elain and Lucien per se, but simply at the prospect of having another happy couple to smile around. Whilst he was restricting himself so thoroughly. It seemed…it seemed unfair. He hated it. 

He’d had enough.

Cassian seemed to be trying to puzzle out his expression. “What're you thinking?”

“Nothing.” Azriel sat up. “I just…forgot to do something.” 

“What—”

But Az was already rising from the chair, wings flaring. The music in his head seemed to increase in volume, like it somehow sensed his change of heart. 

He could look out for himself. He wouldn’t be doing any harm by travelling to a little human village. He didn’t need Rhysand to coddle him. 

He didn’t say another word as he strode from the room.

He’d made his mind up.

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You’d grown used to an ever-present loneliness in your life. It had, in fact, become such a being of its own right — an entity — that in a strange sort of way, it had turned into company. Loneliness was a loyal companion.

But it was nights like these that it taunted you. Reminded you that you didn’t have a life — desperate as you were to just…experience things.

Your village’s Summer Festival was a huge event every year. But you were only permitted to experience it by listening to the distant sounds from your backyard.

The only positive was that it drove all your usual punters away; every single person in the village would be out in the fields, dancing and drinking the night away; enjoying themselves. Everyone except you.

You’d begged your father to let you join, of course. But his response was the same one he gave every year; it’s just not safe, Y/N. I can’t spend the night keeping an eye on you. I’m more comfortable knowing you’re at home.

You tried to remind yourself that he was simply being protective, that it came from a place of love. Your mother’s brutal death at the hands of the Fae had traumatised him so thoroughly that he wouldn’t risk such a thing happening to you. And particularly not with the slayings of village girls still on everyone’s mind.

But it had been over a month, now, since the last killing. 

And the same amount of time, too, since Azriel had been in your home. Since you’d helped him.

You wondered if it was a coincidence that his absence had brought a sudden stop to the brutal murders.

Probably not. Which meant it was probably a good thing he hadn’t returned, despite a small, strange part of you hoping that he would.

You sighed quietly to yourself, feeling boxed-in in the confines of your small, concrete yard. Distant music floated to you on a summer breeze, accompanied by the smells of bonfires and roasting meat. At a higher vantage point, you’d probably be able to glimpse those very fires lighting up the fields. The fun that you couldn’t be a part of. 

It was…disconcerting, to feel the village so empty. Even your most trusted regulars had ditched The Bluebird Inn for the Summer Festival. It would be wise to lock yourself inside, perhaps lose yourself in playing your own music. You turned—

Darkness and shadows appeared before you. The scream that left you could have filled the entire village. 

Azriel stepped straight out of those very shadows — seemingly out of nowhere. You gawked at him, stumbling back a few steps.

He looked…ethereal. Perhaps just because this time, there was no blood or pain marring his features. But bathed in moonlight, you couldn’t deny how utterly stunning he was.

Nor could you deny the thrill that shot through you upon seeing him again.

His lips quirked up into a tentative smile. “Sorry — I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You swallowed, looking around for some indication of where he’d even come from.

“…I saw you from above.” He studied you. “It seemed safer to winnow than fly down.”

“Winnow?” You were unfamiliar with that word. 

“It’s like…stepping through shadow. Directly from one place to another.”

Right. Because of course he could do stuff like that. For the same reason he had wings.

He wasn’t human. 

He was Fae. Perhaps even a human-slaying Fae.

You weren’t quite sure how to respond. 

But in that moment, his gaze flicked around inquisitively. “Where is everyone?” 

“It’s the village Summer Festival.” You couldn’t stop yourself from studying him. “Everyone will be down in the fields.”

“…And it’s not your kind of thing…or…?”

You hesitated; you didn’t really have any reason to answer him. And if he was, after all, responsible for the murders in the village, it didn’t seem wise to admit that you were here all alone, not a single other resident around to hear your screams.

But something — perhaps his Fae allure — coaxed the truth from your lips. “My father prefers that I stay home. He feels reassured that I’m safer here.”

Azriel pursed his lips, his intense, honeyed eyes seeming to narrow on you. What he was seeing or thinking, you couldn’t possibly know. You felt self-conscious under his gaze. Pathetic. Human. 

Vulnerable. 

And yet, none of that explained why you hadn’t yet gone running back into your home and tried to barricade the door, fruitless as the effort might be. It didn’t explain why, on some deeper level you weren’t sure you had access to, you didn’t want to do that.

“That doesn’t seem very fair.” He eventually spoke, his tone just as indulgent as his eyes. “Everyone having fun while you’re not.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “My father’s protective.”

He nodded. “So you can’t join the festival.” A slight pause had his eyes flitting upwards. “Have you ever wanted to fly?”

The question seemed so preposterous that you couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. As though the ability to fly was a normal, everyday thing. Here, in front of you, was a lethal being of a species you neither understood nor respected. Here, in front of you, was a potential killer.

And yet, instead of killing you — like he absolutely could have done already — he was asking peculiar questions. The sheer bizarreness of the situation had you a little dizzy.

“I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.” Your eyes darted to his wings; you’d never seen a person with wings before. “Why would I have done?”

“Some people would like nothing more than to be able to escape to the skies. For that luxury, I’m very lucky.” He held out a gloved hand. “How about it?”

You gawked at him. “You’re offering to take me flying?”

“I am.”

“…Why?”

“You shared your music with me. That’s your escape.” Azriel’s eyes softened imperceptibly. “Flying is mine. So let me return the favour.”

Bad idea. Very, very bad. Accepting his offer could be akin to strolling freely into a lion’s den and asking it to maul. You didn’t know where he’d take you, or what he’d do with you there. Perhaps he would soar as high as possible and then allow you to fall to your death—

Somehow — foolishly — your intrigue, your excitement, that lick of pure thrill, were all far bigger than your doubts. 

Somehow, you knew that if you refused, and Azriel walked away, you would want him to come back. 

Standing in front of him was awakening something in you. Something that might be dangerous and risky and unwise. Something that you never would have imagined yourself giving in to. 

You were powerless against it. And when another bout of distant laughter reached your ears, you knew you’d made your decision.

The corners of Azriel’s lips flicked up, and he wiggled his fingers; like he’d sensed the exact second your doubts had faded into the background.

“…Alright.” You relented after a lengthy pause. “Show me how to fly.”

You slipped your hand into his gloved one. And you knew you didn’t imagine it as you both faltered at the odd sensation that seemed to encase the both of you. Azriel stilled for a moment, staring at you, your joined hands suspended in the air.

And then he was clearing his throat. Shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Can I—is it alright if I lift you into my arms?”

Another thrill soared through you, stretching from your head to your toes. So inexperienced you were with human contact — or rather, Fae contact. You’d never held somebody’s hand, never felt another’s body pressed against yours. And not for lack of yearning.

The fact that Azriel had bothered to ask your permission instead of just yanking you into his arms…it had your shoulders relaxing slightly. You nodded.

If he was a murderous being, he was a polite one, at the very least. 

His lips wore a soft, reassuring smile as he tugged you closer. And when there was barely a hair’s-breadth between your bodies, he fastened an arm at your back, moving the other one down to your legs.

It was an effort not to yelp at the contact. Not to balk from it. If Azriel noticed the way your body slightly trembled, he had the decency to pretend he didn’t. 

“It’s probably best if you loop your arms around my neck.” He cleared his throat again. “If you’re comfortable with that.”

You glanced down at the rigid way your arms hung down by your sides. Your cheeks reddened. “Right—yes—of course.”

You willed yourself not to shake like a damn fool as your arms snaked to join around his neck, and as the scent of cedar and frost shrouded you, and his warmth permeated you, his hair tickling your arm…you’d never felt so alive.

He seemed to read that thought, too. His mouth kicked up, and he leaned in closer. “Hold on tight.”

And then he took to the sky.

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Everything was gentle at first.

The speed at which he carried you upwards. The flap of his wings. The coasting through the air. Gentle and slow. 

That didn’t make it any less terrifying. To begin with, anyway.

With every glance down, the ground moving further and further away, you felt your stomach lurch. To be so high up was unnatural. To plummet back down would be lethal.

But Azriel was a soothing presence pressed against you. He allowed you to adjust in your own time; didn’t force you to look when you weren’t comfortable looking. Didn’t speed up, despite the leisurely pace probably being so at odds with his usual way of flying. He was patient, and calming, and solid beneath your arms.

He seemed to sense when your fears began to abate. When they began to morph into curiosity.

He leaned in, his lips suddenly at the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you.” He reassured quietly. “You can’t fall.”

His deep voice was a heated tickle against the skin of your neck. And you…you found yourself fighting the impulse to gasp at the sensation. You knew your cheeks were scorching.

Even more so when he spoke again. “Look.” He whispered.

You followed his line of sight, your eyes finding the sprawl of fields below. The pyres that had been lit for the festival looked like arms of glowing fire reaching up to the skies. You felt yourself slacken in Azriel’s arms as you drank in the sight.

“I’ve been flying for a very, very long time.” He told you softly. “But I never tire of the views.”

You angled your face back slightly to look at him. “How long?”

His lips twitched. “Are you asking me how old I am?”

“Is that rude?”

“No. I’ve been alive for over five centuries.” He studied you. “How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one.”

For over five centuries. You couldn’t even wrap your head around that amount of time. What he must have seen in that time. The amount of women he must have been with—

Why your thoughts went there, you weren’t sure. You hoped he couldn’t read minds. 

You allowed yourself to silently sit on the information for a short while; Azriel allowed you to, also. But as he flew, his dark, indiscernible gaze repeatedly made its way over to you.

Eventually he asked, “What are you thinking?” A strange quality lay in his tone, as if…as if he were self-conscious.

But it wasn’t exactly a secret that the Fae lived for such ludicrous amounts of time. Your initial shock over his age had already worn off.

And you answered honestly, “Doesn’t it get boring? Being alive for so long, I mean.”

Azriel paused. And then bellowed a great, unguarded laugh. “That’s what you’re thinking?”

“I think I’d get bored.”

Unless, of course, he was passing his time with things you couldn’t comprehend. Like taking the lives of innocent girls. Like splendour and indulgence and utter debauchery. 

Your stomach somersaulted as Azriel suddenly swooped. You dug your fingers into the strange, intricate leathers he wore, watching the peak of a hill grow closer and closer. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, your heart racing slightly. 

“To sit.” He answered, nodding towards the hill. “And enjoy the view.”

He landed with barely a thud and set you down gently, ensuring that your legs were stable before he pulled away.

It was so wildly inappropriate that you missed the sensation of his body pressing against yours. You quickly turned away before you could linger on the thought.

And your breath hitched in your throat. The view was just as exquisite from the hill as it had been from the sky. Lights dotted around and music and laughter and scents floating up to you. The air was charged with excitement, enjoyment. And your father had asked you to miss out on it all.

So naturally, you sunk down onto the feathered grass, tucking your legs beneath you. After a beat, Azriel sat beside you.

The two of you surveyed the sights below in complete silence. But your thoughts were loud and weighing. Thoughts of how, exactly, you’d ended up in a situation like this — allowing a Fae male to whisk you away into the sky whilst your father was none the wiser. If you were even safe, up here, with him. And why, exactly, you’d been so incredibly disappointed when he hadn’t returned over the last month and a half. 

You turned your head to look at him — and found him already gazing at you. His lips lifted into a soft smile.

“Why didn’t you come back?” You blurted. Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat. “To listen to my music, I mean.”

The smile slowly fell, a strange look crossing his face. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I’m sure my silly human brain can comprehend.”

His lips twitched again. He seemed to take a moment to think, his fingers absentmindedly pulling at the grass. “There is a…situation.” 

“A situation?”

He dipped his chin. “It’s the reason I was flying around your village to begin with. We had a tip-off that a group of humans are rising up against the Fae.”

Your body tensed.

He’d be right about that, of course. That group of humans was led by your father.

“We’d like to avoid trouble if we can help it, so…” Azriel cleared his throat. “I was in the area looking for information. And that was when I heard your music.”

Looking for information. It made a sickly, oily feeling overcome you. If he found your father — if he saw that he was building his cause against them — you had no doubt that that threat would be eliminated on sight. Your only remaining parent — the only person you really had in the world — would be taken from you.

You swallowed a lump down. “Did you garner any information?”

“I did.” Azriel nodded. “I learned that there’s a group of men that seem to be travelling from village to village and spreading their word. I was given orders to wait and see what move they made next. That’s why I didn’t return.”

No way would you tell him that your father was behind that very group. You weren’t going to give him up, let Azriel know exactly where he could find him. That’d be as good as killing him yourself.

But there was another reason, buried further down, for biting your tongue. One that surely complicated things. One that shouldn’t have bothered you at all.

You didn’t want Azriel to know that you were associated with that group. You didn’t…didn’t want him to think poorly of you. 

That was very troublesome, indeed. You shouldn’t have cared what he thought. 

You tried to shove your problematic feelings down, focusing on the view once more. It was best to steer the subject far away from your father. 

You sat back, leaning on your hands. And your voice was a mix of curiosity and mild accusation as you said, “There haven’t been any more murders in the village since you’ve been absent.”

Azriel’s eyes were a brand on your skin. “And I take it you’ve come to the conclusion that I must have been responsible for the ones that occurred?”

You lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know what to think.”

The following silence was so heavy and prolonged that you began to wonder if you’d offended him. Another thing that shouldn’t have bothered you — but did. 

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye just as he turned, angling his body towards you. He crossed his legs, and he looked…open. 

“My name is Azriel.” He said.

“I already know that—”

“I belong to one of the seven courts of Prythian — the Night Court. I’m a member of its High Lord’s Inner Circle, and I work as his spymaster. I’m also a very, very rare species of Fae called a Shadowsinger. I possess the ability to wield and control these shadows to my will, though they are their own entities. It also lends me the ability to hear and feel things that others can’t.”

So that’s what those shadows were about, then — the dark, wispy shapes that coiled around his person like smoke. You hadn’t seen much of them tonight; whether Azriel had made that so, or the shadows themselves had been hiding, you weren’t sure.

But now, they seemed to dance out towards you with fluid grace, tentatively brushing your arms with a cool, almost chilled touch. 

You couldn’t stop your curiosity piquing. Your fingers penetrated the dark, cold mist, and Azriel watched you closely, tentatively.

“I’ve been alive a very long time.” He said quietly. “The role I have to play is sometimes not easy. It’s forced me to do certain things that sometimes still chase me from sleep. I’m not without conscience. I don’t revel in such things.” He paused. “But I sleep at night knowing, at least, that I do not and would not do such things without reason. I wouldn’t kill for sport. I don’t harbour any particularly negative feelings towards your kind. I certainly don’t wish them harm.”

Your eyes lifted from the shadow tickling your arm, finding that honey-hued gaze. There was such sincerity on his face…such honesty. And also an undercurrent, perhaps, of…of pleading. As if he was trying to communicate words he didn’t have the nerve to say aloud; please don’t fear me. Please don’t think of me as a monster. 

“I have no ill intention, Y/N.” The way he spoke your name sent shivers down your spine. “I was simply following orders, and—”

The scream was loud enough to reach you at the top of the hill. It cut Azriel’s sentence off immediately. Your body fell still. 

In an instant, he was on his feet, gazing below at a view your human vision was too unsophisticated to see. And then another scream broke through the night; horrifying, blood-curdling.

“I should take you home.” Azriel’s voice was tight, commanding. “Now.”

You didn’t argue as you jumped to your feet. There was barely a chance to glance down as he swept you up into his arms again — not gentle like before, but hurried, worried — and took off. 

You were far too high up to see anything as Azriel flew, but his gaze was firmly on the sight below; the field that sat closest to your village. He banked so suddenly that your stomach lurched, and then he was landing on the roof of a building, pressing you tightly to him.

The commotion reached you clearer there. The sound of chaos and fear. Screams and charged conversation. 

“What’s going on?” You whispered, not even aware of the way your hands were clinging to the front of Azriel’s jacket.

“From what I can discern,” his eyes were alert, fierce, “the body of a girl has been discovered.”

Cold seeped into your bones. 

Another body. Another girl. 

Azriel listened closer. His voice was quiet as he spoke to you, “They’re saying she was still warm when they found her. That she was only at the festival around twenty minutes ago.” He paused. “Her name was Polly.”

Another village girl. You knew her briefly. She could only be a year or so younger than you were. And only twenty minutes ago, she’d been alive, enjoying herself—

You thought you might pass out. If it weren’t for Azriel’s strong arms keeping you upright, you were sure you would have done.

Twenty minutes ago. Azriel had been with you at that time. 

He truly wasn’t responsible.

You stared at him, feeling sick and cold all over. And as he glanced back at you, surveying your appearance, he seemed to understand what you needed without either of you speaking. 

“I’ll drop you back in your yard.” He slipped a hand through yours.

“Wait. I—” You swallowed. “Will it be safe for you? All these people around...”

For a moment, he was silent. He didn’t need whispering shadows to understand that you felt concerned for him. 

A hint of a smile appeared on his mouth, and he dipped his chin. “I’ll be just fine. I know how to stay hidden. It’s you I’m worried about.”

It’s you I’m worried about.

The words clanged around your head loudly as he swept you up. Within mere seconds, you were back inside your small, concrete yard, the awful sounds of panic growing closer. 

“Go inside.” Azriel said. “Lock the doors.”

You studied him. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?” You weren’t sure whether it was insulting for you to even ask him that.

But he had been shot by an ash arrow in this very village. Your worry wasn’t entirely unjustified.

“I promise.” He squeezed your hand once before pulling away. “I’ll come back as soon as it’s calmed down.” 

“…will you really?”

“I give you my word.”

In silence, the two of you stared at each other. Neither of you spoke.

But then the voices grew louder, and Azriel was straightening out. You were utterly still as he brushed the backs of his knuckles against your cheek.

Before you could react, he disappeared before your eyes.

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“Polly was killed tonight. The girl from the bakery.”

You were just slipping into the room, carrying your father’s nightly drink to him, when he spoke. At least two hours had passed since Azriel had dropped you home, and you couldn’t stop your gaze straying to the window. Wondering where he was. If he’d truly return.

“I know.” You placed the glass down —  and realised your mistake the second your father’s head snapped up. You cleared your throat. “I mean—I didn’t know it was Polly. But I figured something had happened from all the noise outside.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough. You released a deep, quiet breath as he took a long draw from his glass. He nursed the drink in silence for a while. 

“You see, now, why I don’t want you going out there.” he eventually said.

You bowed your head. “Yes, Papa.”

“The scumbag Fae are still picking our girls off one by one. I won’t have you meeting the same fate.”

Something inside of you twisted. There was nothing appropriate you could possibly say. You couldn’t exactly reveal that you’d met a Fae male who appeared to be different to the rest — or that you’d spent your evening with him.

So you shifted your thoughts elsewhere. To something that had been bugging you since Azriel had mentioned gathering information on your father’s group of rebels. I was given orders to wait and see what move they made next.

“...Papa?” You hovered awkwardly at the unoccupied armchair that sat opposite his.

“What is it, Y/N?”

You chewed your lip. “The cause that you’re building against the Fae. I was just…wondering how it’s going. What move you plan to make next.”

His light blue eyes flicked up from his glass. And for a split second, you wondered whether you’d made a mistake in asking. You’d merely been a silent supporter before, never taking too much interest, asking too many questions. 

But then those eyes seemed to soften. “You don’t need to be frightened, Y/N.” He said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. The cause is coming along nicely. Right now, we’re trying to gather enough supporters so that we can present ourselves — and our concerns — to the queens of our realm. We have a far greater chance of success with their support. That’s why I travel to the other villages. To gain more supporters.”

The human queens. This was big — really big.

It should have been a good thing. But it just made you feel…worried. Did Azriel know how big this truly was? Perhaps he did, and he’d simply not told you—

“You should get to bed.” Your father sliced through your thoughts. “Let me worry about these things, Y/N. Just do as I tell you, and all will be fine.”

You always had. Always would. Your father was the leader of your life; you merely followed.

“Yes, Papa.” You swallowed. “Goodnight.”

His response followed you all the way up the stairs. And as you got to your room, you found yourself wondering why you’d even enquired about his next move. It wasn’t exactly your business; he would do as he saw fit.

Surely…surely you hadn’t been asking in Azriel’s interests. Surely you wouldn’t feed such information to him.

The mere thought made you feel an oily sense of betrayal. You shut yourself in your bedroom, shaking the thoughts from your head. 

But you couldn’t stop yourself glancing at the window again.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

You supposed he wasn’t coming back — not tonight, and perhaps not ever.

The thought had pathetically kept you awake. You sat at your dressing table, listening to the fear and chaos in the village eventually die down. Silence swept through once more, and you were restless, disappointed.

You’d enjoyed yourself tonight. The company, the conversation, getting to know Azriel a little. And you knew, now, that he wasn’t behind those murders. You knew.

Perhaps…perhaps he wasn’t so bad. Most Fae were, but perhaps he was just…different.

Which was why you wanted to see him again.

You sighed softly, standing from your dressing stool and tucking it in. There was no use staying awake, waiting to see if he would come back. You turned to your bed—

Cold, night-chilled shadows suddenly filled the room. And just like he had in the yard, Azriel appeared out of nowhere.

You reeled back, stunned, knocking into your dressing table. “Gods.”

Azriel’s lips quirked up. “I really must stop frightening you with my winnowing.”

“How—how did you know this was my room?”

“I saw you…through the window.”

You brushed past him, marching over to the window and yanking the curtains shut. You lowered your voice as you turned to him, “You flew so low with all those people down there?”

He stared at you — assessed you. And a strange look passed his face. “I was too high up for them to see me. Fae sight, though, is…better.”

Right. Of course. He could probably make out every miniscule detail through your window while he’d been a mere speck among the stars. Your shoulders relaxed slightly, your worry lessening a little. Shifting into…excitement.

Azriel took a step towards you. “I’m sorry for just…appearing, like this. I needed to check if you were alright.”

Your heart did a silly little flip in your chest. “I’m alright.” You paused. “...Are you?”

He smiled, inclining his head. “I’m very well.”

“Well…good.”

He chuckled quietly. “Good.”

You stared back at him, your lips begging to twitch up. And after a moment, you couldn’t resist your smile.

Azriel seemed to watch it grow on your lips. The way he studied you so intensely made you feel naked.

He edged even closer. “I enjoyed spending time with you tonight.”

Heat spread across your cheeks. You dipped your chin, attempting to hide your blush. “I enjoyed myself, too.”

“Well…good.”

You scowled at his light teasing. “Good.”

He was grinning widely, now, a glimmer in his eyes. He stopped just in front of you, close enough to touch. “When can I see you again?”

Never, you should have told him.  You are Fae and I am human; we have no business getting involved with one another. You should leave, and never come back.

But you didn’t want to say those things. And perhaps it made you a fool, but you weren’t thinking about preconceived notions, or bloody history, or your father’s cause. 

You were thinking about the giddy excitement you’d felt tonight. And how badly you wished to feel it again.

“Despite what happened to Polly, the festival seems to be continuing tomorrow night. They’re just increasing the security.” You played with your hands, the fire in your cheeks almost unbearable. “You could…you could come here and keep me company in the bar. I’ll be on my own…”

Azriel’s answering smile was so brilliant, you thought it might have knocked you breathless. 

“Tomorrow night, then.” He hummed. “I’ll be here.”

“Well…good.”

He snorted. “Good.”

There was a beat. You waited for him to disappear again, nothing but the chilled air and his pleasant scent left behind.

But then he leaned down, gently taking your hand in his. You watched, preternaturally still, as he lifted it to his lips and pressed a feather-light kiss to the backs of your fingers.

“Goodnight then, lady.” His breath warmed your skin. Your bones.

And then he was gone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere

[rippersz]

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶

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(Rebel Angel who somehow doesn’t know who Lucifer is)

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It seemed that the Almighty had reached his limit. His breaking point. His last straw. You exhausted him- worried him- pushed him too far and he had had enough. Too many broken rules. Too many annoyances. Too many thises and thatses and one or the other. So many complaints… so many arguments… so many accounts of general public disruption…

God never allowed insolence. God never allowed anything less than perfection.

And you were terribly flawed.

That was the reason- surely- as to why you found yourself waking up on a dark cold marble floor instead of in the cool holy waters of your ivory bath.

The wings at your back ached and something in your chest was bruised, swiftly gathering atoms of divinity to weave the pain away. Too, your hands were red when you turned them over - stinging with the remnants of a hard fall. And your knees were skinned; epidermis peeled back and raw. It looked as though you’d been brought to the pearly gates and pushed off of the silver city’s edge. It felt like you’d been brought to the pearly gates and pushed off of the silver city’s edge.

“Stuck up- bastards-,” you grunted, pulling yourself up onto your hands and knees.

The fucking lot of them - every other single fucking angel up there in those clouds… they were morons. Idiots. None of them knew how to have a good time. None of them knew how to have fun. There were no parties in Heaven. There were no parties in paradise. There was no difficulty in Nirvana. And you loathed that. Hated that. For years you sat on your ass, from childhood to adulthood, watching with wide bright eyes as the world went on around you. Your parents made you the way you were, keeping you sheltered and happy and strong while the other little angels played outside and were born with glowing lights around their bodies. They learned all sorts of things out there - mingling in the ‘real world’ - watching as guardians.

But your human died one day after being born - and you had no one to guard. And God sort of looked at you after that and thought ‘Meh. Do what you want with her.’ and that was the end of it. From that point on you were just- there. A distraction for the others. A nuisance for most. A good time for few. But it seemed God decided you’d fucked around for the last time - and he cast you to-

…well. You weren’t exactly sure where you were.

Unlike Eden, the place you were in was dark. Desolate. Lit with something… unsettling. The air smelled of sulfur and burn - and you swore you could see ash float about in the nonexistent wind. There were no clouds either, and no subliminal gentle hum that typically played on a loop within the city - meant to carry the angels and souls through their hours. Inspiring joy. Happiness. Obedience. The tune was bloody annoying was what it was - you’d always held some type of disdain for it. But there, surrounded by a very sudden eerie quiet, you wished you could hear the choir singing again. It would, perhaps, only slightly lessen the sudden feeling of being entirely out of place. The metal bowls of flame fixed between long marble columns… the strange fire-pit you faced upon standing on your feet and shakily turning around… the- oh… the color of the sky… no such phenomenons existed in Heaven. Flames were rarely seen. And the sky was never- well you would have remembered if it were ever red. Or a weird mix of fiery orange and black. Or even grey. But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t. There were no silver pathways leading from this place to the other; and there was no distinct shine to the universe itself. No… divinity. No divinity at all.

So where in the Lord’s name were you?

“How peculiar…” a voice purred, “…an Angel? In my realm?… It appears you have fallen quite a long way.”

You turned, body tensing with discomfort. You didn’t know anyone else would be present. You hadn’t even heard them come in. Yet when you looked around, searching and curious, having to do a complete 360, you found there was someone present.

Something present.

The fire in the great pit that separated you had grown into an inferno. You could barely make out the creature’s face through the heated disruption. The blonde curls, you saw. The way they fell just so across a pale forehead. And the wings… by God, the wings. You were drawn to them almost instantly. A set far different from your own, laying poised behind the thing’s strong back. Dark, you noticed. And sharp. Leathery? Yes - definitely. Nearly… bat-like… and powerful, without a doubt. You squinted, trying to see through the flames, but it was to no use. The stranger was tall but drowned in shadow. Hidden, almost - even though you could see the midnight color of their silk robe.

How intriguing… You blinked, wondering if there was a chance that you were possibly hallucinating (and ignoring the fact that angels couldn’t hallucinate), but you weren’t. It was real. And it was silent. And you were staring.

“Who are you?” The volume of your tone made you wince. In Heaven, everyone had to raise their voices over the soft din of the choir, eventually giving them the natural disposition of talking loudly. But in the silence of that strange land, it sounded like the ‘gunshot’ some humans described when first stepping into the silver city. Noisy, booming, and honestly embarrassing.

Though the creature didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they didn’t seem to care. Not at all. Instead, you noticed the slightest shift in the robe’s sleeve and could just barely make out the velvet outline of long fingers floating delicately through the ashen air before the fire in front of you- the fire separating you- the only thing keeping you strangers and safe- disappeared. Went out. Settled into heated coals and sizzling sounds. And thus, revealed the monster.

The very… very… very… very attractive monster. The handsomest of monsters. The most beautiful monster. With shining crystal eyes, blue like the holy water you rested in during times of sleep, and soft pink lips, putting human flower petals and sunsets to shame. And with a pale pallet, nearly… nearly glowing…

“I am in no mood for games, little Angel,” the pretty monster hummed, tilting its head as it began moving.

Slow step by slow step, you watched in awe as it grew closer… and taller… and more glorious. You’d never seen anyone like them. No soul, no divine thing, no creature in the silver city looked like that. Looked so- so- well you didn’t even have words. Literally and figuratively. Your mouth dropped open and you floundered, searching for something to say, trying to find your sense as each thought in your mind began fraying - destroyed by their proximity. Destroyed by the soft hard line of their jaw and the curve of their chin and bridge of their nose. So glorious… so holy…

“I-” your voice croaked, “I don’t- I don’t know… who you are,” you confessed, voice softening into something innocent.

It was the truth - the honest truth! - but for some reason you felt… stupid. For not knowing what it was or who they were. From a young age, angels were expected to know everyone and everything. Nearly every other angel’s name by heart; every religion and each God; every world and all things in between. Including greater entities. Anomalies. Beings with great power - like Dream of the Endless and his friend, Desire. And most angels did know such things. Most angels did retain such information. But of course, as it goes in any walk or form of life, one must always slip through the cracks. And that was you. There were many things you didn’t know and many things you didn’t care to know. But standing there in front of them, below them, looking up to see the way some stray beacon of light made their fair curls shimmer, you realized you probably ought to know them. Their presence felt so… intoxicating… it was hard to understand how you hadn’t come across anything like that before. Especially when you felt your hands shake as you realized just how much they loomed over you… Like Azrael. But they- it?- was not Death. You knew Death. You had tea with Death once… before trying to poison them. Just to see what would happen of course! Just to know. (Nothing happened, unfortunately. They just sort of blinked and gave you an exasperated look and told you to go away. There was no more tea after that.) But despite not being Death, they still held that air about them. That distinct aura of doom. Of glorious defeat. It swelled in the pits of those icy eyes.

And such glorious icy eyes they were. So beautiful. So intense. You felt frozen beneath them, any hint of scorn directed at the Almighty suddenly gone in the face of the new creature. Entirely overshadowed by morbid curiosity… and the tiniest hint of fear. You’d never really felt fear before. But the rushing in your heart, and the sound of golden blood in your ears, and the whimper that nestled in the depths of your throat could only mean terror, couldn’t they? You watched realization slowly dawn on the creature’s face. You watched their brows furrow slightly, then you looked down to see those peach lips parting - slowly, softly, god-like.

“Intriguing…,” their breath smelled of wine and dying stars, “…you really have no idea, do you?”

Their tone was lilting; their accent sublime. So pronounced, so gentle, sounding almost like a song within the crackling silence of the fires going on around you. It had you leaning closer, drawn like a foolish sailor to a siren’s whims. Just utterly transcendent. Just inexplicably marvelous. It had a weight to it that you’d only seen in God… but the creature before you was most certainly not God. Not in any religion. No, it was something else. Something more abstract. Something darker. But you couldn’t place even a single fingertip on it.

“No, no clue.” You sounded breathless.

Hearing that seemed to please the creature in some odd way. There was a glimmer to their eye that wasn’t there before - and they appeared… delighted?

“Well,” it sighed, sculpted pale hands poised in front of a soft abdomen. “I believe that calls for an introduction.” And then there was a pause. An ominous, strange pause - as if the being was silently telling you that you had one last chance to be honest; coaxing you into admitting a truth that you didn’t know nor understand. But when you just blinked at them, hanging onto their words for dear non-life, quite unsure of what they wanted, they seemed to finally accept reality and internally concede.

“Lucifer,” they cooed, voice ringing and smirk evil, “Morningstar.”

Morningstar…

…The Morningstar.

The one whispered about… the one gossiped about… the name passed from one seraphic mouth to another… the occasional ‘talk of the town.’ Everyone seemed to know about them but you. They were formidable, yes, but that was the extent of your knowledge. Their origins were unknown. Their story was a shot in the dark. Perhaps that’s why you felt so odd within their presence - like a sweating blushing thing that wasn’t sure of its place in the Heavens. Or in any realm, for that matter.

You sort of felt the need to bow. It tingled in your shoulder blades, wormed beneath your ribcage, but refused the instinct. You were an Angel. You bowed to no one but God, and even then you rarely did so. Everyone in the clouds knew you to shirk such an honor. A brave few even murmured about the Morningstar and how you’d ‘fall’ just like them. At the time you ignored them, having no clue what they were talking about. But looking around you then, feeling the weight of the burning air, you knew you were a long way from Heaven. Perhaps in its very antithesis, though you had no name for that just yet. Did everyone in that realm have a figure like Lucifer’s? Did all of their hair shine like that? Were all of them fair-skinned and untouchable? Was it Heaven reversed?

You couldn’t control the way your eyes slid over to their wings. They were far larger up close… and taloned, you noted. Was there a chance they were soft? They looked soft. Leathery and strange, with skin stretched over bone, but soft nonetheless. And as if sparked by your thinking, they twitched, flaring for just a moment before relaxing once again. You looked back up into Lucifer’s eyes, not at all surprised to see the lingerings of malice. They did not look like they wanted to kill you, but they did not exactly look welcoming either. No, there was no warmth there. Just curiosity. And openness. You were no threat to this being… and that irritated you. Every religion knew to respect the angels. Every religion knew to understand that they did the bidding of God. Every religion knew to welcome them with open hands and a smile.

But you were not welcome. Not with open hands and certainly not with a smile.

So how dare they? How dare it? How dare this- this- Lucifer? You felt your back straighten, renewed with energy as you found your mental footing. The ache in your body was gone, whatever wounds you’d sustained just faded memories of some minutes. That’s right - you were angelic. Divine. This Lucifer had no idea who it was speaking to.

“And I am Y/n,” your voice was hard, “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

You were expecting bared teeth. A growl, maybe. Perhaps the full extension of those glorious wings. A hand around your neck would have done enough all on its own. But the only response you inspired was the slightest twitch in the Morningstar’s right cheek. It tugged at the corner of their lip, making them smirk and sneer all at the same time - but only for a moment. A very quick moment that wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t been watching. And just as swiftly, they were back to neutral; a pleasant little expression on their face as their eyes suddenly ran over your body - from top to bottom and back again. You were grateful that you were still wearing your toga; pristine and white, draped over your one shoulder and tucked under your other arm, tied tightly at the waist with a thin golden band - divine in nature and very handy. Your feet, on the other hand, were bare. And the golden cuffs that usually graced your wrists were gone. You felt disheveled. You felt less than pristine. You looked… exactly as you had always felt. Like a mess. Like a bright glimmering mess. Like a pile of abstract art that existed among the carefully carved statues of Heaven. You felt… you looked… far more beautiful than you ever had before.

It was hard to tell if Lucifer agreed.

“No I suppose it doesn’t,” they hummed, referring to your earlier response. “Though I should hope you know that’s the point.” The Morningstar spoke nonchalantly- as if they weren’t the most strangely intriguing thing you’d ever come across.

Their words, on the other hand, were confusing.

“No. I don’t know where I am,” you glanced around for a moment, still stuck without a clue, “so I wouldn’t know. Care to enlighten me, Morningstar?”

“You will address me as ‘Your Majesty’ or you will lose your tongue,” they replied quicker than light, voice deep and sharp enough to cut.

It felt like the air changed then, becoming nearly suffocating in its depth. It crawled into your lungs, into your veins, making you swallow around a sudden lump in your throat while your eyes started to water. Clearly, Lucifer was powerful. Not someone to be messed with. And not nearly as patient- nor ‘kind’- as God. At the brief thought of him, you glanced up; like you’d suddenly see the city gates open again and you’d be welcomed back and lightly chastised before being sent on your way around the clouds; like you’d somehow be saved. But there was no reckoning. There was no call. There was no miracle. There was only Lucifer.

“Do you wish to return to the silvery city, little Angel?” You turned back to those calm frozen eyes, resisting the urge to get lost in them.

“Yes, of course,” you said as though your answer was obvious (which it was).

“Interesting,” they hummed, tilting their head to the side slowly - like a hungry snake, “…I felt that way once, too.”

You frowned. Just what in Heaven’s name was the Morningstar talking about? No, you’d never heard of angels being cast from Eden, but you assumed that it was maybe like a one time thing? Like a mini punishment and you’d be summoned in any coming minute? For a second there you even considered the dark marble and flames and strange domed ceiling and weird cave walls were all part of an odd dream. But the sincerity in the Morningstar’s hushed tone said otherwise. Like they- like it was the truth. Like they truly had done what you did (though many more times) and looked to the sky in hopes to hear the choir once more. Like the weight of whatever happened to them would become a similar weight for you. Their words sent your head in circles.

“What do you mean?” You finally demanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

That seemed to amuse them as they smirked, eyelashes fluttering slightly. “I fell too. Once upon a time,” they paused, watching your eyes for any understanding. When they didn’t find it, they continued. “Right after succumbing to defeat.” A flicker of something dark rushed through their gaze. It unsettled you.

And sparked more outrage.

“What- what are you talking about?!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in clear exasperation.

What ‘defeat’? What ‘fall’? How long ago was all of that? What even happened? How did they get those wings? Who were they really and what were they capable of? And honestly, dear God, would someone just tell you where the fuck you were?!

“Ah,” they pursed their pretty lips, “It’s no surprise you’re here now. Angels are not meant to be so foolish,” the Morningstar declared, still lilting and song-like and beautiful and terribly insincere.

Their insult had your blood boiling. Who the fuck were they to say that? They were no Angel. They didn’t understand a damned thing. They didn’t know you and they didn’t deserve to know you. No matter how sublime a creature - such glory only existed on the outside.

“You wouldn’t know a fuckin thing,” you spat, giving them the best glare you could, “you’re no Angel.” A sneer painted your face.

“Foolish and blind, it seems…,” they mused as they began walking around you, lining your arms up at one point before continuing their small trek around the round bowl of the fire pit.

They paid you virtually no attention as they went, keeping their eyes trained on what appeared to be a balcony a few feet away. Interestingly enough, although their realm was warm, they seemed to be ice cold. There was not an ounce of heat that passed through the silk of their robe when they brushed past you. The proximity to something so powerful again had that feeling of needing to kneel traveling up your spine, but you pushed it down and worked on keeping the Morningstar in your sight. If you stopped looking at them, it was only a wonder as to how easily they could catch you by surprise.

“But you don’t look very…,” you trailed off, knowing you were going to say ‘angelic’, but realizing that you were… well you were wrong. Quite wrong.

Lucifer kept walking, not caring to stop for your reconsideration. But you didn’t need long. Those curls actually seemed rather… familiar. The way they surrounded the head, covered the ears, accentuated the cherubic features, glowed despite there being no light; and the willowy glide of their body, slow, methodical, full of undeniable beautiful grace; and their voice, distinct and delicate and precious and captivating; and their height- and their jaw- and their lips- and eyes- and proud nose- and perfect posture- and heavy wings- and… well… every bit of them seemed almost… holy.

Seemed almost like… like… like something you’d seen before. Briefly. In a painting and in a scroll. Only once or twice.

“Samael.”

It came out as a whisper but the monster still heard. And it made them stop in their tracks, wings swaying while the world paused.

You sucked in a heavy breath, feeling a very small shot of fear run down the curve of your neck.

They were Samael. Or they used to be Samael. God’s favorite. God’s best creation. The wisest, handsomest, strongest, most glorious Angel to ever be. The staple of divinity. The most beloved and the most cherished. There was a time once where you walked past an elder and heard them murmur about Samael. They had called you the antithesis. They had called you, in short, the most un-divine angel. If the fallen Samael was the best, you were the worst. And though you did not fully understand the story, though you did not know how they fell or when they fell or why they fell, you knew that their power had changed. The light had gone out and made room for the dark. Their wings shed their feathers and their skin lost its warmth. And they changed. They rebelled.

You frowned, feeling a tug in your heart at the sight of them standing there - glorious and tall and never beaten down. Never one to be truly defeated. They chose that risk - they knew of the consequences. But you? You? You were young. You were not wise, no, but you were clever. Smart. Hot-headed. Wasn’t Samael hot-headed once too? Wasn’t Samael flawed once too? Your small pathetic acts of rebellion were nothing in comparison to all that the Morningstar did.

So why did you wake up in their realm? What did God mean to say?

“Things have changed, little Angel,” their voice grasped you by the throat and brought you back to the present, “dwelling on the past reaps no benefits.”

“But I-” you swallowed, looking around wildly, finding that the gravity of what happened had begun to sink in. “No. No no no, I don’t belong here. I didn’t- I didn’t choose this. I don’t belong here!”

“Why shout when he has closed his ears to you?” The Morningstar asked, turning to face you with curious innocent eyes. “Why fret when you know what you’ve done?”

You squinted, confused, finding yourself taking panicked steps backward.

“That’s the thing, I didn’t do anything!” You insisted, hands clenching and unclenching into fists at your sides. “I didn’t lead a- a- a fucking rebellion against God! I didn’t hurt him! I’m- I’m pure! I want to go home!”

Lucifer stared at you, face blank.

“…This is your home now.”

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:) - Ripley x

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[ha1taniwh0re]

Hey, I love your fics and I really do love your writing. Is really amazing and puts a smile on my face 💕💕💕

Anyway, I have an idea for you. You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to though.

What about some Moriarty Brothers headcanons when someone hurts the reader to a point they break down and starts crying and they go after them to comfort them?

The relationship can be platonic or romantic, is up to you to choose. But is okay if you don’t want to do it. Really, don’t force yourself.

Love you and be safe. Good morning/night 💕

Omggg im really happy that my fics put smile on your faceee😭😭😭. Thank you very much for your compliments💕💕

Ofc i will write your idea i hope you will like it💕

Im so sorry that this took so long💕 and reader is really emotional here.

Moriarty brothers when someone made there lady cry

Albert James Moriarty

As Albert and I were chatting and drinking wine Lady Anabella came to us.

“Oh what surprise to see you here Lord Albert”, she said.

“Good evening my lady”, he said.

“Good evening Lady Anabella”, I said.

“Oh Lady (name)… pleasure to see you tonight”, she said whit unhappy tone.

“I thought that you will be at home cleaning or something like that, as i know you were maid somewhere. This events are not for non noble people. You are just a dirty girl who likes money and nothing about this handsome man in-front of me”, she said.

I felt pain in my chest. Why would she say that? I didn’t release that tears started coming down my face.

“Lady Anabella i will not tolerate your behavior. I will tell this to your father!!! You should be ashamed of yourself!!!”,Albert said and took my hand.

We went home and as i was changing into my nightclothes Albert came to room.

“Babyy are you okey?”

“Yeah.. Im Im fine”. I said

He came to me and kissed me.

“My sweet baby. Don’t listen to her, she is just a brat who lives because of her daddy’s money.”

“Yeah but what if she is right? Im not good enough for you. You need someone who is like you.”

“But i have someone like me. Its you baby. Money are not something that you need when you have love.”

He said and hugged me.

“How about we go down and have a chat with others with some wine and cuddles?”

I smiled and agreed. Albert is the sweetest man i know. He always reminds me that he doesn’t care that i was a maid and he still loves me.

We went into living room where were others and had some fun with them.

William James Moriarty

As I was looking for William’s office in university I bumped into someone.

“Oh Im so sorry”. I said and looked at the person.

“YOU DAUGHTER OF THE BITCH LOOK WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!”

“Im sorry sir but-“

I felt wet tears falling down my face.

“NO BUTT JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU USELESS BITCH!!!”

As he wanted to hit me something or someone stopped him.

“First of all no one will yell or hit my wife. Second of all this is university and it’s study time. Kids are trying to study sir”.

I saw my husband William took hand of the Mr. who wanted to hit me.

He was really angry.

“Lord William.. I… this is your wife? Im so sorry miss Moriarty”.

“Leave this university Sir”.

William said and came to me. He got me back to my feets.

“My beautiful lady, don’t cry”, he said and put his hand on my cheek.

He took my hand and we went to his classroom.

“Students please be quiet and try to solve this problems, while I help my beautiful wife”.

He said and put me in his lap.

“Liam it’s okey i will be okey”, i said as i was wiping my tears.

He just lay me on his chest and he was playing with my hair. As he was doing that i fell asleep but before i fell asleep i heard one of this students.

“Professor Moriarty you are such a good husband”.

“Thank you very much”, Liam said and i fall asleep.

Louis James Moriarty

While my brothers and I were driving in carriage I saw one girl dancing and some guys making fun of her.

“Moran-san please stop!!”,i said.

Moran stopped and everyone were looking at me questionable. I got out and got straight to them.

“Stop doing this!! You made her cry!!” As they saw me coming boys run away.

The girl stopped dancing and looked at me.

“T-t-thank you sir”, she said.

“No problem. My name is Louis James Moriarty and you?”

She looked shocked and bowed to me.

“IM SO SORRY LORD MORIARTY!!” She said.

And others came to us as they heard this.

“Is everything alright here??” Albert asked.

“Yes everything is fine ni-san. I saw some boys made fun of this beautiful lady”.

As I finished my sentence I figured that i called her beautiful.

“Oh t-t-thank you for compliment s-s-sir Moriarty”, she said and looked at me.

I saw my brothers smirking, of course Moran was smirking too.

“Why don’t you go home with us Miss??”, William said.

“Miss (name)”, she said

“Such a beautiful name”, I said.

“Thank you sir”, she smiled.

We went back to carriage and went home.

[daddy-dins-girl]

Kindred - Chapter Three

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Maxwell Lord x f!Reader (Nanny)

Word Count: 9k (I'm sorry I may have gotten out of hand)

Chapter Summary: Max gets some particularly stressful news. As always, you help him through it (and you both continue catching feelings along the way).

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Smut (like literally half this chapter is smut and I will not apologize), masturbation, mutual masturbation, oral sex, vaginal fingering, hand jobs, cum play, cum eating, sub!Maxwell (in this house we love goodboy!Maxwell), praise kink, very brief mentions of cancer and chemotherapy (don't worry, not for any of our 3 main characters). Um that might be it? If I missed something lmk!

The next morning you wake early. Earlier than is typical of you for a Saturday but you attribute it to the sex coma that Max had put you in the night before. You’d fallen asleep earlier than your usual Friday night so even though you’d gotten up at a near ungodly hour this morning, you wake up feeling refreshed and not to mention, extremely satisfied (thank you, Mr. Lord).

Once you’re up you head out to the kitchen and are unsurprised that the house is quiet and still. Glancing at your watch you figure you have at least a half hour or so before anyone else gets up so you decide to put on a pot of coffee and then head to the bathroom and take a shower.

Freshly cleaned, hair blow-dried and styled and dressed for the day in simple jeans and a t-shirt you’re back in the kitchen again pouring yourself a coffee and flipping through the newspaper at the counter to see what’s new in the world today. It’s nothing particularly interesting, but you’re entranced enough in your delicious coffee and the daily news that you don’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you, so when a strong pair of arms snake around your waist and pull you back into a hard chest wall you let out a gasp and quickly have to put a hand over your mouth so you don’t accidentally spit your coffee all over the counter.

“Good morning Angel” Max murmurs into the side of your face, swaying you gently with him in his grasp.

“Good morning” you’re smiling, now that the initial surprise has worn off, and you put your coffee down and bring your hands up to rest on top of his at your waist.

“Mmmm, you smell good” Max comments as his nose presses into your hair. “Like coconuts and… fucking sunshine”

“Why thank you, Mr. Lord. I do strive to please” you tease and he hums before moving his head a little lower and nuzzling into your neck instead.

“Max!” you giggle, trying to press your shoulder up and to push him off of you but he doesn’t budge. “That tickles! Stop!” you laugh before you bring your elbow back to nudge him in his middle.

“Mmmm, how about this?” Max switches tactics then and begins placing hot wet kisses down the column of your throat and you can’t fight back the moan that instantly falls from your lips.

“Does that tickle, hmmm?” he asks before returning to his task of kissing and sucking at the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder and you all but melt into his arms right then and there.

“No” you breathe out in a gasp. “Feels good” you murmur as you bring your hand up behind you and wrap it around his head, holding him closer against you so he doesn’t pull away. Max hums his appreciation into your skin and continues mouthing at the flesh and you’re about to turn around in his grasp and demand he take you upstairs to his bed when an all too familiar voice yells from the top of the stairs and you both jump apart from each other like you’ve just been electrocuted.

“Daddy?” Alistair’s voice rings out as you hear his light footsteps running down the stairs.

“Hey Buddy!” Max turns just in time as Alistair rounds the corner and he opens his arms wide for his son to run into; scooping him up to hold him to his chest. “How’d you sleep, huh?”

“Good, but I just missed you” Alistair replies with a sigh, his small fingers coming down to play with the collar of his dad’s shirt.

“Missed me? But you were asleep”

“I know, but I still missed’ed you when I was sleeping” the boy just shrugs.

’I can relate, kid’ you muse inwardly, but you wouldn’t say it out loud. To either of them.

“Well I missed you too my boy” Max promises, planting a kiss on Alistair's temple.

“Daddy?” Alistair’s tiny brow furrows like he’s thinking hard and Max frowns.

“What is it buddy?”

“When is Mommy coming home?”

Max heaves a sigh at the question. The question he’s been dreading for days now. Alistair hadn’t brought up his mother much, but Max knew he’d be missing her and it was bound to come up sooner than later.

Max pulls Alistair a little tighter against him in a hug and soothes a hand down the back of his head comfortingly. “I’m not sure son, but I know she misses you like crazy and she’ll come back as soon as she can, ok?”

“Ok” Alistair agrees sadly.

“But maybe we can call her this weekend ok?” he tries and the boy merely nods. “And you know what else?” Max continues, his voice lifting and Alistair raises his head at that.

“What?”

“I was thinking I could leave work early today and you and me go to the park and we’ll practice some of those cool new soccer moves you learned at school this week. Would you like that?”

“Really?!” Alistair's eyebrows raise comically high with how excited he is. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die” Max says in a dramatically serious tone as he draws an ‘x’ over his chest with his finger, causing the boy in his arms to giggle.

“Nana, do you want to come to the park with us later? Daddy and I are gonna play soccer!” Alistair announces as if you weren’t standing right next to them and overhearing the entire conversation.

You want to. You really want to. You love seeing Max and Alistair get to spend time together. They’re so sweet together and Max can be so attentive when he has the time to focus on his son and you’ve never seen Alistair happier than in those precious moments with his Dad. But at the same time, you know it's important that they spend time alone with just the two of them as well. They rarely get any such time, other than sometimes bed time, because you are always there when Max has Alistair so as much as it pains you to do so, you politely decline.

“You know what buddy I would just love that, but I actually have some boring errands I need to run today so I have pass, but listen, raincheck, OK?”

“Rain check?” Alistair questions, turning his gaze to look out the window and you realize he’s checking the weather.

Cute kid.

“It just means we’ll do it another time” you explain and he takes a moment but eventually nods.

“Ok buddy,” Max sighs as he gently puts Alistair down on the ground before squatting down to be eye level with him.

“If I’m gonna come home early today I really have to get going now, OK? So you be good for Nana today and I’m gonna come home as soon as I can”

“Ok Daddy” Alistair agrees easily. Not that he’s ever much trouble anyway. You’d have to admit you got pretty lucky with this kid.

They exchange ‘I love you’s’ and Alistair presses a kiss to Max’s cheek when Max squeezes him in a hug and then he stands up straight again, turns towards you and tosses you a quick wink before he says goodbye and he’s out the door while you and Alistair wave after him from the kitchen window. Your free hand comes up to run absently across the plane of skin that Max had left a flurry of kisses on just moments ago and you shake your head, you need to get the memory out of your mind so you can actually be a functional human being today and Max has a way of completely unraveling you it seems. Once you hear the car pulling down the driveway you sigh and place your hands on your hips, telling Alistair to go upstairs and get dressed while you make his breakfast so you can get your days started.

You’re both secretly counting down the hours until you see Maxwell again.

…

True to his word, Max gets home in time to take Alistair to the park to play soccer. It’s after dinner time, but still a couple hours before the sun sets and Alistair is fully jumping up and down as he sees his father’s car pull up the driveway. He’d been sitting at the bottom of the staircase by the front door since he finished his dinner nearly an hour ago just waiting for his dad’s return and you prayed he would actually make it because you weren’t sure you were prepared to deal with the meltdown that might come from Alistair if he didn’t.

“Go wait in the car buddy, I’ll be right there” Max tells Alistair after they’d said their hello’s, and Alistair snatches up his soccer ball from the bottom of the stairs before he runs off down the driveway to eagerly buckle himself into the backseat.

“He’s been chomping at the bit” you laugh as you watch the boy jump and skip all the way down the driveway.

“I know, I tried to get home sooner, was he ok?”

“Yeah he was fine” you wave him off easily. “Just really excited to spend some time with you”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? You can, you know. We both want you there” Max makes sure to emphasize that he wants to spend time with you as well.

“I’m sure” you sigh, smiling at Max before taking a step closer and grabbing for one of his hands, swinging it in yours between your two bodies. “You two need some time together”

“Maybe later, then?” Max asks hopefully, one eyebrow raising. “After Alistair goes to bed?”

“Hmmm, I think I could fit that into my schedule” you tease, smiling and Max grins back at you before he leans in. Your eyes close in anticipation as his mouth gets closer until you both jolt apart when you hear the long and loud honk of the car in the driveway. You suppress a giggle while Max hangs his head and sighs.

“I’m being beckoned” he says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder towards the 6 year old he knows is currently laying on the horn in the driveway.

“Don’t keep the young Master Lord waiting” you joke and Max chuckles but rolls his eyes playfully.

“I’ll see you later”

“Looking forward to it” you smile in return and then he’s gone out the door.

The boys are gone a good hour and a half and you manage to keep yourself fairly busy during that time. You tidy up the living room, put on a load of laundry, organize Alistair’s toy bins (something you’d been meaning to do for ages) and even have time to run the vacuum in yours and Alistair’s bedrooms before you hear the car pull up the driveway again. You watch them through the kitchen window, father and son, just being in goofy moods as they walk up the driveway. Alistair is jumping all over his dad and Max bends down and swoops Alistair up by the waist and swings him around like an airplane leaving the boy in an absolute fit of giggles as he’s spun around and around. By the time they reach the door Max is winded and Alistair is dizzy, falling unceremoniously into your arms the moment you swing the door open to greet them. Thankfully you catch him and bring him over to the bottom of the stairs to let him sit down until the room stops spinning for him.

“So I guess I don’t have to ask if you two had fun” you surmise as you glance back and forth to the two of them.

“I scored so many goals!” Alistair announces, a proud smile on his face.

“You did?”

“Yeah” Alistair shrugs and then stage whispers to you “Dad’s not very good”

“Hey” you hear Max grumble and you laugh. You didn’t expect Max to be much of an athlete anyway so you couldn’t say you were surprised.

“It’s ok Daddy, you can practice and then you’ll be better next time” Alistair comments cheerfully and that gets a laugh out of Max.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence son”

“Hey little man,” you begin, getting Alistair’s attention. “You’ve got 30 minutes before bedtime so why don’t you go put something on TV for a bit, ok?”

The boy quickly agrees and scampers down the hallway to the living room and you wait until he’s out of earshot until you turn back to Max.

“Everything ok?” Max asks when he notes the sympathetic expression that crosses over your features.

“Raquel called when you were out with Alistair. She didn’t say much, just that it was urgent and she needs you to call her right away”

“Oh” Max frowns. “Everything was fine when I left… Guess I should give her a call”

“Go ahead, I’ll keep Alistair occupied” you tell him, reaching out to touch his arm gently before you head down the hallway to the living room, leaving Max to tend to his business matters.

You weren’t sure what his assistant wanted but typically when she called him at home it was some type of emergency that usually dragged him back to his office, regardless of the hour. You hoped that wasn’t the case tonight. Him and Alistair were having a great time and you know the boy would be crushed if his dad leaves now, right before his bedtime but you don’t say anything to Alistair, just keep him company watching tv while his dad takes the phone call in the kitchen.

A few minutes go by until you look up and see Max leaning on the open door frame to the living room. Alistair hasn’t noticed him yet so when Max gestures to you with a nod of his head back toward the kitchen you get up from the couch and slip away unnoticed.

“Everything ok at work?” You ask once you and Max are alone in the kitchen.

“Well, not really” Max sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair; his telltale sign of stress.

“Do you have to go back to the office?”

“Not tonight” Max shakes his head and you’re relieved, at least momentarily.

“But… something else has come up”

“What is it?” You ask curiously.

“A potential investor we’ve been courting for a while, apparently they need some hand-holding and the board wants me to put some face-time in with him”

“Ok…” You’re not really sure why this is bad news yet.

“This investor, it could be huge for us, for me. We’ve been trying to get him for a while”

“Well that sounds like good news” you shrug. “Sounds like he’s close to making a commitment if they want you to go see him”

“Yes, it’s great news, actually. But the problem is he’s in London. And I’d need to fly out tomorrow so I’m there for Monday morning” Max sighs again, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh…”

“Yeah. I mean, don’t worry, I told Raquel that my ex wife still isn’t back and it’s just not possible for me to go right now. I’ll call a shareholders meeting on Monday and just… I don’t know, make them understand” he shrugs and you frown.

“Max, you can’t… This is big, you need to do this”

“I have Alistair, I can’t” Max tosses his hands up. You can tell this is killing him.

“Max,” you sigh and take a step closer so you’re just inches apart. You place a hand on each of his forearms and wait for him to meet your gaze so you know he’s listening before you begin speaking again.

“You should go. I can handle Alistair. It’ll be what? A few days? It’s nothing”

“No, I can’t, I couldn’t ask you to-“ he begins to protest but you squeeze him a little harder and cut him off.

“You’re not asking me to, I’m volunteering. And it’s literally my job anyway. It’s not that different from during the week anyway. Alistair will be fine. We’ll be fine. You need to do this Max” you reason with him and he frowns slightly.

“Are you sure? This is a lot. With both me and his mother away, I don’t know, he could get upset, he could-“

“He’ll be fine Max. He’s a strong kid. Why don’t you talk to him tonight at bedtime and explain everything. He’ll be a little bit sad but you’ll be back before he knows it and you’ll bring him a present from the airport and he’ll be the happiest kid on earth again” you simply shrug and Max gives you a small smile.

“You really are an Angel, you know that?” Max tells you genuinely and you return his smile.

“I know, I know” you playfully roll your eyes. “Now go in there and see your son. He has ten more minutes until bedtime”

“Yes ma’am” Max agrees and as you drop your hands from his arms he reaches out to catch one of them, bringing it to his lips to place a quick kiss to it before he drops it and leaves you to go after his son.

You decide to leave the two boys to have the rest of their night together and you head to your own room, hoping that Max will come and see you once he’s put Alistair to bed. You don’t want to get your hopes up, you know he has to pack and probably has a lot to prepare before his flight tomorrow so you distract yourself by picking up the novel on your nightstand and getting comfortable in bed to just read and relax for a while. He did say earlier he was looking forward to spending time with you so you hope the impromptu business trip didn’t sour his mood too much.

Time ticks on and on and it’s well past Alistair’s bedtime when you finally make the decision to go in search of Max. You tie your robe around your waist before heading out of your bedroom because although Max might very well appreciate your current state of (un)dress of just a threadbare t-shirt and panties, you can’t run the risk of Alistair for some reason still being awake.

You head down the hallway and pad up the stairs to where both Alistair and Max’s bedrooms are. You pass Alistair’s first, the door is closed, no light under the door and you don’t hear a sound so you safely assume he is already asleep so you keep going a little further down the hallway. When you reach Max’s room the door is wide open and you peer in from the doorway to see Max seated on the side of his bed with his head hanging low and his face buried in his hands. You frown at the sight.

“Hey,” you call out as you knock softly on the open door and Max quickly raises his head to look at you.

“Oh, Angel, I’m sorry” Max quickly shakes his head. “I was going to come down I just,” he trails off, like he doesn’t want to talk about it and you quickly cross into the room to stand in front of him.

“Hey,” you try again, softer this time as your hand comes down to hold the side of his face and you instantly feel him lean into your touch.

“Look at me”

He does. He looks tired and… something else you don’t quite recognize on his features. You offer him a weak smile, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

“How’d it go with Alistair?”

“To be honest…” Max shrugs a little, looking away. “I think he’s having an easier time with it than I am”

“Told you he’d be fine, and I’m always right” you can’t help the little smirk that escapes you and you even manage a little huff of laughter out of Max with that.

“Is there something else?” You ask, moving your hand up now to push away some hair that’s fallen across his forehead.

“Yeah, after I put him down I called Sofia you know to, let her know,” he begins, speaking of his ex-wife. “She wasn’t thrilled at first that I’m leaving Alistair when she’s not here but she understands and she knows I trust you implicitly with him and she trusts me so… that was fine, eventually. But then we got to talking about when she might be home and well it’s… going to be a lot longer than she had initially thought”

“Oh,” you frown, already in the back of your mind feeling bad about how Alistair will react to this when he hears it. That’s likely what’s on Max’s mind as well and the reasoning behind the sudden sullen mood you’ve found him in. “Is it her mother still? Is everything OK?”

“It’s cancer, I guess” Max sighs, resigned. “They think it’s early and they can treat it but it means chemotherapy and a ton of doctors appointments for months and there’s no one else… Sofia doesn’t have any other siblings and her father passed away years ago so she’s all her mom has.”

“So she has to stay…” You surmise and Max gives a slight nod.

“She told me if I need to I can send Alistair there for a while but… that means pulling him out of school and for what? To give his mother an extra person to have to look after 24/7 and to let Alistair watch as his grandmother gets sicker and sicker in order to get better?” Max quickly shakes his head at the thought. He’d seen what chemotherapy patients go through before and he knows it’s not something a child should bear witness to if it can be avoided. “It’s just… God I don’t even want to say this out loud because I know how it sounds but… the timing couldn’t be worse”

You understand what he’s saying and you sympathize. His business is growing day by day and he’s already stretched so thin and to be a full-time single Dad on top of all of that… It’s a lot, even for Max, who seems to have more energy and perseverance than just about anyone else you’ve met before. You know he’s worried that he will constantly be letting his son down. He’s used to having his two weeks on, two weeks off so that on his off weeks he can work like an absolute madman to be able to afford a little more free time to spend with Alistair during his on weeks. But if he’s on all the time, well, something is going to fall to the wayside. Either his burgeoning business, or his relationship with his son. And for Max, it’s a catch-22 because he works as hard as he does because of his son. For his son. To give him the life he wants for him; the life he wanted for himself as a boy and never had.

“Come here,” you sigh, wrapping your hands around the back of Max’s head and pulling him forward so his head rests against your chest. You rest your chin on top of his head and your hands run softly through his hair to comfort him and you feel his shoulders start to relax simply from your touch before he brings his arms up to wrap around you and hold you close.

“I’m sorry” you whisper, and press a kiss to the top of his head. “We’re going to figure this out” you tell him and feel him squeeze you a little tighter; the ‘thank you’ not needing to be said out loud for you to hear it. You can feel it seeping out of him.

You stay like that for several minutes, Max’s head resting in your bosom and you gently playing with his hair, neither of you saying anything. You know nothing is getting solved tonight anyway and he doesn’t need the added stress so you just hold him, occasionally pressing kisses to his hair or the side of his head.

Eventually you pull away, just slightly, and silently pull on his hands to get him to stand up. When he does, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, tossing it to a nearby laundry hamper before placing both hands on his cheeks and lifting yourself up on your tiptoes to place a quick and chaste kiss to his lips.

“Go take a shower Maxwell” you whisper against his lips and he says nothing but nods dutifully and walks past you towards the ensuite; undoing his belt and pants along the way until he’s disappeared into the next room and you hear the water start up. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you that he leaves the door open behind him.

While Max busies himself undressing in the bathroom you head out of the bedroom all together and down the hall to Alistair’s room to quickly peek your head in and ensure the boy is sound asleep. Satisfied with that you head back to Max’s room and close and lock the bedroom door behind you - just in case - then go to his nightstand and make sure to set the alarm for an early enough time to ensure you’re awake and can be out of Max’s room in the morning before Alistair’s typical wake up time.

You take a breath, and then head after Max into the bathroom.

He’s already in the shower, leaning with one hand pressed to the tiles in front of him and head hung low so the hot spray beats down on the back of his neck and his shoulders, likely where he’s carrying most of his stress. You watch him quietly for another minute or so before finally slipping out of your robe and underclothes and pushing the sliding door open to step in behind him.

The minute you’re in the shower you simply wrap your arms around his chest and lean your head on his back and you feel his shoulders relax in your presence. He takes his free hand not holding him up and places it on top of yours, mindlessly rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of one of your hands.

He lets the water continue to cascade over the two of you for another minute, allowing the steam to build up in the room before he straightens up and turns to face you, letting his hands rest on your waist. The moment he turns around you can’t help but let your gaze wander his whole body. This is the first time you’ve seen him completely bare from head to toe, you realize. He’s broad and strong in most places, but soft and pliable in others and it’s the perfect dichotomy. The duality of his body is just like the man himself, you muse inwardly.

His manhood hangs delicately between his legs, not completely soft but not raging with need, either. He’s certainly interested, that’s easy to see, but not looking like he’s about to throw you up against the tiles to have his way with you either. You’re glad, as you hadn’t meant this shower to be sexual or a quick romp, you just want him to relax and let go and with Maxwell you’ve learned that physical intimacy with him is a key way to achieve that.

When your eyes find their way back to his you notice he’s staring at you, too. His gaze is hungry as he takes in your wet body dwarfed by his larger frame and a blush creeps up your neck that you hope can easily be mistaken for the heat of the water on your skin as you give him a shy smile.

“Hi” he finally says, speaking for the first time in probably at least 15 minutes. A smile plays on his lips and you bring your hands up to wrap around his neck.

“Hi”

“You’re beautiful, Angel” he breathes into the small space between you, his hands absently running up and down your sides.

“Funny, I was going to tell you the same thing” you tell him honestly and now it’s his turn to blush.

And he is beautiful. You never thought a man could be pretty before, until you met Maxwell. He’s handsome too, sure, but when he’s vulnerable like this, in your arms, handsome isn’t what first comes to mind.

You unwrap your arms from his neck and reach over for the nearby bar of soap and then push on his shoulders to have him turn around before you begin washing him down. The small space fills up with the scent of his soap; something woodsy like pine trees and cedar and you breathe it in, letting it assault your senses. Once his back is done you turn him back to face you and give his front side the same treatment. His eyes are closed as you rub the soap bar in small circular motions over his shoulders, chest, stomach and legs. You don’t think he’d ever admit it but he seems to love being taken care of. You wonder idly what his childhood was like. Besides being poor, you knew that part, but was he never shown the love and care that he deserves? The kind that he strives his best to show Alistair? The way he works so hard to take care of every aspect of his life now, you can only assume it comes naturally to him from doing it for his entire life. You love that he seems to trust you enough with his most vulnerable side, a side no one else gets to see from him.

“On your knees, pretty boy” you say teasingly once you’ve finished washing all the soap from him. Maxwell raises one eyebrow but obeys and lowers himself down to his knees in front of you. He’s looking up at you, like he’s waiting for you to give him some kind of direction, but you don’t say anything. Instead you grab for the shampoo bottle and squeeze a small amount into your hands before you begin rubbing it into his hair, working up a rich lather and every so often raking your nails through his scalp.

His eyes have closed again and he lets out the occasional soft moan at your tender caresses and massaging as you continue to work the shampoo into his hair, making sure to reach every spot, behind his ears and the back of his neck. Once you’re satisfied you tip his chin up so his head leans back and is under the spray of the water again, the soap washing away from his head until it swirls down the drain and the water runs clear again.

“Good boy” you can’t help but praise him and the shudder that racks his body upon hearing your words doesn’t escape your notice.

“Come on,” You say, helping him up before reaching behind him to shut off the water. You both step out of the shower onto the bath mat and you grab two towels, handing Max one before wrapping one around yourself and quickly drying off. Once dried you slip back into your underwear and t-shirt and Max pulls on the clean boxers you had brought into the bathroom for him but forgoes his own t-shirt.

“Let’s go to bed” you tell him softly, taking both of your towels and tossing them into a basket before you wrap your fingers around his and lead him out of the bathroom and into the darkened bedroom. You crawl into the bed first and under the covers, shuffling back a bit to make room for him and Max climbs in after you, both of you lying on your sides to face each other; the only light emitted into the room being a sliver of moonlight coming in through the mostly closed blinds. Your hand reaches out to brush a wet lock of hair away from his forehead and behind his ear before it comes back to rest on his cheek.

Max’s hand tentatively reaches out for you as well, his coming to rest on the swell of your hip as he brushes his thumb back and forth and his gaze locks with yours.

“I don’t know how you do it, Angel” Max says thoughtfully and your brow furrows just slightly, not following.

“Do what?”

“Manage to make the whole world stop moving, for just a few minutes, exactly when I need it to” he confesses honestly and you hope the way your heart flip flops in your chest at his words isn’t evident on your face.

You let the compliment linger and settle into the space between you for a few moments before you finally speak.

“Well, clearly you missed that part on my resume under the ‘special skills and qualifications’ section” you tease and he chuckles, grateful for you that you don’t dwell on his vulnerable words for too long. You know how easily he can get uncomfortable when opening up and you always want him to feel safe with you. You press forward slightly then until your lips meet, soft and sweet but you pull away before it has a chance to escalate. You want Max to rest.

“Go to sleep baby” you whisper against his lips before placing one last peck to them.

“But, Ali-”

“Door’s locked, and I set an early alarm. I’ll be out of here before he wakes up, I promise” you cut him off and he smiles.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“Come here,” you say, holding your arms out and Max immediately snuggles into your embrace, wrapping himself around you as your hands wrap around the back of his head and his face nuzzles into your neck, breathing you in. Your hands roam the back of his head and down to his shoulders and upper back until you feel his breathing finally even out and you know he’s asleep. You turn on your back to get comfortable, Max now only partially draped over you and you love the warmth his body provides and feeling the weight of him on top of you.

You’re asleep in minutes.

You gently drift back into consciousness several hours later. Your positions seem to have shifted during the night because now you lay on your side facing away from Max with him spooning up behind you, holding you close to him as his hands absently caress your sides and stomach under your t-shirt. You can sense he’s awake. His breathing is uneven and a little hurried as he cuddles closer into you and you can feel the unmistakable hardness pressed into your lower back. You can tell he’s trying not to wake you; his touch barely ghosting over you, just needing to feel your skin under his fingertips and be close to you. A lazy smile spreads across your lips. You’re glad you stayed in his bed last night if it meant waking up like this.

“What time is it?” You mumble sleepily into your pillow.

“Oh, did I wake you Angel?” You can hear the pout on his lips, genuinely upset with himself. His hands still immediately and you instantly crave his touch again.

“No, but I should be so lucky to be woken up like this” you’re smiling now and you hope he can hear it in your voice as you reach your hands down to grab his and guide them to start moving again.

“It’s early” Max's mouth is suddenly at your ear as his nose nuzzles into the side of your face. “We have an hour until your alarm goes off” his breath is hot against your ear and you can’t help but push yourself backwards slightly further into his embrace. He groans when your backside presses up against him.

Max’s hand leaves your stomach to grab your shoulder that you’re lying on and turns you all the way over until you're face to face. It’s barely 6am so only the beginnings of sunlight seep in through the slats in the blinds of Max’s bedroom window, the room still mostly dark but with enough light that you can make out each other’s features. Gone is the stress and exhaustion that was evident on his face last night and all you see in Max’s eyes now is yearning, desire. He hauls you closer still until you’re practically nose to nose and then he closes the distance, mouth claiming yours in a kiss that steals all the oxygen from your lungs.

You’re making out for several minutes. Teeth and tongues and grasping hands as your lower bodies occasionally grind into each other. It’s hot, the way you’re content on just tasting each other for a little while, tongues exploring and the occasional moan and whimper passing through your lips as you anchor on to each other. At some point he rolls over top of you, one arm resting on the mattress to hold himself up so he’s not crushing you and the other caressing your upper body over your t-shirt.

It’s Max who breaks first, escalating your little kissing session by lowering a hand down to your thigh and pushing it up under your t-shirt until his hand is at your waist and his thumb rubs back and forth over your hip bone, dangerously close to wear he really wants to be touching you. He rips his mouth away from yours and brings it to your throat instead, moaning into it before latching on and sucking the flesh into his warm mouth.

“Mmmm, want you so fucking bad” He confesses, and proves it by thrusting his hips so you feel the hard length of his desire press into the inside of your thigh. “Angel…” he trails off as he lowers his hand inside of your underwear and seeks out your sex; his fingers meeting with your arousal when he presses them into your folds.

“Max,” you moan as your hips rise off the bed and push into the pressure of his hand. “Feels so good”

“Mmmm, fuck baby, take these off” he growls, taking his hand out of your underwear to hastily try to tug them off. You wiggle your hips, helping him get you out of them until he’s able to slip them all the way down your legs and they’re tossed off to some corner of the room without a second thought. His mouth melds with yours again as his hand goes back to fondling you.

“Max,” You breathe his name between kisses and he moves his mouth off of yours to trail down your jaw and to your throat instead.

“Mmmm?”

“Gonna be… awful lonely when we’re apart, don’t you think” you're breathless as you try and string a coherent sentence together and Max groans into your neck.

“Yes Angel”

“He’s gonna be lonely without me” you pout, bringing your hand down to gently squeeze Max through his boxers and he moans at your touch.

“Fuck”

“Will you touch yourself when we’re apart, baby?”

Max whines into the side of your face as your hand stokes him over the soft cotton. There’s a wet spot where you know his tip is positively leaking for you.

“Only if you want me to, Darling” Max breathes into your ear. Your touch has distracted him from kissing you and he can only rest his head against yours, his breaths coming out in short pants.

“Want to be so good for you” he confesses in a whine next and your breath stutters. Apparently you didn’t have to second-guess anymore if he really had been into your little dominant role-playing game.

Fuck he’s gorgeous when he’s completely at your will like this. You idly wonder how much you can get away.

“I know you do baby” You tell him, wrapping your fingers around his chin and pulling him closer to kiss you.

“I um… I had a thought…” You begin a little nervously and he raises his head enough to look you in the eye. He removes his hand from your sex and rubs it slowly up and down the outside of your thigh instead so he can give you more of his attention.

“What is it, Sweetheart?”

“I um… I wanna wait, to have sex. Until you get back”

“Oh…” Max’s shoulders drop slightly and he looks a little confused and understandably a little disappointed.

“I just think it would give us something both to look forward to… It could be fun and I don’t know, kind of sexy, don’t you think?” You raise a flirtatious brow at him.

“Just, knowing I’m here,” you begin, your voice a little more confident now as your hands wander up his naked chest and over his shoulders. “Waiting for you to come home to me, to make love to me for the first time,” you continue and Max moans, closing his eyes and simply nodding his head, like he’s incapable of forming words. His cock twitches against the inside of your thigh.

“If I’m missing you, and I get sad, I can think about that. Will make me feel so good again” you hum against his lips before pressing a kiss to them. “And you’ll think about me too, right baby?”

“Yes Angel, fuck, yes, ok. I want to wait for you, whatever you want”

You humm appreciatively. “Good. Now be a good boy Maxwell, and make me cum” you whisper against his lips and he shudders.

“Fuck” he grunts, looking down at you. “Thank you Angel” he says before his hand is back between your legs, gliding through your slick folds.

You feel like you could nearly cum just from hearing him thank you for allowing him to get you off. Where has Maxwell Lord been all your life?

“Wanna make you feel so good” Max whines into your throat as he plants soft kisses there. “Fuck you so good with my fingers”

“You’re so sweet to me, my beautiful boy” you praise him, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

He growls in appreciation as his fingers continue his assault, alternating between rolling your clit between his fingertips and then shoving his digits inside of you.

“Slow baby, nice and slow” You warn him after a minute when he starts going a little too fast too quickly. You want this to last and at his pace you’re going to be falling apart in seconds if he keeps doing that. Your hand wraps around his wrist to slow his movements and he yields to your grip on his wrist and slows down, letting you guide him.

You’re directing his movements like a goddamn airport traffic controller. Waving him every which way, showing him exactly how you like you to be touched, how firm to press, when to speed up and when to slow down. You’re mewling and writhing beneath him, head rolled off into the side to muffle your tiny gasps and moans into the pillow as he pays deft attention to what you like and how to achieve it. It’s like he’s gotten fingering you down to an art form and you make sure to let him know how good he’s doing, whimpering and whining your praises towards him as you gently rock your hips into his hand.

“Oh, yes, show me what you like Angel, please, I want to see” he pushes himself up enough so he can kneel between your legs and look down to see exactly what he’s doing. His eyes are glued to your dripping sex as his hand works you over with your grasp still firm on his wrist. He brings his free hand up to push both your knees apart until they’re practically touching down on either side of the bed, you spread completely wide open for him and he has to bite his bottom lip.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” you tease but Max looks a little lost, unsure what you want him to do. You show him exactly what you mean when you regretfully pull his hand away from your own aching core and shove it inside his boxers so he can grab his own dick instead.

“Show me how you’re gonna fuck your hand when you miss me, baby” You instruct and it takes him a second but then he slowly starts pumping his cock, his eyes never leaving yours as you’ve got him in your trance now. “I wanna have a visual to think about when I touch myself while you're away” you confess and a wrecked groan leaves his lips.

“Are you going to think about me? Wish that was my hand wrapped around you?”

“Yes Angel, fuck” He lets out a harsh breath between his teeth before his free hand moves to shove his boxers down to his thighs so you can see just how crazy you drive him.

“Just like I’m gonna play with myself, imagine it’s your fingers” you hum before your first two fingers come down to lazily circle your clit. Max moans and his free hand comes down to grasp your inner thigh so hard you just know it’s going to be bruised tomorrow. You can feel the little crescent shapes of his fingernails digging into your flesh.

“And when I put my fingers inside, ohhhh” You let out a high pitched gasp as your fingers slide easily into your wet heat. It feels so good, you were so worked up already and playing this little cat and mouse game with Max is doing things to you that you never knew existed in you. “Oh, I’m gonna think about your cock filling me up instead baby”

Max grunts and has to stop pumping his cock, pausing to give it a quick squeeze instead to calm himself so he doesn’t come before you.

“My cock is all for you Angel” Max moans as he slowly starts tugging on his throbbing member again. He shuffles a little bit forward on his knees so that with each slide of his hand up and down his shaft it gets so close to you that the head of his dick occasionally bumps into the back of your hand that’s working your cunt.

“Oh fuck Maxie” you whine from beneath him. “Yes, tease me with your cock baby, show me how bad he wants this pussy”

“Want it so bad honey” Max groans. You can tell he’s losing it and you're grateful because so are you and you don’t know how much more you can take.

“Want to make you cum so bad” he whines, teetering on the edge of his own release and desperately trying to hold out.

You’re writhing beneath him now, your free hand has come down to work frantically at your clit while your other one pumps two fingers in and out as Max’s dick keeps hitting the back of your hand timed perfectly with the thrust of your own fingers.

“Oh fuck, Oh baby, oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” You’re seconds away from coming when Max abruptly knocks both your hands away, spreads your folds wide open to him and with a firm grip on his dick he brings it down to slap repeatedly against your clit, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over again against the bundle of nerves and you come with a scream. Max, thank god, has the wherewithal to take the hand not holding his dick and clamp it over your mouth when you do (because you’re pretty sure that scream was loud enough to wake the neighbors down the block - let alone the 6 year old across the hall).

“I need to cum. Oh fuck, oh baby, please can I cum” Max is positively wrecked above you, fucking into his own fist again with his eyes screwed shut and head tossed back and you hadn’t expected him asking permission of you like that so it takes you a second before your brain catches up and then you’re frantically nodding your head, moaning your permission into his hand that’s still over your mouth.

The moment he feels your head nod, Max’s hips stutter and a rich moan escapes his lips as hot ropes of his own release coat your mound and dribble down to your folds. The power he gives you over him is nearly enough to tip you over the edge again. Your cunt clenches around nothing as Max submits to you completely and you’re slowly rocking your hips into the mattress as Max’s hand releases from covering your mouth.

“Oh fuck, Sweetheart” Max is groaning as his grip milks the last drops of come from his cock. “Oh shit, mmmm” he brings his gaze back down to where he’s made a mess of you and his free hand comes to your center, swiping his digits through his own release before sliding them down to mix with yours, pushing through your lower lips. His other hand is still lazily pumping his cock and you're impressed by his stamina, still hard in his own hand.

“Do we look good together baby?” You ask breathlessly as Max continues rubbing your pussy with your combined releases, occasionally letting his cum soaked digits sink in and out of your hole. He’s watching you like somehow if he were to stop you might just disappear all together. He can’t take his eyes off where he continues to spread the remains of your coupling.

“So good Honey” Max moans. You’re so oversensitive you’re trying not to jerk your hips off the bed with every brush of his fingers against your fluttering hole. Max wanting to continue to touch you after climaxing seems to be becoming a trend, you realize, and you want to let him take from you as much as he gives. You’ve never had a partner come even close to the level of intimacy that Max explores with you.

You feel so close to him that your chest actually aches with it.

“Can I clean you up, Sweetheart?” Max asks, large brown eyes seeping into your very soul with his puppy dogged expression.

“Of course you can baby” you smile easily, bringing a hand up to brush over his cheek and he moves his face to kiss your palm before he lowers himself between your legs and starts licking into you with broad heavy strokes of his tongue, moaning into your cunt when he tastes the heady blend of your orgasms.

“Oh…” you whine gently, your hands coming down to play with Max’s hair. “Oh, mmmm, baby.” Your hips begin gently rocking into Max’s face as he continues to lick into you.

You're undeniably turned on by him in this moment. Most men are such babies when it comes to their own cum, immediately making you brush your teeth after you have them in your mouth, or tossing a towel at you to clean yourself up with if they make a mess of you. Max however continues to surprise you, like when you're in bed together he exists only to please you and it's incredibly arousing, even in your post-orgasmic state.

“Fuck that’s nice” you manage and Max hums into your folds before he brings a hand up to part you open a little wider for him and moves his mouth to gently suck your clit into mouth.

“Oh shit!” Your hips jerk at the action. You hadn’t really meant for this to become a round two but apparently your body and Max’s mouth have minds of their own and suddenly he’s groaning into you.

“Please Angel,” Max pleads between kisses and suckles and licks. “Let me make you cum again”

He doesn't wait for an answer, instead just starts eating you out in earnest. The tip of his tongue swirls your clit before he gently sucks it again and then his mouth goes back to licking you everywhere at once, his tongue lathing over you and even prodding at your entrance which sends another wave of pleasure skyrocketing through you and your gentle moans and whimpers encourage him to keep going.

“Yes, Oh Max, fuck. Yes, yes, baby please” You're fully riding Max’s face now, your fingers an iron grip in his hair as you tug him impossibly closer and Max seems to be thriving on it. He buries his face even further into your cunt and feasts on you like a man starved and you’re his last meal. His hands are on either of your thighs, keeping you spread open for him as he licks you over, again and again and again; your writhing beneath him spurring his movements.

“Oh my God, oh yes, Oh Max, please please please” you beg wantonly. Your toes are curled, your stomach is in knots and there’s a pressure building deep inside you that’s making you feel like you’re about to explode. You’re so close, you’re not sure you’ve ever needed to cum so hard in your life and Max is working extra diligently to get you there; doubling his efforts when he hears your cries from above him. He tongues your clit, flicking his muscle relentlessly back and forth before sucking your pearl into his mouth and groaning deeply with his efforts and the dam breaks. Your resolve crumbles and the flood gates open as you thrust against his mouth over and over, his name leaving your lips repeatedly like a whispered prayer as he coaxes you through your orgasm with his unforgiving mouth.

“Oh my God, Max…” your whole body is heaving as Max continues to slowly lick into you, cleaning you up all over again as he’s made another mess. “Fuck”

"Baby you taste like heaven" Max mumbles into your trembling core before peppering little kisses all over the insides of your thighs.

“Come here, my perfect beautiful boy” You finally say after a few long moments pass. Your hands leave his hair and you tap his shoulders instead to get his attention and he finally looks up at you, eyes soft with a look of pure adoration for you. Max obeys, crawling up your body and then brings his weight down on top of you and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close. His cock has mostly softened but it twitches when it happens to land right in between your legs and you can’t help but moan, still oversensitive, and lift your hips just slightly until his member nestles perfectly into your folds, resting just outside of your entrance. If you had more than ten minutes or so before Alistair would be up you’d be very much tempted to forget your whole notion of waiting for sex and have Max take you right now. The way his cock lightly throbs against you in interest tells you you're not the only one who feels that way.

“I think they can’t wait to meet each other” Max jokes, thrusting just slightly to emphasize what he’s talking about and you sputter out a laugh at his unexpected playfulness.

“I like hearing your laugh” Max admits and you can feel his cheeks smiling against your face.

“I like you, Maxwell Lord” you tell him earnestly, pulling his face back so you can place a quick kiss to his lips.

“I like you too,” he admits as he whispers your name into the stillness of the room.

Fuck, you might even love him.

Next chapter

Tagging my Maxwell girlies @boliv-jenta @suzdin @prolix-yuy @heavennumber2 @macabremads . I swear I'll give you sex in the next chapter 😂, I'm sorry.

[aporcelainphantom]

MONEY DOESN’T MAKE THE WORLD GO ROUND, PUSSY DOES !

Part of a collab 💞

Obey Me! Diavolo

CW: Female reader, f receiving oral, vaginal sex, nsfw, size kink, I think it lacks pronouns for the reader but the term “good girl” is used, implied breeding kink

You loved days like these, no homework, no stress, just tea made by Barbatos that never ran out, and Diavolo practically worshipping you between the paperwork he was reading through. Pussywhipped was an understatement to describe how the prince was for you. You, his perfect little human.

It never took too long before Barbatos would stop coming in. He knew better. One didn’t even need to be observant to tell how badly Diavolo was craving you. Your legs mindlessly draped over his lap would soon lead to his hands petting along your skin, tracing and teasing higher and higher until the ruler of the Devildom was on his knees in front of you.

“MC, my beloved, my everything” he said, his voice quiet as his hands separated your legs, his lips leaving desperate kisses as he made his way up them “you’re so good to me, so sweet” he nearly whines, looking up at you.

You can’t help but run your hands through his hair, cupping his face in your hands as he looks up at you as though you’re the center of the entire world.

He kisses your mound over your panties, soon hooking his fingers over the band, sliding them down, groaning with pleasure just from the sight of your pussy. A giggle leaves your lips as you watch him “my Lord, you look more pleased than a child left to their own devices in a toy store” your tease, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he shakes his head “MC, my sweetest treat, you know you never need to address my by proper title” her reminds you, you fingers gliding through your slit, gently starting to play with your clit. “I know darling” you began, a moan cutting through you “however, I quite enjoy having such a powerful man on his knees for me”.

He chuckles, placing a kiss on your clit before his lips surround it, gently sucking and flicking his tongue, your fingers in his hair and the sweet, sweet noises that fell from your lips driving him. He moans against your bud, his tongue diving inside your hole as his large hands hold your thighs, his thumbs gently rubbing them.

Like a man possessed he buried himself between your legs, licking and sucking as though it was the only thing keeping him alive, soon adding two of his thick fingers, your climax bringing him nearly as much pleasure as he desperately licks you clean before sliding a third finger in.

“You’re such a good girl, you’re my everything. I just need to make sure you’re completely ready” he coos, his tongue lapping at your clit again.

“Dia, I need you so badly” you whine, the sweet sounds making his cock throb against his slacks, the fabric straining against it.

“I know sweetest, let me just get one more from you, okay? I promise I’ll fuck you until this couch breaks after if you want” he promises, the moan from your lips enough confirmation for him as he pumps his fingers, scissoring them inside, making sure his sweetest darling, his perfect human, is ready.

Only moments after he slips his third finger in, you feel yourself reaching your high again, even more intense than the last time, hips desperately riding against him as you soak his face and hand.

Through your babbled pleas, he nods, kissing you deeply as he quickly removes his own clothing, his large, perfectly sculpted body towering over you as he pumps his cock in his hand, bending down for another kiss

“Are you ready my sweetest?” He asks, your frantic nodding serving as confirmation as he positions your body on the couch, a moan falling from his lips purely from the sight of your body.

He couldn’t deny either of you any longer, patting the fat head of his cock on your mound before carefully sliding it in, hissing as you stretch perfectly around him.

You could swear you saw stars every time he fucked you. The way he split you open, his cock filling every inch of you as he tried so hard to be careful. But how much control could he manage when he was inside his absolute perfect MC? When your pussy pulled him in, feeling as desperate as he was?

It didn’t take long before he bottomed out, cursing under his breath as you gasped, your tits bouncing with the movement. “You always look so beautiful when I fill you like this, did you know that? You look absolutely perfect” he praises, his pace slow to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.

You’re his everything. His most precious treasure. And he needed to make sure you were well taken care of.

You were so small beneath him, it drove him mad. It doesn’t take long before he’s speeding up, kissing your neck and playing with your clit to help bring you as much pleasure as he could. The lewd sounds spilling from your lips letting him know you were enjoying the moment as well.

Though he’d always manage to pull plenty of orgasms from you, he always worried he wasn’t lasting long enough. But with the way your pussy drained him, pulling every last drop of cum from him, he never stood a chance.

He would always cum where you wanted, he insisted that you get exactly what you wanted, spoiling you even with this, though his favorite was always to fill you up, spilling his cum inside of you.

His aftercare was always loving and lavish. Hot baths, more kisses than you could imagine, your favorite treats, he never hesitates to pamper you.

After all, you, his perfect MC, has him wrapped around your finger.

[mashas-rotting]

One Last Time

Oops I wrote another chishiya smut instead of my niragi one. Don't worry I'm still working on it. This is pure smut. Oral fixation. Afab receiving

~Chishiya is worried about you playing a game and decides he has to do something one last time. He's an edge lord and would never tell you he's worried so he basically jumps your bones. Also at this point you're under the impression that your emotions are one sided and it's only physical for him.~

"Are you playing a game tonight?" Chishiya asks sounding bored as he walks beside you. "Yeah." You reply looking at him confused. He'd never cared if you had a game or not before. "I need to talk with you privately then." He removes a hand from the pocket of his white hoodie and grabs your wrist pulling you into a room beside him. You almost trip because he pulled you so suddenly. Looking around you realize it was a janitorial closet.

"Why would you need to talk to me here?" You ask bewildered. Chishiya leans in close and you feel his hair brush against your face making your breathe hitch. "I need to taste you." He says looking into your eyes intensely before leaning in and kissing you softly. You whine into his mouth a little and his hands rest on your hips. His lips send electricity through you making you want to press your hips against his but before you could he was on his knees.

"What are you-" "I need to taste you." He repeats a little breathless. "Unless you you don't want me to?" Chishiya smirks up at you trying to keep his composure. One of his hands hold the string to your bottoms ready to untie them. You can see something in his eyes that makes you think he might actually die if you tell him no. Not that you wanted to, your bikini bottoms were already soaked. "I want you to." You whisper caught off guard by the whole situation.

The blonde leans forward and places his open mouth on your still covered cunt and groans. It's too dark to see but his eyes roll back as he runs his tongue up the front of your bikini covered slit. You try to keep from moaning but fail as you lean back against a shelf hands searching for something to hold yourself up. Fuck someone was gonna find you at this rate. "I can't be quiet." You let out another slightly louder moan as he increases the pressure of his tongue. "What if someone catches us?" You try to reason, arching your back and pushing yourself against him. "Let them." he says sounding almost as undone as you do.

Chishiya unties one side of your bottoms and moves them out of the way. Pulling one of your legs over his shoulder, he stares at your throbbing core as he slowly runs a finger up your slit spreading the wetness sending waves of pleasure starting from his finger and shooting through your whole body. You feel close even though he's barely touched you and you know he knows. How the fuck does he always get you so close so quick? "Is my pretty girl close already?" His face is so close to your clit that his breath tickles. You nod your head as you try, and fail, to steady your breathing.

"So sensitive." He chuckles and latches onto your clit as he slowly slides a finger into you. "Fuck, Chishiya please." You cry out right on the edge. His tongue swirls once then starts an increasing rhythm of side to side as his finger curls inside you hitting your g spot and driving you crazy. Normally you had to beg for your orgasm but he clearly wanted you to cum hard and fast. "Fuck you feel so good." You whined as your head started to feel fuzzy and your body starts twitching. Shoving a hand in his hair and grinding against him you crash into your orgasm clenching around his finger and gushing onto his face. Wave after wave of thoughtless pleasure fills you. The blonde kneeling between your legs slows but doesn't stop his assault as you come down from your high.

"do that again." Chishiya says looking up at you. "I don't know if I can." You say not knowing if you should panic or laugh. "Don't you want to make me happy though? Isn't that what you said?" He teases you resting his head on your thigh. "Don't you want to be a good girl and cum with my tongue inside you? I still haven't properly tasted you." He presses a few soft kisses against your thigh. You feel yourself blush at his words. Of course you'd cum again. You would do anything for him. You nod feeling embarrassed. "Say it. Say you want to be a good girl and cum with my tongue inside you." Chishiya demands, his tone making you shiver. "I want to be a good girl." You say looking away. Chishiya slaps your thigh. "And?" You yelp in surprise but the sting left behind makes you wetter which you're sure he knows. "And cum with your tongue inside me." You say defeated. "Whatever you want beautiful."

Chishiya pulls you to his mouth, both hands on your ass, almost holding you up completely. He lets out a groan as his tongue slides into your wet slit. You had no idea he had such an oral fixation, and holy fuck you had no idea how he got his tongue so deep inside you. "Oh my god. Fuck, your tongue." You were starting to lose the ability to form full sentences. The sensation of him thrusting into you wad insane. You mindlessly rode his face moaning loud enough that anyone walking by would no doubt hear. Suddenly you were cumming, gushing into his mouth with a scream. Your legs tensing with your orgasm. Chishiya groans into you as your literally ride his face through your release. Your body twitches as you try to catch your breathe.

You almost slide to the floor as Chishiya moves to stand up but he realizes and grabs you. Holding you against him with one arm around your waist and one holding your face he leans in close, noses touching. "Fuck you taste good." He whispers. "Mmm," is all you can reply still not recovered. Chishiya chuckles and leans in pressing his lips against yours. You can taste yourself on him making you moan into the kiss. "Unless you want to miss your game, you should stop grinding against me like that." He growls breaking the kiss. "Sorry." You mumble feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You hadn't even realized you were doing it. "Can you stand?" He asks you sounding amused. You nod and he kisses you quickly before letting you go and tying your bottoms back. "Good luck in your game tonight." He says reaching for the door. "Don't do anything stupid." He says before he leaves.

[adz]

The cat is hissing at you. You can’t remember the last time you fed it. In the refrigerator, there are two slices of deli ham in a plastic bag. You remove them and put them on the cat’s dish.

Next to the refrigerator is something your partner bought you: one of those digital photo frames. The way it transitions is the image starts off very pixelated and quickly resolved into the actual photo.

You watch it while the cat eats the ham. A photo appears as a big splotch of red and pink in the middle and you think will this be a decaying torso or maybe an open skull but it quickly fades into a photo of three of your relatives sitting on a couch.

You live here alone now. You hold the small plate in your hand and look at the screen. There are 17 messages. In your head, you think I’ll go back to my room with a small glass of vodka and listen to Space Song 60 or 70 times, that should help.

You go into your bedroom and sit down and turn on your big plate. You stream a video of yourself with the vodka and music.

Hey guys, you type into the chat. What does everyone want to see? You run a poll.

The winning option is “combat” so you run a search and find something, far overhead high-res security footage, a livestream from war in some unrecognizable place. Soldiers move back and forth horizontally, stepping to one side and then the other side to avoid rifle bullets. A skill they learned from first person shooter games.

They are strafing, someone says in the chat. Others respond.

They are gay lords

war is hell. war never change. lol

me avoiding responsibility

I want to go there to have lots of sex without paying much money

Your small plate lights up again and it’s messages from your sister about her daughter, which you don’t care about but you kind of do in a way that makes you mad. Your niece takes photos on her small plate of her school notebooks and doodles and posts them to her instagram account and because they’re analog and messy in a clean & digital space, you suppose, thousands of people “like” and “share” them. She gets sponsorships from brands to have their products be in view in her photographs of her shitty notes which aren’t even well written or meaningful. Being nondigital is enough.

The cat is below you somehow. You thought you’d closed the door. Space Song is still playing and the cat is clawing at the subwoofer underneath your desk even though you’re pretty sure cats can’t hear low frequencies. The cat is so fucking stupid and looks like shit, really thin with matted fur that it never cleans.

You get up and it follows you to the kitchen, and the ham is gone so you open the fridge again and get out a prepackaged stick of vegan cheese. The cat tears it out of your hand before you can even unwrap it and starts ripping chunks off it so you just go back to your room making sure to actually close the door this time.

Chat is quiet and seems bored and you navigate to a new site where you can pay to execute someone who’s on death row and you can speak/listen to them beforehand and watch them succumb to the death drugs on a livestream. As a concept it’s awesome but you almost never get someone who speaks your language so you really have to be an empath for it to be good.

You ask the chat for donations to pay the fee and someone donates $120 but nobody else sends any money. Finally you’re just like I’m gonna turn in for the night. Probably watch some Liveleak videos or ASMR, have a little snooze. Anyone want me to leave a stream on? And nobody responds so you shut it off. The large plate is just a black screen now. Like cats the plates realized the owner was really dependent. Mute caretakers, but they didn’t care whether they lived or died or were on or off. When they spun up they became everything to him, they had noticed.

You’re in your room looking at the black screen. The vodka is gone, the music’s been shut off. The cat is scratching at the door but the only thing left in the refrigerator is a jar of capers.

A pet is something you feed until it dies. A partner is something you utilize until it leaves you

[scarofthewind]

Kinktober Day 1- Throat Fucking

A/N: I’ve been working on this for a while and finally am able to get it out because I push off homework lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: NSFW, Facials, cum play, throat fucking, slapping, degrading, praise, everything hell is made of. 

word count: 1.5k Tp Jar (every bit helps!)

Michael Myers: Lord have mercy on you. Michael is a beast of a man who cares very little about the overall wellbeing of your speaking voice and thus refuses to let up on the rough and brutal pace he’s at. His cock is heavy in your throat and the red in your cheeks is from multiple love taps with his hands and with his cock. The tears that have been streaming down your face only turn him on as he grips your hair harder, humping your mouth with fervor. “You’re such a whore. Look at you- practically drooling down there,” he grins, looking down to see you touching yourself. “Don’t worry baby, after I cum I’ll take good care of you,” the glint in his eyes made your eyes nearly roll back to your head as he shot his load right down your throat.

Brahms Heelshire: Very condescending man you’re dealing with. He’s nice with his words as if he’s not shoving more than enough of his cock down your throat. “Fuck, just like that, my love,” he’ll coo, wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes as he thrusts into your mouth, holding you tightly by the hair to prevent you from moving. Brahms doesn’t like to make messes so he’ll cum in your mouth, letting you move freely the last couple of seconds to get him off completely. He’ll get you water or whatever you need afterwards and then promptly hoist you up on the counter top to eat you out and return the favor. 

Jason Voorhees: If he’s in a pissed off mood, expect your voice to be gone for a couple of days. HIs firm grip on the back of your head prevents you from moving even the slightest inch as he fucks your throat like its the only thing that can get him off. He cums so much that you swear you can feel it start to leak through your nose as he stuffs more than one load down your awaiting throat. Jason can be rough but afterwards, he will kiss the ground you walk on and do anything to make you feel better- so expect him to either fuck your cunt next or eat you out like a man starved because you’re not leaving the bed until you’re both satisfied. 

Thomas Hewitt: Watching you struggle to take this mans massive girth makes him harder than he thought possible. Your gagging and the tears falling from your eyes as your throat constricts around his cock for the nth time makes him coo at you, rubbing circles on your cheeks. “You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart, think you can get the next few inches in?” Only when you nod does he push farther into your mouth, watching your eyes go to the back of your head and a shiver run through your body. Once you get comfortable enough for him to move, he’s gentle and kind throughout abusing your throat and it takes a few minutes before he’s spurting hot cum down your throat.

Bo Sinclair: He’s a feral man and a hard dom, even though he’s quiet unexperienced. Don’t let it fool you though, this man has a mouth on him that makes it so easy for you to get on your knees for him, opening your mouth for him to sink his cock past your lips. “Atta fucking girl,” he grins, letting out a groan as he holds you by the hair, using your mouth to get him off. Bo tends to cum quicker when he’s using your mouth to his liking so he’ll pull out when he’s close and pump his cock in your face until his load is covering every inch of your beautiful skin. 

Vincent Sinclair: Honestly, this man loves fucking your throat. Either that or sinking into your cunt after a long day; but when you offer to blow him, he doesn’t blink before unzipping his pants. Vincent’s gentle but still uses you like a good little cocksleeve, fucking your throat raw until he’s shooting his load onto your tongue. He doesn’t talk much; he’s too focused on the warm feeling around his cock and reaching his orgasm. He’ll groan and grunt and occasionally curse but he’s not going to degrade you. 

Billy Loomis: It’s a daily thing for you two; he’ll either start by having you sit on his face or you can go first by sinking on your knees. He’s a little shit so he’ll go as rough as possible- anything for him to bust. His fingers laced in your hair, keeping your head in place while he rans his cock down your throat, chuckling at your fucked out expression. Billy’s the type to pull his cock out of your mouth and slap your cheeks with it before continuing to abuse your throat. “Such a little slut for me, aren’t you?” He’ll groan, enjoying your whimpered replies before he pulls out and cums all over your face. 

Norman Bates: He’s on the shyer side when it comes to having you on your knees for him but he’ll do it- no questions asked. He’ll give you constant praise the whole time, his words sweeter than the relentless thrusts of his hips as his cock fucks your throat. Norman is very sweet when you do things like this for him so expect him to return the favor later. “Feels so good,” he’ll grunt, sweat glistening on his chest and stomach as he fastens his pace, signaling to you that he’s about to finish. He will 1000% cum down your throat- don’t even try to pull away. 

Bubba Sawyer: This sweet angel is more of a giver than a receiver but when he’s given the opportunity to shove his cock down your throat, he’s more than happy to do so. He’ll be super, super gentle and constantly asking if you’re okay or if it’s too much; he’s very cautious with his movements because he doesn’t want to hurt you. “Alright?” He asks with a shaky breath as he stares down at you, the hairs at the base of his cock tickling your nose as you nod up to him. Guiding his large hands to your head, you give him the incentive to move and he does so with such a gentleness it makes you swoon. He’ll tell you when he’s about to cum and try to pull away so he can finish in a tissue to not make a mess but it’s up to you if you want to swallow his kids or not.

Charles Lee Ray: This man is lazy as hell so he doesn’t really fuck your throat- you basically are just giving him the average blowjob. Charles is more often quiet while he’s watching you work his cock down your throat; every now and then giving words of encouragement or saying things like, “Just like that,” letting you know that your doing a good job. He’ll grab your hair and guide your head along his shaft to the pace of his choosing but he won’t go as far as thrusting into your throat like an animal. When he’s ready to cum, he usually cums down your throat but there have been times where he’s finished on your face or tits; just depends on how he’s feeling. 

Bughuul: King of praise- lord have mercy. He’ll have you a blushing, fucked out mess by the time he’s cumming down your throat. He’s a gentle dom, but still one at that so he’ll be rough but super caring. His palms will rest on your head, keeping you still or moving you to the pace that makes him groan in pleasure. Bughuul will stroke your cheeks, cooing down at you while his cock twitches in your mouth. “You’re so beautiful, even like this,” he’ll say, watching the way more spit dribbles down your chin and wiping some of the tears falling from your eyes. You can expect an intense amount of aftercare and don’t think you can get away without him returning the favor. 

William Emmerson/Schenk: He’s a hard dom but treats you like glass when it comes to aftercare. Depending on the mood he’s in is how hard he’ll fuck his cock down your throat. Usually, he’ll have you on your knees the minute he gets home, cupping your chin roughly before sinking his cock into your awaiting mouth. He’s quiet for the most part aside from gasps or short groans of pleasure but each one sends a million sparks through your body as you stare up at his lust-filled face, taking in his expressions for all their worth. “Fuck that feels good baby,” he’ll grunt, picking up his pace and throwing his head back before he brings your mouth to the base of his cock and cumming down your throat without warning. “Good girl,” he’ll grin after wiping your mouth and making sure you’re okay, he’ll have you bent over the side of the couch, ready to be fucked like no tomorrow. 

[lefthandersruletheworld]

My Impression of you Based off Which Survivor you Main (not up to date):

Dwight: You try your best and are altruistic to a fault. You’ll do just about every heal and unhook, plus protection hits. A lot of the time, you’ll be left to die though. Good news for you, because killers may spare you because you’re cute. 

Meg: You think you’re really good at looping, but you’re not. You’re good at doing gens though! 

Claudette: You are a member of a toxic breed. You yourself may not be toxic, but other players may be wary of you due to Claudette’s reputation. Also, you think self care is better than Nancy’s perk. 

Jake: You try to be stealthy, but you never are. If the killer walked past you and “didn’t notice you” then they 100% did notice you, but they felt bad that you have 0 ability to hide so they looked the other way. 

Nea: You think you’re a god at this game and you get too cocky. You get mad when the killer doesn’t fall for your tricks, and can be a little mean. However, you tend to be altruistic and helpful. 

Laurie: You constantly wonder why killers tunnel you when your character comes with Decisive Strike. 

Ace: You’re a meme lord and like how quiet Ace is. You also think you’re cool because you main him. 

Bill: No matter how many hours you have in this game, you will always think you’re at a higher skill level than you are. 

Feng: You’re a sweaty gamer who likes to dominate other players, but you like to look cute while you do it. 

David: You main David for one of two reasons. 1, you think he’s cool and wish you were tough like him, or 2, you think he’s sexy and own the shirtless David torso. 

Quentin: You are extremely underrated and sweet. You carry teams on your back, but then get left to die. We need more players like you. 

Tapp: I almost never see you doing gens or running the killer, but if I’m injured you somehow materialize into existence just so you can rub my back. Then you leave and I never see you again (that is, until I’m injured)

Kate: You main Kate because of boobies. 

Adam: You're stuck in a dilemma. See, when you run Deliverance, it's like the killers know you're running it, and they will do EVERYTHING in their power to hook you first, and the moment you say "fuck it" and take the perk off, suddenly the killers don't give a crap about you and then you're like one of the last people hooked, and then your team just abandons you and you don't get to have your rightful hook jump because you took that stupid perk off. You're mostly chill about it, but deep down you're very salty about it, which I would be too

Jeff: You’re also rare, and despite how sweet of a character Jeff is, I think you’re mad about Jeff's lack of cosmetics, because a lot of y'all are low-key toxic. 

Jane: You main Jane because of booty. 

Ash: You have no right to be as good as you are and somehow die first every single match. 

Nancy: You think you’re better than Claudette mains because you run Inner Healing (Inner Strength) instead of self care. 

Steve: You’re so much fun to play with but JESUS I know you're so horny for that poor guy. LET HIM BREATHE FOR CHRISTS SAKE.

Jonathan: You take pride in being the unicorn of DBD

Yui: You like the idea of a hot motorcycle babe pegging you. 

Zarina: Most people forget you exist, but you tend to be helpful. 

Cheryl: Normally you’re pretty average, but if you have a flashlight you become a literal demon to both your teammates and the killer. 

Cybil: You have big dick energy and I respect you

James: You’re chill, but I don’t wanna be near you when you have a pillow. 

Jeryl/Chames: You have the determination of a GOD and you should be respected and feared as such. 

Lisa: I have no reason to feel this way, but in my heart I imagine you mimicking Patrick Stars “wee woo wee woo” when you go for hook saves. If you didn’t before, this will haunt you now. 

Felix: Himbo. Sweet himbo. You try your best but you make silly mistakes. We still love you though <3 

Elodie: You're one of two things. You either A. Like Elodie as a character but really wish she was quieter, or B. You play her specifically because she's loud and its your passive aggressive way to punish the killer for hooking you.

Yun-Jin: Despite how much of a bitch Yun-Jin really is, you're surprisingly sweet and are willing to go the extra mile for your teammates if you like them. 

Jill: You just wanna do your fucking objectives man. 

Claire: You can convey an impressive amount of sass through a video game and I respect you so much. 

Sheva: You either really like her character or really love ✨women✨

Leon: It doesn't matter how many hours you have in this game- you could have 5 hours or 5,000 hours- you are legit the most unlucky lucky person ever. You can get away with the most atrocious jukes, impressive loops and cheekiest plays ever, but then right after run face first into a wall, and then take a sharp turn into the killer + haunted grounds just got activated for that +2 'fuck you' damage.

Chris: You bring terror to every unfortunate Leon that crosses your path

Carlos: Hubba hubba, you have fiiiiine taste

Mikaela: You’re a sweetheart, but you want Nancy to stop touching your fucking totems.

Jonah: Who ARE you?? Are you real?? What do you do?? Why do you do?? WHO ARE YOU??

Yoichi: You enjoy saying you main Demi (from youtube)

Haddie: You really respect Haddie as a character and are STARVING for more cosmetics

Ada: You REALLY wanna fuck Ada. No no, come here, don't delete your search history now, come on, let me see it. I know you have SFM/Rule34 videos of her. I know what you are.

Rebecca: You’re very peppy and VERY excited to go for every unhook

Vittorio: Do you need a napkin for all that drool? 

[genshinboys]

Thigh job with Genshin boys - Zhongli

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Fem reader x Zhongli

Knock-Knock-Knock

You are standing in front of the door to Zhongli’s office at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. Upon knocking, you open the door and peek inside only to see the Archon seated at his desk and hunching over some documents. His form relaxes the moment his eyes cast upon your persona.

„Can I come in?” you ask politely knowing very well that Zhongli would never be capable of saying no to you.

He puts aside the pen that was previously tightly squeezed in the palm of his hands. Eyes glistening and his facial expression a tell-tale sign of excitement which he promptly attempts to hide going back to the customary for him calm facade.

Immovable as a rock and yet his world was shaken the moment you waltzed into it.

Zhongli doesn’t mind though and he revels in the way you made everything the Archon thought he knew to go to rack and ruin.

So, he finds himself inviting you and wreaking more havoc in his hitherto impassive and emotionless millenniums of existence.

„Oh, by all means, please do,” he responds courtly. He straightens up in his armchair gesturing to his lap.

You smile knowingly.

Zhongli but adores having you in his lap. The way your soft body fits in there is glorious and the lord of Geo could narrate hundreds of stories about the marvel of you being sat on his thigh tightly pressed into his sturdy physique.

It is his way of unwinding after a long day or taking a break from work. He would find solace and relaxation with you next to him. It becomes habitual and it just occurs naturally. When he sips his tea, scans through documents, reads a book or wants to tell you some of the stories from his past. You sit on his lap and everything falls into place.

He loves the control this setting gives him and the fact that he can easily do whatever he deems fit when your body is conveniently at his disposal.

And you wouldn’t say no. Whatever his intentions are.

So you come over to the handsome god and with a loud scoff unceremoniously land on his lap while wrapping your arms around his neck.

„What’s the matter my dearest?” he furrows his brows but the little crooked smile doesn’t escape your notice. Zhongli can’t help himself, he thinks that you’re just too adorable and pure for this world.

„Oh, Zhongli!” you cry out, „That little bastard Venti stood m-,”

He clears his throat and gives you a reprimanding glare, „Language my little girl.”

You roll your eyes at his antics and wiggle your butt successfully shifting your position so that your whole weight is now on Zhongli’s right thigh and your legs are hanging in the air on the other side of the armchair. He wraps a protective arm around your middle while his free hand starts caressing your uncovered leg, so nicely exposed by the skirt of your choice.

So once you feel all snug and comfortable you continue dramatically, „Zhongli, but he really stood me up! I needed his help with one commission and I found him as drunk as a skunk. He was so sloshed he fell asleep in the tavern and Kaeya had to escort him home!”

„Is that so?” he cocks an eyebrow but he isn’t surprised at all.

„Yes! I wasted so much time because of this motherf-,”

Zhongli shoots you another look of disapproval and you just smile apologetically.

„He’s never been good at holding his liquor, my Dear,” he states the obvious more preoccupied with the way the plump flesh of your thighs reddens when he squeezes it with his leather-clad hand. He allows himself to roam a bit higher and the skirt does little to prevent his movement.

„Dear,” he says as his lips approach your earlobe, „Have you by any chance forgotten to put on underwear yet again?”

You really love Zhongli’s voice. His low rumbles, deep and husky sounds from the back of his throat always give you goosebumps.

And so this time, you shudder in his embrace like a leaf in the wind.

„No, of course I didn’t,” you respond in your defence.

„Mind if I see?” he asks and pushes your skirt out of the way revealing your naked bum.

He clicks his tongue, feeling you up with his long fingers. The gloves he is wearing create nice friction as he strokes your skin.

„I might have forgotten after all,” you admit even if reluctantly.

Zhongli is a patient man. Throughout the centuries he has learned to remain cool and composed despite the most arduous and trying of times. He would have never guessed that this quality of his would so often come in handy when graced with your presence.

„Pray-tell my Dearest, so you did come here, parading around the streets of my city with no decency in your soul left, only to sit in my lap with your bare bottom?”

This question sounded more like an accusation and was rather rhetorical.

You shrug your shoulders for lack of any better excuse.

The archon takes a deep breath and digs his fingers into the meat of your ass.

„You enjoyed yourself last time, no?” you make a point to remind the lord of Geo of your last visit to his office.

„So vulgar,” he criticizes gazing down and marvelling how your smooth skin contrasts with the material of his black slacks. You would often stain them with your juices when the Archon opts for something more than just telling you stories with you in his lap.

„I trust you know what to do, Love,” he adds once again locking his eyes with yours and then kisses your forehead fondly.

You chuckle having no intentions to make the god wait any longer.

You let your hands slide down to his crotch and unbuckle the belt helping Zhongli get his erection out of the tight black slacks. At times like this, you would internally curse the Archon for his strict dress code but it can’t be helped. Zhongli is as stubborn as a mule when it comes to certain customs.

His cock springs free and you bite your lip openly admiring the ex-Archon. It never ceases to thrill you. His shaft is thick and painfully long with popping veins and a swollen tip. He is just so enormously big it intimidates you. You briefly wonder if it has anything to do with him being a half-dragon and you shudder at the thought mentally taking a note to ask him about that next time he places you in his lap.

Zhongli’s heartbeat quickens when you teasingly stroke his impressive girth, your lips finding his and you crash them together hungrily.

He hums in delight when you slide your thumb over the tip of his penis. You break the kiss and flash a cute grin at your immortal lover.

„I want to please you with my thighs,” you inform him matter-of-factly at which he nods somehow too quickly to match his typical indifferent attitude.

„You spoil me, my little one,” he praises in an erotic timbre and his eyes widen when you lift yourself from his lap and turn around.

„Hold my waist, will you?” you ask for some assistance placing your hands on both sides of the chair.

„Certainly, so,” he obliges.

So with some help on his side, you elevate your bum and reach for his hardened cock to delicately insert it between your warm-to-the-touch thighs. Experimentally, you lift yourself up and then push down letting his erection slide between your legs in a smooth motion. You make sure to smudge the leaking pre-cum all over his shaft so that the Archon doesn’t feel any discomfort.

„How does that feel Zhongli?” you ask glancing behind your back only to see his already fucked-out stare which makes your chest swell in adoration.

His lips are parted and eyes half-closed as he holds onto your waist the way you asked him to.

„Absolutely marvellous, my Dear. Please, do continue, hmm?” he encourages albeit struggles to reply.

You carry on stroking him like that, sometimes pressing your thighs a little tighter and he groans as quiet as he possibly can. Zhongli would despise being caught by Hu-Tao when you rub his cock so expertly.

The pace you decide to torture Zhongli with is sickeningly slow and he’s had enough of playing around for today.

You let out a muffled cried when the Archon grabs you even tighter and forces you down on his dick. He repeats the motion in an animalistic tempo taking pride in the way your ass bounces up and down in front of his eyes.

„Zhongli!” you plead as you feel your legs going numb.

„Bear with me a little longer, Love” he coos.

Your whole body hurts and your arms feel as if they were going to give out any moment.

Fortunately, Zhongli isn’t going to last much longer as the pleasure mixed with pain make him approach the brink he so much desires. With one final thrust and a guttural moan he releases and you can feel his hot load on the inner side of your thighs. Some drops of cum land on your lower belly and face. It’s so messy and you feel how your walls contract around nothing in feverish excitement.

He helps you go back to your previous position with his arms now tightly wrapped around your exhausted body. He enjoys the slight twitching of your weary muscles. He reaches for your chin and forces you to face him.

„Home?” you ask in a desperate plea for him to return the favour. Your body aching for his touch.

„Home,” Zhongli agrees, as indeed, the Archon is unable to turn down any of your wishes.

Other boys:

Albedo

Xiao

Diluc

Kaeya

Childe

Kazuha

[katsuhera]

paranoia

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader tw/warnings: nsfw (18+), dumbification, alcohol, some choking, some degradation, some cockwarming, canon au but not relevant to story, aged up characters (18) wc: 4k

“paranoia, anyone?” kaminari asked, wriggling his eyebrows at the group. tonight was a chill drinking night, celebrating the start to summer vacation.

“ooh! i’m down,” mina exclaimed excitedly, clapping her hands together. you sat in the corner, just blissfully happy and quiet. you hadn’t drunk too much yet, but you could undoubtedly feel a light buzzing coursing throughout your veins, enough to make you just want to sit and recalibrate as everyone else moved animatedly around you.

“what’s that again?” kirishima asked, sipping his drink. “i forgot how to play, i think.”

“okay, okay, wait, let’s all sit in a circle,” kaminari started, waving his hands around. “it’ll be easier that way.”

“tch,” bakugou scoffed, a surly look on his face as kirishima forced him to scoot closer to the rest of the group. “do we have to? this is probably a shitty game.”

“relax, it’s fun, i swear,” mina assured him, her gentle hand on your shoulder encouraging you to scoot in closer as well. “one of my favorite drunk games! i promise.”

“okay, so here’s how we play,” kaminari said. “we go in a circle, like clockwise or counter-clockwise, whatever, and each person whispers a question to whoever’s next to them, and the answer has to be the name of someone in this room.”

“it sounds kind of complicated but you’ll understand once we play,” mina said. “so, for example, i’m sitting next to kirishima – i will ask him a question that only he can hear, like, ‘who has the coolest quirk?’ and he’ll say like ‘todoroki,’ or something, out loud for everyone to hear. and if todoroki wants to know what the question was, he has to take a shot, and then kirishima will expose the question.”

kaminari nodded, adding on: “it goes like that, but usually the questions get… spicy.” he smiled toothily, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint to them. “all questions are fair game! let’s not be mean, though.”

“let me grab some drinks, but you guys can get started!” mina said, getting up and heading off to the kitchen.

you glanced around the circle, giggling inwardly at how dazed iida and some of your other classmates seemed. iida in particular never really got around to drinking much, but when he did, he was predictably a lightweight.

everyone else seemed to be fine and vibing, and you curled your knees into your chest as you got comfortable, waiting for the game to start. drinking games were always fun with your class, especially when mina and the rest of their squad took control.

“who wants to go first?” kaminari asked, looking around.

“i can,” todoroki volunteered quietly, surprising everyone else.

“oh? bet, then go ahead and ask bakugo a question. we’ll go counter-clockwise, then,” kaminari piped up, getting up a little to help mina set the bottles of alcohol and plastic shot glasses down in the middle.

a hushed silence fell over the group as todoroki sat pensively, thinking of a question, before leaning in to bakugou’s grimacing face.

“what a stupid question,” bakugou snickered, and answered without missing a beat. “deku.”

everyone nearly snapped their necks to turn around and look at midoriya.

“do you want to know what the question was?” mina asked.

midoriya shook his head violently. “i think i’m good.”

bakugou sneered before cracking his neck and pausing to think of a question for kirishima.

“hurry up, bro,” kirishima teased, earning a scowl from bakugou.

“shut the fuck up,” he growled, leaning in to whisper his question.

you loved watching their best friend dynamic. bakugou was normally on everyone’s bad side, his antagonizing manner turning most people who met him off from interacting with him ever again. but with the way he interacted with kirishima, you knew that he probably had a softer side that he was either too embarrassed of or insecure to let on.

you felt your cheeks flush as you lost yourself in thought, staring at the redhead and the blonde – well, mostly the blonde, and the way his triceps flexed smoothly as bakugou leaned on his arm to get closer to kirishima.

“what are you staring at?” mina whispered excitedly in your ear. startled, you snapped your head to the side to look at her.

“nothing, nothing,” you murmured, embarrassed. if mina knew, you’d never hear the end of it.

“um...,” kirishima started, his pale cheeks flushed crimson as he prefaced his response to bakugou’s question. his eyes darted worriedly around the circle, lingering for a bit on jirou. “jirou… i think.”

jirou’s head immediately shot up from its cozy spot on kaminari’s shoulder, narrowing her eyes as she looked at kirishima. “shot,” she demanded, eliciting laughs from the group. mina poured one out for her and handed it over, giggling as jirou downed it easily, not even a hint of a wince on her face.

“what was the question?” she asked, looking straight at kirishima, making him blush even further.

“who here is…” his voice trailed off meekly.

“who here’s most likely to have a daddy kink,” bakugou grinned, his vermillion eyes glinting with amusement. “interesting… jirou, hah? i can see it.”

you smiled as you watched their interaction spiral – you’d never seen jirou more embarrassed in her life. kaminari watched on in mild amusement, though you could tell that the tips of his ears were also red.

interesting, maybe it is true, you mused to yourself. can’t blame her, though.

“my turn! ask me a question, kiri,” mina said, clapping her hands and sipping her drink.

kirishima paused in thought before covering his lips and her ear with his hand.

“stop!” mina laughed, gently slapping his shoulder. “you really asked me this knowing who i’d say?”

“yeah,” kirishima chuckled. “go on, say it.”

“mr. bakugou katsuki,” mina said, rolling her eyes. “you want a shot, right?”

“tch,” he responded, grabbing the bottle. “tell me the damn question.”

mina waited for the alcohol to make its way down his throat before she exposed herself.

“‘who here do i think will get married last?’”

“and you said me?” he asked, indignant. “oi, raccoon eyes–”

“oh my god, relax,” she replied offhandedly. “clearly it’s because you’re going to be the number one hero or whatever and you won’t have time for marriage. anyway, i get to ask y/n next!”

bakugou growled, but left it alone, choosing to sit and glower at her instead.

“i’ve got a good one,” mina smirked, and immediately you knew that you were in for a tricky question.

“who here would you fuck?” she whispered, giggling as she pulled away and watched for your reaction.

you knew it was coming. not necessarily to you, but you knew that question was coming. it’s always asked. you sighed, regretting not sitting next to deku or momo who probably would have gone easy on you with the questions.

good lord mina, you thought frustratedly, putting your palm to your forehead.

“i hate you,” you said, monotoned, much to mina’s glee. “i need a shot before i answer.”

“here you go, bestie!” she replied, immediately pouring one out for you.

everyone else looked on eagerly, murmuring as you downed the shot, making a face as the alcohol burned its way down your throat.

“damn, what kind of question needs a shot before getting answered?” kaminari asked aloud, watching you with wide eyes.

you took a deep breath, looking around the group and trying to decide on who to choose. but your actions were futile; for you, there was only one answer – and there had only ever been one answer, really.

“... bakugou,” you said finally, hesitating to make eye contact with him.

“oh?” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “shot, raccoon eyes.”

“i already poured one for you!” she said happily, handing it to him. within a second, his cup was empty.

“so? spit it out, y/n,” he grinned.

“who here… would i fuck,” you said the last word with finality, anticipating the hoots and chuckles you’d get from the group.

“this is such a lewd conversation,” iida interjected abruptly, waving his hands towards the middle of the circle. “we shouldn’t–”

“you’d fuck bakugou?” kaminari asked you, his eyes wide with shock. “why?”

“what do you mean?” you felt blood rush to your face, engulfing you in slight embarrassment as you actively tried to avoid the gleaming crimson eyes that were boring holes into the side of your skull.

“i can see it, i think,” momo said, smiling at you. you were sure that what she said was meant to be reassuring, but you weren’t so sure of how helpful it was at the moment.

“so, bakugou, got anything to say?” kirishima asked with a wink, slapping his friend’s shoulder.

he was uncharacteristically silent as the rest of your peers held their breath, waiting for his response.

“tch,” he started, eyes darting to yours. “just that i’m not surprised.”

you held his gaze somewhat defiantly, thanks to the alcohol. sober you would have cast your eyes down immediately, praying for the moment to be over.

“okay, okay! next, next – gotta keep the game moving,” mina said, not wanting you to have to stay in the spotlight for too long. “y/n, ask kaminari something.”

your mind was undeniably foggy with the way you could feel bakugou’s eyes burning into your head, and you weren’t even sure how you were able to come up with a question on the spot. you muttered something stupid about who would be most likely to get robbed, and thankfully, his answer and the following questions kept the game moving along smoothly.

as the night progressed, everyone found themselves drunker and more comfortable with each other, though the questions had definitely gotten spicier. as uraraka rested her head on midoriya’s lap and jirou found herself leaning into kaminari’s arm, you couldn’t help but smile at how cute they looked. your class had come a long way since your first year together.

“i’m going to pee,” you announced, getting up and wobbling as the alcohol rushed to your head.

“oh shit, are you good?” mina asked, getting up to try and stabilize you, despite not being too stable herself.

“yeah, yeah, i’m fine,” you said, waving her off. “bathroom’s right there, i’ll be good.”

you stumbled your way over, stepping delicately over kirishima’s legs as you cut through the circle.

you used your time in the bathroom alone to try and sober yourself up. the sensation of the running cold water on your skin seemed to wake you up, and you examined yourself in the mirror.

fuck… i’m drunk, you thought after a couple of moments, giggling at the realization. disheveled strands of hair framed your face, and your eyes stayed unfocused no matter how hard you tried to get them to focus. you sighed, thinking that that was the best it was going to get, accepting your probable future hangover.

you opened the door, wringing your hands dry when an unfamiliar hand grabbed at your wrist, swallowing it in its large palm.

“bakugou?” you gasped, startled. “what…? is something wrong?”

he continued to stare at you, his large figure slowly backing you up into the wall, his body encaging you.

“did you mean it?” he asked lowly.

“what?”

“don’t be stupid,” he said impatiently. “your answer to raccoon eyes’ question.”

oh.

“i…,” you spoke hesitantly. how the fuck were you even supposed to answer that? “yeah, i guess.”

“you ‘guess’? is that a yes or a no?” he stepped in closer, backing you impossibly closer into the wall. you cowered from his stare, his body suddenly seeming much larger than you’d ever noticed before.

“i mean, yeah, i would,” your voice came out small, despite all of the mock defiance you held in your stare just an hour prior. “happy?”

he paused, holding his breath and searching your face intently. his expression was unreadable; normally, his lips were pulled into a grimace – but now, they sat in a neutral position. his eyes were the only elements of his face that gave away some semblance of emotion.

“... yeah,” he replied finally. “you could say that.”

“huh?” you asked, confused.

“come,” bakugou replied simply, tugging at your wrist and heading for the bedrooms upstairs.

“what? where are we going?” you could barely keep up with his strides. “bakugou, they’ll notice if we’re gone–”

“let them,” he sneered. “everyone’s pretty much knocked out, anyway.”

your heart throbbed in your chest as you followed him up the stairs, still slightly shell-shocked by his actions.

there’s no way this is happening right now, you thought incredulously, the only thing grounding you being the feeling of his hand on your wrist. well, i guess i didn’t lie – i would fuck him, you thought, observing the way his back muscles rippled through his black tank top. you weren’t lying – you just never thought he’d take you up on it.

you rounded the corner, realizing suddenly that he was taking you to his room – his private, secluded room that no one in the class had so far had the privilege of seeing.

“your room, bakugou? what an honor,” you giggled teasingly.

“shut it,” he growled, but you knew that he was all bark and no bite at this point.

his pace was fast and before you knew it, you were already in his room, pushed up against his door with your wrists pinned against it as he towered over you.

“you should have said something earlier, princess, maybe this would have happened a long time ago,” he said, his breath hot on your neck.

you opened your mouth to respond, but were interrupted by his lips on yours, urgent and passionate.

his tongue danced with yours as your teeth gnashed slightly; the both of you were drunk and sloppy, falling into each other as you let your thoughts swirl into nothingness.

he pressed his hips forward into yours, and you gasped slightly at the feeling of his cock stiffening behind his sweats. automatically, you rolled your hips into his, eliciting a low groan from him.

“not gonna last very long if you keep doing that, princess,” he murmured against your lips.

“huh? aiming to be a pro hero and you can’t handle that?” you teased, but were swiftly cut off as his right hand circled your neck, his left finding purchase against the small of your back as he swiveled you around to toss you on his bed.

“oi, don’t test me,” bakugou said, immediately hovering over you, supporting himself with both hands on each side of you and his knee in between your thighs.

he leaned in to suck at your neck, his hand sliding under your shirt to grasp at your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers.

a dull ache started to pulse in your core, and you could feel yourself getting wetter, soaking the thin panties you wore. it didn’t help that with his ministrations, bakugou pressed his knee harder into you, as if knowing that you were desperate for some friction.

you arched your back into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to bring him closer to you.

“desperate slut,” he chuckled darkly, nipping at your neck. “you’re lucky i wanted this, too.”

“oh? is that a confession, bakugou?” you asked smugly.

“you wish,” he replied snarkily, fisting your shirt and tugging it up, exposing your breasts. he moved his head down, planting wet kisses across your chest while pulling your bra down, the soft flesh spilling out of the restraining fabric.

a light buzzing filled your body – anticipation mixed with alcohol, and your mind was blurry, unable to focus on a single thought at a time. you laced your fingers into his hair, tugging softly at the blonde locks as his tongue lapped gentle circles over your nipple.

he brought his other hand down to pull at the waistband of your sleep shorts, and you lifted your hips, making it easier for him. as his fingers met your clothed cunt, he laughed darkly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“this wet for me, princess?”

you inadvertently tried to close your thighs, an attempt to hide the unmistakable dark spot that had formed at the crotch of your panties.

“no no, don’t hide,” he crooned, dipping his finger below the waistband of the lace cloth. “where’s all the brattiness from earlier, hmm?”

“tch,” you scoffed, tugging harder at his hair as you were at a loss of words.

smoothly, he pulled the fabric down, a low moan falling from his throat as he watched the string of slick that connected you to your panties.

slowly, he glided a finger up your entrance, gathering your arousal on it before shoving it into your mouth, forcing you to clean it off. he watched each and every one of your movements – like a hawk watching its prey.

not wanting to be the only one exposed, you moved your hand down to tug gently at his sweats, silently asking him to take them off. he listened, removing them easily and throwing his sweats and boxers across the room.

“you look so fucking pretty under me, you know that?” he asked, enamored by the way your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked his finger clean. “wish we could have done this earlier.”

he slapped his cock on your cunt teasingly before sliding the swollen head up and down your entrance, eliciting small whines from you. you’d never felt more needy in your life – just the mere feeling of his cock near your pussy drove you nearly insane with want, the desire to be filled up.

without warning, he pushed the head in, grinning at the gasp you emitted.

“fuck!” you breathed, eyebrows furrowed as you felt yourself already having to stretch to accommodate him.

“i’ve barely even done anything,” he responded, his grin growing even cockier. slowly, he pushed further inside you, holding back his own moans as he felt your fleshy walls clench around him. “fuck, you’re fucking tight though, princess.”

it burned for a second before the pain dissipated, and you found yourself craving more. you rolled your hips into his again, needing movement.

“tch,” he said, feeling your hips grind into his. “so needy.”

he pulled out slowly before thrusting into you again, hard and fast, ignoring the mewls and whines that had started to bubble up your throat.

you couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, so preoccupied were you with the sensation of being so, so full that you couldn’t form coherent thoughts.

with each thrust of his hips, your breasts bounced enticingly, causing bakugou to chew the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from showing any sign of vulnerability. but it was too difficult – you were just so pretty, a fucked-out mess underneath him.

the sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, to the point where you were sure that if any of your friends on the floor below listened closely enough, they could figure out what was happening.

“baku-gou, too l-loud,” you gasped, trying to choke out the words despite the pace at which he was going.

“so? they’re just extras, let them hear,” he growled, pounding into you particularly hard for good measure.

you couldn’t hold back your moans any longer, all of them spilling out at once, falling upon his ears like music.

“god- fuck, bakugou,” you panted, your nails leaving angry red marks on his back.

wordlessly, he moved a finger to your clit, rubbing small circles into it, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

your legs spasmed around him, and you wrapped them tightly around his hips, slowing his movements but unable to fully stop them. you were dangerously approaching your orgasm, and you could feel your vision start to glaze over – the only thing you could make out was the image of his eyes, red and shining, staring at you, as if willing you to cum.

your nails dug crescent-shaped marks into his flesh as you approached the edge. “‘m gonna c-cum,” you managed, creasing your forehead in concentration.

he pressed his finger harder into your puffy clit, his strokes becoming longer and more deliberate.

“yeah? then go ahead and cum, princess.”

waves of hot ecstasy rolled over you, pure bliss washing your mind blank of any thoughts. bakugou’s own hips stuttered as you clenched around him, convulsing as you rode out your orgasm.

“christ, y/n, feels so fucking good,” he muttered, letting you ride it out for a bit longer before he flipped you onto your stomach, fisting your hair.

“ah!” you cried out, your walls still fluttering around him despite the pain you felt from your scalp.

he pressed a palm into your lower back, forcing you into a deeper arch as he started to pound into you again, his head lolling back in pleasure.

bakugou couldn’t get enough of the way your ass bounced with each thrust, and he grabbed onto your left hip for support, starting to quicken his pace.

“mmnh–, more, bakugou,” you pleaded, your eyes rolling back as your tongue peeked through your parted lips. you gave up on trying to think – you gave in entirely to him.

“more? fucking slut,” he said, but in truth, your mewls and moans went straight to his dick, forcing him closer and closer to his own threatening climax.

you’d started to back your ass into him, too, matching his pace, and it was nearly too much for him to bear.

“shit,” he hissed. “‘m gonna cum, princess.”

“inside, please–!” you gasped, desperate to feel yourself filled to the brim with his cum.

that was enough for him, and he let go, shooting white hot spurts of cum into you, painting your walls white with his seed.

he cursed, feeling his cock twitch inside of you as it softened, despite the way you continued to clench around him, sucking up all of his cum and refusing to let go.

you whined as he pulled out, the sensation of cool air suddenly surrounding your pussy making you sensitive. bakugou watched, entranced, as trickles of cum oozed out from your entrance before he stuffed some back in with his finger.

gently, he helped you onto your back and flopped to your side, quiet, pensive. you lay catching your breath, but suddenly felt the urge to cover yourself up.

as if he could read your mind, he got up and got dressed, leaving the room.

is that… it? you thought, suddenly apprehensive. you, too, wanted to get dressed, but the trickle of cum making its way down your legs was too uncomfortable.

within seconds, bakugou re-entered the room, a wet rag in hand.

“you’re back?” you asked, wide-eyed.

“what? yeah, i left to get this,” he responded, confused and holding up the rag. “did you think i’d leave you like this?”

“... dunno,” you responded, a little taken aback.

he knelt by the bed, cleaning you up gently and sliding your panties back up your legs.

you’d started to become more clearheaded, despite the alcohol still buzzing throughout your system.

“i didn’t know you wanted this, too,” you said quietly, after a few pauses of silence. briefly, you wondered if you would have had the courage to be so honest if not for the alcohol.

“... i always did,” he responded, averting his gaze and instead shifting his attention to finding your shorts.

your heart beat wildly in your chest as you watched his face, pale with a rosy tint to his cheeks, his handsome features illuminated by the moonlight that peeked through his curtains.

“really?”

“yes, shitty woman,” he grunted, evoking a little giggle from you as he finally seemed back to his usual, grumpy self. “‘cause i fucking like you, y/n. got it?”

he what?

did you hear him correctly? you blinked rapidly, your breath hitching in your throat as he made eye contact with you, his stare intense and piercing.

when you didn’t respond, he looked down, embarrassed.

“you don’t have t–”

“i like you, too,” you responded quickly, hoping that he’d look at you again. “for a while, actually.”

bakugou hesitated before getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed. he reached his hand out, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb, leaning in to press a light kiss to your forehead.

“sleep here tonight?”

you smiled, butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

“of course.”

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[beels-burger-babe]

A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 2

Poly! MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. Ft. Poly!MC

TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Vomit Part 1: HERE, Part 3: HERE, Part 4: HERE

Meanwhile at the House of Lamentation

Your leaving hadn't made the situation at the House any better. Asmodeus threw his hands up in the air and glared at the rest. "Great! Just wonderful! Now they've run off. Happy now?" venom filled his words, but he could feel his heart race in fear that he had just lost the one person who loved him for more than his looks. Satan scoffed, though he glanced at the door through the corner of his eyes. "Don't act like you're better than us. I didn't see you standing up for them." Levi growled and went straight to his room as Satan and Asmodeus began to argue. Beel took a step towards to door you had just marched out of and glance between it and his brothers. "Should we go after them? It's dark and they're drunk."

Lucifer lifted his chin as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should we? It's like they said, they don't want to depend on us anymore, fine. Let them see for themself how far they get without our protection," with those words, Lucifer turned on his heel and stormed to his office.

Beel sighed and looked at Belphie, "What do you think? We can go get them together?" Belphie stared at the door for a minute, a guilty look in his eyes, before he shook his head. "Give them space, Beel. They're probably heading for Purgatory Hall. Simeon and the others can take care of them for tonight. Right now we all just need to calm down before facing each other again," he patted his twin's shoulder before heading to their room; regret swirling in his stomach as he thought of how he betrayed you once more.

Mammon stood frozen staring at the door like he still hadn't made up his mind on what he wanted to do. His instincts screamed at him to get you back in his arms and keep you there. You were his human, reckless or not, and he had a duty to protect you both as your assigned protector and as your boyfriend. But for some reason, he couldn't seem to move his feet. His mind replayed the discussion in his head over and over again. He had once told MC that if they couldn't be saved by him, to make sure that they died. That he was the only one allowed to protect them. Tonight, as everyone was fighting, MC needed him to protect them, but instead, he pushed them towards the wolves. He let his greed get the best of him. "Fuck," Mammon cursed to himself as he shook himself out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Beel restraining Satan from pouncing onto a sneering Asmodeus. He sighed and shook his head. They hadn't fought like this in a long time. You had always been there to put them into their place. Now look at them. Mammon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Will you guys cut it out? MC is gone, okay? Ain't nothin' we can do about it now," to his surprise, his younger brothers actually stopped and seemed to be listening to him. Mammon huffed and began walking towards the stairs. "It's like Belphie said. We ain't in no place to make things better right now. Fightin' like this is what got us in this position, so quit it. Get some sleep. We'll figure it all in the mornin'." Beel, Satan and Asmodeus blinked at their older brother as he disappeared upstairs. Seeing Mammon mature and take control of the situation like that, was strange, but not unfamiliar. Asmodeus massaged his temples with one hand and fixed his hair with the other. "Ugh, all this fighting is going to be horrid for my skin," he glanced at the door one more time with a defeated look before heading towards his room. Satan clenched and unclenched his hands a couple of times, taking a few deep breaths, before silently nodding at Beel and walking away. All alone, Beel stepped towards the door. He opened it and looked out at the dark vast of the Devildom before him. With a heavy, guilty heart, he closed the door and pressed his forehead against it. He used one hand to lock the door for the evening, while the other pulled out his D.D.D. The others didn't want him going after you, but a message couldn't hurt, right? He opened your contact and wrote out his text, "Hey MC. I'm sorry for how things happened tonight. Things got out of hand, and I'm sorry for not doing anything to stop that. I know you and the others are upset right now, but I was hoping that tomorrow, once we're all calm, you could come back home and we could talk about it?" Beel sat by the door for half an hour waiting for a response, but none ever came. He frowned and glanced up at the locked door handle before shaking his head. "Maybe they left it on silent for a bit," he mumbled to himself before picking up his phone once more. "Text me when you get to Purgatory Hall. You don't need to say anything else. I just want to know you're safe." With that, Beel headed towards the gym. He wasn't tired. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted you home, but he couldn't have that. So in the meantime, he'd stay awake until he at least knew you were safe.

Only the morning came and went, and there was no word from you. The brothers were starting to get concerned. No matter what was said last night, they still loved you. You all needed to talk, yes, and things needed to be worked out, but that didn't change how they felt for you. They would never want to see you hurt. Lucifer had reached out to Simeon, while Asmodeus contacted Solomon and Beel texted Luke. Only Beel received a response. "Never contact me again. If you come anywhere near Purgatory Hall, I will not hesitate to smite you in an instant, you foul fiend?" Satan read out loud as he passed the phone back to a very confused and worried Beel. "What in the world did you do to him?" "Nothing. At least, I don't think," he thought about for a second. "I've stolen his baked goods on occasion, but besides complaining about as I did it, he never seemed to hold a grudge." Lucifer frowned deeply. "This is clearly about MC. Luke has taken to them as though they're his older sibling."

Levi scowled and pressed a few buttons on his game. "Sure they aren't dating him too?" he yelped as Asmodeus smacked him on the back of the head. "Stop it," Asmodeus growled. "I know you're the Avatar of Envy, Levi, but MC was open and honest with us. They told us that they loved us all and that they wanted a relationship with all of us. We all listened to what they offered and agreed. You agreed to this!"

Levi huffed and put down his game. "Because it was better than not having them at all!" he sighed and put an arm over his face. "I know that they love me, and them being with a-all of us doesn't change that, but it's so hard sometimes. I-I-I just-" "Want 'em to yourself?" Mammon provided. Levi blushed and nodded in response. Mammon shrugged and sat down beside him. "We all understand that Levi. This is somethin' new for all of us. When I see MC bein' sweet with you guys I get this urge to just rip 'em off ya and hold 'em tight in my arms where ya guys can never touch 'em again," he sighed and put a hand on Levi's shoulder, "but then I see MC smile at me the same way they smile at Beel or you or Lucifer. I know that when I'm holdin' them, they're thinkin' of me and they're there with me because they treasure our time together. It's hard sometimes, and it hurts to admit, but you guys make MC happy, and I can't take that away from them." He nudged his younger brother gently, "Neither can you." Everyone sat quietly as they thought of Mammon's words. "They always bring me snacks after my workouts," Beel said with a small smile. "They always seem to know when I'm hungry and would just whip out snacks out of nowhere." Satan leaned onto his knees from where he sat on his chair. "They ordered me their favourite books from the human world on Akuzon. They wanted to do a trade. I'd read their favourites and they'd read mine. That way we could learn a bit about each other just by reading something that the other loved and would understand one another a little better." Belphie tiredly rubbed his eyes and leaned against Beel. "They wake me up after all class and before any meals," he chuckled softly at the memory. "No matter how much I snarled or insulted them, they'd just put their hands on their hips and patiently wait for me to wake up so that I wouldn't miss any of my classes or any meals."

Asmodeus giggled and smiled brightly. "That alone proves how much of an angel they are. Your demon side really shows when you're woken up." The others laughed as Belphegor stuck his tongue out at Asmo. "They would always give me their opinion on my outfits. I know it seems impossible, but even I get torn between which outfit I should bless the public with sometimes. MC would always be the voice of reason to help me choose," his eyes softened, "Though they always said at the end that the most beautiful thing about me was my heart, something no one could see but radiated from the outside-in." Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes as he put aside his pride, and spoke. "They check on me in the middle of the night. I swear they have an alarm. They'll come into my office to see if I'm still awake. If I am, so long as the work isn't truly urgent, they'll poke my cheek and play with my hair until I give in and go to bed."

Everyone turned to Levi. The otaku's face was bright red as he avoided everyone's gaze. "Your turn, Levi," Mammon ordered. "Come on. I know that MC's super gentle with ya. Ya have to have somethin' to add." Leviathan pouted before mumbling. "They'll hold my hand when we're in crowds and in public because they know how anxious it makes me. If I start to freak out, they'll just gently squeeze my hand and pull me along until they can find a quiet space where I can calm down a bit," he groans and glares at Mammon. "What's your point?"

"His point," Satan began calmly, "is that MC loves us all equally. They take special care to do the little things to ensure that we all know that we are loved by them." Mammon nodded and pointed and Satan. "Exactly!" Lucifer hummed in thought. "Though this doesn't fix the problem of MC having no regard for their own safety." Everyone winced. There was no denying that. You admitted it yourself. You were reckless, and in a place like the Devildom, that kind of behaviour would get you killed one day. What would happen if you weren't with them one day? Just like you currently weren't. Memories of your storm out swirled in all of their heads, and concern pooled heavily in their stomachs. "Has anyone heard from them yet?" Belphie asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. But then again, he was always protective of you as he never wanted you to get hurt again, especially since he had been responsible for so much of your pain in the past. Beel opened his mouth to respond when Asmodeus's D.D.D. went off. Everyone eagerly stood, as Asmo pulled out the device and answered it without checking. "MC? Are you alright?" "Put it on speaker!" Levi snapped, crowding as close to his brother as he could. Asmodeus nodded and quickly did as told. The voice that answered wasn't you, as they had all hoped, but rather Solomon. "I'm afraid they're not," the brother's felt their blood freeze at Solomon's words, as time seemed to stand still around them. Solomon's voice was cold and stern, showing his obvious anger at the demons. "I apologize for not contacting you all sooner, but I was spending every last second of my time and energy on trying to keep MC from dying of blood loss. That, and Luke is quite determined to keep the lot of you as far from MC as possible. If it was up to him I wouldn't even be calling you all right now. I, however, figured that you should at least be made aware of their condition." None of them heard a thing after the words "dying from blood loss" reached their ears. Lucifer took the D.D.D. from Asmo's shaking hands. "What happened? The last we saw them they-" "Presumably walked away from a fight with all of you and was trying to come to us. Yes. I'm aware. I read Beelzebub's texts on MC's phone," everyone glanced at Beel. His brows narrowed as he kept his eyes fixed on the D.D.D. "To answer your question, MC didn't make it to Purgatory Hall last night. They were jumped by a group of three demons who seemed to think that human would make a delectable midnight snack. What do you think, Beelzebub? Is that true? Is the taste of human flesh, really so delicious? I think I've heard you comment as much once or twice before you all began your relationship," Solomon spat the words accusingly. Fury danced on his tongue as though he was Wrath himself. Beel winced back and put a hand on his stomach as flipped inside of him. Belphie growled at the mention in his defence. "Stop dancing around the subject and get to the point. What happened? Are they okay?" The demons were surprised to hear a snarl come from the other end. "I already told you, they aren't. Luke had opened a window to air out some of the kitchens after he failed a new recipe he was trying out when he heard their screams. By the time we got there one of them had eaten half of their right leg, while was one biting along their shoulder, and the other was trying to choke them to death. Simeon and I were able to get the heathens off of them and incinerated them on the spot, but MC was already unconscious. While we were fighting the demons, Luke was just barely able to cast enough healing spells to stop the bleeding and stabilize them. Simeon and I have been working ever since on using every spell, charm, and potion that we know to keep them alive and somehow attempt to heal their injuries." At the mention of MC's leg have been mostly eaten, Beel turned and threw up on the ground. No one moved to comfort him, as they were too distracted by their own states of shock. "A-Are-" Mammon began to choke out before clearing his throat. "Are they

alive? Please tell me they're alive." The answer hung just out of their grasp. Waving dangerously above them like a deadly knife held up by a string. No matter what the response would be, all the brothers felt as though they may faint. "They're alive. Simeon had to use all his power to bring their blood count levels up to a healthy level, and their shoulder was dislocated, they most likely have a concussion going off of their head injury, not to mention their right leg was unsalvagable and had to be amputated, but yes. They are, at the very least, alive." Mammon joined Beel. Satan stood still, though he had changed into his demon form and the aura of pure wrath filled every cranny of the room. Asmodeus held a hand over his mouth as tears streamed steadily down his face. Leviathan had stumbled away from the group and was in the beginning stages of a panic attack. Belphie stared at the phone with a bewildered expression, his eyes pricked with tears, as though he couldn't believe the words coming from Solomon's mouth.

Lucifer was doing everything he could not to hurl the phone across the room.

Solomon continued. "Luke is currently watching them and making sure that they remain stable, while Simeon and I rest. As such, you will have no luck if you try to see them right now. I'll text you when I wake up and then you can come to see them," with that, Solomon hung up. Anxiety, grief, and remorse clung to each of the brothers like a new skin. Earlier they were arguing that all of them had your love, and because of that, all of them had nearly lost you. ***Duh duh duh!!! Part three to come. Part three will probably be the final part, but I don't know. Haven't quite figured out how this is going to end yet. Though a heads up, a may fill out another request before pt. 3 is up just to give me a break from the heavy angst. Thank you all so much for supporting me! And thank you to @millenniumofpain for the request!***

[arcanadreams]

Water Fights with the OM Bros

it’s 90 degrees outside at my place and you know what that means!!! water fight headcanons because I refuse to go outside in the heat in real life asdhgskjdgks

once again i’m only doing the brothers bc i do not trust myself with the dateables just yet lmao

Lucifer:

Literally only agrees to join because you’re so excited about it.

“...If it makes you happy, MC,” are his exact words. Simp.

You did agree to make the game have no points though, to keep things from getting competitive. Both at the advice of Lucifer and because you knew he would not join if there was any chance he could lose. (Also because Satan is a menace but we’ll get to that later.)

When all the brothers are gathered he suggests everyone pairs up into teams. 

“You’re only saying that so you can cozy with M-” Asmo tries to say before being sprayed in the face with water.

“My hair!” “Oh, look at that. I suppose the game has started,” Lucifer hides his water gun behind his legs, but he can’t hide the shit eating grin on his face.

He takes your hand with a “Come along, MC,” and leads you away as everyone splits up.

You two make a surprisingly good team for this sort of thing! He knows the gardens well and also knows where each of his brothers is likely to go. You are quite skilled water water guns and balloons. He’s basically the brains and you’re the brawn. 

He snatches a few kisses now and then when you look back at him excitedly after smacking one of his brothers with a balloon. You’re just so cute!

When everyone is all tuckered out and goes off to shower and whatever, Lucifer hangs back with you to thank you for organizing everything. With a kiss to the back of your hand, he says, “I’ll admit, I was...skeptical, at first. But, as usual, you brought my brothers together in a way I haven’t seen in a long while. Thank you, MC.” 

Mammon:

“I’m MC’s first man, so I get to team with them!” “You’re also literally my boyfriend, but okay hun.” Cue Mammon blushing beet red at the nickname and muttering at you not to call him that in front of his brothers. (He doesn’t mean it; he loves that they know you’re his and vice versa.)

Strategically, the two of you are the absolute worst. But that’s because you’re both just there to have fun!

And have fun you do! You actually get in quite a few fun chases with Levi! He’s probably the most into the water fight out of everyone, the three of you are just running around the gardens pelting each other with balloons. It’s super cute.

Mammon is absolutely the type to yell “I’ll avenge you, MC!” every single time you get sprayed. 

Eventually, you and Mammon follow Levi’s advice and start hiding in places to catch some of the other brothers by surprise. Which would be fine if Mammon didn’t blush super hard and start grumbling because of how close together you were when kneeling behind the garden wall.

You roll your eyes and surge forward to kiss him. He’s so shocked he has no idea what to do with his hands at first. But, after a second of pause, his water gun falls to the ground with a clatter and he wraps his arms around you.

“Get a room,” Is all the two of you hear before Belphie dumps a whole ass bucket of water on your heads. Mammon growls and jumps up to get the youngest before Beel can scoop him up, but you grab his hand and stop him. 

You’re laughing super hard, and the sun is shining on your hair. You almost look like you have a halo...Mammon gives up the chase before it even starts because his MC is simply ethereal. 

“Mammon!” You smile brilliantly at him when you finally stop laughing. “I kissed you to keep you quiet! And then you managed to make even more noise!” 

He just hugs you then so you can’t see his blushing face. Stupid lovely human making fun of him. (He likes it, though.)

Leviathan:

This boy is literally the MOST excited when you tell him your idea. He was in on it from the very start.

He actually helped you get all the supplies! He opens his Akuzon account right away and starts showing you what water guns would be best and picking out huge packs of balloons made specifically for being water grenades. (Definitely had looked all this stuff up before in case he found a LARPing buddy.)

You ask him how much Grimm all this stuff will cost and he tells you not to worry. “I’ll cover it!” “But, Levi-” He interrupts you with big blush on his face. 

“L-Listen MC. You’re m-my Henry! And I know this will be fun, s-so...I’ll cover it.” You leap forward and give him a hug, triggering a surprised but equally happy screech.

Honestly he is so excited you proposed an idea like that of your own volition. Like...it just makes him feel like all the games and stuff he finds fun truly don’t bother you. You haven’t been lying; you genuinely are interested in the same things as him. It makes him feel so warm.

When everyone is still arriving, you grab one of your water guns and do that cool spinny thing. You know the thing. The cowboy gun spin. You’re like, “Hey Levi! Check this out!” 

BAM. Boy is OUT. So red his face is steaming. That’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his entire damn life. What the fuck, MC. He is basically frozen on the spot out of sheer overwhelmed-ness as how hot that was. You have to drag him away when the water fight starts. Totally worth staying up all night figuring out how to do the spin trick with a water gun.

Once the action gets going, you two are unstoppable. No one escapes the fight unscathed thanks to y’all. All those late night Call of Duty sessions trained you for this!!

Your favorite tactic is definitely camping, though. You and Levi would pick a spot and hide there, waiting for one of his brothers to come by, and then...ATTACK!

If it actually were a competition, you two would’ve won by a landslide. But honestly, Levi didn’t really keep track. He was having too much fun watching you. You were so mesmerizing when you were in the zone and so gorgeous when laughing as you gave him victory high fives after a successful ambush. 

You let him take a picture of you posing all tough with your water gun and he makes it his DDD background immediately. And his lockscreen so you can protect his DDD from intruders.

Satan:

THIS ASSHOLE. THIS MAN IS THE REASON YOU MADE SURE THERE WAS NO COMPETITION.

If there was any sense of competition, Satan would’ve gone absolutely out of his mind to beat Lucifer. He would make sure to destroy that man’s dignity as thoroughly as possible.

So, for the sake of both him and the eldest brother, no points. No contest. He grumbles about it, but, much like said eldest brother, he still joins because he sees how happy the idea of a family water fight makes you.

 Satan treats is almost as seriously as Levi does. EVEN THOUGH YOU MADE SURE IT WASN’T A COMPETITION, HE DAMN SURE STILL ACTS LIKE IT IS. UGH.

Literally pulls a map of the House of Lamentation’s gardens out of his back pocket??? And puts it on the side of the fountain?? And starts planning maneuvers on it with you??? He pulls a pen out of his SWIM TRUNK POCKETS to use to point with and emphasize his points. You just blink at him. This is your mans. Good lord.

Considering his expert knowledge of the layout of the entire surrounding area of HoL from that map, he actually knows of some secret passages the other brothers don’t even consider. He takes you to them so you can use them to spy on what Lucifer’s the other brothers’ strategies are.

It’s only once you’re creeping around the tunnels that he realizes something: none of his brothers know where you are. They can’t bother you...time to make out.

Grabs your attention with a quiet, “MC” and gives you a smooch. Soon enough he is backing you up against the wall. A water balloon you have tied to your belt pops against the rough brick, interrupting the two of you.

Satan disregards it and move to kiss you again, but you let out a gasp. He’s worried for you for a moment: did you scrape yourself? But when you turn to look at him, there’s a mischievous glint in your eye that he loves to see. 

“My water broke!” You whisper-exclaim dramatically, covering your mouth in fake shock. Satan has to nuzzle his face in your neck to avoid laughing and filling the tunnel with the echo that would alert his brothers. The two of you basically just canoodle in the passages until the water fight is over LMAO

Asmodeus:

Pretty much just to show off how good he looks in a bathing suit to you and anyone else who happens to be lucky enough to witness his glory.

He’s not the best at water fights and ends up using you as a human shield sometimes adjgfkjshf

“Asmo! Stop hiding behind me!” “I am not letting Lucifer mess up my hair twice in one day, darling!”

He comments quite often on how hot you look. Both in your bathing suit and also when in the zone looking for victims to douse in watery fury. You look like an action hero, MC! Have you ever thought about becoming the next Bond? Asmo could definitely pull some hypnotic strings.~

Every time you successfully pull him out of the way of an oncoming water balloon or block a blast of water from hitting, he totally melts. He presses his back to your chest, swooning against you and batting his eyelashes.

“Oh, MC, my hero! My dashing knight in shining armor!” You scoff, but think it’s super cute. You even play into it sometimes and pick him up bridal style.

“The king is looking for you, my prince,” you say once as you lift him, and he actually blushes. Asmodeus, avatar of lust, blushes at a silly pet name. He was not expecting you to get so into the role!!! He loves it, though.

For the rest of the water fight the two of you are basically roleplaying a royal and his knight bodyguard. It is stupidly fun and the both of you have an absolute blast.

“Oh, MC, my darling knight! I have amazing news!” Asmo says after the fight ends. You’re drying his hair off with a towel. “Yes, my liege?” 

“In exchange for your wonderful and dutiful protection, you have been given permission by the crown to court me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He smiles and you throw your head back in a laugh. You lean down and give him a nice, long kiss on the lips before pulling away. “That is absolutely splendid, your highness.”

Beelzebub:

He loves the idea because it’ll get his whole family together and he knows it. He has to carry Belphie out there but that’s normal.

He helped you and Levi plan!! Excited boy. You filled him in when he joined you and Levi for a game night. He totally volunteered to go get some extra supplies from some nearby stores for y’all. So cute.

Once everyone is actually fighting, this boy WILL NOT STOP BEING A HUMAN (demon?) SHIELD FOR YOU. LIKE NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU TELL HIM IT’S FINE, YOU’RE FINE, HE WILL NOT STOP.

“Babycakes, it’s okay. It’s water. It can’t hurt me.” “But I love you. I want you safe.” O H. O K A Y.

Someone call a doctor Beel just shot MC through the heart!!! He’s so genuine you just bright red and kiss his cheek because he deserve it.

“Well, I guess that’s settled then, huh?” He gives you a big Beel smile and nods, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Y’all get sprayed with water A LOT because your hungry boy is very big and hard to hide. Er, I should say HE gets sprayed a lot because he is a fantastic meat shield and you’re practically dry by the time the fight is over. He, on the other hand, is soaked to the bone.

He still insists on drying you off with a towel, though. The two of you dry each other off back in the twins’ room while Belphie dozes nearby in his bed.

You’re in the middle of drying his shoulders when he just starts talking. “That was really fun, MC. I’m really grateful for you. Ever since you’ve been here, things are always more fun. And you bring all my brother together. Thank you.” 

You damn near burst into tears!!! Ahhhh!!! You sniffle and jump into his nap, wrapping your arms around him. “But MC, I’m still wet.” “I don’t care!! I’m giving you snuggles!!”

Belphegor:

Literally does not give a single fuck about a water fight until he realizes it lets him throw shit at Lucifer with absolutely zero consequences. Then he is all in.

Beel doesn’t even have to carry him around during the fight! Once he is outside and realizes all the shenanigans he can pull, he is perfectly content to grab you by the hand and be the one dragging you around, for once!

You two will probably team up with Satan and Beel at various points. Beel because he’s Beel, and Satan because he and Belphie absolutely set water balloon filled booby traps for Lucifer.

That’s his preferred strategy: set up a trap and wait in the bushes, watching for the target to approach.

He’s definitely the type to yell “Every man for himself!” if someone catches you guys hiding. Unlike his twin, he lets you get totally soaked while he runs away laughing. Dickweed.

You guys have a lot of fun, though!! Seeing Belphie excited is always a treat for you. And, though he doesn’t say anything about it, Belphie also thinks it’s a treat whenever you scheme with him. You don’t join in on his mischief often, so he always cherishes the times you do.

Eventually, after soaking Lucifer thoroughly, Belphie eventually gets a bit tired. You, however, want to keep the fun going. So, just as he begins to dose off in your hiding spot...you spray him. Right in the face. 

He opens his eyes and sees you raising an eyebrow at him challengingly, giggling to yourself. He growls playfully and grabs his own water gun, quickly giving chase as you bolt. 

Being a demon, he’s much quicker than you. But he lets you think you can escape for a few minutes before catching up to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

As you squirm and laugh in his embrace, he feels thankful he joined in on the fight, even if he was hesitant at first. After all, it led to this moment, where he can turn you around in his arms and give you a nice kiss as you melt against his chest.

[softlystarstruck]

wait im sorry shjdhshd i just saw you’ve already done 34 😭 what about 36?

36. "You may be good looking on the outside but good lord, you have an ugly fucking personality” | rated T, wc: 1.4k (oops), brief draco/omc but its just for the plot and there’s also a single punch | thanks @lou-isfake for holding my hand through this one you’re a superstar 🌟

“Hey, is it cool if Joshua comes over tonight?”

Harry grimaces into the fridge, but pastes a smile on his face by the time he turns to look at his roommate. Draco is standing at the hob, flipping bacon, wearing pink pajama pants and a knit jumper he definitely stole from Harry. Swallowing down his longing, Harry reaches around Draco to grab some glasses from the cupboard for orange juice. “Sure, I don’t care. I can head over to Ron and Hermione’s for the night if you want the flat to yourself.”

“Oh, actually…” Draco turns to Harry, biting his lip. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out? He’s been curious about you since we live together.”

A strong desire to grab Draco and just shake him grips Harry, but he shrugs it off; it isn’t Draco’s fault that the wizards he dates are starstruck by Harry. On a more selfish level Harry already dislikes Joshua, even though they’ve only had a few interactions, because he surely isn’t good enough for Draco– no one is good enough for Draco, in Harry’s opinion. The man cries over animal movies and knits socks and launches himself at Harry for a hug when he gets excited about something, and Harry is skeptical that anyone knows how to be gentle with Draco in the way he needs.

Also, he might be in love with Draco, but that’s not something Harry will ever tell him. Instead, Harry just judges Draco’s boyfriends very, very harshly, because he’s a bit jaded and Draco deserves the world.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Harry says, and Draco hugs him so tightly that Harry wheezes.

~

Harry is increasingly sure that this night will end with him punching Joshua.

Draco’s boyfriend is beautiful, and clearly knows it; he’s turned his dimples and sparkling brown eyes on Harry no less than five times a minute since they sat down in the living room, Harry on the armchair and Draco next to Joshua on the blue tartan sofa. Harry has met Joshua before only in passing since Draco’s just been seeing him for a few weeks, and Harry’s already getting a bad feeling in his gut. There’s a movie playing, something with a lot of explosions that Joshua had wheedled Draco into putting on, even though Draco flinches every time there’s a loud sound. Joshua, sitting next to him, hasn’t noticed, choosing instead to give Harry a rundown of every article he’s ever written for The Prophet. Harry flicks his eyes over to Draco and watches him curl his fingers into the sleeves of his nicest knit jumper, and wonders why he’s been so quiet. Usually, Harry wouldn’t be able to get Draco to stop talking even if he tried.

“Do we wanna put something different on?” Harry asks, interrupting Joshua’s chatter as Draco flinches hard at a sound from the telly, meeting Harry’s eyes rather frantically. Joshua blinks at Harry, something tight flashing across his features.

“No, thanks.”

“I don’t think Draco’s enjoying it very much,” Harry says plainly, but Joshua just grins, jostling Draco with the arm slung over his shoulder.

“You’re fine, babe.”

“Well…” Draco starts, but Joshua has already turned back to Harry.

“He’s fine. Now, that article I was telling you about–”

Harry stands up abruptly, his eyes glued to the thin line of Draco’s mouth, the downturn of his gaze. “I’m gonna change the movie.”

“Harry–” Draco starts, but Joshua’s voice cuts him off.

“Now, really, there’s no need for that–”

“Joshua, just let him–”

“Draco, just deal with it for a bit longer, you shouldn't get freaked out by a movie anyways–”

“Get out of my flat,” Harry says, low in his throat. Both Joshua and Draco freeze. Joshua simply gapes at Harry, and Draco– Draco is fighting an incredulous smile, and that alone tells Harry he did the right thing. Draco stands up, tangling his hands in the hem of his jumper and flicking his gaze between the two other men. He moves closer to Harry, knocking against his shoulder as Joshua stands too.

“Joshua, just…” Draco starts, holding his hands out into the suddenly tense air, placating, but Joshua shoves himself into Harry’s space with a pointed finger.

“You have some fucking nerve, telling me to get out of this flat when it’s not even yours, I am Draco’s boyfriend–”

“You weren’t even paying attention to him,” Harry scoffs, and Draco presses himself fully against Harry’s side for a moment. Harry forces himself to take a deep breath in. Calm, be calm for Draco, he tells himself. Joshua’s lip pulls up in a sneer.

“You think you’re so high and mighty? Just because you’re the Chosen One, you’re above everyone else?”

Draco steps forward a bit, his hands still outstretched. “Don’t say that to him–”

“I know how to handle myself and Draco, I don’t need the almighty Harry Potter to tell me what to do. I guess the paper doesn’t show the whole story, because you may be good looking on the outside but Merlin, you have an ugly fucking personality." Breathing hard, Joshua flicks his gaze to Draco.

Draco punches him.

~

Later, after lurking in the background of the most uncomfortable break-up he’s ever witnessed, Harry holds Draco’s fingers gently in his own and rubs a healing potion across his split knuckles. They’re sitting on the couch, and Draco’s wearing his pajamas, looking pale and ruffled.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry says for what must be the tenth time. “I– I didn’t mean to make it get so tense so quickly, but he wasn’t taking your comfort seriously and then said he could handle you which is bullshit and I just–”

“Shh. It’s okay.”

Harry stares down at Draco’s hand, his vision blurring with the threat of tears. “He wasn’t treating you the way you deserve.”

“Hey,” Draco says softly. “It’s alright. He was always kind of… like that.”

“Why’d you stay with him then?” Harry looks back up to Draco’s face, blinking away the wetness. Draco looks to the side, then shrugs.

“I don’t know. He liked me?”

“But… but you deserve…” Harry squeezes Draco’s hand, gently so it won’t hurt. “Draco. You deserve someone who likes you but also cares about you. Someone who– who loves that you love to talk, and knows that you don’t enjoy action movies, and wants to hug you back all the time. Who pays attention to you. You just deserve so much.”

Draco shifts on the sofa, pulling his knees up to his chest but leaving his hand in Harry’s. His gaze meets Harry’s, strangely unreadable– Draco usually wears his heart on his sleeve, at least when it’s just them.

“You do that, Harry.”

Time seems to stop as Harry stares at Draco, unable to catch his breath.

“But you’ve never wanted more, so I just…” Draco shrugs. “I want to be wanted. It’s probably not healthy, but it’s true.”

“Draco,” Harry says, his voice coming out rough and confused. “I’m not enough for you.”

Draco chokes on his inhale. “What?”

The reality of his own words is flooding Harry’s mind, replaying every moment he forced himself to step back as Draco’s relationships fell apart, then held out his hands to pick up the pieces. “You’re so– you need someone who can be kind and gentle with you and I’m– I’m afraid I won’t be, I’m afraid I’ll hurt you, that I’d be too protective or overbearing or jealous and–”

Draco grabs the back of Harry’s neck and kisses him hard enough to push Harry down into the sofa cushions. When Draco pulls away, he’s bright pink and blinking hard.

“You’re exactly what I need, Harry Potter. You– you– Harry.” Draco is trembling, staring down at Harry, who is still trying to register the fact that Draco kissed him.

“You want me, too?” Harry finally asks, his voice smaller than he intends, and Draco nods frantically.

“Do I want you– Harry, you make me soup when I’m sick and give me your jumpers when I get cold and you wear the socks I make for you, even the barely sock-shaped ones from when I first learnt to knit, and I don’t even have to tell you when I’ve had a hard day because you somehow already have Stardust on the telly and a mug of tea in my hand, and you always hug me back even when I knock my elbows into your ribs, and–” Draco’s torrent of babbling is cut off as Harry presses his mouth to Draco’s, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist to pull him against Harry’s body. It’s all crashing down on Harry, the way he takes care of Draco, the way he knows Draco. The way he knows how to be good for Draco.

“I want to be enough for you,” Harry murmurs against Draco’s lips, dazed.

“Harry,” Draco says with a soft laugh. “Oh, Harry. You already are.”

[onyxoverride]

Camellias at Sundown

Miche Zacharius x Reader

◙warnings: forbbiden love, mutual pining, happy ending, some angst (familial death + longing,) soft smut minors dni (18+), cunnilingus + stockings, fingering + mirror, then finally sensual sex, Erwin x Levi mentioned.

◙word count: 8k

◙summary: Miche Zacharius has a duty as the only son to the rich Zacharius family to play out his role as the future lord of the estate. But he’s been in love with the you, the gardener of the estate ever since he was young and with inhibitions lessened, he pursues you.

◙note: thank you so much @lady-lunaaa for beta-ing this I appreciate you endlessly to the moon and back. This is for Rias 3k Richboy Collab!! @bakugohoex thank you for letting me participate! I am also doing Yuji which is here: Sweet Secrets. Please support everybody else's fic as well thank you for reading I hope you enjoy!!! I think this may be my favorite thing I've written so far :0

Miche Zacharius has seen the inner workings of his own gilded cage since he was young. Each bar engraved with different obligations — to his family, to his standing in society, to everyone around him except the person he wants most.

When he saw you, it was when you were not old enough to work properly. Playing with the trimming of hedges your mother snipped while he was studying Latin and Italian with a ruler smacked against his wrists every time you caught his eye. To say the least, he had a lot of bruises.

When he and his friends, that he had to make through his position as a rich man’s son, sat outside his eyes would always go to you. Snipping away at the extensions of blushing flowers, some crimson, others an innocent white but all smelling just as sweet. A mixture of jasmine and citrus, subtle but still sweet. This is when his friend Hanji would nudge him, push him towards you in a childlike fashion. The only time where they could truly represent their age. Erwin would chuckle behind a teacup while throwing a glance at his young raven-haired butler, sharing an amused subdued smile. And while his mentors and his nanny weren’t looking he would sneak to you, as quiet as he could almost as if he’d scare you but he is simply too large, even as a child. Making sure his eyebrows aren’t drawn because apparently he looks intimidating like that before getting your attention with a cough (he can hear Hanji laughing behind him at his behavior.)

“Uhm…” his foot is tapping the grass behind his heel while he rubs the back of his neck. Too focused on how he presented himself to you to think of what he should say until he catches the sight of the flowers in your hands, calloused and overworked from the daily work.

“The flowers- uh- what are they?” grimacing at his own words, scolding himself because seriously? They’re obviously fucking flowers you just said it Miche-

Your laugh cuts his thoughts off. Gentle and subdued after years of learning how to be quiet around the people you serve, “they’re camellia’s,” you grasp the blossom of one of the pink flowers and offer it to him.

“Oh,” flower set into the plain of his hand makes it seem smaller than it truly is, blushing against his hand and his face just as pink, “well, they’re very pretty…”

“I’m glad you think so, young lord,” and it all comes reeling back, tethering him to reality once again as you try to continue your duty. You spare one last glance, hoping your mother doesn’t see how wanting it looks.

His tailored suit feeling all too tight as he walks back to his friends, they’re teasing him. Tugging at his shirt while he gives a faux laugh to appease them. He keeps watching, attention torn between the small flower he delicately holds, sweet smell seeping into the lines of his hands, and you. You, who keeps working as quietly as you can, trimming out the weaker flowers so the strong will shine through.

That night he presses a flower into his favorite book and hopes the smell never fades, nor this memory.

■

Instead of asking Nanny for stories or a snack before bed, he’d ask about you. Words travel as quick as fire amongst gossips and as good-natured as the woman who raised him is, she still finds entertainment in running her mouth and knowing too much. So, she’d tell him everything, and often. About how your father passed when you were young like his mother did, how your mother raised you in the small gardener’s house with a small bedroom shared between the two of you. About how your father and mother were the best gardeners they’ve ever had and you were developing your skills even quicker than them, like all of you had a sixth sense for nature. About how you don’t even know how to make or pour proper tea like most of the servants but survive through your skill, hands tracing vines, and keeping track of the tastiest fruit to share with the estate when the grapefruit and lemons bloom and ripen. About how on your eighteenth summer, only a few years ago, your mother passed and you now live alone in the gardener’s house. Even if he has heard it over and over again, he’d tug Nanny’s dress and wait for her to tell her more. Including the mundane about how you trip over yourself too often to count when you enter the house. As quick as fire — you’d hear about it from some other servant that joined you for dinner. Trying to hide heated cheeks and covering your face with the bread you eat. You’d say nothing for the time being, not wanting to drag him further down into a possible affair that would ruin you and him if he continued to pursue this childish crush. But each and every servant, especially the older ones, found it so endearing and just a bit as worrying. They still orchestrated to have you around even just a bit more so he would have more stories to listen to, and you’d slip out little facts about yourself knowing Miche would in the end hear those words. If not from your mouth, at least from someones.

■

Often Miche wonders why he was born at his stature. Not height, though it does become worrying when everybody shies away from him because of how tall he looms. His class stature. Money rolling off of everything he owns simply because of his blood and how he comes from a line of skilled detectives with a superior sense of smell that makes their job seem like child play. It’s not like he wants to spend his life sending you longing looks. The few times you’ve interacted carved into his mind, waiting for the time he doesn’t need to engrave and savor. They are few and far between with barely anything shared besides conversation and gentle innocent touches, loving looks with no words to address them.

Even when his father became ill, he sought you out before anybody else. You know how he longs for you, pulling at your heartstrings every time you catch his gaze. The first time he’s become vulnerable for anybody is when he caught your arm, late at night in the kitchens after arranging some citrus arrangements for his sick father. He’s silent at first, only a small huff through his nose while his hair covers his eyes. He doesn’t like his father, they never cared for each other particularly. It’s as if he barely knows the man, which may be the part that hurts his heart the most.

“Young lord-”

“No-” he sighs, fingers trailing around your wrists, “just Miche. For you, please, just Miche.”

Not once has he ever broken his tough demeanor, carefully crafted from a young age due to his upbringing, but now it’s crumbling even just a bit.

“M-Miche,” it feels unfamiliar but not unwelcome on your tongue, you can see how his muscles unravel at the sound of your voice. You have craved his touch and attention and now that it is night, inhibitions are lessened and comforted by the blanket of stars and quiet household, maybe accepting it isn’t too bad now. Hands gentle around his, realizing just how big they are in comparison to yours makes him huff in amusement. You can tell he doesn’t wish to talk about what plagues his mind, it’s not quite your business to ask either but you bring his hand up to your lips. Not kissing, just grazing over the writing callouses he’s developed and over the flushed joints. He leans forward, pressing you gently against the counter as he pulls his hand away from you. For a moment you’re worried you have overstepped your boundaries, misinterpreted something, but he presses your hands into his face. He looks so much more mature now than from when he stuttered to talk to you as a child. Eyebrows finally relaxed even just a bit from the forever intimidating scowl he wears, eyes closed and savoring your eternally calloused and injured hands running over his scruff. The sweetness from the flowers permeates your skin and the citrus you handled earlier slightly sours the scent. Nonetheless, it comforts him. Your warmth, your scent, and your gaze settled on him. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t like being the only one you’re looking at even if just for a moment. The curse of selfishness love brings upon an individual is unusual to him, you would think by now he would have gotten used to the sting that courses through his gut whenever he realizes over and over again that you are not his, and he is not yours.

Silence extending to the two of you before he presses a kiss into your knuckles, “you should come into the estate more often.”

“Inside would be strange for someone who takes care of plants,” you say, amused with how childlike he sounds despite his deep voice.

“There are plants inside.”

“The maids take care of them,” you caress a thumb over his lips as he sighs, “but I suppose arranging more vases wouldn’t be so bad.”

You cave all too easily for his puppy-dog eyes and the adoration hidden behind his words. But this is all you two can afford. Stolen touches and soft beginnings, hand pressed into his chest with a small kiss into his knuckles and both of you are ripped away from each other once again.

His gilded cage feels too tight.

■

At first, Erwin thought it was just a young man’s infatuation with another person his age. A young and childish crush on a pretty girl that smelled like flowers but gradually as they got older, the others of his social group realized it was much more.

Miche contemplates the scenes outside too sorrowfully for a man who is not mourning. It’s easy to see he’s trying to look for something or perhaps someone. Erwin caught on early why he gazes so strangely outside the window and how Miche twirls flowers between his fingers whenever there’s a vase of them around, fingers trailing along petals and putting them back trying to make the arrangement look undefiled.

For a skilled consultant detective, he leaves a horribly obvious trail.

“From what I know, you’re not supposed to be pursuing a servant,” a chess table sits between them, untouched for a moment for the sake of tea.

“You have no room to talk, Erwin,” he cuts a glance to Levi standing quietly until he scoffs at the insinuation. The red that invades his cheeks cannot be tsked away. They have all been together since they were children — there is no way Erwin and Levi’s secrecy could slip past him, Hanji, and Nile. Miche’s superior senses and being groomed into a detective, he was the first to figure it out. Nile did take much longer to catch on. Too busy chasing after his now soon-to-be wife.

“I’m aware,” he pauses to take a sip of his tea, “I simply said you’re not supposed to. I never said not to.”

Miche hides his face behind the teacup, cursing Erwin for saying anything because now he is putting agency behind his pining. But he is not like Erwin, someone who can be satisfied with secrecy, and he is not like Hanji, someone with a harem under the spell of their charms. He wants you to be his, shamelessly his, loudly and proudly his, and he wants to be shamelessly yours, to tell everybody that his love resides in a beautiful woman with calloused hands and a sweet voice.

He was never strong in the first place when it came to you but now it seems his strength is withering away completely.

■

Ever since Miche mentioned wanting you in the estate more, you have been learning some new skills. Who knew making potpourris could be so useful? The maids inside the estate seem to love them, making the closets smell sweet instead of stale, they even requested some for the bathrooms. You agreed as long as they could spare some cinnamon for you to use in it.

Late in the evening with a sheer bag of your homemade potpourri, you sneak into the household. Catching a glimpse of Miche is not exactly rare but definitely not as common as you both hope. Better than before but still not enough for either of you. There’s a place in your heart that craves to be completed and you know only Miche can satiate it.

What’s frustrating is that the dress code inside the estate is different, so you had to trade some fresh lavender for a pair of white stockings instead of your usual gardening attire. Your clumsiness rears its head once more, tripping on your way to the bathroom on the second story not even realizing Miche is there before he’s holding your arm so you don’t fall flat onto the floor.

It’s highly embarrassing. Tripping so messily in front of him. There’s an art in the way the rich ladies swoon and faint prettily so the one they want to court can catch them but that was nothing of the sort. You see this as an inconvenience not an art form, completely frazzled and stuttering but Miche sees a chance. Erwin’s innuendo bounces around in his head and before he even thinks, he’s pulling you into the bathroom with him, looking into the hallway before closing the door.

He finally takes a moment to process the situation. You and him are alone, in a secluded bathroom away from anybody at the moment. This may be the only chance he has at the moment to pursue you. But instead of being the suave bachelor he should be, he catches a whiff of the strong potpourri and stutters out, “what’s-what’s this?”

Watching a dignified man fall over himself is endearing, seeing his cheeks glow like when he was a kid and his green eyes look more lively when they catch yours, “Oh! I made it. To make places smell good...”

He nods, barely listening as he leans closer into you, pressing you against the sink counter. You are sure you sound foolish but neither of you are really paying attention to that, “you know we shouldn’t be alone together. If anybody sees us-”

“No one will, I promise.”

There’s a firm confidence in his voice you cannot deny, letting his hand trail up your arm and to your jaw.

“Can I?”

The possible consequences of your actions melt into puddles at his desperate look, begging and pleading even just for a kiss. You give in, nodding into his hand.

He’s unexpectedly... soft. Holding you like fine china with barely brave kisses, finally indulging in an almost life-long craving is euphoric. There is a small moan pressed into your connected lips and as soft as this moment is, knowing you make the only son of the renowned family of the Zacharius’ sound so pitiful is revitalizing, filling you with confidence that you never had the courage to grasp onto.

Grasping onto the lapels of his coat, you pull away just for a moment, feeling his hand trail down to the peaks of your ass. Just being touched by him sends heat coursing through your veins and puddling into your nethers. The tops of his cheeks to the tips of his ears are red as roses as he pushes out another request, “can I... touch you more, please?”

His age deceives him, now he looks so young and bashful that you cannot help but laugh, “have you never...?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just-” he curls down into your neck, “you’re different.” You’re special, is what he truly wants to say.

It is risky. Both of you in a stray bathroom in the estate, both of you of completely different class standings, both of you completely head over heels in love with each other. The warmth of his hands linger on every part of you they have touched, your jaw, your hips, your ass. Maybe the risk is worth it.

“Then touch me all you wish, I have no objections.”

Immediately his hands descend to your thighs, pushing up the uniform dress until he is able to feel your skin under a thin layer of stocking. Trailing his fingers to the warmest part between your legs and it isn’t until you are keening and gasping that he finally pulls you to sit in the chair present in the bathroom for visiting ladies purses. Miche is quick to be on his knees between your legs, working off your shoes to set a stocking-covered foot on the juncture of his thigh as he flips the skirt over his head. Now you cannot see him but you can feel him. Hot breath huffed against your thighs sending a shiver through you.

“You’ve served my family so well,” large hands around your ankle and thigh to keep you in place for him while he is kissing at your cunt through your stockings and panties, “let me serve you now.”

The kiss is a muted feeling because of the fabric but nonetheless, it makes you suck in a breath, watching his head move underneath the dress.

Part of him does not wish to cause you inconvenience but the impatience moves his hands before his mind catches up, blunt nails pinching at the fabric covering the place he can smell that is so purely you. Pinching until a little hole is created so he can wiggle a finger in and tear the fabric a big enough hole to reach your cunt. The rip startles you but the fact that he is desperate enough to act so beastly sends a shiver down your spine. God, this is the scent he could only catch a few rare times, the scent he fucks his fist to at night wishing it was you. But now is not the time to dream. His fantasy is brought to life before him, finally able to push your panties aside and stare at your cunt despite the darkness of your skirt covering him. He lets his hand ghost over your clit, savoring how your hips jump a bit, gathering your slick on his fingers and watching how it pulls thin only to finally put his mouth upon your mound. Not minding the curls accenting it or the lingering smell of soil permanently stuck to your skin. In fact, he prefers it because all of these traits are so distinctly you and he cannot get enough of the fact that he is between your legs and under your skirt.

A hot tongue presses firmly against your lower lips, licking in between until he is pushing his face nose deep into your cunt, nose knocking against your clit as his tongue works around your hole. Your head falls slack against the wall, you fold the leg he is not holding against the chair next to his head as your other foot knocks against his growing bulge. Even just feeling his member beneath your covered foot makes your eyes widen because of the size and how desperately his hips chase the pressure. He’s fumbling to hold your leg firmly against his tightened pants, pushing your ankle against his cock as he devours your cunt with dedication. You wish you could at least see him in his full glory but for now, you are satisfied with this.

If anything, you would compare him to a desperate dog humping your leg and lapping at your nethers like it is his last meal on this earthly plane. You find your hands wanting to dig into his hair but the best they can do is clench the fabric over his head. Your hips are following the flow of his tongue, his other hand placed on them to guide your juicy cunt into his mouth while he moans into it. You can just barely feel the edges of his scruff scratch at the sensitive skin around your inner thighs and cunt. The depth of his voice reverberates through your clit and you can feel an orgasm march steadily along your belly while Miche continuously rolls his hips into your ankle. He could cum just from the smell of your cunt sticking to his lips and nose, just imagine how he feels right now.

But he keeps his pace steady despite some of your squirming, licking until he feels his scruff is soaked by your cum and immediately sets to work on cleaning up your juices with his tongue. You keep a hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds. One last thrust into your leg and he is falling apart quickly, cum sticking to his underwear as his hand roughly grips your thigh so he does not moan loud enough to attract any unwanted onlookers. If only you could see how his eyes roll back and his jaw clench.

Again, you feel a hot breath against your thighs as he shifts your panties over your soaked cunt. He pulls back as you gather your skirt to your hips so you can see him and what a sight it is. Heady green eyes and breathless pants paired with disheveled hair and a wet face and beard, licking his lips and huffing through his nose until most of your juices are gone with his tongue and fingers assistance.

Your hand is still present over your mouth, almost frozen in shock about how both you and Miche crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed. Not that you exactly care anymore, your hands pull his face to yours and into another long-winded kiss where you can taste your own juices and his soft tongue once more.

Reluctantly, he pulls back, adjusting your shoes back onto your feet and leaving a wet kiss to your inner thigh before helping you up.

“I should... wash up. You leave before me,” he presses soft kisses onto your scarred knuckles, turning you toward the door with a tap on your ass that leaves you giggling out a farewell.

Next time he wants to see your face when you cum. He would forfeit heaven and earth just experience you once again.

■

The local police came to him with a theft case not long after you two’s... endeavor. Since he has been busy with that, he has not been able to see you besides the occasional glances into the garden. The case was relatively easy too, despite having to pick up for his father’s lack of presence due to his illness that is slowly chipping away at his life. The theft is either the victim’s brother or his brother’s wife and now it is up to the cops to figure it out and knowing them, it will be a slow process with too much paperwork. Miche can already feel the forming headache swelling on his temporal lobe and has already asked one of the maids present to whip up some soothing tea. Chamomile cannot fix his problems but it can make the stress knot in his shoulders untangle just a bit.

What you did not expect is the said maid shoving the tray of tea into your hands, trading them for the rose potpourri you were delivering to Nanny and pushing you in the directions of Miche’s office. Obviously, she took the chance for you and Miche to interact some more, spurring on the continuation of forbidden love even if it was partially for their entertainment. First of all, you do not even know how to pour tea. You are not a maid, you were never trained in that area but put some garden shears in your hands and you could make the garden look pretty as a painting. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Wrong. Your hands are already shaking when you meet Miche’s eyes, his eyebrows shooting to his eyebrows and cheeks flushing, memories rushing back into your minds. The heat of his eyes travels up your neck as you silently set the teacup down beside him. For a second, he observes quietly, letting his eyes venture over you and huffing in amusement with how untrained you seem in pouring tea but enjoying it nonetheless.

But he wants his hands to adventure you, letting his fingers rest on the back of your knee that just barely peeks out of the skirt while you pour as if asking for permission. You throw a glance at him and a nod, setting the teapot onto the desk, bracing yourself on the wood as his hand quickly travels to your inner thighs. Pulling you closer to him with a firm grip on your thigh only for him to pause when he feels the torn edges of the previous wound he inflicted upon the stockings you are currently wearing.

“You’re wearing the same stockings?” he whispers fervently, dropping the paperwork in his other hand in shock.

“Well-” you wish you could explain that these are the only stockings you have and how a hole in the crotch does not necessarily make them unwearable and you do not feel like trading more things for a pair of tights you never wear except inside the estate. If only you knew what that does to him, cock already hardening in his pants at the memories and feeling of your soft skin underneath his fingers. Instead, he pulls his chair back, pulling you to sit in his lap as you catch a glance of someone from across the room. Your heart almost bursts out of your chest before you realize that someone is just you, a reflection in a mirror set against a display case. He adjusts to let your legs be opened wide by his. It does not matter if you crush him or not. You could crush his lungs, and he would still try to let his last breaths be of you.

He can see how the overfilled cup of tea sloshes over the rim but more importantly, he can see your embarrassed face in the reflection of the mirror. A mirror he has been meaning to move somewhere else but is glad he has let it stay at least this long in his office. Fingers trail over your exposed panties, pushing into your clit. The way you moan his name sounds like melted honey over his heart but your expressions are more sinful than anything he has ever seen. Contorting with a bitten lip while his fingers soak themselves with your juices. The only thing of his that has been inside you is his tongue but now he feels the plush hotness wrap around his digits, crooking up into the softest parts you are unable to reach yourself.

Both of you know someone could come in or be listening so you try to keep yourself quiet but with how he is pulling the most unholy sounds out of your body. Letting his fingers dip deep inside you to curl and watching with a chin on your shoulder how your mouth opens in a panting moan. You can feel his cock sitting heavy against your ass, rocking back to please him even if a fraction of the pleasure he is giving you. He takes a firm hand to your breasts to make you lean back into him, holding you firm almost wishing you two could melt into each other as your cunt swallows at least three of his twisting fingers. He wishes he could see how your wet pussy takes his fingers in the mirror but his desk cuts off the image. Your face is plenty enough for him to enjoy, as well as the smell of your cunt permeating the air around him, causing his hips to rock into your ass steadily. He watches you intently until your eyes meet his in the mirror, feeling your insides clench sporadically and having to bring his thumb into your mouth to muffle your loudness.

Maybe one day your voice can be set fully free for him to enjoy. But for now, he savors how your cunt soaks his fingers and how your tongue wraps readily around his finger. Panting in his lap, you grind backward, meeting his desperate grinds until he is finishing in his underwear once again.

Miche holds no shame in finishing in his pants as long as you are pleased before it. Though the temptation to feel your cunt wrapped around his cock instead of his fingers settles in quickly. You catch your breath while leaning back onto him, letting him press kisses into your neck and up behind your ear, letting your hand comb through his hair. There are wishes floating between the both of you of how you wish you two could stay in each other's arms a little longer. But before duty can call both of you away, there is a hesitant knock upon the door causing both of you to fly away from each other, his hands coming to flip your skirt down over your ass and you giving him a handkerchief to clean his fingers off on before the maid that attends to his father peaks in.

“Young lord, your father...”

And with a sorrowful squeeze on your hips, he leaves to follow her, unable to meet your eyes.

■

If Miche could see the inner workings of his gilded cage, he can also see the lock that keeps him in it — His father, currently teetering on the edges of consciousness and the call of death. A sickness that struck him in his old age and kept him bedridden for at least two years.

It is not that he wants his father to die. He would not wish death upon anybody, he just wishes his father was able to understand his passions or him at all before he leaves this world. But instead, he keeps his infatuations secret otherwise running the risk of being disowned despite being the only son. He wishes he could show his father how beautiful the garden you tend is, how beautiful you are. How he would risk everything to be with you, how if you could just hold your hand in front of his father even he’d be able to see...

How if his father could just wake up. But instead, he sleeps. Peacefully, almost suspiciously so. The maid was right to get him. The doctors say his time is approaching and Miche has to make the decision to keep him alive but unconscious or pass away peacefully.

It takes five days for Miche to decide.

It takes five days to plan the funeral as well.

This is one request you wish you never had to fulfill. Preparing arrangements of lilies for the funeral of the father of the man you love. It is not strange to not speak to each other for days but this is different. This time sorrow pulls him away from the one thing that could ease this pain. But for a moment as you prepare the flowers in the church for the service, he is able to be alone with you once more.

You wish you could see him wearing a black tux in a different context. Instead, his eyes are darkened, looking as if he hasn’t slept in days. Cautiously, you let your eyes wander around the church making sure no one besides you and him are present before running into his arms. Leaning into his warmth as he takes a deep breath, curling into you.

The church is completely silent before you speak, “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t.”

How many times has he heard “I’m sorry for your loss” in the past few days? He is tired of it. Tired of being reminded how he probably is not as sad as he should be for his father’s death. The only person that did not say the usual line was Erwin, who clapped his back and said “some doors close for others to open.”

“I wish I could help,” you let your hands rub across his back as he rocks the both of you.

“You are.”

“The flowers don’t count-”

“Not with the flowers.”

You go silent once again, letting him hold you just to find some respite before pulling away. He needs to be the official lord of the estate now, composed and elegant to greet people and thank them for coming. Calloused thumbs smelling of lilies brush over his cheeks before he is pulled back with the sounds of expensive shoes hitting the wooden floor of the church.

Miche hates the smell of lilies.

■

Five more days until Miche is able to reach out again. A note with fancy script you can barely read delivered to you by a giggling maid saying, “Bring camellia’s to my chambers tonight.”

Camellias are still in season luckily. Heart beating fast as you cut some flora at his request, finally you get to see him once more.

The blanch whites and biting red of the camellias do not exactly make the most beautiful arrangement, but they look sweet, almost childish with each other. As you work on different parts of the garden your foot taps the grass flat out of nervousness and you keep glancing towards the sun as if the evening could come any sooner.

Miche himself is pacing back and forth in his room, glancing at a dusty book that has not been touched in years before adjusting a blanket over a chair.

Just as the sun sets your impatience gets the best of you, gathering your bundle of flowers before trying to sneak into the estate without anybody seeing you on your way to Miche. It would just be more of a hassle to be interrogated by other maids or worse, Nanny. But before you manage to knock on his door it is swung open and you are pulled into a kiss that steals your breath. You are trying to mumble against his lips that someone will see the two of you but he only pulls back for a moment.

“And? I am the lord of the house now. It doesn’t matter.” You suppose it doesn’t.

“I could take you against every wall of this house, they can’t do anything.”

You smack his chest with the flowers as he gives you a playful smile, kissing you loudly in the hallway before pulling you into his room. He sits you on the edge of his bed as he walks to his bookshelf, leaving your eyes to wander. Old fencing swords on display, his family crest messily embroidered into a piece of fabric, some stray chess pieces scattering the countless amount of bookshelves present. There is even a vase filled with a variety of dried flowers that you recognize from the garden you have tended since you were young.

There is a quiver in his step as he retrieves a dusty book from the shelf, nerves making his leg shake as he sits next to you. He’s acting too formal, it makes you stiffen and shift your full attention as he clears his throat.

“Do you remember when we were young, in the garden?” Tilting your head you almost say there were plenty of times when you two were young and in the garden, but the most memorable one was when he was staggering and lanky, walking up to you red as a sunburn and leaving with a flower pressed into his palm.

“That time you asked me what flowers were?”

Miche’s face turns just as red as when he walked up to you as a young boy, still the memory haunts him but more than anything he remembers how hopeless he felt after he held a small flower in his hands, knowing he could never truly pursue you. Until now.

There is a flattened pink disc that still lingers with the sweet scent of camellia. Something close to jasmine that has long seeped into the pages of the book. It contrasts the fresh red and white flowers in your hands so readily, freshly bloomed in the spring sun and picked just for him.

“Yes,” he clears his throat once more, hoping his nerves will clear with it, and sets the dried flower into the palm of yours. Of course, you remember this. A bloom you snipped too short that your mother would have scolded you for if she saw. A bloom you gave to him hoping it would satisfy the want in his eyes.

It was when he realized his gilded cage was too tight. A gilded cage that now has no lock, door swinging open for Miche to finally stretch his wings.

“I am the lord of the house now,” you nod, wondering at what he is getting at, “and I am the last Zacharius,” uhhuh, “and the police won’t stop working with me even if I run the chance of losing my social status...”

The blood in your body rushes to your face so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He holds your hands, thumbing over the fresh flower petals before kissing your knuckles of the hand that holds the dried flower.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Unless you don’t want me to say it.”

Tears are gathering in your eyes and you can’t help but smack his broad chest with flowers over and over until he is giggling and fallen flat into the bed beside you. Letting the petals fly across the sheets until you are fully satisfied with the hits you have served. The singular dried pink flower is amongst the carnage of petals, discarded and forgotten in the sheets.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

You swing a leg over his hips, “yes. Always yes.”

He gives you a boyish smile of true excitement before he leans up to trap you in his arms, pulling you into a kiss filled with smiles and giggles.

“Since you are on top of me...” he sets your hips closer to his, letting his slowly growing bulge be known.

“You’ve become less gentlemanly with me, it seems.”

“I will always be a gentleman to you, my love, let’s say I am now more honest, shall we?”

You hum into his lips, letting his hands venture underneath your more casual dress to feel bare skin, ghosting over your ass only to feel no presence of panties.

“If innuendos make me ungentlemanly, what does no panties make you?” he breathes against your lips.

A whisper of “who knows” is the response he receives before you are rolling your hips into him, capturing him in another messy kiss as his hands meld into the fat of your behind, guiding you in your grinds. Intoxicating, every kiss you allow him only pulls him further into the mix of you and flower petals.

It only takes a moment to flip the two of you, letting him push your dress up until you are pulling it off yourself. Miche sits back to watch for a moment, letting his eyes adventure across the body he has never fully seen but craves more than anything before he unbuttons his own shirt. Slowly, almost temptingly so until he reveals himself fully to you. The hunger to see him in his full glory finally satisfied and glory is the most accurate word to describe him. Strength set in his broad shoulders and chest with a bit of pudge settling on his belly decorated with a brunette happy trail leading to the biggest cock you have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Intimidatingly big, accented by heavy balls with cute curls. He lets you stare as he does the same, the last of the setting sun shining through the window to shine on your skin along with some of the petal carnage sticking to your body. It is only when you close your legs after shifting your gaze that he settles on the bed once more, kissing the tops of your knees

“Must you really hide from me?” He has been knuckle and tongue deep inside you, it is long past the time for such shy, albeit adorable, actions.

You bloom into his embrace, letting your legs fall open to frame his own and his eyes settle straight onto your cunt. He gives a sly boyish smile, licks his lips, and before you can close your legs with a squeal of “don’t stare!” he dives down. Once again letting you feel the softness of his tongue on your lower lips and clit, gathering spit onto your clit to let slide between your folds to your hole to help with the next step.

It is a quick kiss to your cunt before he pulls himself up and over your body, rubbing his scruff along your neck before letting the tip of his cock tease your clit. A soft exhale of his name breathed against his hair, and he kisses your jaw, mumbling into your ear, “can I?”

Your nails make residence on his back as you echo your previous words, “always yes.”

Once more he captures your lips, swallowing your gasps as his tip stretches you out slowly. Part of him wishes to see how your pussy blossoms open at the coaxing of his cock but he would much rather experience your first official time together up close. Hearing every moan and hiss he pulls from you and feeling your nails scratch against his back. Resisting the temptation to cum immediately when he feels the softness of your cunt wrapping around him.

But he pauses when you whisper a small ow, not pushing any further until you say and peppering kisses onto your eyelids as you sigh in pleasure. Now you know for sure he is definitely big enough to hurt, “damnit.”

“Sorry love, almost halfway I promise.”

Half? Halfway? “Almost halfway?”

His chuckle reverberates through you, embarrassed with how you are implying how even half of his cock is hard to take. He pushes another kiss onto your lips, rolling his hips in and outwards only a tad to soak more of your juices on his cock. Inch by inch he sinks into you, pulling back whenever he feels your face grimace to coat his cock with more of your self-produced lube, thankful you are aroused enough to even produce any. Until he is fully seated within you, even him not moving makes you breathless.

Hands press into your cheeks making your eyes open to look into his. A beautiful green no plant could ever wish to achieve. He whispers against your lips once more, asking for a sign to make sure you are ready and quickly you answer back yes. Locking your legs behind his thighs to roll back into his, the stretch is stinging at first but the more thrusts he sends into you the less of a problem it becomes. Eyes rolling back into your head and mouth open to let moans fly free, the pleasure is nothing compared to his fingers or his tongue. His member hits the softest parts inside of your walls, pulling an orgasm out of you before you even realize it. He holds you as you spasm around him, letting your nails dig into his back and resisting the urge to cum with you.

Patiently, he waits until you are trying to catch your breath to pull out, tugging his cock covered in your juices to spill his cum onto your belly. Later, he will think about the possibility of having children. For now, he wants to enjoy every moment with you, just you.

More kisses are pressed into your face that you gladly return, letting him rest above you in a comfortable cage. However, the night is just beginning — why waste the dark embrace of the stars with sleep?

■

Late in the morning, there is a knock on Miche’s door which tears his warmth away from you. Throwing a robe on before peeking the door open to see Nanny standing there with a smile on her age-worn face. His heart drops to his toes, knowing that your endeavors will now be shared with every single servant in the house if they did not happen to hear them last night.

“Should we bring you two breakfast — no, lunch — in bed?”

There is a blush settled in his cheeks because essentially he is being teased by the woman who raised him but he only mutters out a yes please, before making his way back to the bed to curl around you once more. A warm hand placed over your puffy and abused mound to ease at least some of the sourness settling in. But at least finally you two get to bask in the heat of each other in the comfort of his own bed, even if there are still flower petals sticking to both of your bodies.

■

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I did,” Erwin adjusts his tie in the mirror, one set against a display case in Miches office. As much as Miche objected at first, it was easy for Erwin to become an Officiant and Miche will forever be grateful for why.

A pretty silver band set with precious stones is twisted around between Miches fingers. Erwin speaks up once again, “Nervous?”

“No,” he huffs out of his nose, “excited.”

■

Never once in your life have you imagined maids fretting over you like a highborn lady. Adjusting your dress and hair until you have to shoo them away otherwise you would go mad. You aren’t exactly sure how fancy ladies stand so many hands on them. It is not a huge voluptuous dress either, you did not want one. The maid dresses were even too fancy for your taste, becoming all too accustomed to overalls caked with soil or casual dresses with branch-tugged tears. It hurts knowing nobody but his friends will be here, neither of your parents being alive to see how happy the two of you are but you know your mother would scold you with tears in her eyes and kiss your forehead to know how proud she is of you. You are not sure what your father would have done but if he loved you as much as your mother claimed, you hope he loves the happiness you are experiencing as well.

Levi is waiting at the door for your arm. After becoming close to him throughout a year of officially being Miche’s partner, you two have grown close, bonding over being born in lower status’ than your lovers and teasing the both of them when they show particularly pompous attitudes. And whenever Hanji would flirt, instead of being met with heat down your neck like it was at first, you throw playful quips back until they are keeling over, laughing their heart out.

Levi is silent, but he tucks a red camellia behind your ear with a hand lingering on your cheek. You are lucky he even decided to show affection but you know everything he does comes from a pure place in his heart.

The ceremony is informal, only you and his friends beside another maid and Nanny that has been keen on getting you and Miche together present. Erwin is there to officiate and Levi steps on his foot to cut a soon-to-be long speech short so you two can shut up and kiss already, in Levi’s words.

If only Erwin, Levi, Hanji, Nile and his wife knew what that garden has seen in the early hours of the morning when both you and Miche were struck with the idea of fulfilling a fantasy. Then surely they would not be stepping around the base of the grapefruit tree so casually. The maids already know — quick as fire, remember?

Miche Zacharius has seen the inner workings of his own gilded cage since he was young. But now, finally after all these years, he can experience the life he has always wished for, filled with freedom and passion blowing under his stretched wings.

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