#I think there was definitely more there even if it didn't all fully come across on screen

[saints-who-never-existed]

I do wonder, with Hodgson, whether he was perhaps more affected by lead and scurvy than previously thought, and affected sooner.

I'm skimming the E07 script - because clearly I have nothing better to do on a Saturday night - and there are several tiny details that suddenly jump out at me.

During the confrontation prior to Morfin's death, for example, and after the line "My head. Cut if off. Put it with the others..." it is Hodgson who is singled out and mentioned specifically as noting the oddness of Morfin's comment and actively being spooked by it.

Then, of course, Hodgson leads the burial party where it's unclear whether he actually takes part in the physical work - we only really see him standing eerily still in the background and then staring contemplatively down when the job is done.

And afterwards, there's slightly more in the script compared to what we eventually see on screen. Hodgson walks through the camp, appearing much more explicitly upset by the events preceding and actively trying to settle his thoughts. He literally sits with his head in his hands when Hickey finally does approach him.

With all that in mind, it would make sense to me if Hodgson were already suffering the ill-effects of the lead and/or scurvy, if he took one look at Morfin's sorry situation and came to the terrifying conclusion that the same thing would soon be happening to him.

And if Hodgson were thinking more along those lines, then it also makes even more sense why he would be swayed so quickly and effectively by Hickey providing such an immediate solution to the issue, right there right then, literally in the flesh.

[bbbbbbbbatman]

Once Batman has revealed his identity to the JL, and after some strong encouragement from Superman and Wonder Woman, Bruce decides to try to start being a bit more "personable" with the rest of league. They've been colleagues for a decade and he trusts them all, and according to Clark and Diana this means there's no need for his whole mysterious "shadow of the night" bit, so he invites the league to dinner at the manor.

It is raining heavily, and even though it's not that late, it's nearly pitch dark but for the frequent lightning strikes. The league arrives together at Wayne Manor and the wrought iron gates stretch upward before them, ending in spikes at the top with ivy overgrown across them. They stand there, uncomfortable, wet, a bit weirded out, wondering how they're supposed to get passed the gates.

"This is creepy, right?" Hal says. "It's not just me?"

A voice. "Hello." As the league turns to the sound, thunder claps loud enough to startle everyone as lightning strikes, illuminating a small child standing on the other side of the gates that was definitely not there a second ago. He stands motionless under an umbrella, seemingly unbothered by the rain, expression vaguely irritated, and his eyes seem to flash green in the light. "I have been instructed to escort you inside."

The child doesn't move in any way but the gates slowly swing open, the creaking sounds sound straight out of a horror movie. Once they are fully opened, the boy turns and starts walking down the path without a word.

The league, some members quite freaked out at this point, follow him after exchanging some looks. They round a bend in the path and the manor comes into view. It is a massive dark structure, rising from the ground. Another lightning strike illuminates pointed spires, jagged edges, and it's gloomy, gothic nature. The sound of bats shrieking can be heard in the distance over the rain.

The league finally arrives at the front door, cold, wet, and thoroughly discomfited. An old man, a butler, looking out of time, opens the door, the child disappears inside. The butler welcomes everyone inside graciously but with a distant politeness. Despite the appearance of the exterior, the inside is well lit with warm light and seems inviting, though ostentatious. The league is relieved.

Until another massive lightning strike and thunder clap cuts the power off and the room is pitch black.

"Oh, you're here," a deep voice says from somewhere up above. No sooner are the words out than another lightning strike illuminates a dark, hulking figure on the staircase that was also definitely not there a second ago. At least two people scream.

Bruce is wildly confused as to why his guests are screaming, he didn't think any of them were afraid of the dark? The back up generator kicks on and the lights come back on and everybody seems to calm down. The rest of the dinner seems to go well (as well as a dinner can with the justice league and all of Bruce's kids) but strangely, to Bruce's confusion, it somehow only made his "spooky" reputation worse. He's not really sure why the whole league seems to think he lives in a haunted house.

[em-ontv]

Get a room.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly bad hunt, you were patching Dean up in the motel room, but he said he needed to be healed up the right way.

Content: fluff(?), kisses, Sam kind of being the third-wheel, no use of y/n, mentions of injury

English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: 698

You and Dean had just stumbled back to the bunker after a long, exhausting hunt. It was one of those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did. Dean had taken a hit from some nasty vamp, even after you told him to be careful, but Dean? Nah, that word wasn't in his vocabulary. And while he made no big deal of the gash, you knew it was serious enough to need a little patching up.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off, grimacing slightly as you cleaned up the deep cut on his shoulder.

"Ow—! Careful," Dean grimaced, shooting you a mocking glare. "You trying to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Quit being a baby," you shook your head. "You're lucky this didn't go deeper."

“I’m always lucky,” Dean responded, a smirk spreading across his face despite his slight wince when you dabbed the cloth on his wound again.

"Uh-huh. I should just leave you to bleed out next time, it would save me a whole lot of trouble." you muttered, beginning to bandage him up, nodding in approval of your work once you secured it.

Dean shifted, sighed, then flashed you a lopsided grin. "I think you missed a step, sweetheart."

"What step?" you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“For me to fully heal… there’s only one thing that’ll work.”

“What?" you almost rolled your eyes. "Lemme guess, whiskey and pie?”

He grinned wider. “Nope. Kisses. Specifically, from you. On my face. All over. Only way this wound’s gonna close up right.”

You snorted. “Right. Because that's definitely how medical science works.”

Dean winced dramatically. “You don’t believe me? It’s a foolproof healing method. I swear it.”

"C'mon, don't leave me hanging here—this is life or death." He added for good measure, tapping a finger to his cheek.

Despite yourself, you laughed. “You are so full of it, Winchester.”

“One kiss. Or like… fifty. But who's counting?” He shrugged.

You sighed, fully aware you were playing into his game but too tired to fight it. You leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, where his finger tapped relentlessly until you gave in.

“There you go,” Dean said, clearly pleased. “But you missed a spot—” He pointed to another area, so you kissed it too. “And there—” Another kiss. “And the forehead—” You kissed his forehead. “And—”

“Okay, Dean, that’s enough."

"Not enough. I can still feel the pain." He let out an over-the-top groan.

You sighed in exasperation, considering to either just punch him across the face or keep giving into him—you chose the latter.

Just as you were placing more kisses onto his face—the grin on his lips made him look like a love-drunk idiot—the door swung open.

Sam walked in with some takeout bags, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening as he took in the scene: you, practically sitting on Dean’s lap, showering his face with kisses, while Dean looked way too proud of himself.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam groaned, immediately making a beeline to the table to avoid getting another glance at the two of you.

"Hey, it's a part of the healing process, Sammy." Dean smirked, looking over to his brother.

Sam blinked, then made a face like he just swallowed something sour. “Gross. Seriously, guys, get a room.”

“We’re technically in a room, you know.” you said, getting off of Dean who seemed too reluctant to let you go.

"A room that you walked into." Dean added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Sam set the food down, still shaking his head in disbelief. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe give me a warning first so I know not to come in while you guys are having a whole smooch-fest."

"You're just jealous."

"You two are impossible."

"Buzzkill."

Sam just groaned in annoyance again, starting to unpack the food.

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling a bit guilty—though not that guilty. You glanced at Dean, who tugged on your hand with a happy expression.

"Next time, we're giving you painkillers." you said, lifting your hand up and running your finger through his hair.

"Not a chance." Dean smiled.

[covetyou]

kissogram

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Teen (18+ only blog!) warnings: drunk Joel, soft possessive Joel, lovesick Joel, wingman Tommy, fluff, idiots in love and in denial word count: 1.8k summary: A familiar sound wakes you from the soft slumber you'd not long fallen into - sounds you'd dreamed about in the months since meeting Joel Miller. This time, as you creep down the stairs to come face-to-face with your intruder, you can be certain it's not a man decked out in plush red velvet.

A/N: happy birthday to Joel Miller, happy TLOU day to us, and, most importantly, happy GOD DAMN IT ARE YOU CLOSE TO SAYING YOU LOVE EACH OTHER YET day to these two babies.

I'll be back with more dress up!Joel in 5 weeks 💛

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A familiar sound wakes you from the soft slumber you'd not long fallen into. The click of a door. The woosh of your house decompressing. Muffled footsteps. They were sounds that your own ears hadn't heard in months, and yet ones you'd heard a hundred times over in your dreams since that first day you met Joel, decked out in plush red velvet in front of your Christmas tree.

It's why, when you fully come to and pull yourself up onto your elbows, you find yourself blinking in confusion in the dark. Dreams and reality are tricky things to figure out when you're on the precipice of both. And, while the sound of foreign footsteps on your living room floor was something you dreamed about - fantasized about - a feeling of unease is quickly creeping up your spine the longer you listen to the hushed tones coming from downstairs.

Whatever - whoever - it is, isn't even trying to be discreet, not by the way your door suddenly slams and something rattles against the wall.

You don't even try to be discreet either, jumping from your bed and stomping over to the door. It's stupid, maybe. Probably.

Almost definitely.

The first time may have worked out well for you by creeping down to find Joel in your house, but that didn't mean any other break-in was going to go as well for you. Now, all these months later, you didn't even have your old umbrella to arm yourself with as you throw open the door and fly downstairs, hoping the element of surprise will save you.

Slamming your hand against the wall, you drench your living room in artificial light so suddenly your eyes can barely adjust before you're screaming out into the room in a feeble attempt to scare off your intruders.

"Get ou- what the fuck?!"

"Jesu-"

"Fu-"

The scene in front of you is a mess. Mail you'd left on your coffee table earlier is strewn all over the floor, your bowl of knick-knacks over turned in the middle, and two of your sofa cushions dumped onto the floor.

Most baffling of all are the people in the room. You know them. Of course you do. Who else would it be. Joel Miller is stood - or rather, he's being propped up - in your living room, gripping onto his brother as he desperately tries to keep his legs beneath him.

"Tommy? Joel? What the fuck are you two doing here?"

Joel, who by now has caught the sound of your voice, has stopped trying to keep himself upright, and is instead staring dozily at you, a lopsided smile spreading across his face. Tommy, meanwhile, is now taking almost the full weight of his older brother, and suffering for it, barely keeping his own legs from buckling as grunts and groans.

"I dropped him home but he - shit man you're heavy, stop it - he kept wanderin' this way. Kept askin' about a goodnight kiss. Told him I'd give 'im one but -"

"Hi," Joel cuts in suddenly, slurring around the simple greeting as he moves toward you despite Tommy's protests.

"Joel," you say in warning, as the broad man stumbles toward you on drunken feet.

In response, he raises a single finger, clearly much slower than he intended to, and the smile on his face spreads even wider.

"No."

"No? What? Joel, look I think you sho-"

"Birthday Joel. 'm Birthday Joel," he grins, and you can't help but supress a laugh. This is maybe his most lackluster costume yet. He has a crumpled party hat on and the same clothes you saw him leave in earlier this evening, and it makes you wonder how long he's been keeping that one in tonight - whether he told his friends the same thing down at the bar, or if he'd been holding it back just to tell you. By the proud look on his face, and Tommy's confusion, you suspect the latter.

"Hey there, Birthday Joel," you say with a soft smile. "Now, what're you doing over here and not at your own place? It's late, Joel. I said I'd see you in a couple of days -"

"Birthday Joel deserves a birthday kiss."

You raise your eyebrow at him, stopping his stumbled wobble in its tracks. "Deserves?"

"Wants. I jus' - I jus' wanted to kiss you," he breathes, looking down at your mouth with another smile so soft your breath leaves you in a quiver as you try not to embarrass yourself by letting loose the bubble of affection sitting in your belly.

Naturally, you'd given Birthday Joel plenty of kisses earlier today - a day that technically wasn't even his birthday yet - before Tommy came to pick him up. You'd given him so many kisses he was almost late out the door to his own birthday drinks. Tommy had rolled his eyes then just as he is now, slapping his brother on the back and steadying him all in one move.

"Told you, man," Tommy says. "She wouldn't 'ppreciate bein' woken up just to kiss your ugly ass."

Tommy winks at you, and tries to manouvere Joel toward the door, but Joel, somehow speedy despite his drunkenness, manages to round back to you, arms spread and ready to envelope you in a hug before he stops himself and instead delicately grabs your hands.

"Jus'... Jus' missed you," he hiccups. "Missed - missed my girls."

"Okay, Prince Charmin', I'm tired, you're drunk, we all gotta sleep, let's go."

"Tommy?" you say, letting Joel's thumbs caress the back of your hands as he holds them, refusing to let go even as Tommy tries, and fails, to tug him toward the door once more. "I can drop him home, if you wanna get goin'?"

For a second, it looks like Tommy's ready to object, determined to get his brother back home and in bed, just like he promised. But then he looks at his brother, and the lovesick look on his face, and decides to leave well enough alone.

"I'll see you at dinner tomorrow," he says to Joel. "Sarah's bein' dropped off at-"

"At ten, I know," he slurs. "Miss her. Missed you. My girls."

After a minute of prising your hands out of Joel's, you see Tommy out, walking with him to your door. The spare house key you'd entrusted to Joel months ago is deposited safely into your hand, before he wishes you luck with the birthday boy, and jogs the short distance through the darkness to his truck and zips away into the night. Joel, who you'd left unattended for all of two minutes, has already taken it upon himself to flop down onto your couch, and is fighting a losing battle with his drooping head as you approach.

"C'mere," he mumbles with a wobble to his head, hands making a reach for you.

"You're still after that kiss, huh?"

"Uh-huh," he says, grinning again as you hinge, bringing your face close to his.

His eyes flutter closed before you even close the distance, pressing soft kisses to the corners of his smiling mouth, before pressing a softer, lingering kiss to his lips.

"That good enough for you, Birthday Joel?" you whisper.

"Mm. S'good. Missed you."

"You've said that already."

"S'true."

"I'm gonna get you some water, sober you up a bit before I get you home."

Joel is asleep on his side, legs pulled up onto the couch, when you come back with water. You doubted you'd get him home tonight, with the state he's in, but you were at least hoping to get him upstairs and into bed, where he could better sleep off whatever demons were coming for him in the morning. As he starts to snore, face pressed into the couch cushion, you're suddenly very grateful that he won't make it up the stairs.

You tidy up the small tornado of mess that's torn through your living room. Mail is picked up and put where you should've left it in the first place, the bowl is righted and its contents replaced, the cushions are shoved back on the couch. Assessing the man himself, you soon realise there's no way you're getting him comfortable without waking him, so you prod his side, waiting until he wakes before whispering gently to him.

"Joel? Let me get this shit off you," you say, tugging at his shoes.

For all his drunkenness, he does try to help. He fumbles with his belt buckle, getting it halfway undone before his frustrated grunts turn to curses, and your hands replace his. In no time his belt is off, and he's kicking off his pants, reaching for you and dragging you to sit beside him again.

"Joel, you're drunk, we're not playing -"

"Jus' a kiss," he asks, tapping his cheek with a smile that crinkles his eyes.

It's impossible not to give in, or smile too as you press your lips to his cheek and he hums softly, already letting sleep claw back at him.

"'Nother one," he says, as his eyes droop.

"You're drunk, Joel. You should sleep."

"Not Drunk Joel - Birthday Joel," he mumbles, with a sleepy smile as you pull off his crumpled birthday hat and toss it aside.

"Then get some sleep, Birthday Joel."

You stand, your weight shifting off the couch and jostling Joel, his head already so heavy with sleep it wobbles to the side. His hand still finds yours though - pulling you to a stop as you try to creep back upstairs.

"Come to dinner? Tomorrow? Come meet Sarah," he asks, brave with sleep. "Want - both m'girls there."

He'd hesitated asking you all week. You could tell by the way he stumbled over the words each time he explained his birthday plans - bar with the boys the night before, dinner and a movie with Sarah and Tommy on the big day. The lengthy pauses had been filled with an invitation he could never quite get out, and you didn't want to fill in the blanks yourself.

He's dozing, already mostly asleep, by the time you can even answer him. So, instead you stroke softly at his hair, watching as his whole body suddenly gives in to sleep, giving him a final kiss on his cheek, and whispering in his ear;

"Ask me again in the morning, Birthday Joel. Ask me then, and I'll say yes."

In the morning, when you're both sipping coffee and Joel is nursing a hangover the likes of which he's never seen, you don't expect him to keep to words he was too tired to hear. But, he does, not meeting your eye as the words he was never brave enough to say until last night come spilling out once more.

And, just like you said you would, you say yes.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123

@valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather

@stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger

[bitchimasnake-sss]

YOUR YUJI FIC WAS SO YUMMY 😳 I would love a part 2 if you’re ever up for writing it! 🥹

GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM THE FUCKING DEAD. ME. ME. I AM BACK AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH (im sorry i just missed writing). well, anyways, with me comes the power of horny <3

ps: this took me fucking four days to write and i don't even think it's good 😭😭 writers block is a bitch

🧸learning some lessons ft. yuuji itadori!

continuation of my previous fic "teaching some lessons", so, i suggest read that first to ensure you're fully immersed into the horny storyline. set-up: yuuji itadori. the quarterback, the guy you're giving "sex ed" lessons, and ofcourse, the brother of your childhood best friend sukuna. what could ever go wrong with this combination? nothing, i hope? warnings: contains nsfw concepts such as yuuji's first time, overstimulation, penetration, a bit of porn logic. and as always, sukuna, nobara and megumi are fucking menaces. stay blessed y'all, and minors DO NOT INTERACT I WILL FIND YOU AND HUNT YOUR ASSES. [ALSO A LITTLE BIT OF TOJI AND GOJO SLANDER IM SORRY] wc: 6.4k porn with A LOT of plot [like 70% plot im sorry]

"dude." megumi's usual nonchalant demeanor had faded in a matter of seconds. now, each of his drawled out words had a certain twinge of dread, "this is actually fucking insane."

"hm?" the pink-haired quarterback didn't even bother to dignify his best friend's statement with a proper answer. he was too busy rapidly pressing the controls, trying to get the shots right.

but megumi's hand had gone slack, the controller barely held limply in his palm. he turned to stare down the forementioned pink-headed idiot. he repeated himself, "yuuji."

"gumi—" yuuji hissed back, "we're losing, fucking focus."

"you just told me that you're fucking sukuna's best friend. her." megumi deadpanned, "the only thing i need to focus on is arranging your funeral."

yuuji hissed through his teeth as his player got shot right in the head and a definitive 'GAME OVER' flashed all across the tv screen. he sunk backwards into the comfortable couch at the fushiguro household. megumi shifted backwards too, slumping next to his best friend with a resigned sigh.

the house was eerily quiet, save for the sounds of the background score of the game playing in the background. yuuji knew tsumiki was out shopping with her friends, and gojo was out annoying the hell out of someone or the other (possibly, coach nanamin). who else was to be considered in the fushiguro household? toji fushiguro? he was an enigma. he came when he felt like and left just as soon. a model poster boy for giving people daddy issues, yuuji presumed.

"have i told you your couch is super nice?" yuuji asked as he stared at the overhead lighting before sweeping his gaze over the modern living room.

"multiple times."

the quarterback snorted, "you remember the time i got drunk—"

"—and tried to take the couch home. yes, i do. i also remember the time sukuna chased you with a knife cause you took his last pack of cheetos. imagine what he would do when you take his best friend."

yuuji pouted, giving megumi a side-eye he couldn't miss, "you're no fun."

"be for fucking real." the raved head sat up, turning towards yuuji at lightning speed. his eyes squinted in scrutiny, "you're the one making idle chit-chat as if sukuna isn't gonna kill you the moment he finds out what you and her have been up to."

"yeah but—" yuuji sighed, rubbing his palms against his face slowly, "is it really that big of a deal? i mean, it's just a few lessons here and there. it's not like she likes me or something—"

"—yeah, she probably won't. ever. considering she called you her little brother."

"oh, fuck off, gumi. that was when we were five."

"just pointing down the obvious."

"i knew i should have told nobara about the situation. she would have given much better advice."

"kugisaki would have laughed at you so hard, she would have cried." megumi got up, probably to get some more chips. as he left, he quipped over his shoulder, "you're catching feelings for someone who doesn't have that kind of interest in you, itadori. you will end up looking like an idiot at the end. and possibly dead."

well, maybe megumi fushiguro had a point. but that point was so goddamn hard to see with your thighs pressed on either sides of his face.

🧸lesson 04: maybe making girls cry is okay sometimes

"mhm- ngh oh my god. yuu." yuuji placed his tongue flat against your pulsating clit. you bucked into his face, pressing his mouth messily to your hot core as you showered him in breathless praises.

nobody was home. kuna was probably gonna be home later at night and so, you both had decided his room as the venue for your next 'lesson'.

you weren't even sure which numbered orgasm it was at this point. and you weren't sure if you even existed anymore outside of yuuji and his face and his tongue and yuuji.

red, hot need ran it's course through your body as the jock manhandled you. his calloused palms pulled your jerking hips downwards to steady them and then, pulled you hastily towards himself. yur jaw fell open, going slack at the torturous stimulation yuuji had the audacity to hum in approval when you momentarily went slack under him.

"yuuji, yuuji. yuu. pl-please please- stop. st-" tears pricked at your eyes as you called out his name in a futile attempt to get him to stop. your hands bunched at his sweaty locks, pushing and pulling to get his wicked tongue on your sensitive cunt to ease up.

but the jock was unforgiving.

his tongue dipped within you, your muscles contracting and spasming against his pretty face as his nose dug deeper against your clit. his tongue was fast, delving in and out of you methodically as you bucked and keened under his touches. the salty tears fell down your cheeks.

"yuu—" you mumbled in a weak voice and he finally looked up so as to assess the damage.

"hm?" his mouth finally parted from yours, messy and sticky.

and when yuuji looked up at you, he was sure this is the last sight he would see before he was condemned to hell for the rest of eternity. your eyes were watery, lips swollen and quivering. you could barely keep your vision straight before you clenched your eyes shut and tried to pry him off of yourself.

so fucking pretty that it made him ache. and that only pushed him to kiss inner thigh and lick a soft stripe up your gushing cunt, getting back to what he was previously doing.

"fuck fuck fuc— yuu, no. no more. p-plea— fuck." you stomach was full of something hot and molten, something jittery and unstable. something that sounded and tasted a lot like yuuji itadori.

the quarterback stayed on his knees, bringing his forefinger and thumb to pinch and rub your wet clit as your thighs shook, your eyes rolled backwards and your back arched. he grinned — a feral sight — as you finally came undone on his tongue again.

he finally pulled himself upwards, using his discarded tshirt to clean off his face. as he stood before you, all he could do was watch you awestruck.

you were heavenly.

your spent figure was slumped on his bed; t-shirt pushed up to expose your bruised tits and your legs pressed together as you tried to come back on mother earth. your eyes were still closed, cheeks wet from tears and yuuji had to stop himself from begging you to let him fuck you tonight.

but he abstained. of course not. that was insane. you would never let him go that far, would you? so, instead he chose to lie down next to you and pull you into his chest.

you nudged your cheek against his pecs, finding refuge in his warmth and he gladly let you, allowing a small smile on his face. his fingers came up to push back strands of hair from your sweaty forehead and then wipe away the salty tears that had made home against the plane of you cheeks. once he was sure you had caught your breath, he pressed a sweet kiss to your skin. finally, he mumbled, "sorry, did i go too far?"

you shook your head no, curling further into him with ease. and he let you. he shifted his position so as to allow your skin on his, so as to press his nose to your hair and smell that strawberry shampoo, so as to almost pretend for a second that you were his.

but you didn't let the show run for long. a few minutes later, as you felt the energy returning to your body, you attempted to get up.

the jock's eyebrows furrowed, he sat up with you, "something wrong? do you want something? water or—"

"—no, no." you turned to give him a weak smile, "i think i'm just gonna go shower before kuna is home and he finds me like this."

oh. ofcourse. how could he forget the ever-looming threat that was sukuna?

"can you walk?" he asked earnestly, offering you his tshirt so you could put it on, "i can walk you to the shower, if you want."

"i'll be okay, yuu." you poked your head through his shirt, trying to stand up. but your legs immediately wobbled and you lost balance, "—fuck. okay. i guess not."

yuuji offered you a smile, picking you up bridal style as you squealed at his action. a blush crept up your neck and face, "what are you doing?!"

"what? i think i should be responsible for the mess i create, shouldn't i?" he gave you a cheeky smile, the kind where the cut under his eye came alive and he grinned ear to ear. a boyish grin, perhaps. and you were fortunate enough to be on the recipient end of it.

you weren't sure what it was that you felt for yuuji, or what you didn't. all you knew that right now — as he carried you out of his room clad in a t-shirt that smelt like him — it was as if he was aware of the sudden jump your heart and wanted nothing more than to be the cause of your untimely death.

"you don't have to do this." you mumbled.

what did 'this' refer to, exactly? you weren't quite sure. was it the fact that he had entertained your drunken idea for such a long amount of time? or was if the fact that in the moments even when you weren't offering him something physical, he still looked at you as if you hung up stars in the night sky for him? maybe it was as simple as the fact that he was carrying you to run you a bath.

he stayed quiet and you repeated yourself louder, "really, yuuji, you don't have to."

"i want to." and that was all he said.

you felt his biceps tense under you as he shifted your weight on one arm and attempted to open the door with the other. he gave you a reassuring smile, and you nudged your face against his chest to hide your embarrassment at his simple answer.

once he finally was through, he walked into the lliving room, attempting to make his way to the bathroom down the hallway whe—

"YUUJI?!" a voice boomed from the door and both of you whipped your head to look at the man that stood there.

ever heard of divine intervention? yeah, this was whatever the fuck is the opposite to that. satanic intervention. cursed intervention, perhaps.

"ON—ONICHAN?!"

"CHOSO?!" you scrambled off of yuuji, hitting the ground with a muffled thud.

choso immediately looked away from his half-naked brother and the girl in his brother's t-shirt*.

(*yeah, okay, just try to understand the family dynamics for a second. choso [24] is the oldest and he has graduated uni and has a job now. sukuna and (yn) [21] are in their third year, and yuuji [20] is in his second. choso knows who (yn) is since you and kuna are childhood besties or whatever. so... yeah okay, back to the shitshow 👍🏻)

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" choso asked loudly, his eyes still averted from you both so as to not accidentally see your exposed form.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?!" yuuji retorted as you hid behind his broad figure instinctively, trying to recover whatever ounce of modesty you had.

"I OBVIOUSLY HAD THE KEY TO MY OWN HOME?!"

"WELL, DON'T WALK IN UNANNOUNCED? DO YOU HAVE NO MANNERS?"

"yuuji."

"IM SORRY 'NICHAN!!"

and that is how choso found out about your little arrangement. and that is how you both decided to never have another rendezvous session at the itadori's.

🧸lesson 05: you got this, itadori!

"what the fuck?" megumi asked slowly, eyeing yuuji as the jock shoved some french fries down his mouth.

"YEAH, WHAT THE FUCK?!" nobara repeated, louder. to which, megumi gave her a side-eye, "we're in public, kugisaki."

yuuji took his time, sipping his coke before shrugging, "yeah, so, 'nichan found out."

nobara shook her head, "no. no. turn around 360—"

"—180. 360 makes a circle."

"die, megs. anyways, turn around and tell me that part of the story where you started—" the red-head shuddered, "—doing stuff with senpai. why?! how?! why?! how??"

yuuji took a bite from his burger before saying, "well, she offered."

"fuck that all. it's old news."

"for you. cause, apparently, i was left out of the loop—"

"—much sad. anyways, is choso okay with you and her? or is he gonna snitch you out to sukuna?"

"i mean, no. i don't think so, no." yuuji tried to steal a fry off of nobara's plate and she smacked his hand off, "ow kugisaki! whatever. he gave me a long lecture about how i should actually pursue her and officially ask her out if we wanna keep doing this. after that, for whatever unrelated reason, he cried about how quickly we grew up."

"virgin behavior." nobara stuck out a tongue, quickly reeling out of her disbelief over the fact that yuuji was getting some, "i mean, that's old-fashioned. you don't have to date her, you know?"

"but your brother's not wrong, is he?" megumi offered. "don't keep doing this just cause you want a way to get your dick wet."

"megs, it's not 1920. they are consensual adults and they can just fool around if they're on the same page."

"yeah but about that—" yuuji tried to sneak in a fry from megumi's plate now, "—i think i'm in love with her. and i am pretty sure the feelings are one-sided."

"huH?!"

"what?" the jock looked at the two dumbfounded, "i like her. she's pretty and smart and i think— i like her."

he didn't think he liked you. he knew that he was whole-heartedly, as stupidly as humanly possible, in love with you.

but he didn't bother mentioning the fact.

he didn't bother mentioning a plethora of things, in fact. first, that his heart had been offered to you at the ripe age of four when he first realized that sunlight got caught against your hair strands somewhat magically, and when you smiled, he smiled; and that when he cried, you kissed his imaginary wounds better even when sukuna made fun of him.

he didn't bother mentioning that when he asked you to marry him, there was only such a small part of him that was 'joking', the larger chunk of him would have exchanged his soul for some sort of forbidden alchemy to be with you.

he didn't bother mentioning that when he was thirteen, a slew of girls had asked to be his girlfriend, and he had turned down each one of them to sneak in his first kiss with you.

but all those years of pining just turned into a small ball of anxiety, ever-growing in his stomach. he knew you didn't feel the same. so, he didn't bother saying any of that. because, well, frankly, his situation seems just a tiny-teensy bit pathetic.

"i guess i just like her... just a bit." he repeated, more to himself than others.

"we heard the first time. and the second."

"DUDE" nobara's eyes widened, "she's sukuna's best friend."

"hey, what happened to the fact that we are consensual adults fooling around?"

"oh no, fuck that. i was humoring you." nobara shook her head, "sukuna's gonna murder you."

"yeah, i know." yuuji sighed, his playfulness replaced by something more mature, "i am not gonna ask her out. i think i'm gonna call this— whatever this is— off. i don't want her to lose her friendship with 'kuna, and she... well, she probably doesn't like me anyways."

megumi and nobara exchanged a sorry expression among themselves before looking back to yuuji. but the jock put on a smile, "ah it's fine, it was fun while it lasted." he leaned back in his seat, "wanna catch a movie after this? human earthworm is out."

so the quarterback had gone back home that day with a certain resolve. he would call this off.

he put on his lucky red sweatshirt, put on the cologne you had complimented once when he had gone for one of his lessons, and he put on his best fake smile. as he passed by sukuna in the living room, he guiltily looked away from him and walked out of the door as soon as possible.

"where ya going?" the tatted man asked, not looking up from his phone.

"nowhe—" he sighed, running a hand through his hair before he bent downwards to put on his shoes, "with gumi and nobara. we're going to the arcade."

"you've been hanging out with the fushiguro kid quite a lot nowadays. a lot of sleepovers."

yuuji's fingers halted, slowly fidgeting with the shoelaces before he threw sukuna a casual look, "he's my friend. and his dad is out of town so i go over. got an issue?"

"nah, do whatever." kuna met his eyes but then went back to his phone without saying much. a beat later, he continued, "well, let me know if you'd be home in time for dinner."

yuuji stood up, dusting off his clothes, "you're cooking today?"

"yeah, thought i'd invite her over. she likes that pasta i make."

at the mention of you, yuuji looked over sukuna once. a sharp sting suddenly erupted in his chest like someone had hit him. hard. and, so, without saying anything more, the younger itadori immediately left through the main door.

things must end.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

his fingers skimmed over the ringing bell in front of your apartment as his feet nervously shuffled around at the door. he knew you were on the other side, waiting for him. as the door swung open, he was face to face with your housemate.

"hey?" maki raised an eyebrow, a smug smile on her lips. she was dressed as if she was leaving to go somewhere, "she's in her room."

yuuji simply pursed his lips, nodded and moved past his senior. before walking into your room, he stalled in front of the door, threw his head back to catch maki about to leave, "kugisaki says hi, by the way."

and if yuuji didn't know any better, he would have assumed the glare maki gave was one well-intended to kill him.

he wasn't sure if the room was chilly or if the reason for goosebumps was something else, but nonetheless, he shut the door behind him and stepped into the room. as he came in view with the bed, he found you casually on your back, scrolling your phone.

"yuuji!" you smiled as you sat up, a familiar warmth spreading over your face at his presence. but he merely nodded, his lips drawn into a thin line.

"um," you fidgeted, standing up hastily and laughing to ease the awkwardness, "so, uh— did maki let you in?"

"yeah, she did."

"oh, well, she's going out, so we don't need to worry about her." you paused for a second before your expression fell and you tried again, "hey?"

but a same monotone expression fell across his face, "hey."

"um... is something wrong? in a bad mood or something?"

"not quite." yuuji rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the cold, wooden floors, "i wanted to talk. to you, i mean."

you nodded, although he didn't look up at you to register your expression. he continued softly, "we should stop this."

"what?"

"i—" he looked up at you, quickly sneaking in a steadying breath, "i wanted to thank you for the 'lessons'. it's been fun and i learnt so much, really. but you don't have to do it anymo—"

"why?" you interrupted, "did someone find out?"

"what? no."

"then?" you stepped towards him, your unyielding gaze trained on his face, "do you not... want to do it with me anymore?"

"no, ofcourse not." his eyes widened and he stepped forward in a desperate attempt to comfort you. his palms found purchase against your cheek, "no. that's not what i meant."

"what do you mean then?" you looked up at him, confused.

"i-" he looked at you softly, "i really can't ruin your friendship with sukuna anymore. we need to stop. it has gone for... for way too long, now, hasn't it?"

"—it's just been a few months."

"come on. we both know we need to stop." he confessed, and as his words left you hollow, so did his touch. he pulled away from you and stepped back a teensy bit to allow you some space. "it will be for the best."

you looked at him for a beat. and then one more. finally, "kiss me."

and the jock obliged without any hesitation. his lips were familiar against yours, his hands on your cheek, and his body weight pressing onto you and pushing you backwards into the bed.

the back of your knees hit the wooden frame and you stumbled backwards, falling onto the bed with a muffled thud. but yuuji didn't bother following you and caging you underneath him. instead, he stood at the edge, waiting.

"yuu?" you asked softly.

"are you sure about this?"

and you weren't sure if he was asking that question to you or himself. you weren't sure if his fingers were shaking from the betrayal or the need to hold you against him. but you nodded your head anyways, "yeah. if this is it. if this is the last time then indulge in my stupid ideas one last time." you paused, "please?"

he nodded before swiftly throwing off his hoodie off of his torso an onto the floor. bruises from a few days before laid tattered across his tan skin and his biceps flexed and moved as he slowly caged you under him.

"fuck," he breathed in slowly, taking in your low-lidded gaze, "you're so fuckin' pretty."

your fingers found solace in his pinkish locks and you pulled him closer — till your skin smelt like his perfume and his stuttered breath hit your lips, "yuuji."

"hm?" his eyes ran over your face, and the adoration in his eyes made you feel like he would set the world aflame if you so as even asked him to.

"fuck me."

his pupils widened, cheeks flushed and a breathless gasp got stuck in his throat. at his reaction, you pulled him downwards, kissing him softly before the tendrils of passing seemed to nip down on both of you. soon after, you were nothing more than messy kisses, clashing teeth and wrong decisions.

"fuuck— ha-harder." he moaned as your fingernails sunk into his scalp, pulling him harder against yourself.

your hands travelled downwards to his chest and you pushed him away only to turn him around and straddle his hips. your pelvis rolled over his, the delicious friction driving you delirious as you peered down at the man under you — kiss-bitten lips, tousled hair, flushed cheeks.

yuuji itadori looked at you as if you were his god.

and you played along. rolling your hips, tracing a finger from his jaw down to his pecs as your lips traced the path with soft kisses soon after.

his hips stuttered, trying to meet your shallow teases before he mumbled out a soft, "take off your clothes."

you smiled, putting on a show for him as you slipped out of your tshirt. leaving yourself exposed to his preying eyes, you slowly took off the bra.

"shit, look at you." he raised himself on his elbows, coming upwards to softly kiss your warm skin before slowly licking over your nipple as another hand fondled the other. your head was thrown back at the feeling of his warm mouth on you while his fingers softly tugged at the other.

soon after that, you found yourself rocking yourself on his long fingers as he sunk his teeth in your neck, getting off on the pretty sounds you made as you rut against him almost as desperately as he was. when he caught you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to stay quiet, he pulled your face towards his and kissed you senseless. when he pulled away, his hot breath fanned over your lips, "don't. let me hear, please."

and so senseless moans tumbled down your lips as you you came, still rutting against his hand.

when your breath stilled and you finally met his gaze, all you could was breath out an airy, "fuck me, please."

flushed face, hazy eyes, your mouth parted so prettily at the end of the sentence. who was itadori yuuji to deny you of anything?

"say that again."

🧸lesson 06: fuck it up, itadori!

"n-no protection? are you... sure?"

god, he was adorable.

you held back a laugh as you re-assured him a millionth time, "i'm on birth control, so, no. trust me."

"hm. hm." his breath was caught in his throat as if it were a jagged rock. your hands on his torso felt warm — too warm — as if they would char him and you blinked up at him so prettily as you laid atop those pillows.

"i- one second. i-" his voice was thick, hands slightly shaking as he tried to guide his erection into your slick cunt.

"yuu," you cooed and he looked at you in part hope, part confusion. a laugh escaped you at his expression, "you look like a kicked puppy."

"so-sorry, imjustnervous—" he mumbled, his eyes avoiding yours.

"yuu," you repeated, "this is your first time, right?"

he nodded so softly that it was entirely too easy to miss it. you held back an amused grin, "let me help, okay?"

shockwaves ran through his body as your soft hand slowly took ahold of his dick and ran the tip over your clit, gathering your wetness on the mushroom tip. you both held back a choked sigh as your hand continued the same up and down, up and down, up and down motion till you felt as if yuuji was going to cry just from the teasing.

"h-hey—"

"sorry, sorry. no more teasin', i promise." you replied cheekily, fingers finally guiding him to your sloppy hole. and as the tip finally pushed past the first ring of feeble resistance, a shuddering gasp left the man above you.

pushing in inch by inch, you gasped at the sinful stretch of him filling you. your walls spasmed slightly against him, hugging him so sinfully tight that he wondered if he would pass out just right now. but he couldn't. so he commanded himself to keep moving forward till he was all but buried within you.

"s-shit." his breath was heavy against the dip of your neck and you ran a soft hand through his hair, "you okay, yuu?"

"ye-yeah." he shook his head slowly, descending down on you to sink his teeth into your skin again as he started moving slowly.

"jus like that— yeah."

at first his thrusts were slow and shallow, as if he was just testing the waters. but as you found you keening into his touches and moaning as his tip rubbed against a certain spot, he grew sure of his actions.

his thrusts were now harder, a bit more precise and his tempo increased as you dug your heels on his back and tugged on his hair to keep him going.

"jesus" you gasped, back arching off slowly as his lower abs caught friction against your clit and his dick started ramming into your with a periodic rhythm. "fu-fuck is it your fuckin first time? for fucks sake, yuuji ngh—"

his breath was laboured, a thin layer of sweat adorning his forehead and nose, "im a quick learner, fuck— you're shi-shit, you're so fucking perfect."

lifting himself up slightly, his hand snaked in between your bodies and he found himself thumbing at your clit with ease.

"yuuji—" your voice pitched up as his circles grew in pressure. already overstimulated from his administrations on your poor cunt, you felt the pressure building inch by inch till it grabbed ahold of your body and shook you to your very core.

under him, you grabbed hastily at the sheets, at the pillow, at his hair, at anything to keep yourself on this plane of consciousness as he kept drawing messy figures on your clit and fucked into your cervix with reckless abandon.

and that unsteady, familiar feeling grew and grew and grew till it turned your body to jello and burst inwards, "f-fuck shit, ohmygod im cummin im cummin im cumm— FUCK YUUJI—"

his fingers pressed hastily against your lips but the cockiness in his voice practically dripped off of him and onto you, "shh, someone might hear, pretty."

his thrusts grew erratic, nudging him more and more towards a certain, familiar kind of high. his face found solace against your shuddering body as he cursed and spilled inside you.

"fuck." he cursed one last time as he breathed you in, just laying atop you having spent himself.

he slowly pulled himself upwards, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose, and you gave him a spent smile, the kind that had quickly became his favorite. he slowly pulled himself out, and caught the milky white gushing out of your cunt.

and with that, itadori yuuji lost all sanity.

next you knew, your face was being pressed into the mattress, your cunt being ravaged by his unforgiving dick ramming in and out easily.

"fuc-fuck, sogood so fuckin' good—"

his chest was against your back, his weight pressing down on your so deliciously and trapping you under him. you pressed your face harder into the mattress, screaming out muffled renditions of his name as he softly pinched your clit.

"i'm sorry, baby, im so fuckin' sorry" but he sounded anything but sorry as he whispered hotly in your ear, both his fingers and his dick doing everything in their power to turn you into nothing more than a woman maddened with his touch.

your fingers sunk into the sheets underneath, your death-grip growing even more deadlier as he fucked into you as a man depraved.

"this 'sthe last time," his words slurred as he left sloppy kisses down your neck, "promise, i promise."

but those promises were nothing more than candied words on his pretty lips, because now he had you on top of him, your back against his chest, his heels digging into your mattress dangerously as he fucked up into you.

"yuu— yuuJI pleaseplease ple— fucking fuc—" your voice grew in pitch, unresolved tears falling down your face as his hands fondled your tits, tugging and tweaking the nipples to his liking, and your own familiar fingers toyed with your clit.

how could he go on for so fucking long? jesus fucking christ.

"i play varsi- fuck varsity," he answered softly, "this is nothin' for me."

he pressed a soft kiss to your neck as his cock split you apart for the nth time and you fell apart on top of the man who claimed to love you more than he loved life and reason itself.

"don't." his voice grew desperate, a hand coming to hold yours over your overstimulated, abused clit, "i didn- say you could stop, did i? keep going. please. one more. fuck. please."

"yuuji stop—"

"—give me one more, please."

"pleasepleaseplease—" you sobbed, your body arching off of him as he brought you to another one orgasm. you eyes rolled back into your skull, a bit of drool dangerously on your bottom lip, and your body went slack so as to let him do as he pleased.

your cunt gushed on his dick, spraying you both in your juices he thrusted into one last time, spilling into your overfilled pussy all over again with a breathless string of pants and moans.

the quarterback collapsed backwards onto your bed with you on top of him. he reluctantly pushed the weight of your sweaty body off of him, and instinctively pressed another kiss to your head.

his hand came up to push back the sweaty hair strands that stuck to you like second skin, and to thumb at the furious blush on your cheeks. your eyes fluttered upwards at him, you barely managing a smile, "thankyou."

"for what?" he turned to his side, taking every feature of you in with a small smile. a beat passed him by in the serene room before he found his heart weighing heavily and lodging itself between his lungs.

"you're so pretty" he found himself mumbling, "i wish i- i wish i could..." but he caught himself before he could make a fool of himself and confess to a passed out girl. he bit the inside of his cheek. maybe it was better if he just left wordlessly. "nothing."

you were asleep. he knew that. but then why did you snuggle closer and whispered a soft, "i love you."

"—huH?!" any and all sanity left the jock at this point. his eyes as wide as saucers as he stared down your softly snoring form, "what did you just say?"

but you said nothing, still softly snoring in your goddamn sleep and yuuji felt like he was going insane. did you say it??? did he imagine it??? is this a punishment from the devil (sukuna) itself??? what was real anymore? was he real???

and hey what does a panicked twenty year old does when faced with the possible conundrum of his crush of fifteen years having feelings for him?? he runs.

yuuji itadori never had put on his clothes faster than he did right this moment. hastily putting one leg into the sweats and then another, he dashed to make his way to the door. before stepping out, he looked back at you one last time.

fuck itadori, are you dumb?! she doesn't love you like that. it's the post-sex hormones. his consciousness begged in the voice of megumi fushiguro, which was a bit concerning cause was the voice of reason in his head megumi fushiguro?!

but that was not the issue at hand right now. his voice of reason could be questioned another time. right now? running. yes, that was the plan.

the lock softly clicked and he stepped out into the living room before closing the door ever so slowly behind him.

"done fucking?"

and yuuji's blood ran cold.

he whipped around to peer at a certain, tatted delinquent who was sat on the couch in the living room, "brother?"

"brother? huh?" sukuna laughed, the sound so chilling that yuuji felt his blood freeze ad turn into cement, "bringing out the formalities?"

yuuji's tongue got stuck in his throat and sukuna stood up slowly, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "she wouldn't pick up my calls, and i had a spare key. sorry if i'm fuckin imposing."

"'kuna," yuuji's voice was quiet, "it's not what he looks like."

"hm, it is not?" he flashed the younger itadori an amused smile, "ofcourse it is not. what do you think i think you both did?"

"fu-fucked?" the jock swallowed hard.

"bingo."

"i didn't." yuuji didn't know if he was begging for forgiveness, and if yes, then what for? for betraying sukuna's trust or for feeling satisfied that his brother knew of his conquests?

"you didn't? from what i heard, she seemed a little too happy in there." and now sukuna stood mere inches apart, his hand balled into a neat fist.

"kun—" but yuuji's right cheek bore the fate of getting punched by sukuna.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND, YUUJI?"

the jock nursed his cheek, still reeling from the attack. but a certain flame came alive. he wasn't a fucking child. "YEAH, YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND."

sukuna looked at him in disbelief, "how fucking could you? she meaNS SHIT TO ME, YOU FUCKFACE."

"—SO DOES SHE TO ME."

the man stepped insanely closer, grabbing ahold of yuuji's hoodie's collar, "THEN WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU RUNNING AWAY FROM HER RIGHT NOW? HUH?"

the two boys heaved heavily, anger boiling hot through their veins. finally yuuji spat up, "she told me she loved me."

sukuna's grasp loosened, "what?"

"she fucking told me she loved me."

"and you're running?" sukuna looked at his brother with a strange look. disappointment, perhaps?

"i- it's a mistake. she doesn't." yuuji looked downwards, trying not to show his pain in his soft words, "and... i didn't want to fucking hurt you, asshole."

"so you're a coward?" the tatted man scoffed.

and yuuji pushed his brother back, "fuck you."

"no." sukuna's gaze hardened, "you fuck off, you stupid fucking dipshit. she told you she loves you, and you ran?"

"for fucks sake, sukuna" yuuji breathed in slowly, "i thought you'd be elated she probably doesn't."

"you fucked around with her for god knows how long, pretending i didn't know." sukuna stepped back, his words quieter.

"you knew?"

"i'm not dumb, of course i fucking knew." he paused, "and 'nichan told me."

"jesus fucking christ, 'nichan." yuuji looked down at the floors, "what now?"

"grow a pair, and actually ask her out."

"what?" the jock looked up, confused, "you- wait, you are saying i should ask her out?"

sukuna shrugged, "you've compromised her. you must follow through with the consequences."

"did you watch too much bridgerton? what the fuck is compromised??"

"i did, 'nichan made me watch it. pleasantly surprising, actually." and yuuji was immediately mentally slapped with the image of sukuna enjoying bridgerton.

"huh?" yuuji softly shook his head, "so... what? i like have your blessing or whatever to ask her out?"

the delinquent made a face of disgust, "i'm not a priest, what the fuck do you mean by blessing? yeah, just fucking ask her out."

"and what if she says no?"

"then i will remind you of your failure everyday in life."

yuuji looked at his brother awestruck, "thanks, kuna."

"don't. when you come back home, im gonna beat you to a pulp for fucking my best friend."

"i deserve it."

"fuck yeah, you do." the older itadori made his way to the main entrance, "go fix shit."

and as sukuna left through the door, itadori yuuji slipped back into your room, crawled back into bed with you, and held you close to his chest. softly, as a giddy smile overtook his features, he mumbled, "i love you too."

next morning you woke up next to a fully-clothed yuuji with a swollen right cheek.

"yuu?! why are you dressed?! and what the fuck happened to your cheek?!"

"i fell off your bed."

"what the actual fuck?!"

a/n: IM GENUINELY SO SORRY IF THIS SUCKS ASS, I GOT TOO MUCH INTO CHARACTER WRITING HELPPP!! i really hope it was atleast a fun read, and as i said it took me 4 days just to make it a bit coherent since i'm writing after so long. please forgive me and enjoy the meal. [sorry for any typos and such babes] tagging: @9rvm @jellibean2018 @peekawoocc @kingofthe-egirls @hugmevz [thankyou sm for sending in the request, i was already writing it here so i tagged you <3] misc.: divider by @plutism and header format by @si-eunnis plagiarism not authorized bitch.

[serendipitous-girl]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: he isn't yours so why do you get so jealous?

⊱✿⊰ warnings: jealously, you're possessive but sal likes it, he doesn't believe anyone would love him :( cringy confession; reader is a dork i fear (she is me)

⊱✿⊰ notes: i heard this song and had this daydream and was like dang this would be a fire fanfic so here we are. ALSO WHERE ARE ALL THE SALLY FACE FANS LIKE I WRITE FOR IT GUYS NOTICE ME ahem anyway

⊱✿⊰ taglist: @fashionablysouly @kozumesphone

You had a secret: you were excruciatingly and agonizingly in love with your best friend, Sal Fisher. Okay so maybe it wasn't a secret to anyone except for Sal himself but it was still something you would rather die before Sal found out. He definitely didn't see you that way and he would probably reject you immediately if he found out. So it was safer to just not say anything.

He didn't need to know about the nights spent screaming into your pillow or crying in Ashley's arms over how sickeningly giddy his voice made you. He didn't need to know how easily he made your heart beat like you ran a marathon or how easily he made you feel like your head was in the clouds.

However that led to dilemmas such as the one you found yourself in currently. You were probably the most aware of Sal'a attractive but unfortunately, you were not the only one to notice it. So it was common as was happening right then, to find a girl start talking his ear off obviously trying to flirt with him.

"You're so funny, Sallyy," The girl giggled, sitting across from Sal at the cafeteria table. You tried to stop your glare from settling into your face but it was far too late, jealousy was disease that affected you quickly and viciously.

She was beautiful with tanned skin and soft lips, she was perfect and far more in the league of someone as incredible of Sal. But no, she doesn't deserve Sal. She doesn't know him like you do, she doesn't ache in her bones at the thought of being near him. She can't have him.

"You might as well leave." Larry commented to her, seeming far to amused as he glanced at you. You felt self conscious and tried to relax your face from the deadly look you had been casting on that girl. He continued, "[Name] is far too jealous to let you stay for much longer."

Murder should be legal, you quickly decided as you shot a look at Larry that made him well aware he would not be living for much longer. Why the hell would he say that? In front of Sal too?

Did he want you to die of heartbreak? Surely Larry fucking Johnson was praying on your downfall because there is no other logical reason for him to have done that. Unless he has a death wish.

"[Name] isn't dating Sal. Isn't that right, honey?" The girl replied, placing her hand over top Sal'`. That was when you snapped; how dare she touch Sal?

Before you could fully process thinking you grabbed her wrist and yanked it away from Sal. You looked at her, trying to cool the inferno of anger in your gaze as you said, "That boy is mine. Touch him again and I break all of your bones."

The girl let out a whimper and quickly rushed away, leaving a majority of the lunch room's eyes on you. You sunk into your seat, far too afraid to glance at the blue haired boy beside you. You were beyond embarrassed by your possessiveness, who were you to say he was yours?

Larry and Ashley were absolutely cackling, way too amused to see this side of you publicly outed to the boy you loved with your entire soul. Sal turned to look at you, his prosthetic hiding any hint of emotion you could have gotten.

"I'm yours?" He asked, his voice making your tummy rumble and roll. Even his voice was attractive, it physically wasn't fair to exist beside him and not have him to kiss and hold.

"Have you really not noticed, Sally?" Ashley asked, nudging you on the shoulder. You bit the inside of your cheek, preferring none of this to happen. Why did your feelings have to come out this way?

Sal made a confused noise but you grabbed his arm, and said, "Can I talk to you alone?" He nodded and let you lead him away from the lingering stares, into the hallway which was far more empty.

"What's up with you?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt his gaze on your face, making it warm even more. Although that didn't seem quite possible with how feverish every inch of your skin felt. You looked down at your shoes, trying to stall the confession.

"I don't want you dating anyone." You said finally, jealously arising yet again as you remember that girl flirting with Sal. He let out a huff of confusion, his eyes still directly on you. Crap, you had to explain more.

"Seeing those girls flirt with you or hearing them make those vile comments about the things they want to do to you. It makes me so angry, it isn't fair. I don't want you dating anyone except for me. I want you to be my boyfriend." You ranted, feeling your blood boil as you remember all the times you had gotten jealous.

When Sal froze, you realized what you said. Oh no no no, he is going to reject you and never talk to you again. If only there was a self destruct button on your body you could press in this moment.

He kept staring at you, making you wish you could see beneath his mask to have a guess at how he was feeling. How disgusted he might be at your ridiculous feelings for him.

"why do you like....me?" He finally asked, sounding shocked that you could have feelings for him. Your gaze shot back up to meet his, and you saw the surprise (and dare you say, happiness?) in his eye.

"Why wouldn't I like you, Sal? You're so amazing and god I love you so much I think I've gone insane." You replied, feeling almost breathless with this string of honesty. His body finally relaxed and you could almost sense the smile beneath his mask.

"I love you too, [Name.]" Sal replies quietly, "Can I be your boyfriend?"

You felt your lips part with surprise, not believing your ears. Sal must have noticed your shock because he laughed and leaned closer, interlacing your hand with his deliciously cold fingers.

"Yes, you can be my boyfriend." You said, rambling slightly. You must've been injected with a dose of caffeine because you kissed his mask right where his lips lay under. Then you ran away, giggling like a lunatic. You stopped in a hallway, feeling flushed and faint and giddy and ridiculous.

Finally that boy truly was yours.

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ A Human's Sparkling — Starscream x Human!GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Yes I'm aware this is obviously indulgent but I think about this a lot so SHHH LEMME HAVE THIS. Also, please note that all my Transformers works will have a mishmash of continuity. I try my best to not write plotholes, but at the end of the day they're a mashup of various bits of lore not tied to one specific adaptation

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Having a relationship with Starscream definitely had its ups and downs. To call it a slow burn would be putting it nicely- it was more like a very very VERY slow burn. Especially because you were human. When he came across you by chance on a mission, he never knew how important you'd be to him. It was a looong time of denial and second-guessing before he finally mustered up the courage to be honest for once

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Things went better than he'd ever expected. Though working through years of trauma and built up unhealthy defense mechanisms, he worked with you and let himself be loved for once. Still, he felt like he had a long way to go. The idea of siring kids didn't come to him for a very long time

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You'd brought it up first, and of course Starscream went into a long complaining tangent about how sparklings were hard to care for, irritating, and quite frankly could eat you both out of house and home. You tried to talk to him about it a bit more once or twice, but eventually you pulled back. If he wasn't ready, that was that. You were content to leave it there

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Until.. one day, after several months of doubt and consideration, he brought the idea back up to you. Now that the war was over, there were quite a few problems of orphaned sparklings. He'd already written off the idea of trying to have a sparkling with you the natural way— he still shuddered thinking about how it would look from that. But this was different. It was a way for him to try and give back to Cybertron like he'd been wanting, and for you to be happy as well. Once he reassured you fully that he did also genuinely want a sparkling now, you two set out to the Space Bridge together

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As was expected, having a sparkling caused a whole new well of problems. Mainly, Starscream had no idea how to be a sire. He didn't exactly have fond memories of his carrier, either. He struggled with realizing that this new sparkling was going to now take up all of his time. You were worried then. You had no doubt that he was trying, but he definitely didn't hide his scowls very well

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Eventually though, you notice his behavior shift. His scowling, as you come to learn, is merely for show. Just an attempt for him to keep up his 'superior commander' look. In reality, he knew more about sparkling care than you thought. He knew how to calm the little one when they got fussy, how to feed and clean them, and you swore you caught him intentionally trying to make them laugh. He hated admitting it, but his actions made it clear. He was learning

ᯓᡣ𐭩 And, obviously, having a sparkling gave you some problems as well. The sparkling loved when you held them, but they were extremely heavy. They loved to crawl around and explore, but could easily break anything. A human home wasn't the typical environment for a little bot. But with Starscream there to aid you, you both managed to keep your eyes (and optics) on them

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Starscream is VERY particular about who gets to hold your sparkling. His Trine are the only bots he let's hold them, and even then it's only for barely five minutes and under full supervision. Primus forbid an Autobot get anywhere near them. His wings will flare out and point up defensively, low growling leaving his voicebox as he presses the sparkling to his chassis, glaring heated daggers

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You're the exception to all his particularness. His protective nature and defensive sneers are aimed towards other bots, but with you, he merely watches as you engage with your little bot. Seeing you two bonding makes his spark finally feel at rest, if only for a moment

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He nitpicks everything pertaining to them. How to hold them, feed them, talk to them, what toys to give them, everything. He's very much a hovering type

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He'll take a while to admit it, but sometimes his spark lurches in a painful way when thinking about how he used to be. Back when he was at his height of power. He doesn't want your sparkling to ever see that side of him, but he almost backs himself into a state of fear mulling over it. Everything he's had to endure... it'll never happen to you, or your sparkling. Not even a tenth of it. He knew from the moment they reached a tiny servo towards his own— he'd rather do it all again than have them feel what he did

[stellaefelices]

On Angeal’s Wings

I just want to put forward some information I’ve come across in the Crisis Core Complete Guide because the developers have provided us with some details that go a long way towards helping us understanding his character.

Angeal receiving white wings was intended to be an indicator of his moral alignment. In Crisis Core, he is positioned as antithetical to Sephiroth because he resisted the malignant influence of Jenova and did not wish to be a force of destruction or suffering as Sephiroth did. The implication here is that Angeal and Sephiroth both had a choice.

“Nomura wanted the three SOLDIER 1sts to have different varieties of wings. He says that Angeal's wings are white to symbolize that he didn't go in a negative direction, and that Sephiroth could have been like Angeal.” (Crisis Core Ultimania, 2007)

This is further supported by the Crisis Core Complete Guide, which has this to say about wing colour:

“The wing which Genesis has on his left shoulder in this game, and which Sephiroth has on his right shoulder in FFVII and AC…According to the development staff, the wings were made black based on the notion of good and evil.”

Angeal and Sephiroth receiving their wing on the same side shows that they are directly opposite. Genesis was fundamentally different from them both, and thus received his wing on a different shoulder, but his purpose before his final battle with Zack was world destruction, and so his wing colour was black. The white wing was unique to Angeal, and the series continues to use white feather symbolism to represent him. More on that under the cut.

“Angeal teaches the principles of humanity with his words, actions, and his whole self. His honest way of life is something indispensable Zack cannot forget.” (Crisis Core Ultimania, 2007)

“Even though he succeeded Angeal’s will, Zack finds himself not only unable to help anyone but also confined in Nibelheim, and is racked by a sense of despair and powerlessness. Angeal gets him back on track, and Zack decides to rise up from it again. This decision is represented by the mental image at the start of chapter 9.

The white feature, as well as being a symbol for Angeal, is also a symbol for ‘wings’. The “wings” which cross the ‘blue sky’ is Angeal, and it also includes the hint that in order to reach those heights, dreams, he needs to overcome many difficulties.”

Given the prior information, this scene in Rebirth is of particular interest.

“Asked if there's any meaning behind the single white feather that flutters by Cloud and Zack in the opening of FFVII Rebirth, Nomura jokes that it might be hinting at something, punning on the Japanese word "anji" (暗示) and the first half of either Angeal or "angel." (FF7 Rebirth Ultimania, 2024)

This makes sense, especially considering the ending scene of Crisis Core:

I get the impression that no matter what world/timeline/Lifestream fragment Zack is in, Angeal is there to watch over him, as his will had always been to help him (as well as Genesis).

“He has said, "If you are to live as a hero, as a SOLDIER, and as a decent person, you must never forget your honor." Those words made a deep impression on his younger colleagues, especially Zack, and lived on in them.” (Crisis Core Ultimania, 2007)

Angeal is portrayed as a lasting positive influence in the world of FF7. His legacy is carried on first through Zack, and then Cloud. They are all dedicated to Angeal’s cause:

There were definitely issues with how he was presented in Crisis Core, but I think they’re trying to rectify past mistakes regarding Angeal in The First Soldier. Maybe give them a chance to do so? PSP was a highly restrictive format to try and tell a fully fleshed out story, after all.

[playgrl0]

baby girl / nanami

wc: 1154

!! not proof read, sorry. + i'm dead, bye !!

! reblogs and comments/feedback are greatly appreciated! they motivate me to continue writing! :)

-

the cry of your baby daughter interrupts your beautiful dream. with a small sigh you sit up and stretch, throwing the covers aside and before you can fully get up, a warm hand rests on your shoulder, stopping you. it's kento's hand, of course. you look over to him, a brow raised. "i'll take care of her. go back to sleep, love." he presses a small kiss to your shoulder and then gets up to go into your daughters room which is right across from yours. you smile, laying back down and getting comfortable beneath the sheets again. it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep again.

kento takes your crying baby girl out of her crib and holds her close to his bare chest. he sits down in the rocking chair that's next to her crib, a small night light softly illuminating the room. he slowly rocks in the chair and gently rubs her back, humming a random melody. she calms down a few moments later and falls asleep quickly. kento chuckles to himself and softly kisses her forehead. he stares down at her tiny body and thinks back to the moment you told him you were pregnant. it is without a doubt one of the happiest moments of his life right after his daughters birth of course. when you told him that you were pregnant, kento wasn't scared for even a second. you are both secure and stable financially, so secure in your relationship and he knew you would be the best parents. the amount of love that spilled out of his body the second you showed him the positive pregnancy test was so overwhelming and he'll never forget the way he felt. he never thought he would be able to love like this, until his daughter was born and the love he felt not just for her but also for you, grew even stronger.

when she was born, kento cried happy tears. he didn't try to hide them or hold them back and he let all his emotions out while he held her against his chest during their first skin-to-skin contact. his tears were dripping down his throat and collarbones and he always made sure to wipe them away before they'd fall onto his daughters face. he swore he would never hurt her. he will love her unconditionally until the end of time. protect her from any harm. accept her always for who she is and who she will become. he'll always, always be there for her and he hopes to be his daughters first love. that he can show her to never settle for the bare minimum because she deserves the entire universe.

it was almost impossible to take his eyes off of her in her first moments and it is still almost impossible now. kento doesn't notice you coming into the room. you're standing next to the rocking chair, gently smiling at the scene next to you. you slowly and softly put your hand on his shoulder, hoping not to startle him. "kento?" he looks up at you with a small smile. "are you okay, love?" he asks. you nod and lean down to kiss his forehead. "i'm okay, are you? you've been gone for a while. thought i'd check on you." you answer him with a yawn. his smile grows as he listens to your tired, quiet voice and he grabs your hand, placing a soft kiss onto your knuckles. "i'm more than okay. she went back to sleep a few minutes after i picked her up but i kinda got lost in thought, i guess." he replies, looking at his baby girl again. she's sleeping with her mouth open, a bit of drool escaping at the side of her mouth. you both chuckle and you take your finger to softly wipe it away. "she's so beautiful." he whispers. "she is." you agree. she has kento's beautiful brown eyes and your nose and the smile is definitely yours as well. she doesn't have much hair yet but the small amount of hair on top of her head is the same color as kento's.

"you know," kento interrupts the silence. "one of the things i love most about her is that she was created purely out of love. all of your and my love for each other mixed together and created this beautiful life. she's living proof of our love and she's the most beautiful soul to ever exist. i love you both immensely." he confesses while still staring at his daughter, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. when you don't respond he looks over at you, looking down at your baby as well but tears are running down your soft cheeks. he takes his thumb and wipes them away. "you okay?" he asks a bit concerned. you nod, sniffling and wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him as close into your side as the rocking chair lets you. "it's just, what you said was sweet. and, you're right. she is our love and she's the most beautiful angel. i love her so much." you lean down to carefully and gently kiss your babies head. "and i love you too, ken. i love you so much." kento smiles and softly kisses your lips for a few moments.

he pulls away and wipes the last tear from your cheek. "we should go back to sleep, you must be tired." he says. you nod and stand up fully again, stretching your arms. "let's take her with us, i want to cuddle her." you yawn as he stands up slowly. he couldn't say no to that. you both walk back into your bedroom where you get in bed first. kento hands you the baby and gets in next to you leaving a small empty space between you both so your daughter can lay there. you hold her for a few more moments, holding her close against your chest and gently rubbing her back. when you hear kento yawn next to you, you put her down in the space kento left for her and he pulls the blanket over all of you. you both lay on your sides, facing each other and your baby. kento wraps his arm as best as he can around your hip, your legs tangled together and it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep again.

kento smiles, he can't believe this is his life. his happy, peaceful life with his two girls by his side. his entire world right here next to him. he gently kisses the tiny, soft cheek of his baby girl and softly squeezes your hip every once in a while. he continues to look at his daughter for a while and doesn't notice his eyes closing and falling asleep. he dreams about having another baby with you and he'll definitely talk to you about it in the morning.

<3 @ playgrl0

[sillyandquest]

Y'all know the cardboard cutouts in Poppy Playtime?

I like to think that they're a small glimpse in those characters personalities, and what they would've been like if we'd been able to interact with them in-game. The cutouts also seem to indicate the sanity level of each Smiling Critter.

This'll be a long one, I'll see you at the end of you wanna read!

Spoilers:

Anyway, that means Bubba Bubbafant would've been outwardly friendly, yet still resentful of the player. He also might've been losing his sanity quickly, probably due to CatNap's gas.

"Hey! I remember you!.....An elephant always remembers!.......Want to know what I remember about you?........*Devolves into hysterical laughter/screams/glitches.*"

Had he been in the game as a Bigger Body experiment, I doubt he would go out of his way to help. He might've just hidden himself away like Kissy and Poppy, or fully lost it before he could try to help the player and got killed off.

Next is Kickin' Chicken. He's different in that he seems like he would've provided encouragement to the player, maybe even try and protect them.

"Wanna go outside and hang out?.... I've never been outside before.........Will you come with me? I'm scared.......Here, I'll step out first......*screams/glitches.*"

He also seems to have been killed off early, maybe he was even the first Critter to be killed. (He's embracing his inner Chica now-). I say this because, aside from DogDay, Kickin' Chicken seems the most sane in comparison to all the Critters.

CatNap's cut out doesn't have much other than breathing noises and snores that devolve into glitches.

Picky Piggy sounds sane, but I think she probably ate some of the other Critters. Probably Bubba Bubbafant, Kickin' Chicken, and Crafty Corn. If she could interact with the player, I think she'd be friendly at first before showing her true colors.

"Roast beef? Delicious!......Grilled chicken? Down the hatch!......Seared Elephant! Yum!......Flayed Unicorn? Mmmmm!.......Still hungry.....Hey, what do ya say you and I be friends?"

She definitely wouldn't have been helpful, and would've absolutely tried to eat the player.

I think Hoppy Hopscotch could've tried to help as a Bigger Body experiment, maybe a little pushy and impatient towards the player. Probably because she's desperate to escape.

"Wanna try hopping to the moon with me?.....On three with me!....1, 2, 3!...Heh, didn't get very far, did we?.....Listen, this won't stop until we make it to the moon!.....1, 2- No,no, don't look at your feet! None of that matters! Again! Again!.....Jump! JUUUU- *glitches out*"

She seemed to have a good heart and wanted to help but was likely taken out while escaping. I'd call her sane enough to be trusted, just desperate.

DogDay is certified best boy and definitely would've wanted to help you, even at the cost of his life/freedom. He knows this is a terrible place to be in and wants the player to leave as soon as possible.

"Go, go! As far as you can!......Why are you just standing there?.....You can't be here, you can't stay......*screams/glitches.*"

He knows he can't leave and encouraged the player go. He sounds sad when he speaks. Would likely be the last Critter to stick by the players side no matter what.

Crafty Corn up next! She seems very focused on painting and almost definitely killed someone because she was out of red.

"Pass me the blue please!.....Thanks! Now can you give me some red?.....Out? But we can't be out..... You're hiding more red from me......I know you are.....GIVE IT HERE *glitchy screams*

Yeah, I wouldn't really trust her. She'd be fine by herself or if the player gives her all the materials she asks for, but Crafty would've probably gotten agitated and attacked quickly.

Finally, Bobby Bearhug! She comes across as super loving, but also clingy and desperate for an escape. Sounding a little unhinged at times. If the player could've interacted with her, she might've clung to them, possibly even protected them if they convinced her that she could go with them.

"I love you to the moon and back!..... I'm crazy about you!.....I'm lost without you.....I've been lost a long time......Please, take me with you this time?.....You won't leave me, will you?!."

She sounds like she's lonely and craves companionship. Her cutout is actually the only one that doesn't end in glitches or screams so I think the player could've trusted her. She might've had a fragile mental state, but I don't think she would've tried to kill you.

Thanks for reading til the end! Stay safe!

[oneawkwardwriter]

prince caspian, inspired by 'I see the light' from tangled also imagine on the dawn threader at night under the moon and the stars

anything else is up to you

I See The Light

pairing: Dawn Treader!King Caspian x gn!reader warnings: a little bit of pining, very intense eye-contact, maybe perhaps some kissing... maybe even perhaps things getting just a little bit more heated... not quite nsfw, but there's some implying summary: you're staring at the moon and stars; Caspian is staring at you a/n: thank you so much for requesting this, I absolutely LOVE Tangled and I've recently come back into my King Caspian Narnia hyperfixation. Also, this is techically not the first time I've written something like this, but definitely one of the better things I've written wc: 1.3k

The only light, besides that of the moon, that illuminates your path to the railing of the Dawn Treader is the lantern at the helm, where a faint flame is dancing in its little cage.

For the first time since you've left the harbour, the midnight sky is fully clear, not a cloud that dares to blanket the twinkling stars or the silver glow of the moon. It's colder than usual, a light breeze blows against your cheek.

You lean down on the railing, resting your head in the palm of your hand as you look up at the sky. For some reason, there's something mesmerising about the way the moon casts a silver glow across the water, how the stars form constellations that only exist because someone decided to connect the dots to make some sense of it all.

You're too caught up in your own head to hear the door to below deck open. And so Caspian, King of Narnia, finds you staring out into the midnight sky. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a smile adorns his lips. His eyes skim over your figure, taking in every detail as the wind lightly ruffles your hair.

For a moment, he just stands there, not wanting to disturb you. After some time, he carefully approaches you. You hadn't noticed him at first, but after a while, you had felt his eyes burning in your back. So when he came to stand beside you, you weren't entirely startled.

"Can't sleep?" Caspian asks softly, not looking you in the eyes just yet and instead looks up at the sky as well.

"Oh, I'm sure I could if I bothered to try," You answer, "It's just that the sky hasn't been this clear ever since we sailed out of the harbour."

"It also hasn't been this cold ever since we sailed out of the harbour," He remarks, "A simple shirt won't keep you warm enough."

"Oh please, I'm fine," You say, even though you're unable to hide the shiver as it runs down your spine. "Besides, shouldn't you be fast asleep in your bed?"

The king lets out a dry chuckle and shakes his head. "Perhaps, but luckily for me, I don't have to follow orders," He says, his gaze drifting towards you now, "You, on the other hand, would be wise to do so. You should go to bed, get some rest."

You playfully roll your eyes. "I'll go to bed shortly," You say, looking back at him as well now. "You know, you're welcome to stay here for a while, Your Majesty."

"Oh, don't go calling me by my title now, we're past that," He says, finally being able to properly look you in the eyes. "Please, just call me Caspian. Also, thank you for allowing me to stay on my own ship."

"Alright, I didn't mean it like that," You respond as you lightly chuckle and shake your head, "I just didn't want you to think you couldn't be here because I was already here, even though it's your ship, which you said and... I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Caspian looked at you with a light smile on his lips, his eyes trained on yours. "You are, but please, don't stop on my account," He says, moving almost unnoticably closer. "Really, do continue, please."

"Oh, okay, uhm..." It didn't make sense why your mind suddenly went completely blank. There was no reason for your cheeks suddenly feeling warm and turning a bright red. "What... what did you want to talk about?"

"Oh, anything, really," Caspian answered, the silver light of the moon reflecting in his eyes. "That wasn't an order, by the way. I just... really love it when you talk."

"Good to know," You say softly, averting your eyes for a moment before looking back up at the midnight sky. "So... the sky is beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

"Yes, it truly is." If you had looked at him, you would've seen Caspian's eyes were still trained on you rather than the sky. "The way the moon and stars cast their silver glow is... truly mesmerising."

Despite the chilled breeze that glides over the ship and the silence between them, the atmosphere is strangely comfortable and relaxed. Time seems to stand still, stretching the minutes into an eternity as the two of you continue to gaze up at the midnight sky.

After Aslan knows how long, Caspian softly speaks up again. "Have I ever told you why I love being at sea so much?"

You avert your gaze from the stars to look at him. "No, but please, do tell."

"Back in the palace," He begins, "everyone and everything always seems to be in such a hurry. And despite all of that, I feel like I'm doing nothing but chasing down daydreams until the days just... blur together.

"But out here, everything is so peaceful. The gentle rocking of the ship, the glow of the starlight... suddenly, everything is crystal clear, like I've finally found what I'm supposed to do."

You softly smile as you listen intentively, resting your head on the palm of his hand. After a while, Caspian looks at you in slight confusion, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" He asks, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Oh, nothing," You say, your smile turning into the lightest of smirks as you continue, "I just... really love it when you talk."

Caspian let out another chuckle as he shakes his head. "Using my own words against me, are you now?" He comments teasingly, leaning in just a little bit closer. "Are you sure it's a good idea to challenge your king?"

"Didn't you say that we were past using your title?" You raise an eyebrow at him, daring enough to take a small step closer as well. "And if not, what will you do? Exile me?"

"Oh no, my dear, I wouldn't dream of it." The world seemed to somehow shift into a blur as the back of his fingers lightly brushes against your cheek, creating a contrast between the warmth of his touch and the chilled gusts of the wind. "Has anyone ever told you your eyes are as bright as the stars above?"

The light touch of his hand and his soothing words managed to knock the breath out of your lungs, the way he gazed into your eyes left you in a trance-like state. If your eyes were as bright as the stars, his were brighter than a thousand suns with the intensity he was looking at you.

Slowly, carefully, an invisble force seemed to push the two of you closer together until there were mere millimeters between your lips. And then, time seemed to freeze into a moment of uncertainty, even though the electricity could be sliced with a knife.

"Tell me to stop," Caspian breathed, his hand resting on your cheek as those brown eyes bored into yours. "My Starlight, tell me to stop. I won't be able to hold back."

"Don't stop... don't hold back."

And that was all he needed to hear before closing the distance between you. In his defense, he really intended on holding back on the intensity, but as soon as those words had fallen from your lips, he was done for.

One hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his body while his older hand held steadily onto your face. Your hands crept into his hair, your fingers softly running through the strands, earning yourself a soft groan falling from his lips.

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, the fervour in his kiss grows a little stronger. "Please," He whispers against your lips, nearly sounding like a desperate plea.

"Okay..." You respond breathlessly, letting him pull you towards the stairs leading to below deck.

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

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[nitpick7]

i feel like the life series fandom has not properly utilized the angst potential of the wildcards yet. and maybe i just haven't read enough posts or fics yet, which is definitely possible, but i'm gonna ramble anyway. (disclaimer: i've watched every pov but probably will get details wrong anyway.)

session one. pearl goes off, alone, away from her group for just a bit. just to mine a little bit more, get some iron. she's crouching at the edge of a cliff to get a better look at the cave, when suddenly the ground isn't underneath her anymore. she doesn't even slip, doesn't have time to react, she just falls.

session two i've thought about so much that i started writing a oneshot (unfortunately still a wip). everyone having to eat rocks and ores and wood and just so many things that they are not meant to eat... but they're all literally starving and real food doesn't fill them anymore. so they're biting into anything they can get their hands on, just hoping and praying that it fills them and doesn't poison them or make them float away... the terror every time the food changes? scrambling to find the next items to eat. ough.

the SNAILS. god. the snails. those things are cute but deadly. bigb, start of the session, seconds after the wildcard activates, hearing something and seeing something and then he's dead. gone. he's gone from peacefully mining to dead in seconds flat and everyone instantly knows just how deadly this one will be.

the speed one... has less angst potential. it's more just the constant fear, being constantly on edge, not used to the speed everything is moving at. they're frustrated at being too slow or their brains aren't moving as fast as their legs, or it's the very start of the session and they're frozen in time with no idea what's happening.

triviabot is less about the trivia itself and more about how it makes everyone act. sabotaging their friends and enemies alike, hiding bots, feeding people false information. they can't trust anyone in that session. but the moment they can trust someone, they latch onto them. someone gets a question about an ally and books it across the server to ask them about it, hoping their bot is still there when they get back.

more on triviabot: there's also the effects if they get something wrong. the robot voice is crazy because to themselves, they sound perfectly normal, but no one can fucking understand them. they're just unable to communicate and don't know for how long. or they're knocked down a few hearts, unable to be fully healed. constantly hurting at least a bit. being equipped with leather armor that they can't take off, unable to protect themselves. tripling in size, not being able to fit anywhere or do anything because they're so big. or their snails coming back, slower but still terrifying.

the mobs one... the very first thing that happens is everyone's beloved pets being killed. unless they happened to have the resources for a nametag beforehand. bdubs almost lost his horse! lizzie spent forever trying to collect mobs just for them to be murdered again! and the trial chamber. grian, joel (who didn't even want to be there), etho, scar; already in the midst of battle, and then all the fucking mobs change? they were terrified in real life, do you know how good that could be in fics?

you may think that there is little angst potential from superpowers. you would be wrong. again, it's less from the wildcard itself and more from how it makes people act. impulse teleporting ren into an obsidian box full of water in order to prove ren was lying about his power? that shit's CRAZY. WHAT THE HELL. impulse literally tried to drown ren to prove scott's point! and like good for him but!!! holy shit!!!!! or grian, who should know what he's doing, losing pearl's ability mid-air and falling to his death - grian falling to his death? (and obviously the listener symbolism with martyn and jimmy. we know we can do stuff with that.)

the final session is just. all of that. but combined. and more wild. it's everything all at once, randomly activating and deactivating, no one knows what's going on and it's a mess. just confusion and chaos.

so. yeah. there is my ramble, i might do smth with this but i might not. please add to this if you have more wildcard related angst, i will love you so much. Ɛ:

[theyluvlyss]

hi! i was wondering if you could write dating hc's for duncan and courtney (separate) please?

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧 !

but unfortunately, I do not currently write for courtney :(. although, I hope you like what I do have written and that it doesn't discourage you from requesting in the future :).

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠�� 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

you went on this stupid, island, reality show to win $100,000, which could've most definitely changed your life for the better. but instead, you got a delinquent meat-head who had... somehow, earned your heart faster than the cash. "how" and "why" is beyond you. but at least you could come up with a list of some semi-convincing reasons as to such...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x duncan - she/her/hers pronouns

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

season one (total drama island)

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

harsh language/cursing - dangerous elements/themes mentioned - duncan being himself lmao (possibly a little ooc? I apologize if so) - established romantic relationship - casual dominance (cuz ik that can irk some people) - possessive terms (my, his, etc).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

When you applied/auditioned to be on the show, you didn't actually think they'd pick you. It was a stupid dare amongst friends back home! No way would they pick some random girl with no experience or even a resume from (home/town/city).

And then, they did😃.

Next thing you know, you're being flown out to Canada and then dropped off from a yacht on some random, deserted island. Just your luck to apply for a scammy and sketchy reality show rather than what you were promised...

And, to top it all off, your host might as well have been a sociopath, your chef, a psychopath, and you were now forced to spend your time with twenty-two other lunatic teenagers for eight weeks. Eight. Weeks. To be fully and completely clear, you did not want to be here.

How could this get any worse?

Duncan. That's how.

He irked you at first. No, you didn't hate him. He actually had his moments where you found him quite funny with a sarcastic quip he had said or entertaining with some random stunt he pulled.

But other than that...

"I'm not jumping. I miss the safe zone and get eaten alive by sharks, and then what?"

"Oh'ho, you're jumping, sweetheart. I'll be damned if you lose this challenge for us because you're not a strong swimmer."

"That's not what I said. And what're you gonna do? Make me?"

...you were firm on your dislike for him.

Not that the feelings weren't reciprocated, of course. Though he wasn't exactly opposed to eying any pretty girls he happened to come across, he didn't intend to date. He came to win $100,000, just like the rest of them. And though he had grown used to the way your attitude struck any and everyone who tried to manipulate you into doing something you didn't want to do, at least you weren't Courtney, stick shoved up your butt.

Onto the more headcanon-y portion of this list...

I feel like Duncan actually wouldn't be opposed to random hookups or anything like that. But, once he has specific eyes for someone, he treats things as if he's already bagged them (manifesting king😻✨️). And in this case, them is you. He didn't get the hots right away, but after a couple of weeks or so of spending basically all of his time around you (being on the same team and all), he wasn't too surprised upon coming to terms with those feelings.

Not that you could exactly tell, with him running around calling you "sweetheart" and "angel-face" and whatever other petnames he could come up with on the fly. You figured it was just him being...well... Duncan! Not to mention, you weren't exactly all that fond of him.

Did he know that? Yes. Did he care? Ehh. You'd warm up. He'd actually make sure of it because even if the show didn't end with him either winning the money or getting you as a girlfriend, the least he'd accomplish is wooing you.

He's not gonna sacrifice his reputation for that, so he'd have to play it cool. And during the seventh challenge, an opportunity came to light; he'd help you concor your fear! Not only would it win your team the challenge, but it'd be a huge step into winning over your heart. With peering eyes (and cameras around), he was there to be your tough-love.

"Get over it, toots, it's just (your/fear)!!"

"Do not mess this up for us, or I'll guarantee you go home tonight."

"I've been in juvie with worse than this...!"

But, without any evidence to prove it besides your word and a blushing face, he was totally sweet on you.

"C'mere, sweetheart, it ain't that bad. You just need a little warming up to the idea, that's all~."

"The worst that could happen is you'll be called a chicken. It's not like you'll get voted off. Not while I'm here."

"Babe, you are entirely too cool to be skeezed out by (your/fear). We're gonna have to work on that, yeah?"

Him sling-shotting you through such emotions and behavior was intense. But not as much as the way it kept you hooked. And every time you would start to grow fed up, want nothing to do with him, even cuss him out...

Life (Chris McLean) would manage to thrust you two back together. Until, eventually, you got together. I mean, no official labels or anything yet, but god forbid another guy on either team just breathed sultry in your direction (coughCodyprobablycough). Or if you got hurt during a challenge. Or whenever anyone (butmostlikelyHeather) had it out for you.

And in those moments, I think Duncan wouldn't be as good as hiding his infatuation with you. Not that anyone actually had the gall to tease him for it. Besides, he had managed to make his admiration for you look cool. Always muttering a slick, "She wants me." to his guy friends, or smirking at any intimate reaction you'd give him in front of your peers.

All in all, he's a cocky shit. But he made it work in a charming way that you couldn't quite place, and made you wonder why you were even attracted to it/him at all.

And, surprisingly, he could be quite the gentlemen. Rough around the edges, sure, but see if you ever have to hold a door open for yourself or climb down from something without his hand being offered to you ever again.

He even makes sure to censor himself around you! Er- well, tries. If he deems a curse word too heavy for you to hear come flying out of his mouth, it goes a little something like this:

" ...So I rush 'im, right? And then can you believe the motherfucker-...! Sorry, babe. Can you believe this idiot actually tries to shank me?! Wild stuff, man..."

As if he's not already sitting around the campfire telling the most gorey juvie/jail story ever. But nope, the extra heavy cuss words are the stuff that's impolite for your ears🙄✋🏽.

#it'sthethoughtthatcounts♡.

OH!! And casual dominance? Definitely a thing in the relationship. Mainly from him, with a simple, "C'mere, doll." or a motion of the hand/finger over towards him. But let's not lie and say this dude isn't a sucker for the moments you boss him around...

"Duncan, go grab that for me, please?"

"I'm busy-"

"Now."

. . .

No further protest, your item retrieved and dropped into your hands with swiftness, and a light red dust on his face badly hidden under a scowl.

Things would get serious/official if one of you two got voted off of the island, though. If you got voted off, he'd be sure to give you the most profound goodbye he can in the very limited amount of time he has to actually say it. Make it very clear you're his girl, "...for anyone thinkin' about trying to make a move while I'm not around." And, he promises that if he wins, he's coming for you, and you'll run off together with the money. Cliche, but how could you say no?

If he gets voted off, he sticks on a brave face and basically threatens you to win lmao😭. Think of it as very intense encouragement coming from a deep down place of love.

"Babe, you better win this whole shit, 'cuz I'm gonna be rooting for you back home. Need these losers to see that my girl is the shit."

I could probably go on forever, but I don't want to make this too long :')...

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 !!

this is my first post (as in writing/content) ever, so yay me :D ! and for the person that requested, again, I hope you enjoyed this 'cuz it was fun to write ! although I really don't like the title, but I couldn't think of anything better😭...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

none :(

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 :

anon <3

𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

[manicpixiefelix]

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.

[bokettochild]

Hello! Invitation to rant about Legend since I love hearing what you have to say about him ❤️

*cracks knuckles like popcorn*

Settle back, luv! You've unlocked a ramble!

The thing I love most about Legend is honestly what a sweet person he is, like, genuinely.

He set out on his first journey because he had a dream about someone needing help and determined he would be the one to help her. And ever since then, no matter what, when people are in trouble, he helps. Like, he had nothing to gain, and in the grande scheme of things, most of his adventures? He had nothing to lose either. Nothing he had't already experienced similar at any rate. But he still goes, he still helps, and no matter how tired, or weary, or lonesome, or painful it is, he always picks up his sword and helps because it's the right thing to do.

And like, I know he's not the only one, Hyrule had no stakes either, no reason, but that in no ways makes Legend's sacrifices at smaller.

Like, Legend literally sacrificed everything. He gave up his childhood, his family, his happiness, his piece of mind, any future he had and risked or lost so, so may relationships and friends.

Like, why do we never see his uncle again after the first game if he's cannonically the same Link across his first four adventures? Why is he living alone is most of his adventures? Like, most Links have something, and those that do live alone are mostly adults, but he is most definitely still a kid. Where did Uncle Aflon go?

My personal headcannon is that he struggled so much with losing the innocent baby he raised and finding a terrified nine-year-old hero instead, that he sort of just... handed little Ledge along to the next relative and quietly disappeared. Not for lack of love, but more because he felt the boy he loved was gone forever and replaced. Maybe he believed that, like the old stories warn, his baby was stolen by the kolkiri and replaced with a high-strung changeling child while he was gone.

I like to think Uncle Aflon is out there somewhere, settled down and trying to live a normal life, maybe with a child of his onw by ow, but he can't erase the kid he raised from his mind and it haunts him all the time that he didn't stay, but maybe he's too scared to go back, to answer for it.

And you know that hurt Legend. You know he's totally got some form of abandonment issues from not only losing his parents when he was small, not eer getting to know them because literally all the rest of his family save his grandparents and Uncle were slaughtered due to some stupid prophecy Ganon wanted to present coming true. Like, it's not even just from not knowing his parents; there's a whole culture and lifestyle that the Knights of Hylia likely would have had that he will never fully know because they were all killed in an effort by Ganon to stop his being born.

Legend will never grow up with the kind of family others had because he was forged, from birth, to be a hero. He ever grew up with a full family either, but that meant that he probably has a different sort instead. I like to think the reason that, in all his games, he's so close with the village folk, or why so many people know him, is because there's this sense of longing he's got for a connection to a culture and family he had stolen from him, so he embraces that of those around him and they in turn have always embraced him back. He's a sponge for any sort of semblance of warmth he's lost, but as his adventures went on and he was betrayed more or his need for safety, or trust was used against him to hurt him, he's hardened.

There's a warrant on his head, and in game we see people I the village he probably grew up in (it's right next to his house pities sakes!) reporting him to the guards. There's no doubt in my mind that some were less direct about it, pretending to offer him a place to hide or even a meal, a meal for a kid who's too small to cook for himself and doesn't know yet how to forage, only to try and trap him or poison him when his guard was lowered.

We talk about warriors being betrayed by soldiers as a grown man, but Legend was turned on by the pillage people that watched him grow up, and that does far more damage; he probably never trusts fully. never trusts that others won't him someway, either by causing physical harm or leaving him alone.

Alone like everyone else has.

And like, he really is alone. he's got so many friends in the games, so many allies, but they're all people spread hither and yon, some dead, some ever real in the first place, and others, well... like with his uncle, they struggle with seeing him so changed after every adventure, and while not all leave, it's harder to reconnect with someone who's almost like a stranger a second time, but always so busy you hardly have time to talk.

Yet, despite all this, despite a lack of trust and the fact that anyone could hurt him, might hurt him, might outgrow him, or he them, he still helps whenever he's asked, he still does what is needed. he still gives and gives, and even if he doesn't do it with a smile anymore, even if he helps you up with a hand on his sword-hilt, he's still willing to take that risk because he genuinely wants to help other people.

Like, there is no low you could find he hasn't known. All heroes have probably starved at one point or another, and in other countries he was always as good as homeless, sometimes penniless. He's been there, and he doesn't want that for anyone else. So even though there's always a risk, he'd rather face it to help a person in need than leave them on the wayside like so many did for him.

Forgive my imagery, but Legend's the epitome of "become the good you want to see the world", even if that good comes with a shield raised and expectant at all times of evil around them.

He's a good kid. A scared kid, but a good one all the same.

He's known as "the greatest of all the heroes of Hyrule" by the goddesses themselves, and they've told him as much. He's the one who saves that which people worship. Like, no disrespect to the other heroes, but only Sky has also rescued a goddess, but Legend's rescued two, and a god besides (the Windfish), as well as the goddess incarnates of both Hyrule and Lorule.

His job is literally to protect the people responsible for keeping the world running, the people who are supposed to be able to fix anything and protect all mortal life.

He's not just the hero chosen by the gods, he is the Hero of the gods themselves.

And he still tells peop he's just an average nobody. he still lives in a cramped little house that his uncle left behind, clinging to the only semblance he's got left of a time before he was a hero, of a time where he had a family and never had to be afraid and when he used to be protected by someone.

Just.... as a kid who grew up as the protector, the safe one, and the helper, Legend is my hero, because he is those things as well. Because he somehow remains strong enough for not just Hyrule, not just the gods, but the whole world around him, and eve when he breaks, he only comes back stronger, more determined, and now even Ganon groans and huffs out "you again?" when he sees him.

Legend has seen the most hell, known the most loss, sacrificed every part of himself and what he wants or needs for the sake of those around him, and yet he's still somehow not just standing, but fighting, and not just fighting, but winning.

You just know, the day he eventually does lay that sword down, he's probably going to freaking break. But, I like to think, with all the good he's done, it will eventually come back to him, and the people he's helped will finally start helping him in return when it's hi who needs it most.

And just... yeah. Legend's sharp tongued and wary and he's got these high walls up, but at his core, he's literally running purely on love for those around him, on the hope that they're worth the trouble and that he's not leaving anyone who needs it on their own; he's so full of heart! He's got a heart so pure even Fi is startled by it, that the triforce entrusts itself to him, that even the most annoying assholes eventually become fond of him (looking at you here, Ralph!)

So yeah, I'm a sucker for that heart behind a wall of thorns kinda character, but Legend took that to the max and I thoroughly adore him for it <3

[bambi-kinos]

Thank you so much for replying to my ask! Sorry for the long reply back but I just love discussing these two.

Yes the rock and roll lifestyle and Paul’s infamous cheating before Linda has me very sceptical about him being 100% faithful to Linda too. That Jane Asher story is insane! The idea of Wings being a way to keep an eye on it is very interesting and not implausible at all. However in my opinion, Linda gives me the impression of someone with a strong sense of self, who would decide to walk instead of being disrespected in that way.

I also find it strange that decades and decades on, no one has said anything other than Paul being absolutely devoted to Linda. Not even anonymously, someone who doesn’t like Paul could seriously hurt his reputation spilling that information, not to mention the potential money, fame from it ect. This goes hand in hand with having a sexual relationship with John. I mean, surely they couldn’t have hidden it from everyone. Some people must of known, and not just an inner circle of loyal friends. Take tour managers or hotel staff for example.

So why do you think nothing has come out all these years later?

What comes to mind is the phone call Paul had with a biographer very soon after John’s death (I’m sorry I’ve forgotten his exact name) where he secretly recorded all he said and later published it. (Ouch!) Paul’s completely baffled at Yoko’s statement that no one had hurt John more than Paul had. (Said by John himself)

If they had a sexual, emotionally intense relationship, wouldn’t Paul have known that it was this John was referring too? He comes across as very smart, surely he could have put the dots together? His bewilderment seems completely sincere, not a pr trick. What’s your opinion?

I honestly go back and forth on this because I can see a relationship between those two being way more than just platonic. On and off hook ups in the 70s amongst the angst could also explain John’s sporadic comments about Paul throughout this decade. One day praising him, the other cursing him. Both parties not being brave enough (and a whole host of other factors) to not commit or acknowledge what was going on fully would have been very confusing to say the least.

But I still can’t get my head around the points I made earlier that counter this argument. Would love to hear your take on things!

EXTREMELY based ask anon, your mind is very sharp and I love it!

okayyyy there's a lot here so let's take it bit by bit

However in my opinion, Linda gives me the impression of someone with a strong sense of self, who would decide to walk instead of being disrespected in that way.

If we're anywhere close to the ballpark then Linda nearly called off the wedding when Paul told her about him and John. But then after that, she would chaperone Paul when he went to see John and hang out with him like when they went to LA. It's hard to say what Linda would or wouldn't stand for IMO because she saw the real Paul, all of him, and stuck that out for over twenty years.

I don't think that Linda would be okay with Paul cheating on her necessarily but I wouldn't write off her pretending not to see when he was sneaking out under her nose. It's not the same thing as having an open relationship but she and Paul had agreed to try for Mary sometime in 1968 before she knew about him and John and witnessed the messy break up. She doesn't strike me as the vindictive type so I wonder if knowing she was pregnant and wanting her kid to know who her father was played any role in her decision. And Linda purportedly didn't like the idea of getting married again according to a quote floating around here -- Paul had to convince her it was a good idea, not the other way around. There's reason to believe that Linda may have been happy just being a common law couple or whatever the UK's equivalent is and that Paul insisted on getting married.

I'm not saying definitively one way or another, Linda is much more opaque than Paul. But I'm hesitant to say that she wouldn't tolerate cheating or she wouldn't look the other way on it, because why else did she let Paul visit John so much otherwise? She knew what was going on.

Just something to think about I guess.

I also find it strange that decades and decades on, no one has said anything other than Paul being absolutely devoted to Linda. Not even anonymously, someone who doesn’t like Paul could seriously hurt his reputation spilling that information, not to mention the potential money, fame from it ect. This goes hand in hand with having a sexual relationship with John. I mean, surely they couldn’t have hidden it from everyone. Some people must of known, and not just an inner circle of loyal friends. Take tour managers or hotel staff for example.

So why do you think nothing has come out all these years later?

The biggest reason is that The Beatles worked very hard as a unit to cover up their infidelities. Paul was two paternity accusations lodged against him, one was the German girl and the other was Liverpool girl. Blood tests proved that both of these paternity claims were false (and Anita later admitted that she had a second boyfriend concurrent to Paul at the time, she just didn't think he was actually the dad until her son spilled the beans that Paul's paternity test proved false.) Despite these two paternity suits being lodged against Paul, he still paid the girls hush money through Brian. There's another story of a paternity claim being lodged against John that Brian paid to go away. The hookers they engaged with in the hotels were also paid for their time and to not launch any paternity suits against The Beatles. And so on.

The most encompassing answer is simply that Paul and the other Beatles paid off their babymamas AND that they have lots of legal representation on their side to make offers that can't be refused. I have long thought that the sudden muzzling of Heather Mills was the result of a super injunction, a feature of British law where a person with enough money and influence can forcibly shut someone up. A super injunction is, to put it mildly, a massive pain in the ass to obtain yet Paul is well positioned to have used one to make her shut her mouth and stop libeling him in the press. If Paul is ruthless enough to use something like that against his ex wife and mother to his child then he is absolutely willing to turn it on lays from the 1960s and 1970s. Most of the time I would bet he does not have to; we all have a price and for a sufficient amount of money, I wouldn't bother Paul with a paternity suit either.

Then there's just love and personal loyalty. The Beatles inspire incredible loyalty in their fans and their hook ups. Peggy Lipton went completely insane for Paul after meeting him only a handful of times including showing up at his hotel in a swimsuit hoping to be taken on Paul's Dirty Weekend with Linda. Now imagine that loyalty in a 19 year old girl who hooked up with Paul during 1966. Why would she say shit to anyone about having sex with Paul or getting pregnant by him? She would absolutely feel inspired to protect him. I think this would be just as true in 1976, the loyalty that the boys inspired in their fans is remarkable.

And think about it: if you had slept with one of the Beatles, would you out him to anyone? Or would you keep it a secret? Think carefully about it. By outing him, you are also outing yourself. Especially if Paul was married at the time. Do you want to admit you're complicit in Paul McCartney's adultery? That sounds like a very unpleasant prospect to me and besides, you want to keep a little piece of him to yourself.

Tour managers and hotel staff likely suspected something but it was truly a whirlwind for them too and I think a lot of them just second guess what they know. Homosexual activity was completely unthinkable and virtually unknown in the 60s and 70s. The only people who would truly know is the housekeeping staff. They would see the telltale signs of who slept where and what they were doing; those room manifests don't tell us shit because we can be sure that the boys swapped beds and rooms all the time depending on what they wanted. For John and Paul especially, I imagine there was a lot of wandering in the night and seeking each other out.

Take that story of Ringo disappearing during the 1964 tour to go on a joyride with a police man with Paul waking up and alerting Mal and Neil that he was gone. Why was Paul awake in the night? Why didn't he just go ask John and George where Ringo was first thing? Surely if your third band member goes missing your first instinct would be to ask the other two if they've seen him but instead Paul, for some reason, seems to have known immediately that Ringo was not with John and George in their hotel room and promptly tattled to the roadies. This is despite the room set up which was supposed to be Paul/Ringo and George/John. Hm!

Only housekeeping would know the truth of the situation and those men and women are dead or lost in the crowd. However even then we don't have reason to think they had proof: John and Paul being intimate would only leave behind the remains of...sex. And the truth is that The Beatles liked having sex with girls while they were in the same room together, including switching. What reason was there to think that it was just two guys boning instead of two guys and two girls?

What I'm driving at is that tour managers and hotel staff and housekeeping servicewomen had a lot of circumstantial evidence but unless they caught John and Paul in the act, then they had no reason to understand what they were seeing. Anyone who did catch them would have been paid off with the brown paper bag money Brian picked up from the bootleg merch vendors that sold fanmerch outside their concerts. And if that failed then yes legal action would have been launched through Capitol's legal arm because Capitol had plenty of superstars before The Beatles that had to be managed. They knew the drill, they weren't angels. Managing sex addicts and homosexual activity was business as usual for a suit even in 1964. They wouldn't want to scuttle that secret either because if Paul throws a fit and buys out his song catalogue then it's good night Felicia.

So in between those three things -- personal loyalty, bribes, and the threat of legal action especially since Paul has rich boy privileges -- no one is saying shit. Not any of the groupies, none of the women Paul was probably hanging out with while married, no one who ever caught him with John. It's just not worth it.

What comes to mind is the phone call Paul had with a biographer very soon after John’s death (I’m sorry I’ve forgotten his exact name) where he secretly recorded all he said and later published it. (Ouch!) Paul’s completely baffled at Yoko’s statement that no one had hurt John more than Paul had. (Said by John himself)

If they had a sexual, emotionally intense relationship, wouldn’t Paul have known that it was this John was referring too? He comes across as very smart, surely he could have put the dots together? His bewilderment seems completely sincere, not a pr trick. What’s your opinion?

Hunter Davies. The phone call with Hunter Davies is very interesting because he was someone Paul knew...but otoh he's still a reporter. Paul knows that. Hearing more about the Lennon McCartney feud soon after John's death was a hot story so could Paul reasonably assume that Hunter would write up the story.

I posit that Paul, in an act of true cynicism and spite towards Yoko, deliberately leaked some of his issues with John in order to spit in Yoko's eye. Especially with that pointed line about how he knows things about John that Yoko never knew...and that he won't publish them until after she is dead. You want to talk about ouch?!

I think that Paul is being genuine when he's confused about how he could have hurt John which makes me think @menlove is right and that India may have been a nothingburger or didn't feature Paul getting cold feet about John.

There are a couple of candidates for "John said no one hurt him like Paul did." We'll probably never know what they are but these are my personal options:

John asked for a relationship with Paul in India; Paul did something John interpreted as a rejection especially in light of Paul self destructing and John going on a multi-day bender when he got home.

Paul suddenly bringing Linda into the limo during the New York City trip to promote Apple. John seems genuinely baffled and confused about this with the "and next thing I know she's married to him" line. It was completely out of left field and John was caught by surprise.

Paul getting the drop on John with regards to announcing the Beatles break up. John expressed bitterness about this (because it was a ploy to force Paul to stay with him, Paul wasn't actually supposed to follow through with it) because it humiliated him publicly.

John was still hung up on the Family Way score and was destroyed by that and by Paul going "fuck it we'll do it live" and recording so much stuff solo for the White Album.

You may have spotted a problem with this already: there are multiple instances where Paul could have profoundly hurt John that would linger in John's memory. How can you possibly choose just one?

What if it was all of these and that eventually the hurt and abandonment mounted and John couldn't take it anymore?

Ultimately though I think Paul is/was confused and angry because the narrative was all about how Paul hurt John, and nothing about how John hurt Paul, another thing Paul brought up with Hunter during the interview. If John was pissy about Paul announcing the break up first, then why was no attention paid to John announcing "I want a divorce"? Why is it so important to sweep John being a dickhead under the rug? I think that's what had Paul so confused and pissed off, to the point that he couldn't really pinpoint one single thing that could have hurt John. 'Are you serious, I hurt him when he's the one who abandoned me multiple times through out our relationship and never apologized for any of it?' That would piss me off monumentally if I were Paul, I'd deny all knowledge of hurting John too since he refused to own up to hurting Paul in the first place.

I honestly go back and forth on this because I can see a relationship between those two being way more than just platonic. On and off hook ups in the 70s amongst the angst could also explain John’s sporadic comments about Paul throughout this decade. One day praising him, the other cursing him. Both parties not being brave enough (and a whole host of other factors) to not commit or acknowledge what was going on fully would have been very confusing to say the least.

That's pretty much it. Keeping in mind that Yoko kept John hooked on drugs to keep him from making up with Paul as well.

I think the confusion and frustration Paul expressed/expresses is a byproduct of the fog of war. He's too close to the subject matter, he can't figure it out because he can't see the big picture.