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dusterbishop · 1 month

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have you come here to rescue me (all of this can be broken)

summary. || three timelines, you have watched remy lebeau die. you didn't believe you would earn a fourth chance to save him until you find a variant with no memory of his past, lost in a void of existence.

pairing. || gambit x f!reader (past relationship with current enemies-to-lovers)

count. || 2.7k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. warning for character death and violence. thank you for all the kind comments and likes! i'm happy i could share this with such a talented fandom.

part one. || part two.

You and Gambit meet before, eh?

Many times

Mais, pleasure’s mine, chér. Gambit’s never forgotten a beautiful woman

You draw your next card at random, and find yourself flat on your back, the back of your head still slick with the blood that pools beneath you. The hit from behind splintered your skull, but this body merely festers with a fading migraine. It is the closest you could get to avoiding death without skipping from this reality entirely. The pain has to keep you anchored, because you can’t count on Gambit to know what to do to keep you here.

Gambit, for his part, stares down at you. He looks like your Remy, which seems like such a strange thought to have. Of course he looks like Remy LeBeau. That is who he is in every lifetime. And yet it makes perfect sense that you halt upon this revelation for the very same reason.

Every Gambit is Remy LeBeau, and yet this one looks like Remy. He has the same strong jawline, the same furrow of his brow, the same black-rimmed red irises. He towers over you, the line of his shoulders set back and perplexed, at least until he crouches down to be closer to your level. Every movement is fluid, graceful. No sign of pain or hesitation. No snarl of distrust or blank expression of disinterest.

Found ya’, chér.

You would laugh if the back of your skull wasn’t just recently smashed in, new body or not. The daze of death’s lingering touch keeps you still as you stare back up at him. He had promised you would meet again, hadn’t he? In another lifetime, at least, he had. You are not the same body that he had been in love with, and yet some part of you can still smell the smoke in the air and feel the buzzing of kinetic lightning across your skin.

He is not your Remy. Not even if he’s looking at you with that same curious intensity. Gamblers could never refuse the call of the cards, and you have a stacked deck.

“Watch it, Cajun,” you tell him. Your voice is scratchy, grating the back of your throat. That explains the weariness in your joints, then. This version of your body is sick in some way. “I know how to wave a stick.”

A knowing laugh escapes him. “Oui, saw ya’ wit’ it. Don’ threaten Gambit wit’ a good time.”

Right, the flirting. Of all the swamp-dwelling boys you could have ended up entangled with, you just had to choose the one with that damned silver tongue. This version of Gambit is no different than the thousands of others you have witnessed in terms of that, at least. Perhaps thousands was even a conservative estimate. How many times have you crossed lives only to find a stranger wearing the face of the man you love?

God, you’re tired of it all. You don’t think you can handle another Gambit right now.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you sigh. “I’m not staying long.”

“S’il vous plait, you should.” He’s smiling, but you know that look in his eyes. Your gaze falls to the inner folds of his coat. You can barely make out the stitched lining where he keeps his cards, but you know that its there. He always had a habit of stitching the pockets in the same spot. Your Remy liked to command full control of the kitchen table to spread out his coat and ensure straight stitching. The cats liked it, too. You would come home to find them all clustered at the table, Remy idly scratching Oliver’s chin while he assessed his work, the other two boys stretched out languidly with them.

Gambit notices your attention, and his smile goes flat. “Where’ve you been my life, eh?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back. The fatigue starts to settle deep in your bones. Maybe this body wasn’t sick when you borrowed it. Maybe this is just the effects of your time-skipping leeching over to another form. Your body feels like its burning a low-grade fever. “I don’t want to argue with you, Gambit.”

“Argue?” He looks almost offended at the mention of underlying tension. “Mon chér, you wound me. Dis is a civil conversation, non?”

“Don’t you get tired of talking?” You know he doesn’t. The two of you have spent so many hours sparring both in the danger room and verbally. He likes to make you take the backfoot in both fighting rings. At least, Remy did. This Gambit seems… off.

He almost seems familiar.

“Not when I’m talkin’ to you,” his smile edges with that coy charm. “Why don’ you tell Gambit about your travels?”

It feels like dunking your head beneath tumultuous ocean waves. Your gaze jolts to his eyes. His biggest tell had always been the way his pupils expand, consuming the ringed red of his irises. In some light, at some times, it almost looked as if he didn’t have irises at all. Just an all-consuming gaze of ink-black.

He looks that way, now, staring down at you. Black-eyed and smiling like a rogue, his elbows perched idly on the curve of his crouched knees, hands freely dangling between you. Unarmed, almost, if not for the weight of cards pressed against the cuff of his sleeves. That brand of stitching is new. Your Remy would have been absolutely delighted to see that sort of innovation as much as he would have groaned about not doing it himself.

“Ace up your sleeve,” you say instead. Your head is rattling with a desperate panic. How does he know that you can travel?

Gambit flicks his wrist, the air rushes, and a splayed set of cards stare back at you. Four of a kind. A handful of aces, in fact. Your Remy would be in absolute stitches over it.

“Some, oui,” he says. He looks just as pleased with himself. He always did like to be the smooth-talker. The air whirs with quiet trepidation, charging, turning metallic in the back of your mouth. One of his brows raises the same moment you half-raise your arm, reflecting the same suit of cards back to him. His fingers reluctantly slide closed on empty air.

“So do I,” you tell him. You hold steady when he goes to take them back from you and nearly yank your arm out of reach when his fingers close over your wrist instead. He’s wearing his gloves, but even the slight warmth of his skin pressed against yours makes your mouth go cotton-dry.

“Houdini,” he remarks.

“Not quite,” you whisper.

“Non,” he agrees. He studies your hand for a long moment. The cards are his, of course. You had shifted time just enough to reach across it and claim your prize. Nothing more than a parlor trick in the light of what you have done lately. What is a suit of cards in the face of endless, staggering realities? If you don’t like the way a restaurant cooks a dish, you can cross time until you find the same dish cooked to mind-numbing perfection. If you miss the city bus because it showed up three minutes early, you can change lifetimes to delay the driver by five minutes, the extra two minutes only for good measure.

If you lose one Remy LeBeau, why not venture out to find him again?

And again?

And again.

You know the answer, now. Maybe part of you always did, yes, but the answer is staring you in the face. You cannot ignore him any longer. You cannot skip timelines and pretend that there will never be a Remy like yours again. He was yours because he was not perfectly brought up as a child and ended up with some nine-to-five office job and a three-bedroom home with a white picket fence. That Remy does not have an interest in a strange paradox such as yourself. Neither does the Remy LeBeau that ends up being a schoolteacher, or a stay at home dad, or a volunteer at an animal shelter.

Your Remy was imperfect, and that was why he was the only version of himself that you could love.

This version of Remy LeBeau is still holding onto you. His grip is firm, but not bruising. He’s holding you fast to keep you with him, not to hurt you. You’re too tired to attempt to escape. Every muscle in your body feels leaden and overworked. That’s the other answer demanding your attention, but you let the revelation slip from its leash and ignore it.

“I know what you are, chér .” His grip doesn’t change, but there’s a dangerous riptide swelling in his tone. “What you do.”

“Wayfarer,” you say. It feels flimsy to say it like this, laying flat on your back, Gambit poised gracefully beside you. Remy had been rather nonplussed with the title when you first told him about it. Non, mon coeur, you are Wildcard. Not even Gambit knows your next move.

“You travel, d’accord?” With the hand still holding you fast, he rubs the calloused pad of his thumb against the rapid flutter of your pulse. It’s nearly enough to make you flicker out of time itself, consequences be damned. His next words are a wistful purr. “You can leave.”

You aren’t sure why the surprise that lances through you hurts so much. Of course, he isn’t your Remy. You know this. He may smile and banter and touch you as kindly as Remy does — as he did, past tense, it’s all beyond your grasp now — but that does not make you something for him to cherish.

It does, however, make you something to use.

“I am always here,” you start, settling into this waltz slowly. This was the other part of your existence that used to confuse Remy. Some part of you hardly understood it, either. You don’t know how every part of a jet plane or automobile works either, though, so it doesn’t phase you much anymore. You had tried to explain it with the T.V. analogy, like your other versions were playing on different screens even if you aren’t tuned in, but that only served to confuse him more. He did enjoy your choice of explanation in some way, at least, by fully indulging in references from his favorite T.V. shows. The conversation had derailed into you hitting him with a pillow, and then you had both unraveled into a different sort of banter.

Not that Remy ever let you get the last word, though. Tuning the channel, he had said seriously, as you had writhed beneath his touch in a breathless rush. Smart-mouthed, smooth-talking swamp boy.

“Some part of me stays here. A variant,” you continue. Gambit waits, those slivered-red irises trained intently on your expressions. How strange to have him staring at you with such suspicion. You could never lie well to Remy LeBeau no matter the version you stumbled across. You could hold back, yes, but he would always know anyway. You have learned to stop hiding from him. It is inevitable that you will admit your life to him in some way, either by choice or by necessity.

“I am here,” you say. “Like I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Paris, reading the morning newspaper, playing the crossword. I can see the empty grid in my head. I know the clues.”

There’s a familiar furrow in Gambit’s brow. You’re suddenly glad he’s holding your hand before you end up surrendering to the urge to reach out and smooth it away. Not your Remy. A touch from you is not the sort he hungers for.

“Paris, eh?” He presses his thumb to your pulse. You wonder if he feels the leap in your heart beat at the touch. “Wha’s got you wandering da Void, then?”

“I didn’t choose to be here,” you admit. “I got… reset, I guess. My mind went to the next version of my body available.”

“Reset sounds awfully dire, I t’ink.” He gives you a pointed look. “Wha’s got you?”

For one long, awful moment, you almost tell him the terrible truth. You almost tell him that you went looking for a version of him that was familiar enough to soothe the gaping hole in your heart. That you found a Gambit that was witty and kind despite his shitty upbringing, one that liked to make you laugh and could keep up with the practice drills you still put yourself through. A Gambit that wasn’t afraid that you would one day vanish and be replaced by some version of yourself that he didn’t love.

You want to tell him that you found a Gambit that you had wanted to keep safe, and he was shot in the back trying to do the same for you. You tore yourself apart to take down the men that did it to him. You died with him and you still woke up within one breath and the next. You had to wake up and hear his voice, except this is not the Gambit that died because of you, this version does not know what he holds onto so tightly.

You want to tell him that three other versions of Remy LeBeau died just as terribly, and you just keep spinning the roulette wheel, and you just keep living.

“That version of me died,” you say. “Shot in the stomach.”

He’s looking at you as if he has never seen such a phenomenon. You suppose, technically, he hasn’t. He used to be one of the lucky ones that didn’t know you even existed. There goes that winner’s streak.

“Do’ya have t'die to… reset?”

You think about lying again. God, you wish you could. “Not always.”

He raises a brow at that, but you don’t offer to elaborate. Instead, you let the cards in your hand release from this reality with a soft whir of energy. Your head feels stuffed with cotton, or perhaps rocks. Maybe this is your mind finally burying itself alive in rebellion of your time-skipping antics.

“Tell ya what, chér.” His fingers loosen their grip on your wrist only to tangle with your own, intertwining your hands. Your breath catches. It’s the only split-second warning you have before he hauls you up to your feet, one hand entangled with yours, the other supporting the small of your back to keep you balanced. You have to shut your eyes against the vertigo that thunders in your head.

“Don’t die,” he continues. “Paris ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, hein? No reason to go dere.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” you grit out. You think you might throw up. Or pass out. Your free hand grips onto the lapel of Gambit’s coat hard enough for your fingers to grow stiff. His hand on your back is a solid, anchoring weight. It supports you more than you would like. Relying on him could be a dangerous game.

Still, your power is a raw, aching nerve burning through your veins. You couldn’t switch without tearing yourself apart, not as exhausted as you are. Considering that this Gambit hasn’t driven a knife into your back, either literal or figurative, it’s easier not to resist when he makes a soft hum and sweeps you into a bridal carry. You keep your eyes closed, and try to ignore the burn at the back of them. A part of you waits for his sound of pain, the impact of bullets thudding into his back. Another part wonders if he will be vaporized from existence by the TVA, just a second before your hands meet.

The third, quieter part of your mind just thinks: Remy.

Gambit, the fourth ace in your suit, doesn’t do any of those things. He adjusts your weight, testing to see if you will squirm out of his grasp, then he begins to walk. He’s strangely quiet. It’s almost a relief in the wake of your draining, familiar conversation. How many times will you have to reintroduce yourself to a Gambit? What could you possibly offer this fate-curious, battle-wary version of the man you love? It’s the sort of question that makes you reconsider your choice to stay.

Stay with a Gambit with ulterior motives, or move on to another life with no guarantee of who will meet you there? Well. When you put it like that, there’s no other option at all.

And, as if he can read your mind, Gambit begins to explain.

#gambit #remy lebeau #gambit imagine #xmen imagine #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x y/n #gambit fic #remy lebeau x y/n #d&w #dp3

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all-things-fic · 9 months

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Sugar // HS

AN: This is old, but given how ol’ Harry has popped up outta nowhere, I couldn’t resist. Really sorry if the read more doesn’t work properly, I’m on mobile.

Sending love x

***

Anguilla was a special place for you both.

It had its way of drawing you back to it time and time again. Whenever you wanted that little bit of winter sun, to ease the blues that may have been drawn from you with the grey skies of England.

Anguilla had been the first real place that you and Harry had chosen to holiday. It felt like your first real couple holiday. Where you shed all worry and apprehension about being seen with him in a setting that was absolutely nothing but romantic.

Anguilla had been the place where you’d had one of your nastiest fights too. The kind that had you sat in the backseat of a taxi ride home, close together in presence but the furthest apart in mind. The threat of packing your luggage and getting the next flight home fizzling through the silent energy.

And it was because of that - the highs and lows - it was only right to also christen this place with the crown of being your first born’s babymoon.

Thinking back on fond memories as you lay along the four poster daybed, was how you’d come to find yourself most days on this holiday. Looking out on your private beach and watching your husband of just shy of two years fight his way around a paddleboard or a surfboard, whichever has taken his fancy that morning.

The Caribbean seas were known to be calm, but not this part of the island. Harry knew about that one better than you, and seeing him so active sometimes made you feel like you were being far too lazy, using the pregnancy as an excuse.

Truth was, you had been struggling. Heartburn was crazy and you’d started to swell in your hands and ankles from water retention. While Harry swore to you it was just the heat. You hadn’t forgotten how he’d said that it was probably just the flight that had caused it.

You loved that about him though. That he tried to always make you feel better. Regardless of how neglectful you felt toward him, he wouldn’t hear you utter such words. You were carrying his baby, you were nothing but beautiful to him. You knew he thought that from the way he marvelled in you every single day. Both with and without the spoken word.

It was like he was mesmerised. You were a bit of a forbidden fruit to him, especially when it came to intimacy. Being touched in your current shape made you cringe. You’d spent a lot of the past week covered up, under the four poster daybed you currently found yourself upon and felt like some lewd voyeur as you stared out into the ocean, under the guise of reading, and watched your husband leave the ocean.

Harry was every inch golden, regardless of the length of time he spent covered up by a wetsuit. His face, which had been slightly sunburnt, now turning that mixture of bronze and dirty tan where his melanocytes cells had increased unevenly in the sun, resulting in darker and lighter patches of skin.

He was every inch handsome and strong and he was aging far better than you (much to your delight and your resentment). He still smiled like he was the same twenty-six year old you had first set your eyes on, in that dingy London bar while on a night out with friends that you were so adamant you didn’t want to attend.

But boy, you were glad you had.

Both back then and so vehemently still to this day.

You looked on, watching as he stood his surfboard in the sand. Abruptly pushing it down and working on untying the board from around his ankle. A force that you knew would be heavy. Had he always been this manly or were you just having a moment?

He was drenched. Wet through. You could tell regardless of how far away he was and you found yourself wondering how salty his skin would taste against your lips. Left leg wrapping tightly over your right at the ankle to quell the feeling of emptiness between your thighs.

Eyes squinting slightly behind your sunglasses, you fought the urge you so badly felt behind your twitching hands, to lift them from your eyes and push them back into your hair. For some strange reason you didn’t want him to know you were affected by him like this.

Harry knew however. Of course he knew. He was in the same position. It was why he was taking his time. Jutting his chin up towards the cloudless blue skies and pulling slowly at the zip of his wetsuit, feeling the too tight fabric become less taut against his damp skin.

Pruney fingers pulled at the Neoprene material, hands peeling it away and ears enjoying the sound it made while doing so. You noticed he’d dropped his head with a smile now, wet tendrils falling down and obscuring your view of the way his face dipped and concaved so majestically when he was pleased with himself.

That annoyed you. You wanted to see that face.

Sinking lower into the bed, you pulled your book higher to hide your pout and felt dirtier now that nothing but your eyes were visible over the top of the book.

He seemed totally unphased but you were sure he knew you were watching him as he finished removing the top half from his body and revealing himself to you. Golden and smattered with more ink than ever. Ink now upon his skin just for you, mixed nicely in between the memories and the mistakes from before.

Seeing his feet digging into the sand, you felt a jolt of excitement course through you. Hand lifting to rest gently against your stomach, you attributed the flutter to your child. “Is that Daddy making his way back to us?”

Harry’s feet burned under the white sand as he found himself walking from the water's edge and closer to the daybed. He squinted, bringing his hand up to his forehead to try and get a better look at you as he approached.

You took great delight in the way his ring caught the sun from his action. Lips pulling into a triumphant grin at the thought and knowledge of how he was yours.

Smug didn’t even begin to cover it.

As he got closer, his eyes surveyed the scene that was in front of him. His wife laid out, relaxed, on a four poster bed. Chilled drinks and fruits off to the side ready for both of you to leisurely enjoy.

You hiding behind the book humoured him to no end. He loved it when you thought you were being clever. Just not clever enough, eh? He’d probably say it to you as well before the day was out.

His presence at the bottom of the bed was felt long before he physically arrived. You refused to look up at him, however he noticed the rounded apples of your cheeks as the pages of your book hid your smiling mouth from him.

Hands tying the loose sleeves of his wetsuit around his waist, your peripheral vision allowed you to take in the way his hands moved efficiently to tie a secure knot into the sleeves.

“Took your time,” you started. “Thought I was gonna have to start playing the Baywatch theme tune just to get you to move a little bit quicker.”

His lips quirked at that, him taking a deep breath through his nose as he felt the corners of his eyes wrinkle with joy. Laughter lines they called them, right? He knew they had only deepened from all the years he had spent laughing with you so far.

“Books tha’ interesting ‘s it,” he sarcastically acknowledged, enjoying the confirmation that you weren’t reading at all. “What chapter you on now?”

Your non-verbal response was to turn the book around for him to catch a glimpse of the pages. He cackled when the text came into focus. You hadn't moved from the page you’d opened up to that morning as he slipped off the bed, and let the ocean before his lover for a few hours.

“Stellar effort, darling. I admire your sell,” he clenched his fist and shook it once to emphasise his words. Your sell being the way you’d made it look as if you had moved further along with your novel of choice for holiday reading. “Gonna take you in the boardroom wi’me next time wi’a poker face like tha’.”

“Take me in the boardroom,” you repeated his words back to him, much slower than his delivery.

From your tone, he tilted his head up, using both of his hands to brush back his wet hair from falling around his face. He blew out a puff of air, his lips looking so much bigger and more inviting when his mouth made that shape.

“Jesus woman, give a man chance to breathe.”

His deep tone forced you to push your face into the book, trying to fight the urge to squeal like a silly little school girl. The chuckle that filled your ears was bliss. It was one of his dirty sniggers, the kind that he would do by keeping his mouth closed so that the sound left more of his nose in a breathy sound but the vibration of his throat was prominent.

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, instead letting your hands fall away from the book as it remained in place from your horizontal state.

The dip to the bed was the next thing you felt, Harry placing his knees close to bottom left of the bed and pausing. It was calming silent apart from the sound of the crashing waves, and you found yourself peeking out from underneath the pages.

The sight you saw was far too soft, if a little bit intriguing. Harry was frowning lightly as he untied the knots of the tassels that held the netted white curtains framing the wooden posts of the bed.

“Unless,” he started, his voice concentrated. “You’re letting me taste you, then I’m gladly suffocating.”

Peeking out of the side of the book, you noticed how he hadn’t taken his eyes away from the way his nimble fingers were unloosening the fabric. You saw the way his facial expression changed when he triumphantly and gently tugged on the curtain to pull it across one side of the daybed.

“Don’t come near me, you’re wet-”

“‘S usually nice that way. The wetter the better, so to say.”

Usually you would’ve whacked him with the book by now, or threw a pillow at his head but all you found yourself doing was laying there and listening. Feeling a heat fill your face as your imagination was moving two steps ahead of Harry’s each time. Or so you thought, anyway.

Walking on his knees along the mattress, Harry made his way across the bed to the opposite set of net curtains.

“Why’re you shutting the curtains, I don’t want no funny business-“

Harry paused his movement, looking up at you under his drying hair thanks to the thick heat enveloping you both.

“Sure about that, darling,” he asked, fingers still against the knot. When you didn’t respond he continued to untie and pull the curtain across the opposite side of the best. “Thought so,” he mumbled.

Staying silent sometimes worked to your advantage, part of you slightly intrigued as to how he was going to play it. The book that covered your face, was gently lifted away by Harry. A soft whine leaving your lips.

“You’re gonna make me lose my place,” you made your high-pitched complaint known, only to be greeted by an amused chuckle.

“‘S the book more interesting than me is it,” he said slowly closing the item and pushing it away. “Nah. Now the fruit I can understand,” he started, feeling the way you looked up at him as he peered at the tray of healthy goodness and rubbed his hands together. “What have we got ‘ere? Cherries, strawberries, watermelon- your favourite.”

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for his hand that hung above you.

He was your favourite.

Your soft tug to his fingers had him dropping his gaze, his fingers curling around yours. His hands had changed to you lately, looking thicker and veiner. You could never bring yourself to say it out loud though, not to him directly anyway. You were sure he’d just laugh, if he didn’t already know that is.

You were positive he probably did. The amount of times you’d taken to playing with his fingers, or gently running the tips of your fingers across the dips of his knuckles and the veins on the backs of his hands. Those hands helped to make your baby, they’d help to take care of said baby in a number of months time too.

“Want summat?” He asked, eyes peering down at you behind his slowly drying tendrils. “Wha’ can I do fo’yer?”

Looking down at you, he took in the way you eyes blinked up at him.

“‘M already on m’knees for yer, wha’ more could you want? Want me closer?” He smirked, lowering himself down to lie on his side next to you thanks to your wordless nod. Head resting on his hand as he leant on his elbow, he reached up to scoop your hair out of your face and lift your lips to his. Voice lowering as his lips puckered against yours, he added, “Could do one better I s’pose? Put m’head between your legs.”

Shaky breath left your lips as he hummed. “Gonna let me do that fo’you.”

“‘S been ages since you last did,” he continued, hands smoothing down your back in circle motions, pulling you closer to his body so that you were almost flush against him.

“It’s not pretty down there,” you grimaced thinking of how your last shaving job had been harder to achieve thanks to your growing bump.

“‘S that not up to me to decide,” he asked, deeply. “Left a bit f’me to play with, yeah? ‘Ope so.”

“God Harry, stop being such a little boy,” you tried to hide your embarrassment, skin flamed for how open he was regardless of his boyish tendencies.

His snigger into the skin of your shoulder warmed you further, “‘m definitely not a little boy when I’m wanking m’self off, all over your hair.”

His comment lingered in the sexually charged air. Lips sucking gently and soft breathing barely heard over the crashing waves. Being close to him was what you craved. The sound of him coaxing you to be a little daring.

“Messy like one.”

“Messy like one,” he repeated, face amused as he looked down at you. “‘S better messy. When you can hear it, eh. All down my chin and rubbed into your thighs. Means we’ve enjoyed ourselves, don’t it.”

You found yourself opening your legs slightly at the sound of his voice and Harry took the opportunity to press his damp, wetsuit covered, thigh into the gap.

“Can feel ‘ow warm yer are for me-“ he groaned. “Let me in. Gi‘me a kiss.”

The deep inhale through his nose as he took your lips with his caused you to clench at his defined chest. He pulled off, a slight frown to his brow, “Christ nearly took a chunk of me wi’ya then.”

“Not close enough-“

“Let me in then, let me have a feast,” he hummed. “‘On your back f’me.”

Rolling to your back was easy when you had a man that weighed almost thirteen stone to guide you. Was easier when he caressed you with kisses that made you melt into him.

“You look bloody wonderful, d’ya know tha’,” he mumbled against your lips. His hand wandered as he spoke, fingers stilling at your rounded hips and dipping into your skin.

“You’re just trying to butter me up so you can get your end away,” you spoke in monotone, with your eyes closed.

“‘S it working?”

You giggled at his muffled question, his head pressed into the fabric of your beach coverup as your stomach shook lightly from your delight and laughter.

“Shift this out the way,” he gruffly spoke, pushing at the sheer item that covered your stomach. “Wan’ your belly.”

Your belly has become his kryptonite. The way it had grown and began to round out nicely. Popping into the bump that you had found yourself longing for the minute you found out that you were pregnant.

But it was also the part that you were self-conscious of. The dusting of stretch marks starting to appear, even if only light and small, among the ones that you’d experienced from when you were filling out as a teenager.

For Harry though, this was life. You were growing his son or daughter - the gender you didn’t know and weren’t going to find out either. Much to your dismay and his delight.

“One of the only surprises left in life,” he said, over a conversation around messy kisses and even messier tears from your panic of how your usual planning self wasn’t going to get a look in. “We’ve got this covered, Mommy. We don’t need to know. We’re sorted. Let us have that moment, that excitement for the entire nine months. The guessing and the little arguments over your cravings meaning that we’re definitely having a boy, or the way your shape is changing meaning we’re definitely having a girl.”

And that was a moment that you thought back on fondly now, cause he’d been right on his thinking. Those moments had been some of your best and most intimate conversations when he liked to purposely go against your guess and say the complete opposite. He loved seeing the fire in your eyes flare up as you both got friendly and competitive with each other. It was healthy to be this way and ultimately exciting and fun for you both.

You were in your thoughts so much that you almost jumped when you felt Harry’s hand get close to your belly button.

“Sensitive,” you softly whined, hearing his hushed apology against your lower body.

“‘M sorry, forgot,” he softly apologised, nose nudging gently at the underside of your bump. You felt him going lower with no desire to stop him, you intimate area letting you know that you wanted this far more than you were willing to admit.

“Had some watermelon for brunch? He mumbled into the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Saved me some?”

You whimpered in response, feeling the way the backs of his fingers rubbed gently up your clothed intimate area. His eyes were mesmerised by the turquoise blue of your bikini bottoms in contrast to your hair and softly tanned skin.

“Colour really pops, doll,” he mumbled more so to himself, watching the way your hands covered your face, elbows pointing to the sky at his words. “Love it when you show me how pink you are. Show me.”

“Stop,” you choked, lifting for him as you felt his face drop into your lower stomach and nosy along the hem of your bikini bottoms. His teeth drew up the material, pulling it away from your skin with a soft tension.

You wanted anything but him to stop.

“Can smell you from ‘ere, gagging for me,” his voice regardless of how it was muffled around fabric was the clearest thing in your mind. “Gonna give me some sugar.”

“You know I will,” you softly mewled, hands finding his at the waistband of your bikini bottoms.

“Do I?” He felt his lips tilt upward, eyes flicking upwards to see the charged expression on your face. “Help me get ‘em off you then.”

It didn’t take much from him before you started pushing the fabric down as he pulled. Hips rose of their own accord off the bed beneath you, as you let him shift and guide the bottoms down your legs, before placing them neatly to the other side of the bed.

He was close to you within a flash, his head back against your thigh this time and enjoying the way your plush skin felt pressed to his face.

“Put me where you want me,” he mumbled, hand blindly reaching for yours and placing it into his chestnut strands of hair that were beginning to form a waxy film from the sea salt.

You were shocked at how you didn’t hesitate in guiding him to your center. His groan of satisfaction caused you to scratch at his scalp as he turned his head slightly to the side against the crevice of your inner thigh, “My girl knows what she wants and what kind of man would I be ‘f I didn’t give it to her.”

Any kind of response you had fell flat into a hum, as you rolled your lips into your mouth and tried to keep as quiet as possible given the fact that you were in public.

You knew it wouldn’t last long, but you’d give it a good go.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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reidsexual · 2 months

Text

Forgotten II

It’s taking everything in you not to focus on the latest news circling Gotham. But everywhere you turn, there it is.

“Just in: Nightwing returns!”

“Nightwing reportedly seen battling against infamous KGBeast!”

“Peacemaker of the Night strikes back!”

So here you were - grabbing some coffee despite the late hour and the chilling breeze that accompanied it. You knew Dick wouldn’t approve, as Bludhaven wasn’t exactly known for its harmless background.

But who cares? He wasn’t here now.

Truth be told, you wanted to see Dick. Scratch that, that was an understatement. You were aching to see him.

But the questionability of the entire situation much outweighed that of your desire to speak to him again. How much of his life does he remember? Does he even want to see you? What would you say to him?

You take a sip of your coffee to calm your thoughts, the glow of the streetlights only enhancing the posters stuck on the walls. All of which were about Nightwing’s latest spectacle with KGBeast in Bludhaven.

You don’t even catch yourself staring until you feel your phone vibrate against your pocket. You peel your attention away from all the candid shots and bold words to look at the caller.

It’s Donna.

You pick up, holding the phone to your ear while simultaneously walking down the road. “Donna?” You speak her name, wondering to yourself why she’s calling out of the blue.

“Have you visited Dick?” She asks, cutting to the chase. You sigh dramatically, seeing your breath hang around in the air from the coolness of the weather.

“No.” Replying simply. It’s probably better to keep your words short and simple.

“No? Or not yet?” Garth butts in, taking you by surprise. You slap a hand on your forehead. Of course Garth is listening in.

“Garth.” Donna warns, and you can practically feel the seriousness of the stare she shoots at him.

“We’re not rushing you. Take as much time as you need to adjust. It can’t possibly be easy, trust me, I know.” Your friend reassures you, warming your heart quite a bit. At times like this, you were grateful to have a friend who understood you so well.

“I know. I know.” It’s been hard for you to focus on how you felt, especially since you didn’t want to give much thought to how devastated you were when Dick lost his memories.

You should be jumping with joy, but you feel so numb. So empty. And what scares you is the fact that you don’t know where it’s coming from.

“You still there?” Donna checks in after a long pause, finding your silence quite unnerving.

“Thank you for checking in, Donna. Garth too.” And with that, you hang up the phone. You toss your unfinished coffee into the nearest trash bin and put your head in your hands. You don’t even like coffee.

You almost curse out loud when you see the words written in spray paint right above the bin. “Bludhaven is safe again! Long live, Nightwing!” It reads, with a drawing of his symbol right next to it.

Your eyes slide to the picture pasted below, barely handing on with a measly piece of tape. Your eyes mist over, a shot of Dick as Nightwing staring back at you.

“Handsome guy.” A familiar voice says, and you can feel your body immediately stiffen up. You can’t turn around. You shouldn’t. But your emotions get the better of you.

Your gaze shifts sideways and there he is. Dick Grayson. Not Ric or Nightwing.

“Dick?” You whisper uncertainly. He puts his hands up sarcastically, though his gaze on you remains intent and soft. “Caught me.”

The back of your eyes prickle and you can feel your throat start to close up. But you can’t cry in front of him - not when this is his first time seeing you after everything.

“How much do you remember?” You don’t know if you can even trust yourself to speak, with how foggy your mind is and how much effort it takes you to even utter a syllable in his presence.

“I remember enough.” He takes a step forward, and you don’t even notice that you take a step back before you see the distraught look on his face.

“You didn’t come to visit me.” His words carry no malice, no hint of accusation. Just plain stating. But your guilt still eats at you either way.

Your face falls, too ashamed to look into his eyes in fear that you might get sucked into them. “I didn’t know how to react.” You say truthfully.

“That’s fair.” Dick nods his head before nodding over to the trash can. “What’s not fair is wasting a perfectly good cup of coffee.”

You know he’s only trying to lighten up the situation, but it only makes you realize that he’s been watching you for longer than he’s been speaking.

“Dick, I just need to get my mind right. Set my thoughts straight.” You start carefully, the near-icy weather making you feel numb and frozen up. Or was it Dick himself?

“I let you slip away from me once. I will not let it happen again.” Before you realize it, you two are a step apart from each other. Your breathings are in sync, and you realize that he’s probably as nervous as you are right now.

“That wasn’t your fault.” You shake your head, your shoes being the only thing you can afford to look at for now.

“Then why are you acting so distant?” He sounds pained, and you know that if you look straight at him - you’ll be as vulnerable as he sounds now.

“A lot of things have happened, Dick. You can’t expect to just regain your memories and have everything work out. It doesn’t work like that.” You know you could be acting quite unfair right now, he’s just trying to make amends. But even ice melts when not taken care of properly.

“Can you look at me?”

You shake your head.

Dick gently tips your chin up, slowly enough to let you know that you can push his touch away. But you don’t.

He’s staring at you now, and you can see the faint rims of red in the corner of his eyes. He’s been crying. You can only hope it’s not noticeable on you either.

“I know you’re hurting. And you don’t deserve that. You deserve to be loved for - and I swear to you, I will make up for all I’ve missed. I can promise you that much.” His voice is so soft, his breath brushing against your lips in a way that threatens bringing back old memories.

It takes a lot of willpower for you to not let his words get to you. So you ask a question you know he’s going to avoid. “And what of Bea?”

He looks like you’ve taken him off guard, his gaze faltering. “I broke up with her.” He discloses, self loathing oozing in his words.

“Why?”

“To protect her from the lifestyle I have. She-she shouldn’t have to-”

“Handle it?” You finish for him, unable to hide your frustration. He doesn’t answer, looking at you like he wants to explain something in a way he doesn’t quite know how.

You grab his wrist and push his hand off your chin. Closing your eyes for a moment, you let yourself speak. Really speak.

“Dick, I love you. I’ve known you since we were kids, do you really think I’m capable of despising you? The affection I have for you will never leave my soul until I’m off this earth.” You ramble, months of holding in your tongue coming to a halt.

“So yes, when you couldn’t remember me or any of us, it hurt! I had to pick myself up, start fresh, throw my emotions on the backseat.” Dick looks like he’s about to say something, but he closes his mouth again to let you speak.

“I’m not blaming you for KGBeast’s actions. And I can’t express how much I want his head on a platter for what he did to you. But did you really think nothing would change between us? It’s unfair.”

You don’t even notice that you’re crying until you feel Dick’s hands on both sides of your face, rubbing your tears away as gently as he can with his thumbs.

The moonlight enhances his features, you think. Giving a soft glow to his facial structure, all the way down to the jawline you would press soft kisses to every morning.

“And you fall in love with this beautiful girl. Who makes you happy, even when you’re not you. You got yourself the life you deserved, and you threw it all away!” You know you’re shouting now, and you pound your fists against his chest.

You know even the strongest of your strikes can’t hurt him, which only frustrates you to no end. And the question rises - why do you want to hurt him?

“Why do you do this to yourself?” You cry out, sobbing in between words. “Why don’t you allow yourself to be happy, dammit, Dick!”

Dick does nothing to stop your punches against his chest, instead circling his arms around your figure and bringing you in closer to him.

You’ve missed this. You missed the feeling of him pulling you in, your bodies fitting together perfectly. But not under these circumstances.

Eventually, your punches slow down, weaken. You break into tears, frenzied arguments turning into broken noises and gasps of air as Dick holds you close. He makes sure you don’t fall to the ground, keeping you standing when you don’t have enough strength to do it for yourself.

Your tears make a wet patch on his shirt and he rests his chin on the top of your head, running his fingers down your hair the way he used to. “I know, baby, I know.” He says soothingly, even if the sight of you like this makes him feel like crumbling to the ground too.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats several times, and you are too. You’re sorry for the future you guys could’ve had together. You’re sorry for the missed time. You’re sorry for letting him go.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson angst #nightwing x reader #nightwing x fem!reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing angst #nightwing

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6okuto · 4 months

Text

MATSUKAWA RELATIONSHIP HCS

gn!reader, timeskip mentions | 4 whoevah asked! 🫵👍

waits until you're distracted/busy before suddenly saying shit like "first one to get to the lineup gets to pick extra snacks" at the grocery store

eats your leftover food if you can't finish

works hard to take you to a fancy restaurant on one of your first dates... doesn't know which ones are actually good so he's on reddit researching, texting the seijoh 4 gc, etc etc. he dresses up too... he wants to make sure you're happy and treated well 🙁

issei isn't super into or against pda,, he's happy if you're happy. most of the time it'll be an arm draped around your shoulder while you're sitting together or casual hand holding. he isn't opposed to a quick kiss either! :3

if you show him one of those videos that are like,, "if you know your partner, which one would they choose?" and he gets it wrong issei's like "?? tf are u sure" as if it isn't Your choice

he isn't used to getting gifts. if you give him a gift his first thought (fear) is that he's forgotten some kind of anniversary. but you tell him it's just because you thought of him and he gets all flustered and can't keep eye contact 🙁 you catch him glancing at/playing with the gift for the rest of the day

^ him with a lot of stuff actually LOL he tries to hide how Not Chill he is it's so cute 😭 you ask him to hold something but your hand is empty and you just interlock fingers? he's like wow okay if you wanted me you could've just said so As if his ears aren't red hshsdbshs

denies crying over a sad movie as he takes the tissue box from you (refuses to look at you until he's wiped his tears) (looks at you with red eyes and sniffles and says It's not even that sad)

says he'll take a photo of you then takes a selfie LOL

^ you'll have to show him how to take good photos... or learn together... he promises he's a quick learner + he thinks you look good in all of them

takes your compliments/comments to heart. you say his hair looks nice grown out and he takes a few extra seconds messing with it in the mirror, pushing off a haircut for a little longer. you say his new jacket looks great and he's like yeah of course it does,, then reaches for it more often than planned at its original purchase.

i think timeskip mattsun would worry about sharing certain stories from work ;; like... would it upset you (more than him)? did you have a rough day and would he make it worse? he keeps it pretty vague until you ask him to share because you can tell it's been big on his mind

mattsun's not one to care about what side of the bed he sleeps on (it's just the one is closest to a charging port) until you're together. like if you pick a side yourself, it becomes a habit for him to slide into the other even times you aren't sharing a bed. it just doesn't feel right anymore bdhsjdbsj

you know those trends where you ask the other person/people to draw flowers or stars for your lockscreen. he just sends a shitty dick drawing LOL. but he ends up spending super long on decent flowers after i promise. scrunching his eyebrows, moving his finger really slow, picking good colours and everything... even pulls up references. yeagh

sees you online listening to sad music and texts "you up?" in hopes of distracting you. he gets away with coincidental timing the first couple of times, but you figure it out. not that this changes anything (other than maybe his text to "you wanna talk?") — mattsun continues as an offer / reassurance he's there if you'd like him to be

so supportive. SO SUPPORTIVE. you have a big project you're working on? he's checking on you and complimenting you with every day of work, even if he isn't knowledgeable on it himself. you get a promotion or offer you've always wanted? you have to celebrate—you deserve it!! you have a big game coming up? he's in the stands with your jersey on and he's brought his friends to cheer too

^ he isn't really one to Jump for Joy, but he'll be grinning so big, and always matches your energy. (you like hugs and kisses? you got them! you'd rather a solid high-five or verbal praise? that's good with him too! he just wants you to know he's happy and proud of you)

^ actually he might jump for joy. a little. not in a YAHOO! YIPPEE!! way but in a LET'S GOOOOOO way.

you ask to meet the seijoh team and he's like. begging the universe no one's gonna embarrass him. everyone's like No way someone wants to date our mattsun?! Are you sure?! and he's 😐

^ tries to act cool in front of you. gets called out like "lmfao what are you doing" "so obvious" "okay mr. tough guy?" "blocked a ball and thinks he's hot" WBDJSNSSJ

^ brightens when you tell him he Is very cool and you like watching him. shoots his team a look and says something about how they're all single LOL

doesn't post you a lot, but he doesn't really post in general so the ratio of you on his profile is still great tbh. maybe for anniversaries or if he took a really good photo—keeps it minimal and won't write long paragraphs. adds a couple blurry or 0.5x pictures if you're okay with it

accidentally kicks you while he's napping and apologizes even though you swore he was deep asleep shdbsbns

lets you have the window seat. he doesn't actually care that much (since it's you) but he makes a scene of giving it up for you /silly /he's smiling

issei always does his first karaoke song with you if you're there. the first time it happens he doesn't even ask he just hands you the second mic and you're like wait what ??? LOL

gets scared if you say his full name. skips right over confusion and freezes like a deer in headlights even if he hasn't done anything

middle guy for autographs.. LMFAO 😭😭 like what do you mean you know oikawa tooru and iwaizumi hajime who then knows msby etc etc. you show up and say his name like :)) isseii?? :)) and he's like 🙄 Who's asking now. you know you know them too right. /lh

bro does not decorate. imagine unpacking for your new shared apartment and you're like ?? is that really all your stuff. and he's like ....Yeah??.. a lot of the things on his desk/around the house were bought together or by you

i write hcs and im like wowww what a respectable post length and then i realize how long the points are and im like FAWK??!?! ur telling me i DONT actually have that many ?!?!?! so i keep adding more and thats why i take so long. then i stare at myself like GIRL GET IT TOGETHER!! EVERY TIME!!! 🙁🙁🙁

#haikyuu x reader #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu fluff #matsukawa fluff #i was reading my old relationship hc posts and. ??? how was i so creative w some of them Hzbekwbsjskw #comebackkk 😭😭 thoughts and ideas come back to mee 😭😭😭#i was supposed to schedule this earlier but i forgot. heyyyyy everybody #pls tell me if theres typos.guysg.

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babsisbakery · 8 months

Text

Long awaited entry

Leila Ouahabi x reader Part 1

Warning: pure smut (gagging and eating out, the rest will be in part 2)

Gif pun intended

Leila is driving you crazy, her hand being too close to your core all night. Inching closer to where you desperately needed her. Her other hand disappears under your shirt. Touching your delicate skin. Her touch is sending goosebumps all over your body.

You want her, no you need her. She has been driving you nuts all night. Whispering dirty things into your ear. How much she wanted to touch your pretty pussy and destroy it for anyone else. Your mind is foggy, all you could think about was leila fucking you brainless. Her hand itches higher, reaching its destination. Playing slightly with your boobs. Grabbing and knitting them. Your mouth hangs open as you let her do whatever she desires with you. It felt so good to have her touch you. She begins to draw circles on your nipples. After all she was teasing you. But you needed her to truly fuck you. To give you more. To ravish you as she always did. You are her good girl so you know you had to be a bit more patient and you'd get what you wished. Sensing your eagerness she removes your shirt. Both her hands are playing with your nipples. She is giving you her undivided attention. Peppering kisses along your neck, which started of softly but became the cause of your future hickeys. Everyone would know you were hers and hers alone. Licking your neck and collarbone she makes a stop at your ear. “Mi amor are you gonna behave tonight?” “Yes mommy, i will behave just please touch me.” “Oh my desperate baby, where do you want me to touch you? Hmm” your brain isn't working properly, her breath on your neck while she bit into your earlobe and continues to twist and circle your sensitive hard nipples. “Pleasee i need you”. “Mi vida use your words you are a big girl after all” she whispers into your ear. She knows what you want but where would be the fun if she isn’t torturing you to tell her what you needed her to do. “Mommy please, I'm so wet, please eat me out” “See that wasn't that hard, such a good girl for your mommy.”

“Let’s see if you’re really as wet as you’re saying babygirl” one of her hands leaves their place and travels slowly down to your pants. When her hand reaches your zipper she waits for permission, even if she senses your need she still wants to make sure you were 100 percent on board. You simply nod as you aren't able to answer verbally. She is simply too close to your aching cunt. Her hand slips into your trousers, feeling a big damp spot on your underwear. Lightly pressing against your clit. You let out a quiet moan. That only spurs her on more. “You didn't lie, so wet. Is this all for me?” “All for you mommy, only for you.” a smirk forms on your girlfriend's face, that's exactly what she wanted to hear.. ”Mi amor lay down” she says in a commanding tone, you knew not to disobey or you’d get punished. You could be bratty but you are far too horny to get edged more often than you desired. The movie playing in the background long forgotten as you lay down. Your girlfriend takes off your pants and bra, her own shirt is tossing across the bedroom.

She stops her actions to admire your body, positioning herself on top of you. Kissing you with such passion and lust. Your brain starts to get nice and fuzzy. It would be complete mush by the end of your nightly activities. Leila’s hand is yet again at your tits. This woman loves your boobs, it was noticeable every day. Her thumb and index finger squishing your nipple, drawing moans out of you. She doesn't waste a second to glide her tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch inside. As she pulls away a string of saliva is still connecting you. You chase her mouth but without success as she has already moved on to your neck. Sucking harshly to hear your pretty noises. She doesn't need to undergo a scooby doo mystery search party to find your pulse point, knowing your body like the back of her hand. First she licks over it, light suction which progresses more and more. Finally she brings her teeth into the game. Running over your skin, biting into you. But not enough to draw blood only to increase your pleasure. Your wetness is increasing rapidly to the point that your panties are ruined. They begin to cover your bare thighs. Her tongue soothes the sensitive spot as she finishes with her treatment on your pulse point. “More, please more” “Be patient baby, you will get more in a few moments.” With that you shut your eyes, focusing on Leila’s actions.

Moving over your collarbone she proceeds to your cleavage. She takes her time to give both your breasts equal attention. Her mouth waters at your erect nipples, blowing cold air onto them. Your hands make fast motion to reach her hair, miserably trying to pull her into you, to feel her mouth devour you. Eventually she starts to nip at your nipples, a slight tug with her teeth. Directly after she soothes it by licking over it but her movements become harsher. “ Oh Leila, so good, don't stop.” As she hears her name she stops. “What did you just call me?” Shit. “Mommy, I'm sorry. Please forgive me mommy.” Of course she knows it wasn't on purpose but she still feels the need to punish you. But the pleading look in your eyes stops her. The punishment had to wait til later, she kinda deserved it by how her hand was teasing you all night. So she let it go for now. “It’s alright amor but next time I won't be so forgiving.” Stroking your cheek softly, easing your nerves. Leaning your head into her palm you don't sense Leila’s further movement. Suddenly her lips wrap around one of them and she sucks, the tip of her tongue continuing its ministration. You arch your back, you’ve never felt such immense pleasure during sex, only with Leila. You whimper a faint “Mommy pleaseeee” So incredibly needy, as if it was December all over again after NNN, which your girlfriend insisted on participating in. A whole month without sex felt like a violation against human rights.

She ignores your plea, providing the same treatment to your other nipple. Her right hand itching down. Running her fingers over your lingerie. It’s profusely wetter by now. Pure desire is evident. Friction alone isn’t enough, her fingers only going up and down over your pussy lips. Trying to get more, you buckle your hips. Before you even feel the slightest sense of satisfaction, her hands are holding you down. Her expertise movements on your breasts cease. “Nuh uh baby, if you try this again… You would leave me no other choice than to restrict you. And you don't want that right?” “No mommy, I just really need you.” The answer satisfies her enough as she gives your tit one final harsh lick. Pressing kisses along your stomach.

Reaching your covered pussy she places a kiss on it. She pulls your underwear with her teeth down. This particular action looks so damn attractive, god your craving for her only grows each second. Finally you’re naked. As Leila crawls slowly to your aching cunt, her eyes focus you. As if a predator hunting its prey. Zeroing in on your dripping pussy she spreads your thighs and holds them apart. Leila licks her lips after all she is about to have a full course meal and there will be no leftovers. Almost cautious, she takes her first lick. Moaning by the taste of you. An irresistible flavor. She dives in, not able to hold off much longer. Letting her tongue collect some of your delicious nectar. Taking long stripes from your unstretched hole to your clit, running through your folds. She decides it's time to focus on the long awaited entry. Her tongue plays with your entrance, circling it but not yet entering. The tip of her tongue makes the first step. Prodding into you carefully. There isn't much resistance. Starting to push in more she launches into eating you out. Now her whole tongue is inside of you, it's heavenly. Your walls fit perfectly around her curled tongue. Her movement is precise, she knows exactly where to position her licks for you to feel the most pleasure. Picking up the pace she moves in and out faster, trying to reach as deep as she can. She puts her hands on your ass, squeezing it and pulling it towards her face. By doing this her tongue somehow is even deeper in your cunt. From our mouth come unholy moans. Back arched profusely. You throw your head back as her thumb works on your clit while she still devours you. Leila even makes slurping noises due to your immense wetness, trying to have it all.

Tongue moving in and out in calculated moves, the curl is such a divine addition. Muttering incoherent words. Hands holding onto your girlfriend’s hair. Her curls continue on as she presses harder against your bud. Oh how she could simply eat you out forever. As you near your release she halts. Your thighs are quivering minimally but enough for Leila to notice. Left with no stimulation you grumble and whimper. “Mommy why did you stop? I was so close.” “I know you were close, that's why I stopped, baby, now don't complain or you won't come at all tonight.”

Suddenly her index finger enters you. Simultaneously, kitten licks your pulsing clit. Her maneuvers mirror her eating ice cream. You melt, like the ice cream, under her touch. A second finger makes its way inside you. Of course there is no need for lube, even the sheets are covered in your slick.

As she blissfully continues to stretch you out she gently bites your clit, giving it a little tug. You don’t stop moaning. The tug makes your head spin. Both of her fingers are now completely engulfed by your walls. She feels your walls throbbing for more. “Oh god, mommy.” you repeat this phrase in different variations until Leila decides enough is enough. Can't you be quiet for a second as she enjoyed your juices? Normally she would get spurred on by your whines but today she just wanted to eat you out peacefully, training was too exhausting with her teammates shouting left and right. To stop your noises she collects some of your slick with her unoccupied hand, shoving it into your mouth gagging you. “Suck them, can you taste yourself? So good right mi amor.” You can only nod your head. But that doesnt satisfy your girlfriend. “I asked you a question, answer me.” You try your best to answer her with her fingers shoved deep into your mouth “Es mowwy, zo good.” Leila deciphers your words. “Such a good girl for me.” you give her a bashful smile and with that she goes back to pay attention to your clit. Sucking and tugging on it as if the world would end soon.

Her fingers shove in deeper in both holes. Salvia runs down your chin and cheeks, you look like a godforsaken mess but pretty in her eyes because only she can achieve that. Your gags spur her even more on. The defender curls her fingers hitting your g-spot phenomenally. All of a sudden she builds up an inhuman pace, going in and out. Hand entirely covered by your juices. The suction on your clit also gets more ferocious. Your orgasm approaches quickly. “I’m about to cum, can I please cum?” you ask in despair, barely audible thanks to her fingers. She shakes her head, not stopping or slowing down her actions. Instead she groans into you, sending vibrations to your throbbing clit. This alone almost makes you come undone but you try to focus until she gives you permission. Leila is definitely smirking devilishly on the inside. Taking her fingers out of your mouth, she drags your lower lip downwards with her thumb. She may not want to hear your complaints but she for sure isn't missing out on you moaning her name while you cum. “I'm about to cum, please let me cum.” A hum from Leila is sufficient. With a few final strokes and rough licks you fall off the edge. Legs trembling, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and her name falling off your lips like a mantra. The neighbors will surely complain tomorrow about the noise but that's a problem for the future.

Leila keeps her pace, prolonging your orgasm as much as she can. Riding it out till you feel overstimulated and too sensitive. In desperation you try to close your legs but your girlfriend has other plans. Pulling out she holds your thighs, pushing them apart. Moreover she goes down on you. “Don't worry baby, let me clean up some of the mess you made. God it's everywhere.” she chuckles, head disappearing between your legs again and she got to work.

While you come down from your high, Leila does a wonderful job in cleaning you up. She is very careful with her licks, which make you horny again. As she finishes her work, she rises from bed and goes over to your shared dresser. You can't really get a look at what she's doing. Leila seemingly gets something out of it. When she turns around a massive smirk is plastered on her face. In her right hand she holds a double sided strap, she walks back to you. Her left hand hides behind her back. “Are you ready for round two gorgeous?” she asks with an unconvincing innocent smile.

to be continued....

#leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader #man city wfc #espnwnt #sefutbolfem #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #womens football #woso smut #smut

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ooctlt · 5 months

Note

I think the etiquette of ask blogs is a forgotten art. what I'm saying is (imo) it's not that people don't want to play, it is they don't know HOW, and more importantly they don't understand that the game exists to begin with. obviously you do not have to teach people the rules because your time and energy is finite but idk. it feels like from some of your OOC responses that you assume people know the rules and are playing badly, but I genuinely think people (me) just don't know what you are wanting them (us) to do. and also they (i) don't know how to tell if they (i) are playing the game correctly.

An example I am genuinely confused about is, is inciting a "shut up" answer a signal that the game is being played correctly, because we are inciting a reaction from the character? or is a "shut up" answer a signal that we are playing wrong and need to do something different? I'm sorry. I really love your art and seeing the story unfold but I'm confused and I want to play and I don't understand how.

yeah ive had a couple people tell me this has been the first active askblog in a while and the concept of askblog etiquette has been forgotten- @thatneoncrisis and i made a diagram:

link to full-res image

a "shut up" reaction will hopefully show whether or not it's a closed path of exploration: if you have gideon sweating, going "pshhh its nothinggg" it means there is something worth exploring. if you have harrow slamming the door in your face, that is an advance that wont work on her

transcript under the readmore:

DEAD END QUESTION ANON: CAMILLA DO YOU THINK HARROW'S HOT?

"Please stop talking to me."

This question is BAD because it's BLUNT, INCREDIBLY PERSONAL and founded on INCOMPLETE KNOWLEDGE of their relationship.

NOTE that its not that shitty questions will NEVER be answered, its that 1) they have a LOWER chance of being answered and 2) they have a HIGHER chance of being made fun of in character

gideon: haha who thinks harrow is HOT

DECENT INCONSEQUENTIAL QUESTION ANON: CAMILLA DO YOU LIKE TO DO ANYTHING FUN WITH HARROW?

"Sure. We run a lot of errands together."

This kind of question may not advance the plot, as it is INCREDIBLY BROAD yet NONINVASIVE. They're good for quick 1-3 panel answers. May generally be met with a less EXCITING answer.

It might also be DIFFICULT TO ANSWER because a broad question could include MULTIPLE ANSWERS - asking "do you guys go out" could not be answered SUSTAINABLY, because i cannot draw all the places they visit

ANON: EVERYONE, WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CLOUD / WATER / MOLECULAR STRUCTURE / BONE / CAR / COFFEE BRAND/ BOOK CHARACTER?

me: "i have to do so much research"

NEAT QUESTION CAMILLA HAS HARROW EVER ASKED YOU TO DO SOMETHING WITH HER SHE WAS EXCITED ABOUT?

"Yes, actually. She once invited me to [REDACTED], I didn't know she liked that sort of thing."

This question is SICK AS FUCK because not only do you learn something SUBSTANTIAL about the characters, you have stumbled upon A NEW PLOT BRANCH, one that actively deepens character connections and their past within the world. It specifically remarks upon a MEMORY* rather than AN OPINION and will typically be LONGER.

Another good option is to PROMPT something following this:

ANON: CAMILLA, MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY TAKING HARROW OUT TO DO [REDACTED] THAT SHE LIKES BEFORE XYZ?

and this can then spiral onward…

*DM, ONE TIME I ASKED ABOUT A MEMORY AND I GOT A RUDE ANSWER; WHAT DID I DO WRONG?

It's not that this topic can never be spoken about, it's about WHEN you asked it and HOW you said it, or even WHO you asked.

Some topics, like the nature of HARROW AND GIDEON'S UPBRINGING are too recent for them to talk about, it has only been TWO YEARS since they left and there are SPECIFICS about the situation that the AUDIENCE hasn't discovered yet. There are things like GIDEON'S PARENTS that she CANNOT answer because she DOESN'T KNOW and answering multiple asks with I DON'T KNOW becomes repetitive and dull for both the DM and PLAYER.

BUT! She can learn! Over time, when the time is appropriate and feels the most natural for STORY PROGESSION. Think of it like a BAD ENDING in a visual novel. You START OVER and ask a DIFFERENT QUESTION, or approach it from a DIFFERENT ANGLE. If Gideon reacts poorly to someone congratulating her leaving BAD CIRCUMSTANCES, consider talking to her about the FUTURE. Instead of trying to pry at Camilla to see if she had an INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP with Pyrrha, try to ask about other things in that period of her life, like how they met or what caused her to move out.

FINALLY, if you'd like an ask to be answered out of character, your best bet would be to goto @notedchampagne and send it there. If you'd like an ask to be answered SINCERELY or you don't want SNARK, you can specify this in the ask, but know this blog may not be your thing.

#actual ooc

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manicpixiefelix · 5 months

Text

love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.

Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.

A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀

----

It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.

"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."

In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.

The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.

Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.

So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.

A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.

And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.

The first step is submission.

All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.

So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.

Praise.

It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.

Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.

"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.

Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.

And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.

Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.

The second step is acceptance.

Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.

Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.

All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.

"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.

"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.

Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.

He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.

When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.

"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.

"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.

So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.

It doesn't take long.

One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -

"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"

You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -

"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.

"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"

"I don't think of you as my dog!"

"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."

It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.

Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.

"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.

"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.

"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."

"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.

"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"

When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.

"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"

This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -

"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."

"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.

"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."

"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.

"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.

"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.

"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.

"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."

Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.

"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.

"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.

You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.

But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.

"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.

He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.

Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.

While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.

"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.

He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.

"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.

"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.

"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.

"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.

Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.

The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.

After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.

Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.

Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.

So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.

"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.

Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.

Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.

In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.

"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.

"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.

The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -

"Good dog."

But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.

On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.

Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.

But he does, of course.

There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.

Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.

Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.

"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.

"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.

"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."

"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."

Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.

"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.

"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.

"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.

Not that Oliver actually minds.

Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.

When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.

"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."

Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.

"Ollie, what are you -"

"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.

"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.

Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.

"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.

"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.

"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."

"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.

"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.

"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."

"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.

"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.

"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.

"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.

"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.

Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.

"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.

Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -

"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.

"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.

"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.

Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.

"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."

Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.

"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.

"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.

A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.

And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.

"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.

Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -

"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.

"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.

"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.

Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.

So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.

"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.

You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.

Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.

"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.

"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.

"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"

"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.

"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.

"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.

"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.

"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.

"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.

"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.

"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.

"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.

It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.

"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.

But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."

Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.

"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."

Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.

"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"

"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -

"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."

Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.

Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.

Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.

A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.

Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.

Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.

Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.

"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.

"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.

Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.

Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer #okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me

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r0-boat · 10 months

Note

May I request Zhongli X fem-reader ?

Because last one you did with Zhongli was fricking amazing!

Hi! Thank you so much I liked doing that one as well I did a lot of experimenting with that one so I thought I would do it again for this post as well

Morax's Wife

'the Dreaded Dragon of Geo and his mate'

Cw: hurt/comfort

Dragon Sovereign!Zhongli x Reader

You gazed down upon the village of Liyue, a small town, a far cry from what it will be in the future. And a place you once called your home, looking out from the mountain where you reside now—a temple-like castle carved from the very rock of the mountains. Eyes red and stinging, lost in your thoughts, your mind repeating the words of the same people you had known just days before, their friendly smiles warming your day as they would greet you with enthusiasm now those same faces twisted with hate, disgust, slinging hurtful words; those people were your friends, people you had known all your life looking at you with such disdain as if i had forgotten how you were.

And all because you had fallen in love with The Sovereign of Geo, a known rival of Celestia.

Having been out there for so long you had momentarily forgotten that time had passed.

"Mate, are you ok?" A deep, rumbling voice Like an earthquake trembled behind you as your husband concerned for how how long you had sat there watching the carts going in and out of the city walls. The Dragon came to join you by your side, changing its form to its human appearance, the wind tosling his hair and white robes as he sat beside you.

" You have been out here for quite a while beloved."

When Morax followed your gaze, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at the tiny Kingdom, his brows furrowing with worry, for he had known how its people betrayed you. Watching them draw their swords that the woman he loves still remembers, your pleads and cries for your loved ones to see reason; all the while, he attempts to protect his mate; his wife grabs your arm to pull you behind him.

The crowd grew as onlookers heard what was happening from a distance. Grabbing on to the robes of your mate, your eyes dart frantically, feeling your chest become tighter and tighter as it becomes harder to breathe. Looking among the crowd your heart practically stops in the very back was the familiar faces of your own family looking at you with worry but they didn't do anything they just stayed there silently refusing when they saw that you've noticed they just turned away their eyes shifting to the floor looking anywhere else but you...

Why?

And that moment your family had to sound you and you knew that, and it hurt clenching your teeth trying to stop the tears not now... not in front of Morax...

But he had already sensed your sadness. Your husband having live with you for a while and being attentive and taking pride in knowing every little piece of you including the little hair on your head noticed those tells immediately to the slight quiver of your lip to the way you would refuse to look at him refuse to look at your husband with those big beautiful eyes of yours. His eyes growing soft and see gently caress your cheek tilting your head to look up at him.

Those amber eyes gaze into your red puffy ones. "Oh, my sweet mate, are you thinking of that day again?"

Your eyes had widened feeling your paper thin facade already tearing in two. Your voice breaks when only his name Falls from your lips. His heart breaks along with it, scooping you up into his arms before getting up onto his feet with you tucked protectively gently against his chest. Morax was as gentle as he was feared, but that gentleness was only reserved for you, his mate. Morax kissed you on the forehead before whispering, "That day they have failed you my beloved you need not think of them anymore. They are nothing but vile creatures worth far less than the dirt on the very ground they stand on. You are nothing like them."

He nuzzled into your neck bringing you back home in his cave as he continued.

" you are far more than that, my sweet beloved, gentle, and beautiful Wife. You are a precious gem sticking out from the rest of the rubble." The dragon knew, but you felt it was something he could not fix, but he could be there to make you smile, that same smile he fell in love with. He couldn't make that whole town disappear, for it would sadden you even more, but he could tell you that you are worth far more to him than the rest of your kin were stupid and vile creatures to do what they've done. He could spoil you like a husband should.

The dragon gently lays you back in his nest with the finest silk sheets and mattresses, along with stuffed toys and anything else he had gotten for you over the years that he had been with you. And Morax not wanting to part from you for a single moment snakes his arm underneath you to pull you closer laying right beside you where he belonged his brown and gold draconic tail wrapping around your leg wanting to be as close to you as possible. His eyes only had a room for one as they were trained and focused taking in every little thing you do even now as you cry and whimper he only saw the beautiful bride he had taken still as beautiful as you were when he had married you. That beautiful white and gold glittering dress to match his robes he made sure to pick out the finest treasures and gems from his horde decking you out in glittering gold and other delicacies from the earth please his little dragon mind greatly. Your family couldn't be there but the other sovereigns were the dragons of the other six elements congratulating him. Despite him marrying a human, they lovingly accepted you as one of them, far more than They could have ever done.

Your smile will shine like gold in his memories just as brightly as the gold and glittering ring he had made for the both of you. He had carved it himself with the raw Elemental energy of Geo. He had even so much as carved the innards of the band with each other's names as if it was a signature on parchment.

Marriage was a human tradition, and he cared little for humans except for, well, you, but the idea of a contract of love and binding two mates as one intrigued him. Now, he was obsessed with the titles that came with husband and wife. He was happy to call himself your husband and was eager to call you his wife.

As he reminisced on the contract ceremony 'Wedding' all the while playing with your delicate human hand, his eyes trained on that glittering band signifying your title as his wife and forever mate, his clawed hand threading through your head of hair, practically purring in delight at the warmth sharing with you, hoping this would have calmed you down from your sadness. Oh, how your husband wished to ease you of your pain forever, but he knows he could not wipe your precious memories as much as he regrets. As much as your memory hurts you, human memory is fragile and precious. Even the moments of hurt will be tied to moments of happiness, and he never wants for you to lose those.

His heart squeezed feeling your hand clench his robes your fingers grazing against his bare chest. He whispered your name only to be met with quiet snoozing. He couldn't help but chuckle you were so cute.

"Good night, my dear. Have good dreams, only for you to wake in my arms again; I love you, my wife."

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itwasthereaminuteago · 5 months

Text

|| Sweatpants (Frank's version) ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: this is just an exploration in thirst (and smut) similar to the blurb I wrote for Matt, about slutty grey sweatpants. I want to lick him.

A very sweaty man, oral sex (m and f), come eating. E. Also, PLEASE, PLEASE reblog if you enjoyed, likes are nice, comments even better! There is NO algorithm on Tumblr, reblogs are how things are found on your dash! Thank you so much 💕

This isn't fair.

Yeah, it's hot, but it still isn't fair.

You'd long abandoned any notion of working out while you were at Fogwell’s tonight, Frank unknowingly saw to that. Your kettlebells lay off to the side, long forgotten. Your initial warm up would never have gotten you as heated inside as you are now, seeing what you're seeing.

Those goddamn grey sweats he's wearing are barely hanging on to his hips. You're sure they're actually screaming out to you for help.

Take us off, they seem to be whispering. You're honestly surprised they haven't yet fallen down of their own accord with the way he's been swiping hard at the punchbag for the last half-hour.

He performs the same routine over and over, several powerful jabs, hooks and uppercuts and then he'll back off, doing a little lap of the ring to reset himself. And every time you get a glorious view of his bare upper body, the way the sweat glows on his taut pectoral muscles, the way his abs flex as he moves, the gorgeous curve of his stomach, framed by the defined V lines leading your gaze all the way down from his swaggering hips as he strides past you.

Good God. His ass looks amazing too.

When he bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet you can't help notice something else bouncing up against the slack fabric of those fucking ridiculous sweats of his…

Your mouth is practically hanging wide open now. You blindly reach for the bottle of water next to you to quench your thirst, knocking it over and spilling some in the process.

It's just not fair.

He must know. He must. He's gotta know what all this is doing to you, how can he not?!

Your eyes lock onto an innocent bead of sweat, following as it slowly trails its merry way down his heaving body to the sweatband of his pants, soaking into the soft fabric where you know it'll leave that musky scent you just want nothing more than to bury your nose in.

You bite down so hard on your bottom lip you're beginning to wear a divot into it.

It's insane. They're slung so criminally low on his hips that you can almost see where his happy trail is leading, the dark fuzz drawing your eyes down again toward-

“You alright?”

That gruff, grizzled voice of his knocks you out of your reverie. Are you?

You resemble a doped up kitty that's just returned from the vet, your eyes wide, dark, and spaced out as he's suddenly very close to you right in front of your face. He's pulling off his hand wraps and leaning across to grab some water from the bag that's lying open on the bench next to you.

He smells so good.

You can feel the heat from his worked muscles radiating off him, can almost taste the fresh sweat off him, absently licking your lips again as you watch him run a hand up over his damp forehead and through his hair.

“Y-yeah?” When you eventually reply he cracks a smile that definitely ruins your panties, as if they weren't ruined already.

“Okay. M'gonna hit the shower.”

Oh no.

No no no, you can't have that.

“W-wait!” You stutter out, and you're on your feet, somehow the keys to the gym that Matt had left with you are grasped in your hand, and in a blur you're locking the door, pulling down all the blinds and you've got your fingers splayed over his chest trying to push Frank down onto the mat on the floor.

“Whoa, okay mama. It's like that is it?” Frank huffs out a chuckle but he goes exactly where you want him to, still catching his breath as you straddle his hips.

“...you're evil,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips over and around his nipples and watching how the muscles under your nails twitch as you draw them down to your target.

Frank looks up at you with that confused puppy expression with his brows almost crashing into each other that always melts your heart, but this time it's just making you even more determined.

“Evil huh? Shit. What have I done now?”

“Driving me crazy…”

“C'mon sweetheart, you gotta give me a clue or somethin’.”

You pull teasingly at the damp elastic waistband of his pants, “These.” you muse, letting it snap back against his skin then lowering yourself to lick slowly along the deep groove at his hip. Your eyes shut as you finally get the sweaty, musky taste of your man on your tongue. A soft grunt leaves him as he cranes his neck to watch, his dick already showing interest too as your mouth makes it way lower. He reaches down, his hand just resting on your shoulder, fingers tapping lightly to get your attention.

“H-hey darlin’, not that I don't appreciate it but… we doin’ this? Here? Now?” Frank asks with a very slight nervousness. It's freaking adorable.

You look up at him through your eyelashes knowing he'll fold soon enough. “Yeah we're doing this here and now, Frankie. I already told you - you're driving me crazy, and you were distracting me so much that I still need to workout.”

He smirks and you can see him start to get more comfortable with the idea of some naked shenanigans with you in Matt's gym.

“All because of these pants?” He asks.

“All because of those pants,” You reply, curling your fingertips around the waistband of them again. “along with the way you look like a giant snack in them.”

Frank scoffs, but lays his head back down and lifts his hips up as you tug at the ‘problematic’ pants to pull them down. Predictably, as discerned from your earlier observations, and much to your delight, he's gone commando today. You hum as his fully erect cock is freed, slapping against his stomach with a delicious smack.

“Fuck, Frank…’ you say, taking in the rare sight of him laying almost prone for you.

What to do…

“Hey princess, you're the boss.” He says perceptively, waiting so patiently for your lust-addled brain to decide whether you want to stuff your mouth or pussy with him.

It's a much easier decision than you thought, relishing in the familiar, quiet curses Frank is making as you start to work your way back up his thick, muscular legs, placing kisses wherever you want. When you reach his groin, you nose at the thatch of hair around the base of his cock, idly stroking and gently cupping his balls.

“Mm, I'm the boss.” You repeat back at him, smile sweetly as he grins at you.

“Yeah, that's right, oh shit-”

He makes a choked sound in the back of his throat and his cock twitches as you move your lips to the base, your tongue sneaking out to kitten lick his ball sac, gradually moving upwards, starting to trace along the thick vein that runs the salty length of his perfect dick.

You listen and are rewarded with the soft, low moan that comes from his throat when you keep going, the flat of your warm, wet tongue lapping underneath the head. He throbs again, a drop of precum beading and ready to leak from his slit.

“You're so good for me, Frankie.”

He's got those deep brown eyes trained hard on you, licking his lips, his chest rising with the deeper breaths he's drawing. They only increase as you wrap your fingers to grip around the base of him and then swipe and swirl your tongue to taste him. He moans, biting down his lip as you take him into your mouth, sealing your lips around his girth. Having him, the man the rest of the world only knows as the Punisher, his pleasure at your mercy, is maybe the most powerful feeling in the world. Or maybe that's when you have your own thighs wrapped around his head. It's a tricky one to answer.

“Fuuuck, sweetheart…” Frank hisses out, his hands self-restrained by his sides, “Mm, jesus christ!”

You hum around him as you pull your lips back to his tip before taking him as deep into your throat as you can manage, your hand working the rest of him. You repeat the motion, spit dripping down to his length and over your fingers helping your squeeze and twist, feeling the way he's almost shaking beneath you.

“God damn you're so good, so damn good to me baby.”

Your free hand switches between reaching up to dig your nails into the meat of his pectoral muscle and sliding down between his legs to gently tug and tease his balls. He groans loudly, you'd made a point in the past of making it known to him just how much hearing the sounds of his pleasure turns you on, and he had gradually rewarded you with more and more feedback.

You're almost entirely focused on him but now you can no longer ignore the incessant ache at your core. You're slick from almost an hour of getting yourself worked up at the sight of Frank boxing, still sucking and licking the length of his cock as you slip your hand into your leggings and under the soft fabric of your underwear. You moan around him as the pads of your fingertips slide over your clit, aware that Frank is propping himself up on his elbows to watch you.

“You want my mouth, mama? C'mon an get up here. Sit right here baby, let me take care of you.”

You release him temporarily to shuck off the clothes from your bottom half because you cannot refuse an offer like that.

He curls his arms around your bare thighs as soon as you straddle him facing towards his feet, pulling you straight down onto his hungry mouth without delay. You grind down to meet him as he laps at your glistening cunt, a wavering moan leaving your lips as you reach again for his rock hard, weeping red cock. You stretch your tongue out to lick and suck what you can, jerking him off as he devours your pussy like it's his last ever meal.

This was supposed to be all about him but as usual he's managed to flip the script and somehow make it all about you. You're hardly complaining, no. In fact you're riding Frank's face hard as his encouraging moans vibrate right through your core. He loves going down on you, could even say he lives for it, inviting you to sit right on his face almost every time you're intimate with each other.

Now that he's not snug in your throat he bends his knees and starts to thrust his hips up against the direction of your firm strokes, driven by the way you're grinding and rocking your own more quickly, completely covering his mouth and chin with a sheen of your arousal. You concentrate the tight circle of your forefinger and thumb just under the fat, wet head of his cock, twisting and squeezing up and over because you know that's what gets him panting and praising you. More salty pre trickles out and you eagerly lap it up.

You yelp as Frank thrusts his tongue as deep as he can inside you, fucking you with it before he nudges forward again, slurping and sucking at your puffy clit. The tightness and tension of your impending release is gathering pace as you hear how feral Frank sounds between your legs. You can barely keep a rhythm with either hips or hands but it doesn't seem to matter as you can tell he's as close as you are. You're half worried you'll smother him with the ferocity and strength with which he's holding you so close to him, as if he needs you to breathe.

Suddenly, the tension snaps, hard. His tongue making you cry out, your legs shaking underneath your wildly undulating hips as you climax, calling out his name repeatedly like a prayer, the sound reverberating around the gym. Your hand is barely moving on his cock but it's you quivering and moaning in ecstasy right on his face that sets him off. He's tapping his fingers against your hips in warning, as very quickly afterwards his own hips jerk up and with a muffled groan against your pulsing pussy, his cock spurts its creamy load. You catch some on your waiting tongue, the rest dribbling warmly on your fingers and down onto his tensing stomach and abs.

After a brief moment getting your bearings and breath back, you're both humming, satisfied, and softly laughing with each other. He supports you as you gingerly lift your leg over his head and turn yourself around to face him. He's licking his lips, the biggest smile on his gorgeously wrecked face, his eyes half-lidded as he pulls you down to him for a languid kiss, tasting each other on you as your tongues slide over one another. At the same time you're trying to find somewhere to place your come-covered hand so it doesn't go everywhere and you don't lose your balance.

“Mmm, okay you can't tell me that wasn't fun.” You say, and then your lips turn down as you remember something vital.

“Shit.”

Frank looks up at you, his expression one of concern. “What's wrong?”

“Urgh, Matt will know. He'll know even if we clean the mats and everything!” You groan again, wiping off your messy fingers on Frank's discarded sweatpants. “He won't let this go, we probably won't be allowed back in the gym!”

Frank just shrugs, a damn sight more relaxed now as he cleans himself off with them too.

“I'm pretty sure Murdock's done way worse in here. He aint that pure."

His lips curl into a grin. "Anyway, don't know ‘bout you, but I'll be puttin’ the blame on these pants. More trouble than they're worth, ain't that right, sweetheart?”

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle in sweatpants #smut

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quillthrillswriting · 5 months

Text

sooo.... anyone else ever wondered how different ATLA would have been if aang had been frozen at age 16 instead of age 12?

yeah... me too 😌 my new fanfic "the teenager in the iceberg" follows the events of the show, but with only aang aged up, while everyone else remains their canon age.

also...cmon....how funny is it to switch zuko and aang's iconic dialogue to "you're just a teenager!" "...so are you?"

this idea was originally inspired by the talented @allgremlinart's aged up aang drawings, so please go show them some love!!:)<3

enjoy the excerpts from chapters one and two!

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Aang chuckled, pushing himself up with his hands on his knees. He was… taller than Katara had realised, taller than Sokka. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, turning to look over his shoulder at the remains of the boulder-sized chunk of ice he had just been blasted out of. “Aang. My name’s Aang.” He hesitated, momentarily seeming to puzzle something over. “And honestly? No clue. Don’t remember how me and…Appa!” He yelped, suddenly scrambling back over the hill of ice and snow. Katara followed him without thinking, and Sokka, grumbling under his breath, followed moments later.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“So, you’ve brought a monster to invade the village, then? You’re some incognito Fire Nation soldier sent in as an undercover scout? Well, I’ll have you know that I’m the village’s strongest warrior, a-”

“The only warrior,” Katara chimed in, lightly elbowing Sokka’s side, earning herself a responding glare.

“The strongest warrior.” Sokka reiterated. “And I don’t much like firebenders.” He added the words pointedly.

“Ah.” Aang titled his head. “That’s a shame. Some of my closest friends are Fire Nation.”

“Of course they are,” Sokka glared, hunching over into a defensive position and adjusting his fishing spear until it pointed directly at Aang.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Katara still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Aang. The Water Tribe boys had always been all flashy muscles, seal-jerky breath, and overconfidence, so Katara had never seen someone move, carry themself, the way Aang did.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Katara had admittedly forgotten how much fun penguin sledding was. “Spirits, I haven’t done this since I was a kid!” she called to Aang as he raced past her, surprisingly skilled considering that he’d never even seen a penguin until half an hour before.

“You still are a kid!” He called back over his shoulder. “A kid who’s losing this race, badly !”

Katara’s competitive streak reared its head, her eyes narrowing as Aang stuck out his tongue. She sat up slightly, no longer gripping the penguin’s fur as tightly. “You wish!” She shouted back the words as she raised her hands, breathing deeply. Her hands moved through the positions she had practised from the few bending scrolls the tribe still held on to, and before Aang knew it, the snow in front of Katara turned to ice, and she shot past him as his own ice trail suddenly became dry snow with too much friction to slide on.

She made it to the bottom of the hill, beaming, breathing heavily. The wind had whipped her hair out of her bun, and she knew without checking that her hair must have looked like a lion-turtle’s mane. She watched as Aang made a show of drying himself off with a gust of wind that he then redirected at her, messing up her curls even more.

“You’re a cheater !” Aang gasped, mockingly clutching imaginary pearls at his throat. “I demand a rematch.”

Katara strode past him, only turning her head to cast him a smug smirk. “Maybe you’re just not as good of a penguin sledder as you thought .”

“Oh, not so fast!” Aang grabbed her wrist, tugging her back towards him, and she internally questioned why the momentary brush of their skin made her heart flip. He tried to trip her, she tried to flip him, and they both ended up on their backs in the snow, giggling, cheeks and noses bright pink from the cold.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

“Trouble sleeping too, huh?” Aang cocked a grin, tilting his head to Katara. She kept her eyes fixed upwards, trained on the moon and the stars, worried that if she looked away, she’d end up staring into his eyes like a weirdo.

“I always feel so awake with the moon’s light on me. Sleeping under the stars has never really been a thing that works. It’s too energising, too… too much. It’s hard to explain.”

“No, no… I get it. I feel the same way in a windstorm, all those breezes and gusts of wind, it feels… exhilarating.” She watched through her peripheral vision as he looked up at the moon. “In times of war, I think we all tend to forget how spiritual bending is at its core. I’d say it’s a good thing that you’re in touch enough with the origins of your abilities to feel the moon’s pull tug at you just as much as it does on the ocean.”

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Aang smiled back. “Now is our time to try to make up for that. I can’t bring back everyone who was hurt in this war, and you can’t bring back your mother, but together, the two-, three of us can make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

“I’d like that,” Katara exhaled, her breath calming down and tears dissipating. The two spent hours talking back and forth, exchanging the stories of their respective childhoods. Katara learned that Aang had invented several new bending moves and had been a big fan of fruit pies, while Aang learned that Katara had always been the bossier one between her and Sokka and that she had almost chipped a tooth on seal jerky when she was six. They continued talking back and forth in increasingly hushed tones until the world faded away under the cover of clouds and sleep.

Katara awoke to the loud shout of her brother.

“Wakey wakey, lovebirds!” he yelped, chucking a rock-hard stick of seal jerky at both of them.

“Ouch, Sokka !” Katara snapped at him, rubbing her head at the spot where she had been hit, before realising that she was leaning against Aang and immediately jumping away, blushing furiously.

♥ check out the two chapters of this (ongoing) fic & my ao3 here! ->

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Invidia

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Plot? I don't know her. Jealousy, dom/sub dynamics, slightly toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, light choking, spit kink, light bondage, P in V action, use of sex toys, overstimulation, degrading language, slight praise kink, implied oral (m receiving) Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Aemond dishes out a punishment that won't soon be forgotten when his partner attempts to make him jealous. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Her grip tightens around her martini glass, eyes narrowing, as jealousy bubbles acrid and bitter within her chest.

She watches as the dark haired woman grazes her perfectly manicured nails over Aemond’s bicep, red stained lips pulling back into a saccharine smile, revealing pearly white teeth. She knows the woman is drop dead gorgeous, but in her envious state she sees only a predatory threat to her relationship, her thoughts darkened and unkind with internalised misogyny.

Worse still is that Aemond appears to be doing nothing to stop her, he is allowing this woman to flirt shamelessly with him. While his mannerisms are impassive, not returning the woman’s touches or suggestive grins, she believes he should be making it explicitly clear he is unavailable.

She hadn’t even wanted to come this evening, she had been desperate for a quiet night in front of the TV, just her and Aemond. He’d insisted they go though; the opening night of Aegon’s new cocktail bar and he simply had to support his family. So she’d dolled herself up, allowed herself to be dragged along and how here he was making a mockery of her.

Two can play at that game.

She wants to make him feel every bit as jealous as she does, to remind him he isn’t the only desirable person in their relationship, and she knows just the person who will strike that blow hardest.

Scanning the crowd, she spots the man of the hour propping up the bar, tipping back tequila shots.

Swallowing the remnants of her drink in a single gulp, she winces slightly as the combination of vodka and vermouth burns lightly in her throat, then heads over to where Aegon is standing.

“Hey, you,” She greets him in a sing-song voice, reaching out to brush her fingers against his forearm. “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Thanks,” He says with a smirk, his eyes traveling over her appreciatively, before nodding towards her glass. “Looks like you’re empty, shall I get you another?”

She knows that the music isn’t so loud that she can’t be heard by simply raising her voice a little, but she also knows that doing that won’t grant her the attention she so desperately seeks from Aemond. So, she leans in, her lips brushing against the shell of Aegon’s ear as she whispers to him.

“Oh, I would love one, thank you!”

Drawing back, she watches the bob of his throat with a satisfied smile, as he swallows thickly. She was having the desired effect on one brother, at least.

“You got it,” He tells her, his hand brushing hers as he relieves her of the empty glass and turns back towards the bar, holding up two fingers towards the bartender.

It’s then that she feels a firm but gentle grasp on her upper arm and turns to look up into the steely gaze of Aemond. The taut bun that his long, silver hair is pulled back into leaves his face unobscured, so the hardened lines of anger are unmistakable. While his left eye remains milky and lifeless, the fury that burns bright within the blue of his right more than makes up for its absence.

A shiver runs through her. Perhaps she has pushed this too far.

“We’re leaving,” He tells her flatly.

Her eyes widen as she tries to protest. “But Aegon’s just getting me a dri–”

“I wasn’t asking,” He shoots back, grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowded bar.

He is silent on the drive home. The hand that would usually rest against her thigh keeps a firm grasp of the steering wheel as he stares straight ahead.

The tension inside the car is unbearable. She knows she’s in trouble. Her stomach flutters nervously, wondering what she can say to calm him down, but can come up with nothing that she doesn’t think will enrage him further, so she stays silent.

The moment they arrive home, he spins her around to face him, pressing her against the wall, causing her to gasp. His hand grasps lightly against her throat as he stares her down. Arousal pools warm between her thighs.

“Just what the fuck was that tonight?” He hisses lowly.

“I-I was just chatting to Aegon…” She stammers, gazing up at Aemond, doe-eyed.

“Oh, it looked like it was more than chatting, much more.”

“It wasn’t, I swear!” She whines, regretting ever having approached Aegon in the first place, but unable to shake the effect that Aemond’s display of dominance is having on her.

“Hm,” He raises his free hand towards her face, tugging at her bottom lip with his thumb. “Open.”

She opens her mouth, steeling herself for what’s to come, but still shivers when she feels him spit harshly onto her tongue. She swallows without having to be asked, inwardly delighted at the hum of approval that Aemond emits.

“Thought you could use something to accompany the filthy lies that are coming out of your mouth,” He mutters darkly, his grip on her throat tightening.

She whimpers as her resolve crumbles. “That woman was flirting with you!”

“Ah, there it is,” He smirks. “You behaved like a stupid, little slut with my brother because you were jealous? Pathetic.”

“She was all over you, you did nothing to stop her!” She snaps back, feeling herself grow angry.

“But I didn’t do anything, did I?” He snarls, eye narrowing. “If you saw the number of women I turn down when you aren’t around you’d fucking cry, yet I can’t trust you not to throw yourself at my brother. Would you rather be with him instead?”

“No, Aemond, I only want you!” She clings desperately to the front of his black button up shirt.

“Is that so?” He cocks his head slightly, his hand still around her throat.

“Yes, I was just trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry,” She pleads.

“Hm. You’re about to be. Bedroom. Now.”

He releases her throat and she walks on unsteady feet towards their shared bedroom, nervous excitement making her heart race.

She lays back on the bed, biting her lip in anticipation, as Aemond stands at the foot of it, the metal clink of his belt being unfastened the only sound in the room. The audible slide of the leather against the cotton of his suit trousers as he removes it from the loops causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“Wrists together. Above your head,” He orders.

She does as she’s told, her throat running dry when she feels the mattress dip either side of her as Aemond straddles her, winding his belt around her wrists and using it to bind them to the headboard.

“Colour?” He asks simply, making eye contact.

“Green,” She whispers.

“Good girl,”

The praise shoots straight to her core, making her clench around nothing. He leaves her with no time to ponder on what his next move might be, as his hands disappear beneath her skirt to tug down her underwear.

She arches off of the mattress slightly as his deft fingers swipe through her folds, coming away glistening with her slick.

“Little slut,” He whispers, before freeing his cock, showing he’s every bit as turned on as she is.

He takes a firm hold of her hip with one hand, grasping the base of his erection with the other and forces himself all the way in to the hilt in one fluid motion.

She is wet enough that any preparation isn’t required, but the sudden stretch still steals her breath away.

Aemond’s thrusts are quick and sure, his hips snapping against hers harshly as he brings his thumb between their bodies to rub at her clit in rapid, tight circles.

Her nails bite into the leather of the belt around her wrists, struggling to ground herself as pleasure builds steadily within her gut, each slap of his skin against hers nudging her closer to the edge.

His breathy pants combined with the look of determination on his face give her the final shove she needs, and she falls apart with blinding white warmth that washes over her from head to toe.

She’d believe her punishment was over were it not for the fact that Aemond has yet to cum. His low chuckle as he stills inside of her is all the indication she needs that he’s just getting started. He leans over, never slipping out of her, and pulls her Hitachi magic wand from a drawer of the bedside table.

Fuck.

“Colour?” Aemond demands again, his voice husky.

“G-green,” She breathes shakily.

He purses his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

The jolt that rockets through her body when he presses the toy against her, at maximum speed, causes her to squeal. He keeps it there, resuming his thrusts inside of her and the combination of the two is too much. She trembles all over, her mind feeling foggy.

“What are you going to do the next time you feel jealous?” Aemond asks.

“N-fuck-nothing!”

“Good girl. And that’s because you can trust me.”

A sob of pleasure is ripped from her as another orgasm has her tightening and spasming around Aemond uncontrollably. He shows her no mercy, keeping the wand firmly on her, the momentum of his hips never slowing.

Aemond’s breathing is ragged, sweat visible upon his brow from exertion. “Do you trust that yours is the only cunt I want to bury myself inside of?”

“Aemond…please…” She mewls piteously, overstimulation making her shake.

“I need you to say it,” He grits out.

She tugs involuntarily at her restraints, tipping her head back. “Yes, I trust you!”

He brings her to peak three more times, before he finally relents. “Colour?”

“Yellow,” She says weakly, voice hoarse and eyes teary.

Aemond switches the toy off, tossing it to the side and slowly pulls out of her. She hisses at the sensation, noticing that he is still rock hard, not having peaked himself yet.

He rubs gently at her wrists as he unfastens the belt, helping to get the blood circulating once more. Brushing his lips against her temple, damp with perspiration, he whispers softly to her. “I’m not done with you yet, just giving that sweet little pussy of yours a rest. For now–” He leans back on his haunches and taps the head of his cock against her lips. “You can put that pretty mouth of yours to work, you’ve got quite the mess to clean up.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfic

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scarlett-vixen · 5 months

Text

Shattered

A/n: Here it issss the final part of the series. I can't believe I started Vicious two years ago...and that it took me 18 months to finish the last chapter akfdjjfd anyway thank you guys for all the love and support!! I hope the wait was worth it mwah Summary: Your year in the Devildom has come to an end finally. Before you head home though, there’s one loose end that needs to be tied up, and he gives you the perfect opportunity to do so. You’ve stood up to the Avatar of Pride a few times now but things are different now that you have a pact with each of his brothers…and him as well.

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: Language, alcohol, suggestive but not NSFW

The Fight: Vicious

The Apologies: Beelzebub, Satan, Mammon, Asmodeus, Leviathan

“To the Devils who tried to keep me living like a prisoner”

Hours ago, the sound of plates being set, the smell of dinner still cooking, and the warm feeling of a family getting along filled the massive dining hall and seeped out into the hallways, drawing the last few missing members in. Moments ago, the sound of pure rage, looks of terror partnered with teary eyes, and the cold feeling of dread and guilt swelled inside the dining hall making it nearly impossible to breathe. Now, the dining hall was void of nearly all sound.

Seven dinner plates sat unfinished, left behind and forgotten in the evacuation. Four chairs stood crooked from their usual places as their occupants had hastily left, two chairs laid on their side in pitiful form as their occupants had fled the scene in full force, one chair laid on its back far from the table almost lost from its counterparts. The force with which it was knocked back could still be felt in the air, a rage that was thick and unsettling, even though the one responsible had been the first to abandon the dinner. The last chair at the enormous oak table sat upright in its typical spot with its usual resident still seated and soaking in the aftermath, alone at the table and trying to process what exactly just happened.

“I’ve busted my ass!...I’ve jumped through every hoop!...I did my best! SO WHERE WERE YOU?”

Lucifer’s fist slammed against the table causing the plates to jump in fear, the glasses rocked anxiously, the liquid inside them threatening to spill but seeming to know better in this situation.

How dare you?

How dare you raise your voice with him? How dare you accuse him of not caring about the exchange program by letting you be in danger? Where exactly did you get off throwing around such powerful questions and accusations? And towards him of all demons??

He knew the answer to all those questions though. Yes, you were the exchange student that Diavolo was so proud and fond of, but you had become so much more than that.

You were the one who had managed to break down every wall his brothers had put up.

“I did my best to get along with your brothers and help them with their problems!”

Lucifer rose and began clearing off the abandoned dinner table. You were the one who managed to free Belphegor from the attic despite the magic placed on the door and stairwell.

“And as a thank you for all that I did.”

You were the one who tested him at every turn, never backing down and standing your ground even when faced with possible death.

“You think you have all humans figured out, don’t you?”

You were a pain in his ass.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

You were the reason he started to understand why Lilith had done what she did.

“I TRUSTED YOU!”

The sound of glass shattering jolted Lucifer out of the trance he had been in. While removing a wine glass from the table, the first born caught a glimpse of himself in the large mirror that was hung on the back wall. Looking at himself and wondering how the hell he had let this all happen, how such a noble demon had slipped up so badly, your words echoed in his head and the glass fell from his hand like the final leaf on a tree before winter sets in.

Lucifer stared down at the shattered glass that was scattered at his feet. You always seemed to attract trouble wherever you went, perhaps that was just how it was for a human in the Devildom--- Devil knows Solomon seemed to be a disaster beacon when he visited--- but regardless of whether you went looking for trouble or it just had a way of finding you, Diavolo had placed you in the care of the six (now seven) brothers and at the end of the day it was Lucifer’s job to ensure your safety and clean up the mess left behind.

But this time he failed the first part, so now he was left to pick up the pieces he was responsible for breaking.

******

The next morning had been even more unusual than Lucifer had expected. With a cautious gaze he watched as you commanded the youngest brother to follow you out of the house and, to his complete surprise, watched as Belphie instantly jumped up to follow after. Something strange was going on. Twelve hours ago, you were red in the face and looked ready to jump across the table to rip Belphegor to shreds, now you were ordering him to follow you around. Clearly a change in dynamics had occurred, but Lucifer was unsure of how to feel about the sudden shift. Normally he would demand an explanation before you had a chance to leave the house, but the wave of guilt was still pulling at him from last night, on top of that the first born knew that both you and his youngest brother would both be in very sensitive states. For now, he would wait and see if he could put the pieces together himself.

All morning Lucifer found himself rather distracted from his daily tasks, thinking of where you might be and if Belphegor was also with you, what exactly had happened between you two in such a short time. Eventually he found himself watching you two from the second floor of Hexes Hall, standing in an empty classroom with a window that looked out over the courtyard where various demons and succubi were having lunch. Seated at a table towards the side was the odd pair that had captured plenty of attention today from numerous students yet somehow (thankfully) had stayed out of the gaze of any higher ups.

Typically, Lucifer could ask Mammon what was going on because, aside from knowing better than to lie when directly confronted, he seemed to be an open book when it came to you. In fact, there had been times that Mammon had gone to Lucifer questioning if you would be safe in certain situations and would even give subtle hints that the two of you may end up in trouble later. Not to say his brother was trying to narc on you, far from it rather, it was more that when it came to you Mammon was always more concerned about your safety than anything else. So if anyone would know about you being in potential danger, it would be him. However, the second born was not in attendance today which left Lucifer with no good source of intel on you. There was always Barbatos but that would most certainly prompt questions from Lord Diavolo and that was the last thing Lucifer needed right now.

A familiar voice echoed out in the hallway, Lucifer glided towards the door and waited for the demon to pass by before calling his name.

“Beelzebub.” The sixth born froze in the hall at the sound of his name. Slowly, he turned to face his older brother and Lucifer noticed an odd look on his face. One of shame and sorrow rather than his normal stoic yet happy expression.

“Is something wrong Lucifer?” he asked, shifting his bag slightly on his shoulder.

“I need to speak with you,” the first born started to turn back into the room but caught sight of the two demons who had been walking with his brother. “Alone.”

Lucifer gestured into the classroom and Beelzebub reluctantly followed after waving off the other two demons he had been with. Once inside Lucifer closed the door to prevent any wandering ears from lingering.

“I want to know what’s going on between them.” Per usual Lucifer’s words came across more as a direct order than a question.

“Between who?” Beelzebub had a look of genuine confusion on his face.

“Between your twin and our exchange student. The two who were just as each other’s throats last night but now seem joined at the hip.” Lucifer’s gaze was as cold and stern as always but this time it hurt Beelzebub more given the circumstances.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Beelzebub something has clearly happened and I want to know why they’re suddenly letting him be so close!”

“Nothing happened! I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Lucifer knew when each of his brothers was lying, they all had a tell, unfortunately for Beel his was total avoidance of eye contact. The sixth born knew something and Lucifer knew his brother wasn’t going to give that information up easily, not when he was protecting one of you. So instead, he would have to play dirty.

“Really? You have no idea what’s going on between them?” Lucifer gave an unamused scoff and walked back toward the window where he had stood before. “I’m not the only one who has noticed the change Beelzebub, seems to me that half the academy has taken notice.”

The sixth born seemed to move against his will toward the window, looking out to see you and Belphegor talking down below. His body flinched; Lucifer could tell he was uneasy.

“It won’t be long before this reaches Lord Diavolo’s attention…and I would hate to think what would become of Belphegor if it was discovered that ill intent was at play here.”

Beel’s head snapped toward Lucifer at that last part, his eyes seemed to glow with a hint of rage.

“What exactly does that mean?” He asked with a guarded tone.

“It means nothing…or possibly many things, that all depends on how exactly your twin managed to win over his former enemy.” Lucifer stayed put but shifted his gaze to see his younger brother from the corner of his eye. He could see the frustration on Beel’s face and knew it wouldn’t be long before he spilled everything he knew…or so he thought.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at Lucifer…and I don’t know what happened between them but I DO know that I won’t let you accuse Belphie of using some dark magic or evil power to get on MC’s good side! He’s not like that!”

“Oh please, the same demon who started all of this? You really think he wouldn’t stoop to that level Beelzebub?” Lucifer now turned to face his brother.

“No… I know he wouldn’t! Belphie fucked up but you can’t accuse him of every mistake for the rest of his life, that’s not fair!”

“This isn’t about fair Beel, this is about figuring out why he was forgiven so quickly!” Both their voices were starting to rise in anger.

“So you just assume he did something bad? Maybe they talked it out! I don’t know what happened but I’m done discussing this with you, you want answers go ask them yourself, but don’t come to me with accusations about Belphie anymore!” Beel took one step toward Lucifer, feeling his aura wanting to change, his wings and horns trying to emerge and his fangs trying to push through. No. Not this time, he had caused enough problems letting his rage blind him before, he had almost killed you by doing that. Instead Beel turned on his heel and headed out of the room, opening the door he stopped and glanced over his shoulder at Lucifer once more.

“He’s your brother too you know… not just my twin.” With that Beel slammed the door shut behind him. Lucifer wanted to be mad but he knew this was all his doing, what had he truly expected to come from that? The eldest knew he needed to correct things so he hurried toward the door and called after his brother.

“Beel! BEELZEBUB!” The sixth born kept walking, until finally he was out of sight.

“Damnit..” Lucifer muttered. One more piece to pick up later.

“Well Lucifer…are you proud of yourself?”

The first born tensed up, immediately upon hearing the voice a headache started to form in the front of Lucifer’s mind. He had been wrong earlier; this was the last thing he needed. He didn’t need to turn to know who he had the displeasure of being in the presence of, yet he did, and instantly regretted it. There, leaned against the lockers, stood that damn sorcerer with the same shit eating grin on his face he always had when he managed to catch Lucifer with his guard down. If he wasn’t a necessary part of Diavolo’s program, Lucifer swore he would have destroyed this stain on humanity long ago.

“What is it Solomon, here to shamelessly beg for another pact?” Lucifer smirked, trying his best not to show his total irritation.

“Would that actually work?” Solomon suddenly had a look of awe in his eyes as if Lucifer had just offered to give him a pact as well as let him move into the HoL. “I’ll start begging right now if that’s all it takes Lucifer, on my knees and everything!”

Lucifer sneered as the sorcerer pretended to beg for a moment. Then through gritted teeth spoke again.

“What do you want.”

“Nothing really,” Solomon gave a light chuckle “it’s just come to my attention that there’s some…tension between residence of the House of Lamentation.”

A sly grin appeared on Solomon’s face, one that Lucifer knew meant the sorcerer knew more than he was letting on. For a moment he wondered if you had gone to him, seeking the comfort of another human after the fallout of last nights dinner, the thought made Lucifer sick to his stomach, but only for a moment until he realized the more likely answer.

“What exactly did Asmodeus tell you.” His voice was much sterner than he ever used with his brothers, even during more recent events. This was a family matter, one that he was already trying to figure out how to resolve quickly, he didn’t need Solomon sticking his nose into things.

“Why? Worried that your brother told me something I shouldn’t know?” the sorcerer teased; knowing better than to go too much further with it. The look of irritation in Lucifer’s eyes was growing more apparent and, as much as Solomon wanted to see just how far he could push the Avatar of Pride before causing him to make a scene, he didn’t want to ruin his already slim chances of ever getting that pact. “No need to fret,” he offered a smile as if to say he was backing down. “Asmo was so worked up that all I really got out of him was that something happened last night at dinner, other than that I have noticed the…unusual relationship that seems to have blossomed between Belphie and our little exchange student, then there’s the way Beel just stormed out of that room with you calling after which I’ll assume means the two of you had a not so enjoyable conversation. Care to enlighten me?”

“Firstly, the conversation I had with Beelzebub is none of your concern, nor is what occurred last night at dinner. That being said, I would advise you to leave Asmodeus alone regarding the matter, you of all people know how he can be when his emotions run high.” Lucifer could feel his temper rising, he never cared much for Solomon and always wondered if his disdain for the shady wizard hadn’t pushed his brother further into his arms. And why did he suddenly seem to care about your relationships with his brothers, Lucifer was confident that his younger brother could handle himself if Solomon ever tried to pull something on him, but he’d be damned if he was going to let Solomon try to go after you. “Secondly, they are not your anything. They are Lord Diavolo’s exchange student and my responsibility, as for their relationship with Belphie… that doesn’t seem to be any of your business either.”

“Of course, how silly of me to think the mighty Lucifer would need any help or advice from a human such as myself in this matter.” Solomon teased once more before continuing on his way down the hall, stopping to turn around and speak one last time. “If you do find yourself in need of help, do reach out to me! There’s no need to be shy Lucifer.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” The first born growled in response. Solomon gave another sly smirk before disappearing down the corridor. Lucifer stood for a moment trying to compose himself after the argument with Beelzebub and that unwanted interaction with Solomon just now, his pride wanted to confront you and force an explanation out of you, for both the dinner and what had transpired with Belphie last night.

Over the last several months Lucifer had watched you from afar, observing your interactions with his brothers, the relationships you had formed, the way they seemed happier and more relaxed with you around. More importantly he had watched how his brothers personalities had developed more into their own and less of just what their sin made them out to be.

The way that Mammon seemed to care less about his schemes and profits when he could spend time with you instead, how Leviathan was more willing to join group outings without complaining about how everyone else seemed to be having more fun when you were with them, and how Satan seemed to find a way to calm himself to prevent an outburst if you were next to him. He noticed how you managed to captivate and hold Asmodeus’s attention even with a mirror in the room, the way Beelzebub’s appetite seemed easier to satiate when you cooked, and even though he had only rejoined the group for a few weeks Lucifer noticed how Belphegor appeared less tired and more engage when you were involved in the situation.

Avatar of Pride came with many setbacks, the main one being the inability to express his feelings in an appropriate manner. It wasn’t that Lucifer was as cold and closed off as his brothers and other demons perceived him, it was that his sin, his pride, kept him from saying the things he truly wanted to. This wasn’t a new predicament for him though, even as an angel Lucifer had struggled with showing his love and appreciation, it had only worsened since being saddled with the sin of pride. The truth was that he had envied his brothers for being so close to you, more than anything he wanted to be like them, to be able to let his walls down and talk to you like everybody else. He wanted whatever bond it was his brothers had with you that would quell his pride and give him the chance to freely interact with you.

Maybe it was his desire to not be so controlled by his sin, or perhaps it was the guilt still eating at him. Whatever the reason was, Lucifer started down the hall but instead of barging into the courtyard for answers he retreated to Diavolo’s office. He chose to focus on his tasks and let you mend you bonds with his brothers in peace, well aware that eventually the time would come for him to have his own confrontation, but for now he would sit back and observe.

Just like he had for the last seven months.

******

“Mammon! Ugh, you suck so bad! How did you even die right there?” Leviathan groaned while waving his controller around wildly in a desperate attempt to still complete the level.

“Don’t ask me! How do you jump in this game anyway?!” Mammon barked, aggressively spamming the B button.

“The A button! It’s always the A button!!” Levi scolded.

The two of them had been bickering for the last hour while playing Levi’s newest game, although they sounded irritated with each other you could tell they were enjoying the game immensely. You couldn’t help but laugh as Mammon died yet again and Levi went into full dramatics over it. On the bed behind you Satan was busy giving an educational lecture about…something, while Asmo, Beel and Belphie listened. You honestly had no idea what they were talking about but seeing them all together and getting along made you happy.

You had made amends with the brothers, explaining why you were so hurt by their actions and finally getting apologies from them, Belphie had learned his position and had become your obedient servant as it were. Everyone was getting along, the previous tension was long gone, you were thrilled to have everything back to normal and be on speaking terms with all the brothers once more.

Well…all but one.

Ever since the fatal night, there had been one demon who seemed to successfully avoid you at every turn. Sure, you saw him at breakfast and dinner but that was clearly just to keep good face with his brothers, his way of not letting them know that the two of you had not spoken since the blowout. He always managed to finish his breakfast shortly after you joined but never soon enough to be noticed by his brothers, the only time you saw him at RAD was in passing between classes and typically he was always talking with Diavolo or some random professor, once dinner was over he would manage to lock himself away in his bedroom or study for the evening only to reappear at breakfast and start the cycle again. There were a hand full of occasions where the eight of you had gone out as a group, a few joined by the angels and Solomon, but even then he kept his interactions with you short.

You knew the main reason for this was because of Lucifer’s sin, it would be shameful for a powerful demon such as him to admit defeat or show weakness to a mere human such as yourself you were sure, but Lucifer seemed to have forgotten that you were stubborn and prideful yourself. You refused to be the one to crack, to go to him and seek an end to this ridiculous feud, you would wait until he managed to swallow that damn pride and approach you.

Apparently, Lucifer wasn’t very good at swallowing.

Tonight was your final night in the Devildom and that old man had yet to apologize for everything he put you through this year, all the dumb tasks you had to do, the never-ending events to support RAD, the various balls and dinners you had attended, not to mention the three accounts of murder he had attempted towards you. The thought of you returning home without Lucifer being held accountable for all the shit you went through was more than irritating, you considered confronting him tomorrow in front of Diavolo mainly so you could see the horror on his face as you tore into him in front of his precious prince, but you really didn’t want a repeat of That Night. You looked around at the six brothers, all deeply absorbed in whatever they were doing, and decided to go for a walk.

You got up from your spot on the bed and headed towards the door leading downstairs, only to catch the attention of your loyal servant.

“Where are you going?” Belphie sat up on the bed and looked at you the way a dog watching its owner leave for work would. You could tell he wanted to get up and follow but was waiting for your orders to do so, you were proud of how well you had trained him in the last few months and almost felt bad leaving him behind tomorrow.

“I’m just getting a drink!” You gave a reassuring smile in an attempt to keep him from wanting to follow and it seemed to work. Belphie sank back onto the bed before answering.

“Alright…don’t take too long.” You could tell he was forlorn.

You headed downstairs and only felt a little bad about lying to Belphie, technically it was only a half lie which is why you only felt a little bad. Sure, you were going to grab a drink from the kitchen, but you were going for something else.

You were getting that damn apology.

As you approached the bottom of the stairs you heard a faint melody coming from somewhere down the hall, recognizing it as a record playing you decided your drink could wait and followed the sound towards your potential prey. The soft symphony led you to Lucifer’s study, you lingered for a moment wondering if he was actually in there or if he was just throwing you off his tracks, after a moment you knocked on the thick wooden door. Twelve months ago you would have been terrified to confront Lucifer, the first born demon lord, Avatar of pride, but as you stood in front of his door there was no fear in you.

Only determination.

“It’s open” the familiar stoic voice stated from inside.

Opening the study door, you found Lucifer standing at the bar on the right side of the room, the heavy jacket he normally wore missing from his shoulders and instead neatly placed on the back of the large chair behind his desk, an elegant, bejeweled chalice in his hand as he poured himself a glass of Demonus. You carefully closed the door behind you while still facing the demon across the room, stealthily you reached your hand behind your back and quietly locked the deadbolt, you didn’t want any sudden interruptions tonight.

“I thought you were upstairs with the others enjoying your final evening here.” Lucifer spoke as he set the Demonus bottle on the bar and replaced the cork.

“I was, but I got thirsty… Beel went through all the drinks upstairs so I was on my way to the kitchen.” You slowly moved further into the room, making your way toward the lounge chairs in front of the fireplace.

“Well, you’re welcome to join me since you’re here,” Lucifer held out a second gorgeous chalice, decorated slightly different but obvious that it belonged in the same set as his. You took the chalice from him and he made his way over to a chair, you perused your options at the bar but settled on Demonus, it didn’t get you drunk but had a wonderful taste, it was probably best you didn’t end up intoxicated during this anyway. “That noise up there gives me the perfect opportunity to listen to my records in peace down here, so I guess I should thank you for whatever you did to lure them all up there.”

Lure them?? Why did he have to make you sound like a monster waiting to devour his brothers? Whatever. You let it go and tried to focus on the task at hand, admittedly there was something…primal that you had felt when confronting a few of his brothers recently so maybe he wasn’t completely in the wrong. Regardless, you decided to play nice for now.

“What are we listening to anyway?” You could feel his gaze on you as you poured your drink, you couldn’t place it but something about his behavior seemed a little off.

“The cursed vinyl edition of The Tale of the Seven Lords, the one you managed to acquire from Leviathan for me.” The usual stern matter-of-fact tone of his was missing, in its place was an unfamiliar, friendlier one.

“Don’t people say you’ll die if you listen to it?” You placed the cork back in the Demonus bottle and turned to take your seat. Doing so you caught Lucifer looking at you in a way that was new to you, though it didn’t last long as he quickly turned his sight away and down to his glass when he realized you were looking at him.

“I see you haven’t forgotten the story behind it,” he gave a soft chuckle but rather than his usual mocking one, this was much more amused. “It’s true that all humans involved with its creation died mysterious deaths, but that was nothing more than coincidence.”

You took your seat in the chair adjacent to his, making yourself comfortable before he continued. As you did you got your first good look of the evening at the first born. He wore his usual vest and dress shirt combo but his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows giving you sight of his forearms which were much larger than you remembered, his gloves were also gone, discarded somewhere else in the room (on his desk you assumed) letting you see his hands which were a rare sight to see in general, but tonight they were adorned with three different rings. A thick silver band on the index finger of his left hand with something inscribed on the side, a small golden ring on the pinky of his right hand that was greatly overshadowed by the massive ring on his index of the same hand. An onyx-black band with two thin gold lines that curved up into what looked almost like two small claws holding the largest ruby you had ever seen. Drawing your eyes away from his hands you noticed his usual red tie was missing and the top two buttons on his shirt were undone, his hair was a messier than the prideful demon normally kept it, and upon closer inspection you found his cheeks to be dusted a light pink. You immediately realized why his demeanor seemed off and couldn’t help but smirk.

The asshole was drunk.

“Besides, even if this vinyl were truly cursed, look who you’ve got by your side. You’re talking to one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. There’s not much to worry about now is there?” a not-so-subtle brag by the not-so-sober demon. You wanted to tease him, maybe even make fun of him a bit, for letting you see him like this. Obviously this wasn’t the first time Lucifer had drunk around you, it was, however, the first time you had smelt this cologne on him. You held your tongue and took a sip of your drink, buying you time to think of a response that wasn’t a snarky or smartass joke at his expense.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finally settled on.

“You know, it was in this very room that I selected you for our exchange program.”

Oh, here we go.

You rolled your eyes and took another swig of your drink, suddenly wishing humans weren’t immune to Demonus. Lucifer swirled his glass gently before going on, his eyes locked on the fireplace in front of you.

“When I first welcomed you here…I was only doing it for Diavolo.”

Your gaze snapped in his direction, if looks could kill he would be taking his last breath. Was he seriously about to start a fight with you, in his current state? Maybe he had to be drunk in order work up the nerve to finish you off.

“I figured that if you managed to survive a year here without any incidents…that was all I could really ask for. And even if things didn’t go as planned, as long as I could prevent you from getting eaten by any of the lower-level demons, everything would be alright.”

“Oh, but trying to kill me yourself was perfectly valid?” You muttered under your breath a little louder than intended, thankfully Lucifer was too lost in the flames dancing before him to hear you.

“That’s really what I thought…but somehow I managed to choose a human who’s such a magnet for trouble it almost defies belief.” Lucifer scoffed and shifted his gaze to his drink. “There were times I thought I’d made a mistake choosing you.”

You felt the familiar warmth of your rage starting to dance across your skin, you wanted to snap, to tell him off right here and now, but you were waiting for the perfect moment. This wasn’t it.

“I’m sorry for being such a burden.” You practically hissed. You were doing your best to hold your temper but Lucifer’s arrogance still managed to shine through even when drunk.

“It’s far too late to be trying to suck up to me with apologies, you know?”

Arrogant ass.

“Also, there’s no need…things are different now. I made the right choice choosing you, after all you’ve kept me quite entertained this past year.”

Entertained? You entertained him?? You didn’t really consider being forced to choose between protecting Beel or Luke entertaining, nor being attacked by Lucifer. Nearly being crushed to death while dancing with him at the Demon Lord’s Castle all because he was ensuring you understood he would destroy you if you harmed his brothers wasn’t a joy ride either. Let’s not forget the time the brothers trapped the two of you in a fake game and Lucifer almost killed you when you revealed you had met Belphie to him, that had gone in the opposite direction of entertaining. You remembered all the snide comments as well, the reminders that you were just a human and here as a part of the exchange program, that if Diavolo’s plans failed because of you--- you bit your tongue to stop the words from flying out of your mouth.

“Glad I could be of service.” You managed.

“So then,” He seemed to shake himself off before looking back at you finally. “have you done all that you set out to do here in the Devildom? No unfinished business?”

You started to demand your apology when the tingle of Satan’s pact mark sparked something in your mind.

“Actually Lucifer, I still haven’t made a pact with you. I think that’s the last thing on my list” You took a slow sip and watched the eyes of the first born go wide only briefly before slowly tilting his head in curiosity.

“A pact?” His voice suddenly much deeper than before; it caused a jolt to run up your spine. “I see, you’ve made a pact with all of my brothers…which just leaves me.” A wicked grin tugged at his lips. “Do you really want a pact with me?”

You could feel the steady beat of your heart in your chest, your mind suddenly fuzzy and your rage now mixed with a different feeling. His demeanor had changed again, still obviously drunk but now you had his full attention, his eyes locked on you and awaiting your response. While scrambling to sort out your thoughts you made a connection that you had missed before, the rolled-up sleeves, the unbuttoned shirt, the intoxicating cologne, the beautiful rings, the gorgeous glasses, the vinyl record still playing in the background…the Demonus. Lucifer hadn’t gotten himself drunk so he could finally kill you off, he had done it so he could make a move.

You suddenly realized what the look in his eyes was, this was all some form of a demon mating ritual, a trap that he lured you into--- lured? Damnit! He wanted you down here, he wanted you to ask for a pact, when you did you triggered something in him and now you suddenly felt like the prey. On top of this horrifying discovery, you also identified what the odd feeling was.

Along with Satan’s pact mark, that was still simmering on your skin, Asmo’s pact mark was also starting to tingle. You felt like throwing up for a moment, what the hell was wrong with you?? Admittedly you had always had a thing for Lucifer, he may have been an ass at times but which brother wasn’t? It was never anything serious though, just an innocent crush or at the very least recognizing that he was good-looking for a centuries old demon. So why the hell was this the situation that was turning you on? Yes he was very pretty to look at in the glow of the fireplace, but hadn’t he just insulted you like three times and brought up some sore memories??

“What’s so wrong with that?” You heard your voice say, unable to tell if the question was directed at Lucifer or yourself. All you got in response was an amused huff from the demon who now had you in a slight trance, was this some weird demonic power of his?

“I don’t know how my brothers felt about making a pact with you, but I am more than just another name to be crossed off your list.” Lucifer placed his glass on the table between you, sitting straight up in his chair you realized just how much bigger than you he really was. No comparison to Beel or Diavolo but after spending most of your time with demons like Mammon and Asmodeus, Lucifer’s build was intimidating; especially when you no longer seemed to be in control of the situation. You watched as he rose from his seat and strode over to his desk, lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice the box he had pulled from his jacket.

“I won’t be lumped together with everyone else.” Lucifer turned back toward you, taking his time to walk back over. Without realizing it, you were suddenly standing up, your own glass now resting next to his on the table, and your feet seemed to be moving on their own. Lucifer had stopped moving but you were inching your way to him now as if an invisible rope were pulling you in.

“That won’t do.” You watched as his eyes shifted to the deep red you had seen on those rare unpleasant occasions, the horns on his head seemed to grow effortlessly without messing up his hair, his four jet black wings emerged and expanded as if to make him appear bigger. You were familiar with this part. This was where Lucifer tried to intimidate you, make you afraid and turn tail, or drop to your knees in submission, you were never really sure what he was looking for because you never did any of those things. Instead, you did what you always did in this situation.

You stood your ground.

“You’ve certainly got guts, don’t you? I’ve always found that aspect of you irritating, and yet, as irritating as it is,” Lucifer reached his right hand up and lightly gripped your face. “it’s even more endearing.”

You were almost positive he could hear the pounding of your heart. This all felt overwhelmingly familiar, you preferred the version where you were in charge and held all the cards with Belphie, but no matter what he did next you would never give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“Listen well little human,” Your eyes locked onto his, his right hand tilted your chin up slightly while his left hand pressed against your back to pull you closer. “I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me.”

You felt your body tense momentarily, this didn’t excuse his actions, this wasn’t the apology you wanted, but you didn’t not want this pact. You tried to stay grounded, to keep your mind from flying off into the abyss, to not be completely overpowered by Lucifer’s aura.

“So, what will it be?” His grip on your face loosened and his hand fell away from your back. Something in your mind panicked, it felt abandoned suddenly, it needed his touch again.

“Yes.” You tried not to sound too desperate with that answer. You’d beat yourself up later for turning to putty in his hands, for now you had to focus, you were so close. You saw a genuine smile form on his face this time.

“Good, then it’s done. As of this moment,” Lucifer reached into his pocket and pulled out the box you had missed him pick up before. He opened it and inside was another gorgeous ring, almost identical to the large one he wore, a black band with a beautiful ruby posted in the center, smaller and sleeker than his but just as mesmerizing. He took your hand in his and gently slipped the ring onto your finger, as if by magic, you felt the band slowly start to form to you. “you are mine.”

You were busy inspecting the gaudy ring that now rested on your finger when a familiar burning sensation started, you took in a sharp breath of air as you felt a new pact mark forming on your skin, you had been through this six times already and each one had been less painful. This one, however, felt different, the burn was deeper and hotter than the others, you felt a little dizzy and closed your eyes from the intense pain, a bright blue symbol flashed in your mind as you did. You recognized it as Lucifer’s mark, opening your eyes again you found the first born looking at you with adoring eyes, his sight fixated on the pact mark that was glowing a brilliant blue. The excessive pain made sense now, this was the burn of a new pact mark along with both you and Lucifer feeling intense pride at the same time.

Aside from the overwhelming sense of pride in yourself for managing to pull this stunt off and not make a fool of yourself, something else was growing inside you. Your mind seemed clearer than before, no longer panicked or intoxicated by Lucifer’s power, you remembered the real reason you had come down here. You felt your rage returning but this time it felt intensified, your body felt lighter yet stronger than before, Lucifer no longer registered as a threat to you, there had been another dynamic shift but it wasn’t quite as obvious to the demon tracing your new pact mark.

This was the moment you had been waiting for.

“I agree that you’re different from the others,” you grabbed the wrist of his hand tracing your skin with a force that seemed to catch him off guard. “however, there’s one thing you got wrong.”

You pulled his hand away from your skin, a look of confusion and caution taking over his features. All the pain, all the tears, every insult, every fight, every bad day, every day you woke up scared all came flooding back to you at once. Satan’s mark glowed a beautiful emerald green against your skin while Lucifer’s continued to glow as well, he gave no visual signs but somehow you knew Lucifer was uncomfortable, as if you could sense his fear. Just like the night you had broken Belphie, the fear you sensed was feeding something inside you, filling you with that same confidence.

“It’s true that you’re a very powerful demon Lucifer, you could handle any of your brothers if they ever went rogue and not a break a sweat, really the only demon here that outranks you is Lord Diavolo himself,” You felt his mark tingle on you and knew you were feeding that ego of his. “And I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have this pact with you now! If I’m honest this is probably the mark I’m happiest to wear!”

Time to destroy it.

“Because that means you answer to me now.” Your voice was soft yet powerful. You narrowed your eyes and felt a grin on your lips, the fear was now apparent on Lucifer’s face, this was too good to be true.

“Over the last year I’ve been through my fair share of shit from you and your brothers, I’ve been the good little human you asked me to be but guess what my love? Even good humans go bad when pushed too far.” Just like before you started taking steps closer without realizing it.

“I’m aware that we put you through a lot, and I know Belphegor’s actions---” a psychotic type of laugh ripped from your throat.

“Oh, this has nothing to do with Belphie. See I’ve had fun little chats with your brothers, I think the most fun one was with Belphie himself the night that I snapped at dinner when he stopped by my room.” You watched Lucifer’s eyes go wide just like earlier, except this time there was a hint of betrayal in them.

“I know you’ve been oh so curious about what happened between him and I that night. Beel told me how you practically cornered him wanting to know what went on. You’re just dying to know how I turned a brat like Belphie into such a good boy who does what he’s told aren’t you?” With every word the look on Lucifer’s face worsened, like you were digging in his chest searching for his heart, and in a way you were.

You wanted him to break, just like Belphie.

“Well, how else would a human corrupt a demon so quickly?” You saw a grimace on the first born’s face, that one struck a nerve. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let him into my bed, he knows his place is on the floor. If you really need to know, he and I had a little… conversation, similar to the one you and I are having now actually. Let’s see if you can unlock a different ending though.” You gave a teasing wink.

“I’m here to discuss the issues you and I have had in the past, nothing to do with your brothers, in fact for the rest of the night let’s just act like they don’t exist shall we?” Lucifer had started to take small steps backward as you closed the gap between the two of you, his pride was trying to keep him in place but you knew it was slowly bowing down to you, you could feel it.

“Let’s talk about how you treated me when I first arrived, back when you were ‘just doing it for Diavolo’ as you put it.”

“That’s not what I---"

“Let’s discuss all the fun and entertaining moments where you tried to attack and kill me.”

“I realize I overreact---”

“Let’s go over how you threatened to kill me if I ever harmed your brothers and the ironic twist of how you let your youngest brother harm me instead!”

“Please, just let me---”

“Let you do what Lucifer? Let you smooth talk your way out of apologizing? Let you convince me that you were just having a hard time controlling your brothers? Let you distract me long enough to call your precious prince so you don’t have to take responsibility for how you behaved?”

“No, I just---”

“You see sweetheart, I just don’t care. I’ve done my part of listening to you for the last twelve months, tonight you’re going to listen to me instead.”

You had unintentionally forced Lucifer to back into the chair he sat in before, the back of his legs made contact with the seat causing him to stumble for a moment before regaining his balance. Similar to Belphie, you could sense his fear, but this time you could sense some pride still running through him as well. What could he possibly still be proud of? Pushing you to your limit? Or did he still have one more trick up his sleeve somehow? “You talk a big game, you know that?” Your eyes narrowed with annoyance and anger. Whatever he was proud of, you’d make sure to squash it. “You spent all that time telling Diavolo how you were happy to assist him and house the new exchange student. You paraded me around to every event and dance Diavolo held. You made me keep my head down so I wouldn’t embarrass the prince and subsequently, you. But it was all an act wasn’t it?”

A look of hurt flashed across the first born’s face. You felt that familiar rage burning deep inside you again, the one that wanted flip the table and throw plates at dinner, this time you just might set it free.

“You never really cared about my safety. You just didn’t want to upset or disappoint that prince of yours. I was an inconvenience to you actually, preventing you from focusing on more important matters, you loathed that Diavolo saddled you with caring for me. Didn’t he know you already had six, well…five brothers to look after?” a devious smirk crept onto your face. “But who were you to protest, hm? After all he saved your precious Lilith.”

The fire inside you flared up as you growled her name. You still didn’t fully believe that you were somehow related to her, it just seemed too convenient, but the brothers sure believed it.

“You only put up with me for her didn’t you? Did learning that we were related make it easier for you to accept my existence? Did you suddenly stop seeing me and pretend you saw her when I walked in the room? Or do you think I somehow am her? Because I’m not!” Your fists clenched by your side. You knew by now Satan was upstairs struggling to keep his composure, not wanting to alert the others that you were pissed off somewhere in the house. “I AM NOTHING LIKE HER!” You felt a sting in your throat and small tears trying to push their way to freedom. “It would’ve been so much easier for you if Belphie had gotten away with it wouldn’t it?? If Mammon hadn’t found him and I had just died! That’s why you didn’t save me ISN’T IT? YOU WANTED ME DEAD? YOU WANTED ME OUT OF YOUR HAIR!?”

“NO!”

His voice strained, the red in his cheeks now sprawled across his face. He jumped slightly after shouting, as if he startled himself with the outburst as well, then collapsed in the chair behind him. You watched his eyes fill with an unfamiliar hurt, his breathing became shaky,his wings went limp, his voice weak as it searched for words to say.

“That’s…that’s not what I wanted…it never was.”

“Then what did you want, Lucifer?” You seethed. A few seconds passed as you watched the once arrogant demon now struggle to find his voice. Your patience was running out. “Enlighten me.”

“I just…I wanted to have the same bond my brothers did…I wanted to be close with you—” Another maniacal laugh from you cut off the end of his sentence.

“And you think the way to do that is to constantly threaten me?? To always remind me that I’m nothing more than just a lowly human?? TO LET YOUR BROTHER KILL ME???” You could almost feel the fire in your eyes, your teeth bared as you did your best to not start swinging your fists.

“NO!”

“And yet you did! You did all of that Lucifer! Plus more! I FUCKING DIED AND YET YOU’VE NEVER ONCE SAID YOU WERE SORRY FOR ANY OF IT!”

“BUT I AM!”

“THEN SAY IT! SAY YOU’RE FUCKING SORRY FOR EVERYTHING YOU’VE PUT ME THROUGH!”

“I’M SORRY!! I LOVE YOU AND I’M SORRY!!” Lucifer’s voice cracked as he shouted at the top of his lungs. You were certain that the other six heard the screaming match that just happened all the way in the attic and wondered if they too had caught that middle part in between his apology.

“What?” You weren’t sure if it was because you had been caught off guard by the sudden confession or if his apology had finally satisfied the rage inside you, but your voice dropped back to its normal tone as you looked at Lucifer now sobbing into his hands.

“I’m sorry I was so wretched toward you” The first born looked up at you with pitiful eyes, tears streaming down his now bright red cheeks. “I’m sorry for saying such vile things, for making you feel worthless and alone. I’m sorry for all the times I let my anger get the best of me and nearly killed you. More than anything I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to stop my own brother from ending your life.” He gasped for air in between silent sobs before continuing. “I never understood why Lilith sacrificed everything she had in the Celestial Realm just to spend time with a human, but I realized a while back… that somewhere along the way I fell in love with you, and suddenly it all made sense. Every joke you made with Mammon, every late night spent in Leviathan’s room, every living room fashion show you sat through with Asmodeus, every afternoon in the garden spent with Satan and every meal you made just for Beelzebub… I witnessed it all and I realized…you care for them just as much as I do… and they all worship the ground you walk on. I wanted to be a part of that.”

You felt your rage begin to melt away, the fire burning deep inside faded to a small ember and your stomach flipped as you listened to the prideful demon pour out his true feelings.

“So many times, I wanted to tell you how I felt, to apologize for how I behaved before, to have a chance at forming the bond that would allow me to be happy just like my brothers. But each time I tried, my pride would prevent me from speaking my true intent and instead some condescending remark was made. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there to protect you from him, the flashbacks of watching you fade away in Mammon’s arms keeps me up most nights, I failed both of you that day. And I’m sorry.”

His apology seemed sincere enough, but you still couldn’t shake this new feeling you had. You got more than you had wanted out of this, a pact, an apology, and a new sense of confidence it seemed. You felt bad watching Lucifer practically beg for forgiveness like this, and yet, seeing him sit there like that? A complete mess, eyes red with tears still gently rolling down his face, he looked like easy prey just waiting to be caught. It was still feeding the beast inside you.

“Can you ever forgive me?” The question was soft and weak. This was possibly the most vulnerable you’d ever seen the great Avatar of pride before. You were starting to enjoy it.

“Oh Lucifer,” a gentle smile appeared on your lips. “All I ever wanted was a sincere apology and for you to take responsibility.”

You bent down slightly before continuing.

“Of course I can forgive you, as long as you understand our dynamic now.” You wiped the newest tears off his cheeks with your hand and gently caressed his face, you felt him lean into your touch slightly. “I care deeply about my pacts and the demons I formed them with, I want nothing but for us to get along and have that special bond.”

Lucifer’s eyes softened and you could see his body begin to relax.

“However,” the same devious smile from previous encounters reappeared on your face as your firmly held his with the hand that had just wiped his tears. You planted one foot firmly on the seat of his chair right between his thighs and leaned in closely, your nose lightly brushing against his as you spoke. “If you think you control me, you don’t know what you’re in for.”

Your voice was practically a whisper now but felt more powerful than when you had been yelling earlier. Lucifer’s eyes couldn’t decide whether to stay locked on yours or watch as your lips hovered just out of reach of his. You had officially reduced him to the same pathetic puddle Belphie was during his little chat, but somehow this time it felt a lot more enjoyable.

“Understood?” You tilted his chin up just as he had done to you earlier.

“Yes, Master.” You couldn’t help but scoff at the response.

“How obedient, must come with the pride.” You let go of his face and stepped away from him. You glanced at the time on your phone and then one more time at the new ring that adorned your finger. Realizing how late it was and how early you had to be up to finally return home, you headed toward the office door. “You should head to bed soon. We have a big day tomorrow.”

You heard shuffling behind you and a few very clumsy footsteps before turning to look over your shoulder. Lucifer had scrambled to his feet half drunk on Demonus and the other half on you, you assumed he wanted to follow after you but either his legs stopped working or he was sober enough to stop himself because he only made it as far as the chair you had been sitting in.

“You cou— you could just stay here tonight…with me.” He managed to get out as his face flushed red again.

“I could,” you smiled “but I won’t.” You watched his face drop as you unlocked the door and stepped out. Before closing it you turned back one more time. “You haven’t earned that yet.”

**********

The next morning, you stood in the student council room at RAD along with the brothers and other exchange students one last time, back where it all began. As the others talked excitedly and goodbyes were said to Simeon, Luke and Solomon, you thought back on the last year and everything that had happened, both good and bad. You had been tossed into this world against your will, tasked with representing the entire human race, placed in a home with seven unruly brothers, faced death more times than you cared to ever remember, got caught up in weird family drama, and stood toe to toe with raging demons one too many times.

It wasn’t all bad though.

You made some new friends, you experienced things you never knew existed, you tried amazing food from both the Devildom and Celestial Realm, you managed to help the brothers patch things up, you pulled off making pacts with seven Demon Lords in just one years’ time (Solomon would be furious when he found out) and got the apologies you rightfully deserved from each of your pact members. All in all it wasn’t too terrible and the more you thought about going home the more you realized you would miss seeing these dorks every day, you wouldn’t miss the arguing…but you’d miss the bad jokes, the movie nights, the random adventures and most of all you’d miss watching them embarrass each other in front of you.

The others eventually departed and now it was your turn. You were trying to think of the easiest way to say bye without causing tears and dramatics when you felt a soft tug on your arm. Belphie stood a few inches away from your back, trying to get your attention the same way he had the last few months, when you turned he blushed slightly and dropped his gaze to his feet as usual.

“I’m sorry for fucking things up for so long. I really enjoyed the time we had together, I just wish it could last a little longer.” He lifted his gaze to look at you. “Are we okay?”

“Yes darling,” you smiled. You had put his ass through the wringer ever since the fallout yet with each passing day he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself, the least you could do was forgive him before leaving. “I think we’ll be just fine. Listen to your brothers while I’m gone though, if I find out you’ve been nothing but a brat,” you pulled him in for a brief hug and whispered in his ear. “there will be consequences.”

You released him from the hug and noticed the deep red on his face, you’d miss how easy it was to tease him. Leaving Belphie to drown in his thoughts you turned to his twin and started to speak.

“Beelz—” Only to be cut off by a hug that knocked all the air out of your lungs but then melted into a firm but gentle one. “Good to know you learned some self-restraint.” You managed to squeeze out in one breath.

“Thank you,” the sixth born spoke into the top of your head, his arms trapping you against his chest. “For helping Belphie, for putting up with us, and for making us a family again.” You started to respond but felt a sudden wet spot on your shoulder, managing to look up you found the gentle giant staring at you with tear filled eyes.

“Oh Beel,”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! I said I wouldn’t cry and look what you made me do Beel!!” The unmistakable sound of Asmo throwing a tantrum and stomping his boot on the ground made you laugh; they truly were predictable.

You freed yourself from Beelzebub only to be engulfed by Asmo who begged for you not to leave him here with his brothers.

“Who’s going to tell me how beautiful I am? Who’s going to help me do my nails? Who am I supposed to gossip with??” Asmo asked frantically.

“Well, I’m sure Solomon has an easier way of getting back here.” You offered.

“He doesn’t count!” Asmo sobbed before Beel peeled him off you. You adjusted yourself and moved away before getting sucked back in by Asmo’s grasp. Satan looked at you trying to contain his laughter.

“Just so you know, I won’t cry.”

“And I thank you for that.” You sighed.

“I will miss you though.” You hugged the fourth born and then he continued. “Thank you for teaching me how to feel things other than anger and for helping me find better ways to control it.”

“Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” You teased.

“No promises.” He replied.

You turned to Levi who looked like he was waiting in line to meet Ruri-chan herself.

“Alright my otaku friend, I know this is far too much of a normie thing so I’ll keep it—” Cut off again by the world’s fastest and most unexpected public hug you blinked trying to figure out what just happened. “Did you just hug me in front of other people?”

“You’ll probably forget about all our games we have saved once you get home but I’ll keep them in case we get to play again…thanks for being my friend this year.” The third born turned bright red as he shoved his hands in his pockets. You knew this whole thing was probably a lot for him and were incredibly proud of how far he had come since day one, he was no longer the awkward little shut-in you first met. Now he was your awkward little friend.

“ANYWAY!” Mammon shoved his brother out of the way before standing next to you and leaning on your shoulder. “Listen, I know it’s probably suuuper boring back home ‘cause I’m not there so why dontcha just summon me on the daily and you can be entertained by the great Mammon?”

This time you gave the unsuspected hug.

“Thank you Mammon,” you squeezed your arms around him one last time. “For always being there for me…and protecting me until the very end.”

“’Course,” his voice was soft and you knew he was fighting tears. “Wouldn’t trade it for all the Grimm in the Devildom.”

You pushed out of the hug and grabbed his face with both your hands and smiled a big goofy grin.

“And thanks for being my first man!” you teased.

“Ack, why ya gotta go and say somethin cheesy like that?? Geez, like I care!”

You would definitely miss embarrassing him. You couldn’t help but laugh as you backed away and watched him blush while muttering to himself. One goodbye left and you’d be gone.

Once again you stood before Lucifer, the same old song and dance you had done for twelve months, but this time the dynamic was switched. You stood tall with a confident smile on your face while Lucifer seemed a little more nervous than usual, he of course would never let his brothers see that which is why he stood with his back to them.

“I’ll never forget this year I’ve spent with you.” Lucifer spoke with his usual matter-of-fact tone but you could sense sadness in his voice. You knew if the goodbye dragged on too long he would break just like he had last night, so you tried to keep it short, to spare his ego.

“Watch over your brothers,” you took a few steps closer and lowered your voice so your conversation became more private. “Keep them out of trouble but don’t work yourself to death in the process. Remember to relax every now and then.”

“I’m only truly able to relax when you’re around.” Lucifer had a pleading look in his eyes, one that was screaming for you not to leave. If you didn’t go soon you might just give in and stay a little longer. After all, things just got interesting and the cards seemed to finally be fully in your favor.

“Be good while I’m away.” Your final command to him.

“Of course, Master,” the first born lifted your hand and gently kissed the ring he had placed on you last night. “Anything for you.”

“Hey, Lucifer! What’s the big idea whisperin’ over there?? And why the hell are ya holdin their hand! No one said anything about that!” Mammon shouted from behind, breaking the trance Lucifer seemed to be in and drawing out the normal heavy sigh and eye roll.

“It’s time.” Diavolo interjected before an argument could break out.

You grabbed the few belongings you had gathered during your stay and walked toward the portal Barbatos had opened, a few more steps and you’d finally be back home. You had officially survived your stay in the Devildom.

“Before you go,” Diavolo spoke again. “I’d like to know, is there anything in particular you learned during your stay?”

You turned back around to face the prince along with the brothers. Had you learned anything? Honestly you learned a lot, about the three realms, about magic, and above all about yourself. It was hard to pick one singular thing and even harder to find a way to condense it all.

“I guess if I had to choose,” you paused for a moment to think. While doing so you made eye contact with the spoiled brat who had caused the last five months of tension and ultimately unlocked some bizarre power and feeling inside you that you still didn’t quite understand. “I learned that what doesn’t kill me, just makes me vicious.”

You watched as the youngest brother ducked his head and began to fidget with his sleeves, you caught the pink in his cheeks as you turned back around and headed through the portal leading to home. The brothers watched your every move, hoping that at the last minute you would turn around and run straight back to them, but you didn’t. Just as you entered the bright light and your silhouette started to fade, Leviathan caught sight of a bright blue symbol shining against the glow of the portal, one that definitely wasn’t there before.

“Wha—” the third born recognized the symbol immediately but couldn’t believe his eyes. There was no way you had pulled that off, and if you did then that made you the most badass person ever, like insanely badass, more than any anime protagonist he’d ever heard of. He frantically looked around at his brothers who seemed clueless to the new symbol. “IS NOBODY ELSE SEEING THAT??”

“Ow, Levi don’t shout in my ear like that, ugh.” Asmo scoffed while blinking tears from his eyes as to not ruin his mascara.

“NO NO! You guys totally see that right?!? That’s Lucifer’s pact mark on—" Levi turned and pointed back at the now gone portal. “them…”

“WHA— DID YA GET A PICTURE OF IT?!” Mammon screeched while grabbing his brothers shoulders.

“N-no?”

“Levithatwasaoneinamillionshotwhaddyameanyoudidnttakeapicture??” Mammon sobbed while shaking his younger brother like a rag doll.

“Mammon stop! You might snap him in half.” Beelzebub said as he picked the second born up and threw him over his shoulder before heading toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Honestly Leviathan,” the third born jumped, not expecting Lucifer to be directly behind him. “you might want to take a break from all the video games, I think it’s ruining your eyes.” Levi smiled sheepishly and watched his brother turn to leave the council room. “We’re done here.”

The brothers said goodbye to Diavolo and Barbatos before departing, Belphegor teasing Mammon as Beelzebub carried him out of the room, Asmodeus, Leviathan and Satan speaking in hushed tones while gossiping about you potentially having a pact with the demon of pride himself, and Lucifer leading them out with his head held high and a smug grin on his face. He knew damn well you had flashed his mark on purpose, just to stir his brothers up.

“Well, I suppose that brings the first year of our exchange program to an end Barbatos! I have to say, I think it was a rousing success!” Diavolo grinned, feeling overly proud himself.

“Of course young Master, however,” Barbatos said. “Did you happen to notice our human exchange student seemed a little less…”

“Human?” Diavolo finished his question. His grin disappeared and a look of concern took its place. “Yes, I did notice that. It’s very troublesome but I’m unsure if Lucifer and his brothers are aware of it…Barbatos, could you—”

“I’m already on it sir,” Barbatos smiled calmly and opened a new portal.

“Don’t worry about a thing.”

Tag list: @hero-the-diamond @purplerosewrites @alydra @lotusyasumi @bagofwetmice @itsmeninerz @elssecondaccount @a-toxic-person @takimarasukido @umbra-davina @littleagxs tumblr hates me and I couldn’t tag some people >:( also @delphi-dreamin just because I feel responsible to tag you in all my Lucifer pieces💖

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