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zepskies · 24 days

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This One's For You

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader || Ben & daughter!OC (Lila)

Summary: Late one night, finding no other recourse, Ben sings to his infant daughter to help her sleep.

AN: Thanks to this request, this one’s set between Until Morning and Green in the BMD-verse.

Word Count: 1.2K

Song Inspo: "Hey There Delilah" by Plain White T's

Tags/Warnings: Grumpy Ben, established relationship, potential fluff overload.~

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

“Your daughter’s awake,” Ben grumbled into his pillow.

He didn’t need to have sensitive hearing to pick up on the infant’s whining in her crib.

“She’s only my daughter when she has a rough night.” You sighed and turned away from him on your side of the bed. You clutched at your pillow. “It’s your turn, pal.”

His eyes cracked open. He gave you a look of annoyance behind your back.

“I have to get up in three hours for work,” he said.

You didn’t seem to care. You were so tired, he already heard your deeper breaths in sleep. In fairness, you essentially hadn’t slept for three days now. Your daughter was a demanding little thing, with some powerful goddamn lungs.

When another insistent whine and a hiccupping cry reached his ears, Ben released a sound of frustration. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until the house was silent again, so after another beat, he finally peeled back the covers. Sliding out of bed, he padded out on bare feet down the hall to the nursery, wearing his usual pair of sweatpants.

He peered over the side of the crib and found Lila blinking up at him. Her tears clung to her lashes as she wriggled around in upset.

“What’s the matter now?” he asked, as if the baby could answer him.

He reached in with careful hands and picked her up, resting her on his chest. She sniffed and predictably latched onto his hair as she cried.

He checked her in various ways, but she didn’t smell like a full diaper (upon which, he would've handed her over to you). She seemed fine, which meant she was being finicky just for the hell of it.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Come on,” he said as he paced the room with her. “Quiet the fuck down already.”

Still, she wouldn’t stop crying. The whimpers were pitiful, but at least they weren’t ear-splitting wails this time. He just really needed her to stop so he could sleep, expeditiously.

After several minutes with no improvement, however, Ben sighed and dropped down into the rocking chair. He was coming to the end of his tether.

“All right, what’s it gonna take for you to relax?” he muttered. At this point, he wasn’t above bribery. Candy? Money? A new fucking car? Hell, he’d get her a fleet of Ferraris if it’d make her pipe down.

He held Lila in the crook of his arm and tried rocking back and forth in the chair. When that didn’t work, he tried humming a tune—something he’d heard on the radio that now wouldn’t get out of his damn head. The only reason he remembered it was because of his daughter’s name.

“Oh, it’s what you do to me, oh, it’s what you do to me,” he sang softly, deep and baritone, and a little coarse from sleep. (And possibly a little off-key.)

Lila seemed to ease up a little in response to his voice, blinking up at him with those pretty green eyes. Maybe that was the solution.

He cleared his throat in slight embarrassment. He looked in the doorway to make sure he was alone before he kept going with this.

Okay, what’re the words to the goddamn song…

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?” he started, a bit unsure. The baby blinked up at him, holding a little fist in her mouth. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks while she whimpered, but she looked like she was listening, at least.

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty,” Ben continued. He couldn’t help softening a bit, looking down on her. He swept a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Tomorrow he was scheduled for another mission out of New York, with Butcher and the rest of the team. Ben didn’t know how long he’d be gone.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance,” he sang, “I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

He wouldn’t admit it, but it was hard to leave you and Lila. She was still so small, and he didn’t like the thought of you two being alone, even if Frank was watching out for you.

But Ben had a job to do.

“Close your eyes,” he almost whispered. “Listen to my voice, it’s my disguise. I’m by your side…”

Lila had begun to settle down. He dried her tears as he continued to rock her, continued to hum the melody of the chorus. He couldn’t remember most of the song after that, but there were a few more lines he did have rolling around in his head.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” he sang quietly. “This one’s for you…”

Just then, Ben thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up and found you there, leaning in the doorway. You were holding up your cell phone.

His brows knitted together in a glare.

“What the fuck’re you doing?” he said, sharp and incredulous.

“Shhh,” you reminded him, pointing at the baby. He saw your smirk below the frame of the phone.

Ben looked down and found that Lila was finally asleep. Gritting his teeth, he got up slowly. You were filming him all the while, even with your hair wild in bedhead and your pajama top hanging off your shoulder. Apparently, embarrassing him was more important than sleep.

Ben gently set her back down in the crib. Once he made sure she was safe and settled in sleep, he turned and saw that you were still filming him. He hoped you captured the deathly look of warning on his face.

You bit your lip. Without either of you saying anything, you darted off down the hall. Ben stalked after you.

“Woman, you better get the fuck back here!” he hissed in a coarse whisper. You struggled to contain your laughter.

“You’ll have to catch me first, old man,” you teased.

He chased you around the house—almost knocking over a lamp in the process—until he got ahold of you, and more importantly your phone. He grabbed it out of your hand and held you flush against him with an ironclad arm around your waist.

Ben looked down at you both in satisfaction, and a warning not to try anything else. You laughed and took his bearded face in your hands. You pulled him down to you for a placating kiss.

"You do have a nice voice," you whispered near his lips.

"Shut it. You're on thin fucking ice with me," he groused, with a shake of his head when it only reignited your inane giggling.

His lips reluctantly tugging at a smile, he silenced you with a deeper kiss.

The joke was on him though. While you were running around, you already managed to drop that video into the group chat with Hughie, Annie, and all the rest of your friends at Supe Affairs.

Come the morning, Ben was about to have a very interesting day at the office.

AN: 😂 Did you enjoy another dose of dad!Ben in the BMD-verse? 💚

Read the Sequel:

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Lesson Learned

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @rizlowwritessortof @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

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@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

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geekforhorror · 5 months

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kiss it better

pairing: dbf!james kelly x fem reader

description: james kelly is one of your dads oldest friends who has a thing for you…especially in that short skirt of yours.

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!james, sub!reader, established age gap (james is 40, reader is 21), skirt fucking, james has a thing for your ass, pussy slapping, slight objectification, praise, degradation, corruption kink, unprotected p in v sex, fluff, etc.

word count: 2.5k

James knew what you were doing.

Currently, your dad was out buying some propane fuel for the barbecue grill outside because he had forgotten to get some beforehand. However, he had left you alone with his best friend James.

You had developed quite a crush on the older man a few years back and you’ve wanted him ever since. You didn’t know what it was about him that you found yourself attracted to the most. Maybe it was the faint stubble on his face, his piercing blue eyes, or his tattoos. Perhaps it was all three. You thought you were being subtle all this time about your little crush on James. I mean for christ sakes, you had even picked out the skimpiest crop top and tight skirt you owned when your dad told you he would be joining the two of you for the mini backyard barbecue.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to James at all. He always saw how you would bat your doe eyes at him all innocently, the way you swayed your hips while walking past him, and how you tempted him. At first he thought he was looking into it too much, but then he saw it happen again…and again…and again. His need for you grew every passing day when you teased him and you were just adding more fire to his need for you.

That’s what was currently happening.

Your dad had texted you saying he would be back soon and told you to get the pack of beer out from the cooler in the kitchen.

“Can you come with me, Jamie?”

That was new. You had never called him Jamie.

“Sure, honey,” he says, trying to be nonchalant when all he wanted to do was smirk in your face. Plus, he wants to see the selection for himself. Classic James.

As you get up from the couch in the living room, he trails behind you, not missing a step before the two of you find the freezer where the blue cooler labeled ‘beer’ was located. Before you know it, you’re walking back to him and like always, you make sure to sway your hips for him. He was addicted to the way your pretty little body moved and couldn’t help but wonder how it would move while fucking you. His restraint was wavering.

Just when he thinks it couldn’t get any worse for him, you bend over. Doing this allows James to get a glance up your skirt and what he saw was enough for him to get hard in his faded blue jeans. Not only had you bent over for him on purpose, but had also worn the thinnest lace panties known to man. He swore he was going to blow his load right then and there.

Opening the box, you present it to James as if nothing had just happened. “Is this good for you Jamie?” you ask him sheepishly.

“I know what you’re doing, sweetheart,” he admits.

“What do you mean?” you ask with the fakest, most insincere tone you could possibly ever use.

“Don’t play dumb with me, doll. I see the way you act around me…acting all innocent after,” he says, calling you out with no hesitation.

“You did?” you ask.

“You make it hard not to notice when you’re parading your tits and ass around me every time I see you,” he says.

“What are you going to do about it?” you say with a smirk.

That was it.

Within seconds, he pounces himself onto you, his carnal desire for you getting the best of him. His lips latch onto yours, fueled with unwavering passion. He had waited for this moment and now it was happening. His tongue finally finds its way into your mouth and you don’t find yourself disgusted by it. All you felt was the desire for him to do unspeakable things to you.

“James…I need you,” you plead, whining into his mouth

“Already so desperate f’me and I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he coos.

You could feel the arousal seeping through your panties at the sound of his silky smooth voice. The effect he had on you was profound. Melting over his voice? You were screwed.

His hands found purchase to your clothed ass, but that wasn’t enough for him. Taking initiative, he rolls the dainty fabric up to your hips, now allowing him to grope your ass with those fucking tattooed hands you loved so much. If he only knew the amount of times you had touched yourself while imagining that they were his hands on your body.

He hoists you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist before breaking the kiss. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, sweet girl…how many times I’ve had to hold myself back out of respect your old man, but fuck it. I want you.”

With that being said, he holds you with his arms and takes you out of the room. Before he can lead you up the stairs that lead to your room, you stop him.

“Where are you taking us?” you ask.

“To your room, angel,” he says to you.

“What’s wrong with the couch in the living room?” you implore.

“Sweetie, I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I’m gonna fuck you the way you deserve, not on some old couch,” he says before finally going up the stairs with haste, but also making sure he didn’t drop you in the process. You guys finally make it to your room and he wastes no time before placing you gently down on the bed, moving you backwards so there was enough room for him to successfully tower over your body. The sight gave you chills, but in the best way possible.

His lips latch onto your warm skin surrounding your collarbone before sucking away at the tender flesh of it. You let out a breathy whine at the newfound sensation. You could feel how soft his lips were…just like you imagined they would be.

“James…” you say.

“Yes, baby?” he asks back.

“Can’t take anymore teasing…need you inside me,” you beg of the older man.

“Shhh…patience, pretty girl…be patient for me, yeah?” he says in a soft voice at which you nod at. “Such a good girl.”

He can’t even stop himself before he starts stripping you of your clothes,..if you could even call them that with how short and dainty they are. “Raise your arms for me, angel…wanna see those pretty tits,” he coos. You do as he says and within seconds, he’s met with the bare flesh that had been hiding underneath your shirt. He was in heaven.

“Should’ve known you weren’t wearing a bra,” he smirks.

He had imagined your tits so many times while jacking himself off. He always imagined the way your tits would bounce when fucking you, the way he would suck them.

“These are fucking mine, got it?” he enunciates, now pinching one of your sensitive nipples with his slender fingers, then rolling it accordingly.

“Fuck Jamie…” you say, lost in the feeling.

“My baby’s already whining for me, hm? You haven’t seen anything yet,” he claims. You had no idea him saying that would lead him to now suck at your pebbled areolas to prove his point.

“Such pretty tits on such a pretty girl,” he praises. He decides to tease you even further by pulling down your expensive lace panties before throwing them aside like they were nothing. “And an even prettier pussy…so wet for me, baby.”

The anticipation for him to slide into you was truly killing you. It was always on your mind when you knew it shouldn’t be. “You’re fucking perfect…need to have you,” he says, almost sounding a tad bit desperate.

“I’m all yours, James,” you assure him.

“Glad to hear it, doll.” he smiles. Finally, after what seems like ages, he starts throwing articles of his clothing off his toned body before he’s only in his black boxers while on top of you. You couldn’t help your curiosity as to how hard he was and looked down at the sight below you…and god, he was huge. The outline of his hardened bulge was more than prominent, leading you to question whether you could take him or not. He notices your lingering stare and can’t help but grow a little cocky.

“Eyes are up here, baby,” he says before grabbing your chin with his veiny hand.

“I’m sorry…” you trail.

“Don’t be sorry, baby. I think it’s quite cute seeing you get all flustered,” he says with a chuckle.

“I want your cock…please,” you beg, not even caring how desperate and whiny he had made you in this moment.

“Gonna fuck you so good until the only thing you remember is me and my name,” James promises you. “Gonna ruin you for anybody who thinks they have a chance with you.”

He slowly slides the fabric covering his cock down to the floor, where the rest of your guys’ clothes laid sprawled out. It only took a mere second before you saw the way his cock sprung towards his defined stomach. Fuck…he was gonna split you raw.

“You ready f’me, baby?” he asks you.

“Yes please…need your cock so bad,”

“Such a good girl for begging,” he praises while caressing your messy locks.

Suddenly, you feel his cock intrude your warm cunt, causing a moan to escape your lips from the sensation of him stretching you out with his thick cock.

“Shit…squeezing me so well, pretty girl… just like I thought you would,” he admits.

“Please move, James…” you whine.

“Anything for my girl,” he says before complying with your ever so desperate command. He begins thrusting into your tight hole without showing any signs of mercy or slowing down anytime soon. He wish he could take his time with you, but he knew it was only a matter of time until your dad was set to return.

“Just like that!” you scream out, your well manicured nails digging into his shoulder dimples as he fucks you into oblivion. With every inch inserted into you, the more dumb you could feel yourself becoming. But guess what? You didn’t give a fuck.

“Poor girl…already becoming dumb just from her daddy’s friend fucking her like the slut she is,” he degrades.

“Fuck…” you moan in response.

“Such naughty words from a girl like you,” he tuts in response.

“Need it harder…” you say in between raggedy breaths.

“You’re going to take what I give you and you’re going to like it, princess. Now behave,” he orders. You follow his instructions as explained before continuing with his erratic movements inside you. Your guys’ hips collide with one another, providing much needed friction that had both of you moaning. Sounds of your slickness began to fill the room and James couldn’t help but savor them. You felt his cock scrape your sensitive nerves that had already begun twitching around him.

He took in the way your chest heaved with every single thrust he made while inside you, the way you were panting for air…everything. You looked absolutely beautiful all fucked out for him and he would remember that sight below him for as long as he lived.

“Such a little cock slut, hm? So desperate for my dick that you dressed like this for me instead of asking me for it. Thought your daddy raised you to know better…guess not,” he tuts in disapproval. You felt yourself getting closer to your inevitable climax just by listening to his degrading words. You felt ashamed for getting off to someone speaking to you as if you were nothing, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Don’t fret baby, that’s what your new daddy is here for.” he says before slapping your pussy, guaranteeing that there would be a fresh mark tomorrow. The impact left a stinging sensation afterwards, but instead of wanting him to stop, you found yourself wanting more of his harsh blows. This was made crystal clear to him when you let out a moan.

“Look what we have here…a filthy slut moaning over getting treated like a fuck doll. My fuck doll,” he teases.

“Please…want more of it,” you admit.

“Of course you do, baby. Because you’re a pathetic little thing,” James mocks while still sheathed inside your sopping cunt. His hand lands another harsh hit to the irritated flesh, making you grip your sheets so hard that they were turning white.

“Fuck Jamie…’m so close,” you whimper.

“Hold on for a bit longer if you wanna prove you can be a good slut for me. Can you do that for me, baby?” he asks, hoping you would provide him with the right answer. You frantically nod your head, which was a good enough answer for him to keep bullying you and your pussy. Before you know it, he sets a new pace, one that was nothing short of animalistic. He wanted to be so deep inside of you as physically possible and that was what he was doing right now.

You can feel his cock twitch inside your warm cunt, which only makes him rock harder into you. Your vision becomes painted with stars as he was doing so and it felt fucking fantastic. He was the only man ever to make you feel like this. Safe to say, he exceeded any of your wild expectations.

Suddenly, you feel yourself becoming unraveled to the point where you can feel the hot coil start to unwind deep inside your fluttering stomach. With each additional movement he made, you felt the sensation become even more undeniable to feel.

“Please let me cum James!” you scream out in ecstasy.

“That’s it pretty girl…cum for me” he praises.

That’s all it took for you to splash your warm release all over his cock. You felt like you were on cloud nine while he was fucking you through your orgasm. The feeling of you coming undone on his dick finally made him ropes of his hot, sticky seed into your sensitive entrance. He groaned while doing so, which you found to be the hottest thing ever.

After the two of you come down from your heaven sent orgasms, he pulls out of you and lays down next to you. He positions himself so that he’s now looking at your pretty face in awe.

“I love you sweet girl and I hope you know I didn’t mean anything bad I said” he admits.

“I love you too James,” you say to him with a chuckle.

James smiles at your confession of love before pulling you in for a slow and gentle kiss, unlike the one you guys had shared before. The two of you found peace and solace in the kiss and you guys wouldn’t stop until either of your lungs gave out…or in this case, when your father comes home, which was now.

“Let’s not tell your father about this,” he says with a laugh.

“Agreed,” you say with a laugh back.

This was one for the books.

tag list: @zapernz @mortalheartache @midnight-raine @camiemorgan8 @myheartwillgoon2022 @demieyesore

#james kelly smut #james kelly x reader #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #james kelly #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars fandom #anakin skywalker #american heist #hayden christensen smut #anakin fanfiction

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diarivie · 10 months

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SHMUTTTT, pussy eating, coryo is just yapping tbh, this is like apart of the whole coryo w/ a blood kink thing i got going on rn, this is for u freaks ♥️ this is also like dc so pls beware! he plays with readers blood 😭

18+ after the last night spent with coriolanus, you hadn’t even dared to bring up his certain..attraction to your blood. refusing to be the root of his anger, or worse — him ignoring you all together. now, you’re on your back and coriolanus is in between your legs — a rather rare occurrence but nonetheless, welcomed.

his nose is nudging at your clit and it feels fucking heavenly — he doesn’t go down on you often, but when he does it’s soul crushing delicious. it’s so good infact, that you fail to notice him making his way to your inner thighs, starting off with small, gentle nips.

‘’coryo? why’d- why’d you stop?.’’ you prop yourself on your elbows to get a better view of the platinum hair below you. ‘’you’d let me do anything, yeah? because you love me? s’true, I know it is.’’ you frown ‘’of course coryo, why d’ya say that? is something the matter?..’’ his smile should’ve been the first sign he was going to attempt something — his stupid, stupid smile.

a second, before he bites — deep enough to draw blood from your thigh, you can’t help but flinch and try to crawl away, he’s however, much stronger. ‘’no, no stay here baby..let me taste you again, you taste absolutely perfect.’’ with the way he’s lapping at the wound on your thigh, you could’ve been convinced he’s a monster. maybe he is, he’d never let you think that however, he’s far too calculated — always two steps ahead.

he takes his finger and swipes it against the bite on your thigh, smearing the blood even further, closer, to your core. your heart is beating so fast you’re afraid even he’ll hear it. a glance from those hauntingly blue eyes — and then he’s swiping a drop of blood and placing it right on your clit.

your breath catches in your throat, you’ve never felt so dirty, so ruined. he quickly latches onto your clit, sucking it just the way you like it. ‘’fuck, baby..you’re so dirty, letting me play with your blood like this? letting me suck it off you like you’re some dirty whore?’’ you can only manage a desperate nod — ‘’yes! yes, yes anything for you coryo, anything..’’ he continues his assault on your pussy before he’s back up, looking you straight in your eyes. ‘’you must really love me then, hm? of course you do.’’

and he’s right — you feel disgusting, letting this man do these absolutely heinous things to you, simply because you love him. and as humiliating as it is, you’d let him do anything, there is love rooted deep inside of your heart, but there’s also fear. fear that if you even dare to disobey him, anything that he asks, he’ll simply discard you — just like his last lover.

@ diarivie 2023 , do not repost on any third party websites, or copy my works.

#( ✧ ) — new letters !#( brainrot ) — coryo <3 #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #corio snow #coryo snow #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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tomriddleslove · 4 months

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Latch.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Summary: The one where the two of you have been selected for a 3 week apprenticeship right in the heart of Paris. With it being your last week, you can’t let the reserved and broody Mattheo not have one night out. Alternatively: All it takes is one moment for the boy to realise he’s in love

A/N: Listen to the damn song or i’ll fight you 🤺

Songs: Latch - Sam Smith, Disclosure (do me a favour and listen to this one slightly slowed)

“Oh come on, Mattheo.” You plead, an exasperated tone edging into your voice as you face the impassive boy.

He sits in on the chaise lounge in his room, a book held in his hands. He doesn’t even entertain your pleas, remaining silent as you walk over to him.

You crouch down in front of him, pulling the top of his book down into your hands. This forces him to look down at you, and you swear you see him momentarily falter as he finally notices what you wanted to do, or rather, where you wanted to go.

“It’s our last week here. Soon we’ll be stuck with only the common room as the best place to go out to.” You say with a small huff.

You get up, dusting down the front of the dress you wore. It was a deep, almost blood-red colour, and If Mattheo didn't have such an aversion to anything remotely resemblant of the Gryffindor house he would have complimented you on it. It was made of a delicate fabric, not quite silk but close enough. It draped over your form and came down to your mid-calf, and you had put on a bit of makeup too.

Mattheo had always thought you were beautiful. Whether you had your hair tied up and you were in your school uniform, or if you were out on the quidditch field barking out orders to the terrified 3rd years. But now, you truly were something else.

He looks around his room with a small, impatient sigh. Both Mattheo and you had been selected for a 3-week apprenticeship that would take place near the end of the summer holidays. Had it been anyone else, Mattheo would have been far less enthusiastic. However, it was you, and you were the only person he could tolerate. So, the experience was….

Enjoyable.

“Where do you want to go?” He says, quirking a brow as he dog ears the page.

“Out! Merlin, I don't know, to a restaurant, or on a walk. We’re in Paris, for heaven's sake, let’s do something on our last day!” You plead, continuing.

“Mattheo, I know you hate crowds, but this is Paris," you continue, emphasising the city’s name as if it holds all the magic in the world—which, you suppose, it does. "You can't come to Paris and not do something worth remembering. Besides, I’ve put on a dress! Don’t you like it?"

You do a little twirl to demonstrate, and Mattheo’s gaze follows the fabric as it flares out, his eyes momentarily softening. You know you’ve got him; he’s never been able to resist you when you’re like this, energetic and full of life. The fact that it’s his last day with you here makes the idea of staying in his room seem utterly bleak.

He finally sighs, closing the book and setting it on the side table. "Okay, fine," he says, standing up. "But I’m not dressing up like you."

You grin, tugging his hand as he stands up.

“I don’t expect you to. As long as you’re coming with me.”

You grab your jacket, shoving the keys to the dingy little inn into your pocket as you step out into the cold night air. The streets become livelier as you venture out of the twisted back alleys, lively with chatter and the smell of street food.

You lead him along the Seine, pointing out little things that catch your eye, like street performers and boats with glowing lanterns. Despite his scepticism, Mattheo seems to relax a bit, keeping pace with you and even cracking a faint smile when you tease him about his grumpy expression.

He keeps shooting wary glances at the crowded streets, clearly uncomfortable with the throngs of muggles milling about. You can't help but chuckle at his discomfort, finding it endearing in a strange way.

"Relax, Mattheo," you say, "It's just a walk. What could possibly go wrong?"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Famous last words," he mutters under his breath.

You hated to admit he was right. You could only pray he didn't notice as you take a turn and venture down an alleyway that seems to be getting impossibly narrower. Just as Mattheo’s about to speak up, the clearing opens up into a small square. At the far end, there's a line of people outside what looks like a converted warehouse, with neon lights casting a soft glow over the scene.

“Nope," he says flatly. "I'm not going in there."

“Oh come on Mattheo, please?” You pout, turning to him. You grab his hand with both of yours, looking up at him earnestly as you continue. “Just for a little while! Its our last weekend here, and I doubt you’ll be coming back to go clubbing in Paris anytime soon.”

His eyes flicker between the queue of people and you, and you swear you see his resolving cracking slowly. But, just as quickly as it came, it left, and he shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. Those are muggles. I refuse to mix with them like this." His voice was stern, but there was an edge of uncertainty, his eyes darting around the lively square.

"Mattheo, it's just one night," you said, squeezing his hand, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his reluctance. "It's Paris, and we're young. Besides, I need you with me, just in case something goes wrong." You threw in a playful wink, knowing that he couldn’t resist the call to play the role of protector.

Mattheo groaned, running a hand through his hair. "This is not my idea of a good time," he said,. "I don't like crowds. I don't like muggles. I don't like... all this."

You took a step closer, your voice softening to a near whisper. "But you like being around me, right?” You say, and he grumbles under his breath.

There it was, the moment of hesitation, the crack in his resolve. He looked into your eyes, and you could tell he was wavering. His stern facade faltered just enough for you to push him toward the line, one step at a time.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"Fine," he grumbles, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "But if anyone asks, I'm here under duress. And if something goes wrong, I told you so."

“Yes yes, I’m the bad guy. Heaven forbid you go clubbing and live a little .” You mock, dragging him to join the queue. You don't miss the way he shields you, standing protectively around you as you wait in the cold. The line moves fast enough, and before you know it you're in the club. You grab hold of the hem of Mattheos sleeves, not wanting to risk getting him lost before he curses you to hell for eternity.

Neon lights flash erratically, casting shifting patterns over the dance floor. Music booms from speakers positioned at every corner, making it nearly impossible to hear anything but the thumping bass. Bodies press against one another, dancing and swaying in a chaotic rhythm.

You glance at Mattheo, and his discomfort is written all over his face. His eyes dart around the room, looking for any sign of danger or trouble. It's not just the crowd that has him on edge; it's the sheer volume of it. It’s far more chaotic than anything he's used to, and the fact that it's packed with muggles only amplifies his anxiety.

You give him a reassuring squeeze on his sleeve, knowing he's on high alert. "Relax, Mattheo," you shout over the music. "We're here to have fun, remember?"

He doesn't look convinced, but he nods reluctantly. "Just be careful," he mutters, his voice barely audible above the din. "This place is a madhouse."

You head to the bar, weaving through the sea of people, and order a couple of drinks. You notice that Mattheo is hovering close behind you, his body language protective as if he's ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. You hand him his drink, but he barely takes a sip, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd.

You weave through the crowd with practised ease, all the whilst Mattheo barges through with little to no care. You sip your drink with reckless abandon, tipping it back as you begin to dance to the music.

It's silly, and it sounds like a nightmare if you were to describe it. But it’s so freeing, so addictive. You’re far from wizarding high society, not having to worry about upholding a certain appearance or looking over your shoulder for those who may have grievances against you. You're surrounded by people who don't know your name, don't know who you are, but they dance alongside you, and won’t bat an eye to a thing you do.

This, is what freedom was.

People move and dance, a blur of faces and limbs. It's hard to tell where one person ends and another begins, and Mattheo is on high alert, trying to keep you in his line of sight.

But then, in a moment of chaos, you disappear into the crowd.

He starts to push through the crowd, not caring who he elbows out of the way, his eyes scanning frantically for a glimpse of you. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion—the throngs of people, the flashing lights, the relentless pulse of the music.

His anxiety builds with each passing second, the worst-case scenarios racing through his mind. He curses himself for letting you drag him into this. He's always been cautious, always careful, and now you're lost in a sea of strangers, and it's all his fault.

Then, suddenly, there's a break in the crowd.

He sees you. You're on the dance floor, surrounded by people, but to him, it feels like you're the only one there. The lights seem to focus on you, casting you in a soft glow.

Mattheo feels his breath catch in his throat. It's like the world has stopped, and all he can see is you. The way you move, the way you laugh, the way you just... shine. It's mesmerising, and he realises instantly that he's never felt this way.

Rather, he’s never realised he’s felt this way before.

All of a sudden it was clear as day. He loved you. There was nothing more to it. No one, and truly no one, could have convinced Mathteo to come here. But the second you had asked, he was a goner, even if he tried to convince himself otherwise

You spot him, your eyes lighting up with your god-forsaken impish smile as you beckon him over. He’s there in an instant, his body carrying him over to you before he even realises it. His hands find home on your hips, and he's stuck staring at you as though you've hypnotised him.

Bodies press against him from all around, but all he sees is you. The way the silk of your dress feels against his fingertips, the way your perfume smells, the way you gaze up at him in an equally as entranced way.

It’s you. All you. It’s always been you.

And who were to deny it? Mattheo, the boy who came with scars and even more secrets, the dark and brooding boy who no one wanted to befriend. The boy who, no matter how hard he tries to plead otherwise, is the most caring boy you know.

When it's raining outside and you're caught without an umbrella, he's the one who magically finds one and holds it over your head. When you're studying late into the night, he's the one who leaves a cup of tea by your side, even if he's long gone by the time you notice it. He'll take the fall for you when you're caught sneaking out after curfew.

How he listens, really listens, even when you talk about the most mundane things as if every word you say is precious.

Mattheo, the boy with the dark hair and the darker secrets, who keeps everyone at arm's length. Yet, he lets you in, inch by inch. He doesn’t talk about his past, but you know it’s there, lurking beneath the surface. You see it in the way he flinches when someone gets too close unexpectedly, or how he tightens up when someone mentions the Dark Arts. But with you, he’s different. With you, he’s at ease.

So when you ask him to come to the club, he comes. Even if he’s not comfortable with it, he’s here because you asked, and he’d go anywhere you asked him to.

The music seems to fade into the background, nothing really mattering when your hands come up to rest on his shoulder. You mindlessly twirl one of his dark curls with your finger, tucking it back as you gaze into his eyes.

You dance with him, The flashing lights and the crowded dance floor don’t matter when you’re in his arms. There’s something about the way he holds you, protective yet gentle, that makes you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and he leans down, his lips close to your ear. "Are you having fun?" he asks, his voice low, barely audible over the music.

"Only because you're here," you reply, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It’s in this moment that you know you love him. You love the way he acts like he's tough and detached, but he cares more than anyone you’ve ever known. You love how he’ll stay up late to help you study for an exam, even if he has one the next day. You love that he’ll share his favourite books with you, the ones he never lets anyone else see. You love the way he makes you feel safe, even when he’s terrified of certain things.

Mattheo, the boy who’s never had much use for friends, who finds it easier to keep people at a distance, is the same boy who would drop everything if you needed him. The boy who looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

As you dance together, you know that it’s him.

Because it’s him. It’s always been him.

He pulls back slightly but pauses when his face is right in front of yours. Breath mingling, lips just barely brushing. You're so damned close, yet so far, and all he needs to do is lean ever so slightly forward.

“Mattheo-” You murmur, taking every last bit of his restraint with your words as he surges forward, lips meeting yours in a kiss.

It’s sheer longing, years of suppressed feelings coming to the surface. It’s as though you can feel the emotion ebbing off him with the way he kisses you, his hands gripping your waist firmly as he pulls you into him.

He feels like he can breathe now, like he had been suffocating all this time and all he needed was you to breathe freely. He can’t get enough of you, pulling you so impossibly close you'd think he's trying to merge your bodies until you were both one. Now he's had a taste, he needs all of you, every last bit.

Mattheo's breath is hot against your skin as he pulls back for just a moment, just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze is intense, his pupils dilated, and you can see the emotions he's been keeping hidden.

He loves you, and it's written all over his face.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged, and you can feel the tension in his shoulders starting to ease. The corner of your lips curve upwards into a small smile as you look at him, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” You hum, and he nods, following your lead.

-•-

You take his hand, interlocking your fingers with his as you navigate through the throngs of people on your way out of the club. It's still loud and crowded, but none of that matters now. There's a calmness between you and Mattheo, a sense of understanding and connection that feels as natural as breathing.

As you step out into the cool Paris night, the change is striking. The noise and chaos of the club fade away, replaced by the soft hum of the city after dark. The streets are quiet, lit by the glow of streetlights and the occasional flash of a passing car. The atmosphere feels surprisingly warm, though you can’t tell whether it's the warmth you feel being with Mattheo that makes it feel that way.

It's like stepping into another world, one where it's just the two of you. You walk side by side, Mattheo's hand warm in yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. It feels so natural, so right that you can't help but wonder what you were doing before this. Everything’s faded into nothingness, there’s nothing that could be more important than Mattheo.

You walk in silence for a few minutes. You admire the views, and Mattheo admires you.

“Are you excited about leaving?” You ask, breaking the silence with your words. Mattheo doesn’t respond for a second, the silence punctuated by the soft clicking of your heels against the cobblestone path.

“Not really.” He says, and you turn to him, raising a brow.

“How come? You seemed more than happy to leave when we first came here.” You jibe as you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door. Just as you unlock the door and push it slightly open, Mattheo wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you inside swiftly. It's so unexpected that you squeal in surprise, and then you're pressed against the door, the wood cool against your back. The lights in the hallway are dim, casting shadows across his face, but you can see the smirk tugging at his lips.

He doesn't give you time to react before he leans in and kisses you, his lips finding yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. His hand cups your cheek, tilting your head just so, deepening the kiss. He kisses you like he can’t get enough of you, a kiss that says he’s right where he belongs. A small sigh escapes your lips, your hands coming up to tangle in his messy curls for the second time that night as you return the kiss. And as he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can feel his breath hot against your skin.

“Because now that I have you in my space,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a line along your jaw, “I won’t let go of you.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the fireplace that crackles away in the room beside you. "Is that a promise?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"More like a guarantee," he replies, his smile widening.

Your smile broadens at his promise, and you can’t help but tease him. “I’m happy to hear that, because I was worried I’d have to tie you down to keep you around.”

Mattheo chuckles, his grin spreading as he leans in for another kiss. It’s soft and playful, but there’s a hunger belying it, like he’s making up for lost time. You giggle as he peppers you with quick kisses, his hands never leaving your waist. The way he holds you is both protective and gentle, as if he’s found something precious and doesn’t plan to let it go.

He scoops you up in his arms, carrying you upstairs as he steals kisses from you. Its messy, and you bump into the wall far too many times. He can't wipe the grin off his face as he pushes the door to your bedroom open. The way you laugh between the kisses, the way you hold onto him, the way you gasp his name when you both almost topple down the stairs.

Everything about you is burnt into the recesses of his mind, a presence so strong the only thing Mattheo knows is you.

But that’s alright with him. Besides, it’s only ever been you.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff

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doctorsiren · 3 months

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Moth Psycho 100 AU

Something that I latched onto for mp100 is the moth imagery for Mogami. More than once is a moth shown as symbolism, but it’s also associated with Mogami more than once, whereas with the other bugs he’s shown associated as, it’s just once i’m pretty sure (even if not, moths show up as symbolism the most so uhhh yeah)

So @cupofchemicalchatter and I cooked up an AU idea :)

Mogami Arc happens as normal except for the very end. Instead of Matsuo catching Mogami’s spirit and trapping him, Mogami is able to go and watch Mob from afar like he said he would: “You made your choice, kid. I’ll keep watching from afar to see if you made the right one.”

At the end of the Mogami Arc, Reigen says: “Anyway, history has shown that no good ever comes from drowning in wealth, fame, or power. Think about it: Mogami let his own powers swallow him up too.” Remember this, as this is important for the AU I’m about to explain.

And this will go into the next arc, the Separation Arc. The part where Reigen is in the alleyway under the streetlight with those moths above him always felt deeper to a level that it probably wasn’t supposed to be and by that I mean I was connecting it to Mogami’s moth thing.

What am I talking about? Okay well, just imagine the Separation Arc happening as usual UNTIL that moment. The moment where Reigen is in the alleyway:

Mogami had been keeping an eye on both Mob and Reigen, figuring that a way to break Mob was to use someone he cared about, that person being his mentor. So in that moment, Mogami had been possessing / using that moth as his vessel to watch Reigen. The moment that the moth drops dead and Reigen looks up is the moment that Mogami transferred his possession from the moth to Reigen, causing his sudden change. Now he is determined to “become somebody”. Of course, just like in canon and like Mogami did, he starts out by helping people out with their problems. He stated in the Mogami arc: “Mogami? Yeah, I modeled part of my work off him when I started this job.” Mogami stated that “at first, I used my abilities for good, giving advice and solving various problems.” Mogami was the “Psychic Star of the 20th Century”, with Reigen being the “Greatest Psychic of the 21st Century”. Mogami basically told Mob the classic villain thing of “we’re not so different, you and I”, but Mogami now sees that with Reigen as well. Despite the man not having powers, he would prove useful.

Reigen began “developing” psychic abilities. He thought at first that it might have been something residual still left over from when Mob gave him his powers while fighting the Scars, but he soon began to believe that he had dormant abilities that became awoken once he set out on “becoming somebody”. However, it’s actually just the possession from Mogami. He begins to realize that he doesn’t need Mob anymore. He can do exorcisms on his own now! So, he starts pushing everyone away…the people who would be able to actually help him out of this.

Reigen starts to hear a voice in his head. It’s Mogami speaking to him like he did with Mob, but he disguises it as Reigen’s own voice, allowing the conman to think that it’s his own thoughts. Reigen begins to separate himself from this “new” version of himself (which is just Mogami), but not in a way of “oh, these are bad thoughts” but in the way of “this version of me is my only true friend.” Since he’s being possessed, he’s not really thinking rationally.

His reflection becomes a way that Mogami can communicate visually, while disguised as Reigen, of course. He speaks to Reigen, convincing him further that he doesn’t need anybody. Only himself.

His shadow also becomes a visual way for “Reigen” to communicate (because I thought that would be cool, kind of like Morgana in Ducktales 2017, or in The Princess and the Frog).

The turning point for where things actually go south is the Supernatural Detective TV spot. When Jodo suggests that Reigen be the one to do the exorcism, instead of letting Jodo trick him, Reigen insists that Jodo go ahead with how the program was planned. In this world, the event is reversed. Jodo actually does the fake exorcism, since it was scripted, but then Reigen steps in and explains there was no evil spirit to exorcise, hence making Jodo the fool rather than Reigen. The host praises Reigen and the child reveals that he was acting the whole time.

And then begins his true metamorphosis.

Usually, butterflies are used to represent change, however moths go through that same transformation, but to most, they are held typically in a lesser regard than their daytime counterparts. Not really important, but I just thought it was interesting.

Reigen starts to spiral, becoming more and more of a corrupted conman. He isn’t assassinating people for money like Mogami had done, but he is lying more and more and more. The more he becomes corrupted with power, the more his psychic abilities grow (think Ritsu with Dimple and the student council stuff)/ The idea actually started out by me suggesting that as he gets more corrupted, he starts to cough out moths (sorta like an odd moth-based hanahaki, but having literally nothing to do with unrequited love and he won’t die from the moths. He just coughs them out because we thought that went kinda hard), but of course, he keeps telling himself (as well as Mogami telling him) that he’s fine.

His powers (Mogami’s powers) are getting stronger and he’s taking out bigger spirits, taking on bigger clients, and becoming a bigger star. He finds himself losing consciousness / disassociating at times, only to wake up and find that he is stronger. It has become a little of a Jekyll and Hyde situation, but while Mogami has control of Reigen’s body, he uses it to consume evil spirits to try and regain the power he lost from fighting Mob. How we’re visually showing the possession is through a scar (like how Dimple has the red cheek spots). He got the scar under his right eye when Mogami exploded that one-way mirror in the Mogami Arc, and since Reigen’s technically being possessed during the duration of the AU (once that moth dies), the scar is visible the whole time.

In the end (we haven’t figured out when but we just know), Mob has to confront Mogami inside Reigen’s head, like he did with Minori. Inside Reigen’s head, it becomes blatant that Reigen isn’t psychic, although Mob’s sorta known that for a while (as it is alluded to at the end of the Separation Arc). But, Mob himself doesn’t want to acknowledge that fact. Reigen always said he had powers! Why would he lie? So although Shigeo knows the truth, Mob doesn’t see it. He pretends that it’s not true. He believes in Reigen’s lies. The student has become the master, in it that Mob is now lying to himself because he can’t bring himself to believe that Reigen lied to him.

After everything, Mob is able to separate Mogami from Reigen (but of course, not without everyone getting their fair share of trauma). The scar goes away, as he is no longer possessed. He’s back to being powerless, and now he knows that it was Mogami the whole time. However, Mob says that line. He says how he’s known that his master is genuinely a good guy, because it wasn’t on his own that he did all that conning and evil spirit stuff. It was because of Mogami’s corruption and influence. I think Matsuo would still somehow come across Mogami’s spirit and capture him, just so that it can come in handy later when he’s used in the World Domination Arc bc I don’t wanna mess that up lmao

Anyways yeah that was my attempt at compiling some frantic and excited discord DMs about this AU into something somewhat cohesive! Now here’s art for the AU, because I wanted to share them, but I needed to explain what was going on first!

This was the first one I did for the AU, when I knew I needed to draw something up for the concept of him getting corrupted and coughing moths 😄

And then the shadow and mirror thing (I LOVE the one of “Reigen” in the reflection oughhhh)

If you remember that post where I said I woke up and found I had written “twink controlling a twink” the night prior, this is what it was in relation to 😭 why did I call Mogami a twink very very late at night? Who knows. The important thing is that doing so altered everything and now he is one in my mind, so I can’t do anything about it. Don't ask why this page seems really fruity, it was like 3 AM and over a week ago so I don't know (/silly)

These were from when I was rewatching the Mogami Arc to pick up details for the AU

Moths have the patterns on their wings to mimic eyes, so there’s that inherent aspect of deception and lying. It makes the moths seem like a bigger threat than they actually are. (also I have him wearing Mogami's blazer and shirt)

And then just the moths and such with Mogami’s spirit

And me pulling a quote from when Dimple was explaining who Mogami was.

YEAH I just really love drawing stuff for this AU bc of the fun moth symbolism.If none of any of this makes sense, I’m so sorry. I just needed to finally post about this AU bc it’s given me brainmoths (like brainworms, but y’know)

We kinda came up with the AU backwards and filled in random spots here and there after the fact of our original conjuration of it, so I had to try and piece it together HAHA

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lace-coffin · 8 months

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Hay, Sugar ~ ✨

Sorry if I bother you but, do you mind if I give you my rq about Billy lenz and Brams heelshire with mommy kink.Fem s/o look at them like babies because every time they do that~ they love sucking on her tits.

Sorry to bother you and thank you ❤️

Slashers with a mommy kink x fem!reader (Nsfw)

Warning for mommy kink, focus on nipple and breast play, humiliation/degradation

Requests are closed (for now!)

You’re no bother at all!! As a lesbian I’m always happy to write or read a mommy kink ; )

Brahms Heelshire

It was really only a matter of time with Brahms, any time spent together curled up on the sofa ended with him suckling on your tits sooner or later.

The first time it happened you hadn’t known what to think. Both of you had settled onto the sofa for the night, throwing on a movie you’d inevitably loose interest in and slumping over eachother. It had been a hard day for the both of you, you heading to the village for home supplies and additional items that weren’t exactly Malcom’s job to bring, and Brahms staying at home trying not to loose his mind whilst you were gone.

Brahms was getting better at keeping his cool when you had to leave, you’d been working on it together, even convincing him to see a therapist on the grounds that it was over the phone and you were present to help him verbalise his thoughts. However healing is an upwards fight and it takes time, so despite making progress the notion of you leaving for long periods of time is still distressing to him.

Needless to say Brahms was a cuddle bug when you returned, meeting you at the door like a lost puppy after padding back and forth past the window waiting for you 20 minutes prior. You had already accounted for this, you knew he’d need some extra love when you returned, picking up some snacks as a treat for him whilst you were shopping. After placating him with soft kisses to his mask and finally detaching him from your waist you convince him to watch a movie.

Not even 15 minutes into the movie Brahms is getting handsy with you, large hands pawing at the hem of your shirt, fingers wiggling under to press against your warm skin. You pretend not to notice and he doesn’t go any further than that for another 20 or so. You know he can’t help himself.

Calloused hands slip under your bra and you let out a groan, biting your lip and finally paying full attention to the man next to you. “You miss me that much baby?” You murmur, scooting closer and speeding things up by pulling your shirt and bra over your head. Even behind the mask you can tell your partner is blushing, tips of his ears a soft pink. Brahms doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing you topless.

You sigh contently as he fully cups your breasts, fitting perfectly in his hands, a squeak of surprise escapes your mouth as a finger glides over your nipple, pinching and pulling, working you up just right. An idea crosses your mind, despite not having brought it up before you know Brahms is game to most things if they involve getting to touch you.

“Brahms?” He slowly looks away from what he was doing and meets your eyes, tilting his head in question. “You wanna try something new?” He visibly perks up at this. “I need to take your mask off for it though, is that ok with you honey?” “Take it off for me?” He asks back. You nod and gently pull it away from his face, setting it on the side table. “There’s my pretty boy” you coo, running your fingers across the puckered burn scars.

A beat passes and you work up the courage to ask. “Do you want to suck on mommy’s tits baby?” An almost pained noise of arousal slips from his mouth, you don’t even get another word out before he’s latching onto your chest, hot tongue laving over your hardened nipple, the other being given attention with his free hand.

“Fuck..just like that, my perfect boy” Brahms whines around your breast in his mouth, hips bucking at the praise. Swapping to the opposite breast he switches to kneading your tits in his other hand. You can already see he’s hard and leaking in his boxers. So cute. You’re equally as needy from all the attention to your sensitive tits, but unwilling to let it end this early in favour of getting off, he looks so lost in it, worshiping your body like a god.

Billy Lenz

Billy isn’t shy when it comes to his sexual wants and needs and with the way his childhood played out it’s no surprise he has a mommy kink, he didn’t stand a chance let’s be honest. Luckily you’re more than eager to indulge him in this, loving the power exchange and the confidence it fills you with, seeing your partner pathetic on his knees, cock needy and wet for you.

Crossing your legs you sit on a deep green velvety chair, bought just for this purpose. It’s ornate and exemplifies your expensive and untouchable aura in this setting. Below you sits Billy, in nothing but his boxers. There’s something thrilling about you being fully dressed whilst he’s stripped at your feet.

Billy isn’t hard to please, letting him rut his leaky cock against your leg as you spit filthy words at him is enough to get him off if you’d be kind enough to allow it. You drop your gaze to him, sickly sweet look on your face, patronising. “Are you close you little freak? Almost cumming in your pants from rutting against me like a dog in heat? That’s disgusting.”

Billy grunts in agreement, words going straight to his cock. You hum, raising your foot to press into the base of his cock, making him squirm. “Use your words, slut.” He pants again, pushing his face into your calf and whining. “Y-yes mommy, I’m disgusting, pathetic..fuck. Gonna cum please-“ you cut him off before he can finish his plead.

“Quiet, come up here and help mommy out and maybe I’ll think about it” you snap back, unbuttoning your shirt and removing your bra, revealing your chest to him and revelling in the way he eyes it hungrily. Billy wastes no time in pulling himself up shakily, plopping down on your lap and attaching himself to your nipple. You let out a gasp of surprise and groan, slipping your hands into his curly chestnut hair and guiding him.

It’s wet and sloppy, saliva cooling slowly on your skin. His tongue is eager and making sure to switch between both nipples. Popping off he gives you a bit of respite, sucking red marks into the meat of your tits that he knows will bruise beautifully tomorrow. “Mmm there we go, that’s what you’re good for isn’t it? Just a slutty little mouth for me?” Billy moans in reply. It’s like he’s in a trance, lost to the sensation and taste of your skin under his teeth and tongue, eyes glazed over and unfocused, only interested in pleasing you and taking as much of you as he can into his enthusiastic mouth.

You could watch him forever, he almost seems content if it wasn’t for the obvious hardness pressing against your thigh, you’ll reward him well for this, after you’ve had your fun that is, you aren’t ready to let him go just yet.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #the boy 2016 #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz #black christmas #slasher fucker #slasher hcs #slasher #slashers x reader

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mrsriddlenott · 9 months

Text

The Fifth Day Of Smutmas

[smutmas masterlist][main masterlist]

~ Decorate With Me ~

Alpha!Mattheo Riddle x Bratty Omega!Reader

Summary: Alpha!Mattheo is too lazy to decorate the house for the holiday’s, thinking it useless, you however entice him to decorate one thing at a time as you strip for him, teasing him and escaping his grasp until all that’s left to do is place the ornaments on the tree, leaving him to decorate you.

- kinda AU but not really, Omegaverse and no mentions of magic, implied businessman Mattheo bc thats hot☺️ -

Warnings: 18+ Content!! Language, SexualTeasing, Stripping,Marking Kink, HairPulling(only a lil),Unprotected PinV, Cumplay, Breeding Kink, Consensual Sexual Punishment, D/S Dynamics.

“Come on Matty, pleeease” You begged, standing over Mattheo where he sat, his navy colored business suit contrasting the black leather of the large couch.

“I said no. What’s gotten into you, you always listen to me why the fuck aren’t you now?” He rolled his beautiful eyes away from yours and back to the book in front of him that gripped his attention in this moment far too much for your liking.

“I told you, I want you to decorate with me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and poking your hip out defiantly, “Me and my family decorated every year, and now that we live together you have to too. You’re just holding it off because you’re lazy, you put the tree up weeks ago and it’s still empty.” You sighed, pointing your arm in the direction of the large, bare Christmas tree.

“I think you’re forgetting that I do not have to do anything Princess, and you calling me lazy is rather funny considering I work for the money that pays for everything you can ever desire. So please decorate if you wish, but I’ll be sitting right here while you are.” Mattheo’s voice was laced with indifference as his eyes remained unmoving but focused on the pages in front of him, gripping his glass of bourbon tightly at your intrusion. After days of being denied his help you were fed up, you knew of one surefire way to grab your mates attention and that was of course, you naked in front of him ready to do anything he wished for. But….until he granted your wishes you wouldn’t be granting his.

“Fine. I will just do it all alone.” You stated innocently, walking off as you discreetly began tugging the thin straps of your red gown down your arms, allowing it to slip off your frame and pool around your ankles where it was kicked off towards the man behind you. Mattheo’s knowing gaze immediately latched onto your matching lingerie set and stockings with a scoff before locking with your eyes over your shoulder, licking his lips in an obvious attempt to control himself.

“What do you think you’re doing? Did you fucking plan this?” You giggle as his brows furrow, looking away from him and arching your back much more than necessary as you bent to grab the large box of Christmas decorations you were allowed to take from your parents when you moved in with Mattheo.

You felt his eyes dig into your behind, giving a little shake as you tossed the lid open and began grabbing the lights that were neatly coiled above the many layers of decorations, “This isn’t gonna work y’know,” Mattheo laughed, slamming his book shut and tossing it aside as he pushed himself further down the couch cushion, spreading his legs to give himself more space as he watched you move about the room. The way the hem of your lace underwear was cradling your curves in a teasing manner as your tits bounced against their harsh confines was cracking his reserve already, “You think I can’t resist you prancing about in that….” He spoke in a deeper voice now, clearly affected by your body and clearly trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Your face grew warm as you twirled the string of lights around the base of the tree, avoiding his burning eyes as you sauntered around it teasingly, reminiscent of how you would a pole. His eyes trailed along your exposed thighs and stomach, aching to have you in a way he hadn’t felt since your last heat. You weren’t usually such a brat and he was loving every minute of it, he saw how you became whiny after he had told you just a few days ago that he was too tired to decorate, fully intending to do it the next night. However, when you stood there with crossed arms and a deep pout he just had to see it again. Now though, he was losing his patience, he had to have you and he’d do anything for it.

Once the lights shone brightly up and down the tree you stepped back to observe your handy work, placing your hands on your hips as you looked over your shoulder to find Mattheo’s eyes raking up your body until they fell into yours with a silent order you weren’t going to follow. You could sense his desire to gain control again as he always had, but you wanted more from him, you needed more. His little reaction had done nothing to stray you from your plan, you saw in his dark eyes that he wouldn’t last long.

His eyes followed your movements as your fingertips ghosted up your body, tickling against your flesh to slowly grasp the latch of your bra in your steady hands, turning back to observe the tree as though nothing was happening. Mattheo’s breath hitched as you slowly unhooked your bra with your back still facing him, your shoulder blades moving teasingly as you shoved the material onto the floor in front of the partially decorated tree, still not turning to show him your exposed chest. He hissed as you stepped forward again, moving away and out of his sight to grab more decorations, his pants were tightened around his growing dick as he took the last swig of his drink before abruptly standing to follow you.

You noticed his presence behind you immediately, the tension in the room growing as soon as he stepped through the entrance, “You think you can tease me like that?” He asked, voice low as he approached your turned back slowly, each step sending a shiver down your spine and directly to your core as his expensive dress shoes hit the wood below them tauntingly. He chuckled, clearly thinking he had you cornered as he grew closer, gripping your hip in his aggressive hold as he leant over your nude shoulder, his warm breath against your neck filling you with a mix of expectance and defiance of his actions.

In one quick motion, Mattheo’s strong hand spun you to face him, almost knocking you off your feet as they attempted to catch up with the maneuver. His eyes met yours before trailing down your chest with a genuine smile, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he sighed, his free hand finding your neck as he began melting into your touch. You allowed him to pull you into him, almost touching your lips together before you pulled away, “I need to get this box to the living room, we can get back to this after,” You almost let out a chuckle at the mans dumbfounded expression as you grab the box behind you, conveniently hiding your chest as you maneuvered around his still figure to the door behind him, “It would go way faster if I had some help though.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Mattheo mumbles to himself as you leave him alone in the spare room, his mind racing with ways of gaining power over the situation but each one required focus he couldn’t obtain while you strutted around the house half naked. So instead he opted to give in….just this once.

The echo of Mattheo’s footsteps didn’t shock you, nor did the growl that escaped his lips as he took in your now entirety bare ass in front of him, the only remaining part of your outfit being the white and red stockings that were driving him absolutely insane with each passing second. “Okay! You win, give me the fucking Santa,” Mattheo snapped, making you turn to him with a wide smile before throwing yourself onto him for a hug, almost immediately stepping out of his grasp quickly as he attempted to pull you back in.

He huffed behind you as you handed him item after item to find a place for in your home, still solely focused on your almost fully nude body in front of him even as he placed miniature Santas and reindeers all around your house. Eventually however all that was left was to place the ornaments on the tree which only took an excruciating 30 minutes before he could finally have what he wanted.

Your face smashed into the couch as Mattheo aggressively shoved you forward, tugging your hips upward as his hand firmly placed against your face, “Do you need me to fuck this attitude out of you Princess?” Your incoherent mumbles of yes go unheard as he forces his fingers into you hair, tugging you upward and against his clothed chest, “I asked you a question,” He whispered against the shell of your ear, nibbling on your flesh before he spoke again, “Now fucking answer it.” He spat out, shoving you back forward as you begged him to fuck you senseless, his hand finding it’s spot against the side of your face once more as he tugged at his belt buckle. The clinking metal sending shocks of pleasure to your core, drenching your entrance as it ached to have your Alpha.

In a matter of seconds, Mattheo tugged his dress pants and boxers only partially down his thighs, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable in front of him as he lined his leaking cock up to your entrance before plowing into you with no real warning. Stretching you out almost beyond your limit as he immediately set a steady, rough pace to his thrusts, grunting above you as you clutched onto the leather of the couch. “Oh fuck Mattheo, you feel so good,”

Your almost incoherent babbles of pleasure egg him in as he snaps his hips faster against yours, eyes trained on where he disappeared deep into you, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into, pulling a scream of a moan from the back of your throat as he groans at the sound. The feeling of your walls clenching around him, silently begging him to stay inside of you, urging him to fill you up with his cum almost made him lose focus of his goal, snapping his hips harder and faster, his public bone bouncing against your clit every few thrusts as he built up his release.

Your mind was hazy as his warm, rough hand held you against the heating leather, the grip of his other hand on your hip surely leaving an entirely intentional print of his hand that had your mind going dumb as you clamped down around him, your legs shaking each time his tip slammed against you g-spot sending you soaring as your mind fogged, so close to your orgasm it felt almost painful.

“Oh fuck Matty please” You practically screamed, begging to cum as Mattheo slammed into you, the sound of damp skin smacking together echoing across the hardwood floors as you mewled and whined below him, his hard grip being the only thing keeping you in your position as you absentmindedly began bucking back against him, feeding his ego as you bounced on his cock, meeting his thrusts with a lazy smile on your face.

Your moans became whimpers as your walls clamped down on him tightly, unrelenting and desperately trying to hold him inside while you came around him, your legs were shaking uncontrollably against him as you quickly approached your high falling over the edge as Mattheo’s thrusts sped up, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, almost overstimulating you as he grew sloppy. His hips stuttered against you, groaning above you before he was pulling out of you entirely causing a desperate whine to escape you, sending him flying over the edge, shaking uncontrollably as thick spurts of his cum covered your back.

You whined below him, unable to form full words as you clenched around nothing, still coming down from your high as you almost cried at the lack of the full feeling Mattheo always left after filling you and stuffing his fingers back inside to ensure nothing came out. You wiggled your hips as if expecting him to go again just to fill you with his seed.

“Oh my pretty, bratty Baby,” Mattheo mockingly pouted down to you as he mindlessly played with his release covering your back “Are you mad I didn’t fill you up Princess?” Mattheo asks, knowing the obvious answer as he laughs over you condescendingly, “But I thought you wanted me to help you decorate, isn’t that why you thought this all out? Well….think of it as your punishment for being such a little brat to your Alpha.” He chuckled at himself, falling down beside you as he tugged your face into his chest, whispering to you that you did good for him and looked absolutely gorgeous covered in his cum.

~~~~

Event Taglist (lmk if u want on, off, or changed ur user)

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charliemwrites · 10 months

Note

what was the first time kept reader initiated some spicy time with keeper ghost like?

Wellllll I��m glad you asked -

(Smut below the cut)

You’d been dancing around the idea for awhile, flirting with the danger of it. Conflicted about actually following through but eventually thought “fuck it” and did.

You spent a week poking at his self control, his insistence that he would keep it chaste unless you wanted otherwise. That was what got you, in the end. Not “until” but “unless.”

Still, you’ve never quite forgotten how much bigger he is compared to you. Stronger, deadlier - even if you two playact otherwise. He could just DECIDE he’s done waiting for something that may never happen. It makes you nervous, makes you hesitate. Like stop-starting at the edge of a cliff before jumping off. Simon must notice something is up, he always does, but he doesn’t push.

It’s after dinner. You know he’ll be ushering you off to bed soon, insisting on keeping your schedule. The two of you are sharing the couch, you with your feet wedged under his thigh, keeping them warm. You’re allowing him to rest his hands on your calves.

A commercial break comes on and you think, “now,” before you can lose your nerve.

You clamber up and straddle his lap, hands planting on his shoulders. Simon stares, the barest lift to his eyebrows. His palms hover over you, a careful and respectful distance.

“This is new,” he observes, sounding pleasantly surprised. “What is it, little one?”

It takes you another moment to summon the words, muster the courage, gauge his expression and body language. He’s not expecting anything, just waiting patiently for you to do something, anything.

“I want you to eat me out,” you declare, face burning.

“Of course, pretty,” he says without missing a beat. “Can I get you settled, or do you want to do it?”

You tug at his sweatshirt. “Like this.”

You’re trying so hard not to shake you don’t think you could move if you wanted. And you definitely don’t want him to notice.

“Okay.” He skims his fingers along your arms, taps lightly at your wrist. Gentling you, acclimatizing you. “Have to let go so I can take care of you.”

You do, latching onto the back of the couch instead. He smiles, dares to drop a kiss on your head, then slowly shimmies down. You rise up on your knees to give him room, let him wedge his big body between your thighs.

The angle must be awful on his back, he’s half-kneeling on the ground and bent over backward so that you can keep the couch. He shushes you when you jump at his hands on your thighs, tracing the edges of your lounge shorts.

“Want these off?” he asks.

You can’t find your voice, so you shift your weight around, helping him get them off. You’re already wet, have been thinking about this most of the day and fantasizing for the last half hour. Most days you want to bite him for the way he handles you, but right now it’s the only thing keeping you together.

“Doing so well,” he soothes, “so brave.”

You huff, wiggle a bit. He chuckles and starts pressing kisses all over your thighs and hips, easing you into a position that gives him better access. He breathes against your pussy, still covered by your panties, rasps his tongue over the wet spot forming there.

“Need this, hm?” he asks.

“Gimme,” you reply, refusing to admit it.

You can feel him smirking when he kisses you again. But he gently tugs your panties down as well, mindful not to stretch or tear the pretty lace.

He doesn’t tease, doesn’t make you wait. You asked and you’re impatient, so he gives you exactly what you want. His tongue laps at your slit, gathering slick, massaging at your wet entrance. Then curls up, swirls around your clit. Sucks gently, makes obscene noises, doesn’t want to overwhelm.

You gasp and moan, instantly start rocking against his face, getting him right where you want him. He lets you ride his tongue however you like, only offers the support of his hands when he feels you shaking. It’s been a long, long time for you and he eats you out with all the precision and patience of the sniper that he is.

You don’t stand a chance.

You cum once within minutes, head thrown back and hips rocking, drawing it out. Nearly drowning him.

When you finally start to come down, you lift up a bit, let him breathe raggedly.

“Better, little one?” He asks, voice shredded, petting the back of your thigh.

You swallow the saliva that’s pooled on your own tongue, gathering yourself. “Again.”

“Yeah? Fingers this time too?”

“Yeah.” You hesitate, glance at his big hand on your thigh. “Only two.”

“Okay, pretty, only two.”

#my writing #cod #fanfiction #asks #reader fic #thoughts™️#keeper ghost #kept pet ghost #ghost x reader #simon x reader #x reader #dark fic

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Hurt Me*

Summary: The third part to Teach Me*

You and Harry have struck a deal. You'll help him explore some of his favorite kinks and in return, he'll practice each one on you.

A rather...bloody sweet deal, if you do say so yourself.

Word Count: 5.5k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you can handle!*

“So…should we start with pegging?”

You blink at him from the hallway. “I…I just walked through the door.”

He laughs, leaning back on his mattress, hands first. “Sorry. Thought we’d just jump right into it.”

“I can see that,” you snort as you walk further into his bedroom. “Did you get the stuff?”

His head jerks toward his nightstand where you find the aforementioned items you’d requested he gather.

And seeing the giant bottle of lube beside his bed is somehow both exhilarating…and startling.

You haven’t changed your mind about the agreement. You’d thought maybe you might, after the heated moment at the restaurant had passed.

But now, here you are, two days later. Still just as eager as you’d been the other night.

And you’re pleased to see that Harry apparently is, too.

He waits patiently for you to slip off your shoes and make your way for him, his eyes following each move you make.

You aren’t sure why you feel so…nervous. None of this is really all that new to you, but Harry has always had this talent for putting you on edge.

Even when he doesn’t mean to.

Like now.

“Okay,” you declare once you’ve reached him, and his eyebrow raises. “I have a list.”

The side of his mouth curls up. “A list?”

“A list,” you repeat with a determined nod. “A checklist. Of things we might wanna try.”

He chuckles as you reach into your back pocket to retrieve your small notepad. “Of course you have a fucking list.”

“Shush.” You flip it open and clear your throat. “All right. There’s edging, overstimulation, bondage, spanking, breath play, thigh riding, blood kinks—oh, and knife kinks. Also pegging, of course, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he interjects, smirking as he sits up. “I’m sorry…do you mean to tell me that you, the girl who cried when she got a papercut…have a knife kink?”

You give him a cool stare. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

His tongue swipes across his lip as he studies you. “Interesting.”

“…why?”

He shrugs, glancing around the bedroom to hide his amusement. “Nothing. Just…learning some things about you.”

Your eyes narrow. “Well, this isn’t about me, is it? This is about you and what you might like.”

He looks back, fingers tapping against the mattress in thought. “Well…I guess there’s only one way to find out, now, isn’t there?”

With a coy smile, you nod again. “I guess so.”

For a moment, you simply stare at each other. Him sitting below you on the bed and you standing in front of his legs, waiting.

You imagine it’s up to you to get the ball rolling, but despite your eager anticipation, you can’t help wondering what happens if this ruins your friendship with him.

That’s that last thing you could ever want. And sure, he seems more than willing to take this step with you.

But what if he regrets it?

What if he regrets you?

“Bee,” he murmurs, and you refocus your attention in time to see his large hands coming out to latch onto your hips and guide you between his parting thighs. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

He reaches up to tap his finger against the side of your temple. “Overthink.”

Your expression falls flat as you playfully roll your eyes and duck away from his hand. “I’m not, I’m just…planning.”

“Okay, then walk me through your plan,” he instructs. “Out loud. Tell me what you wanna do.”

You glance down at the notepad in your hand, running through each suggestion. “Uh…I don’t know. I’m not sure where to start. I don’t wanna just…jump into something heavy before you’re ready.”

“I am ready,” he insists, palms wrapping around the backs of your legs. “Whatever you wanna do, however you wanna do it. Promise.”

And you appreciate his eager anticipation, but you can’t rush something like this. Because you'd never forgive yourself for introducing him to something he wasn’t prepared to handle. Or for hurting him or scaring him.

You sigh as you look down at the hopeful glimmer in his eye. “We need to start slow, Har. Like I said. Okay, we’ll get there, we just…we need to ease into it.”

He smiles. “Then ease me. Start slow, start fast. I don’t fucking care, just start.”

And you can’t help but laugh as you toss the notebook aside to give him your full attention. “Fine. Let’s go over some rules.”

His response is to groan dramatically and flop down onto his back, lids squeezed shut.

“Come on,” you insist, reaching out to tug on his shirt and attempt to wrangle him back upright. “Harry—”

“You’re killing me, Bee,” he huffs as he lets you pull on him. “I don’t need rules, I just need you—”

“Shush,” you say for a second time once he’s straightened up, and his eyes roll. “Okay, first things first…we need an official safe word. A system, kind of. To make sure everything goes smoothly, and we feel okay.”

You can tell he wants to argue, but even he knows that this is important. So, he nods once. “Okay. You pick.”

You momentarily gnaw on the inside of your cheek. “Okay, how about…I don’t know. Watermelon? Lot of people pick a fruit, I don’t know why.”

His brow raises. “Fine. Watermelon. Can we start now?”

This time, you groan. “Harry, stop. This is serious. I need to make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

“I will be,” he mumbles, hands outstretching for your thighs once again, squeezing them as if to accentuate his point. “I will be if it’s with you. I promise, Bee. But you’re killing me here. Been thinking about this for two fucking days. M’bout to explode.”

“Really? The blue ball argument? That’s what you’re going with?” you tease as he smirks.

“No. Don’t have blue balls. Was fucking my fist the second I got home from the restaurant,” he tells you, and for some reason, the image makes your skin heat up. “It’s the idea of you that kills me. Can’t fucking stand it, so just…end my suffering. Please.”

You hesitate, teeth pulling on the flesh of your bottom lip. He’s too fucking good at this. “You have to promise that you’ll say watermelon whenever you need to stop or talk or slow down. Okay?”

His response is to lift a hand between your bodies and thrust his pinky toward you. “Promise.”

You wrap yours around his and squeeze. “Good…and I mean it, Har. The second you feel uncomfortable—”

“Yes, yes, I got it, I promise,” he interrupts, a slight edge to his tone.

Your expression falls flat but even you feel a little impatient. “Fine, well…tell me how you wanna start. Tell me what you wanna try. Or what you need me to explain.”

He turns to look toward the pad of paper now tossed askew across the floor. “You had thigh riding on there, right?”

You nod, heart beating a little faster.

He looks back. “…do you wanna ride my thigh, Bee?” he whispers, focus dropping to your throat when he notices you swallow.

Truthfully, you wanna do everything with him. There’s nothing on that list you’d shy away from, and just imagining his face alongside some of your darkest fantasies—

Your breath hitches.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, thumbs stroking across the skin of your legs as if to coax the answer out of you. “Come on. Know I need to hear you say it.”

And you appreciate this desire for verbal consent. It’s something you know you’ll need from him, too. But this…habit of his to make you all flustered is so infuriatingly…him that it drives you nuts.

“I wanna do…whatever you want me to do,” you tell him honestly, palms cupping his cheeks as you guide his head back. “Wanna do everything. All of it. You. Me. Us.”

And he smiles almost drunkenly at the callback, undone by your touch as your fingers slip through the curls atop his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You dip down, nose brushing his. “Just tell me what to do…and I’ll do it.”

You saw a glimpse of his need for control the other night. Even saw it that day in your bedroom.

Now? Now you’re putting that control in his hands, just to see if he knows what to do with it.

He might need a little help from time to time, but you have a feeling he’ll be able to handle having this sort of power over you.

And you can’t fucking wait.

The grip he has on your legs grows tighter as he whispers, “Ride my thigh.”

You smile, lips gently ghosting over his.

“Ride my fucking thigh, Bee,” he repeats, even more lasciviously than he had before. “Right now. Can’t wait another goddamn minute.”

Then, before you can even reply, he’s tugging on you until you both go toppling down onto the mattress.

You laugh but he doesn’t. He’s too far gone to think about anything else but you and what you’ve promised him.

You feel his palm slip around the back of your neck as he quickly guides your mouth to his.

And you can’t help the way your heart lurches at the taste of him. It’s only been two days yet somehow…you don’t think you’ve been able to breathe until right now. With his kiss.

The room echoes with pants and eager whines as you settle onto your knees, one on either side of his hips.

And you kind of like being on top of him like this, getting to look down and see him all laid out for you.

You’d both agreed to hold off on actually fucking each other until Harry felt more comfortable. He’d tried to argue he was already more than comfortable, but fucking your best friend crosses a completely different line.

And you aren’t sure you’re ready yet.

But this…you could do this forever. Kiss him, and touch him, and grind on him as he groans.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you squirm over his waist, desperate for a little friction.

And the sound he makes—pure, unadulterated desire—nearly has you coming right then and there.

“Okay,” you breathe, leaning back to see him. “Okay, I gotta…gotta take my shorts off—”

“Yes,” he nearly sighs, seemingly turned on by the very idea. “Yes, take them off. Please, for the love of God, take off your shorts.”

You smirk as you climb off his lap to undo the button, and as you do, he pushes up onto his elbows to watch.

And he watches. In that relentlessly focused way that almost makes you go shy. Soft, green eyes somehow sharp as they rake over every inch of your body. Watching your fingers pull the zipper down before the fabric drops to the floor and pools at your ankles.

Once yours are off, it’s time for his. He doesn’t ask for your help, instead quickly standing to rid himself of his own jeans until only his boxers are left.

He then crawls back toward the headboard, large hands motioning for you to follow as you take a deep breath and oblige.

He pats his left thigh, palm smacking against the tattooed tiger ink on his skin. “This one, right here. Come on.”

And you have to smile at the rather lewd idea.

Again, his attention never leaves you as you swing yourself back onto his lap, a knee on either side of his stretched leg.

Your underwear is still on, a choice made only out of hesitation on what he’d prefer. And you suppose you’re long past that, but you don’t want to assume.

He eyes the covering over your cunt as if mesmerized, and you go still a few inches above him, unsure whether or not to lower yourself just yet.

His hands levitate toward your waist, magnetized to your body. Then, he glances up. “Can I…fuck, wanna feel you, Bee.”

You nod quickly, lip between your teeth as he trails those nimble fingers across your skin and toward the band on your hips.

Then…they slip inside.

He’s felt you before. This isn’t new nor is it foreign.

But it’s everything.

A whimper rips from your throat the moment he glides through, a motion made exceedingly easier by the collection of arousal already waiting for him.

His jaw drops ever-so-slightly, as if overcome with lust while his head falls back against the wall.

When he drags his touch back up to your clit, you grasp onto his shoulders, throat going dry.

“There it is,” he murmurs, awestruck. “So fucking good, Bee…s’fucking heaven. You know that? Have to fucking know…could touch you forever.”

And you don’t doubt he means it as he continues to tease you, spreading you open just so before traveling down to dip the tip of his finger inside.

Your forehead finds his as you fist the material of his shirt to brace yourself. “Harry…”

“What?” His other hand slides beneath your underwear to squeeze your ass and help roll you against his fingers. “What? Say it.”

But you can’t speak. He’s not even doing anything, just…touching you to touch you and it feels like everything you’ve ever been missing.

God damn him for being this good on his third try.

His lips move for your neck, teeth zealously grazing a vein just below your ear. And you keen, nails scratching down his chest and strong arms as you work to memorize the feel of his body.

He’s so…beautiful. He’s always been cute. You knew this, but now…now you’re forced to see him and his body in a different light.

He’s strong, and sturdy, and so fucking sexy. If he asked you to spend the evening just…licking up every inch of his skin…you just might.

And you’d be okay with that.

Once a second finger is added, you just about lose it. Clenching around him pitifully as the sounds below you nearly drive you mad.

He takes a deep breath against your collarbone, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel. “Shit, Bee…what are you doing to me?”

You imagine this is more of a rhetorical question, and you wouldn’t be able to answer even if it weren’t.

Suddenly, you whimper, and instantly his touch curls, as if subconsciously affected by the sound.

Then…he pulls out, and you practically wilt as you bury yourself in his arms and try to breathe.

His chest vibrates with a chuckle as his palm smooths up from your ass to your spine, stroking soothingly. “Sorry, just can’t wait any longer.”

And despite the now empty feeling, you nod your understanding and lean back to help him slip your underwear off.

After a bit of struggle, and a few shared laughs, you readjust back onto your knees to settle over his leg.

Again, his eyes glue to the sight before him, watching with near amazement as you lower yourself down.

The second the contact is made, you both turn into incoherent puddles of obsession. It’s like medicine. The way you coat his skin, grinding against it with ease as his fingers now dig into your hips to help guide you.

His jaw goes slack while slumps against the headboard, overcome with longing at the feel. “Fucking shit—”

“Har,” you whisper, nails now in his hair, scratching down his scalp as he groans again.

He nods his chin at you, focus sluggish. “Go on, it’s okay. Keep going, m’right here.”

And you do. You roll your cunt over his thigh repeatedly, desperate for the stimulation. And it’s nothing compared to his fingers, or even your own, but you love it, nonetheless. Love the way he feels beneath you. Love the way his tattoo glistens, illuminated by the soft light of the lamp.

You love…

Your head shakes, clearing the thought before it can form as you return your attention to his face.

He looks so happy. So unbelievably thrilled with what you’re doing to him, and your heart soars.

Most of the men you’ve been with only think about what you can do for them. What giving you pleasure will do to them. What they deserve from you.

And sure, Harry has been a selfish, narcissistic ass for the entirety of your friendship.

But not now. Not here.

No, here…it’s about you. It’s about the other person. Hell, this whole thing started because he wanted to make sure he was good enough for Tina. That he could provide her with everything she deserved. It wasn’t about what she was going to give him in return.

Just like it’s not about the intricate and kinky ways you plan to get him off. He wants to learn what gets you off. Wants to learn what makes you tick.

So watching you soak his thigh as you use him to come is what he really wants.

Your lips roll into your mouth, an attempt at swallowing the rush of adoration for him.

However, he notices. Because of course he notices, and immediately, he reaches up to press his fingers into your cheeks and pop your lips free.

“Don’t,” he warns, frowning a bit as he studies you. “Don’t do that, it scares me.”

Your brows pull together as you work in a deep breath. “Wh…what? Why?”

“’Cause I don’t know what it means,” he says. “I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong, or if you don’t like it, or if you want to stop.”

You almost smile at the way he’s beginning to understand why you were so apprehensive before. Because communication is key, and your chest gets tight at the sound of unease in his voice.

You tug on his curls, head shaking quickly. “I don’t want to stop, Har…god, I don’t wanna stop. Promise, s’just…feels so good.”

His pupils double in size as he looks up at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, nose nuzzling his once again.

He smiles softly, lashes falling shut as he drinks you in. “Good. But don’t do that. If you wanna be loud, then be loud.”

“Okay,” you murmur, kissing the side of his jaw. “Okay, I promise.”

The grip on your hips constricts as he kneads on the flesh to convey his appreciation. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitches.

And when he notices, something flashes behind his eyes. Something…primal.

“What else…was on the list?” he asks, voice heavy and thick. “What else, Bee?”

“I don’t know,” you nearly whine, face nuzzling into his neck. And it’s true. You don’t have the mental capacity right now to remember a goddamn thing outside of him.

Which you aren’t exactly upset about.

He smiles again, his cheek brushing your forehead as his fingers suddenly appear around the back of your neck to pull you out of hiding. “Want you to do something for me.”

Now you do whine, rather impatiently as your thrusts against his leg are forced to slow.

He glances over toward his nightstand. “Open it and grab the red thing.”

You huff at a stray hair that’s fallen across your face before leaning over to slide the drawer open.

After peering inside, you find the aforementioned object, and pluck it free. Then, once you’ve settled back down over his thigh, you hand it to him.

But he doesn’t take it. He simply nods his chin at you with a coy smirk. “Open it.”

Curious, you do as told, studying it carefully as you attempt to figure out just what it is…before you realize.

It’s a pocketknife.

You can feel your lips part and your eyebrows raise as you flick the blade free. It shimmers against the light, taunting you with its power as Harry watches you.

“S’not, you know…a steak knife, but…” He runs his tongue over his lip in anticipation. “Will it…I mean, does it work for you?”

Normally, you’d tease him for something like this, but now…

You clench around nothing as a rush of adrenaline washes over you.

And Harry can tell, because he tenses when he feels the way you drip down his leg, his teeth gritting with possessive infatuation.

“So…yes,” he decides, still smug as he returns his hands to your hips.

You look at him, heart racing beneath your chest. “Har, we don’t…this isn’t everyone’s thing, I don’t wanna push you—”

“Uh-uh,” he quickly scolds, shaking you once. “We made a deal, yeah? If I didn’t think I could handle it, I would tell you. That’s what we’re doing this for, remember? To try. To see.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Have I said watermelon?”

The stern but rather good point makes your jaw clamp shut. “No.”

“No,” he agrees, cradling the back of your neck once again to bring you closer. “So, take that knife…and do whatever…you wanna do with it.”

He kisses you again, hoping to ease whatever doubt you might have, and you want to thank him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and just…stay there.

He nips at your bottom lip, at your tongue, at your cheek. Distracted by your taste.

So distracted, that he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’ve brought the blade closer to his jaw.

But when the cool edge slides along his skin, he stills, and you feel the hitch in his breath.

You start slow. Gentle. Tentative of his reaction as you pull back to study him.

He doesn’t…seem uncomfortable. Or nervous or panicked. Granted, you haven’t even touched him with the sharp side of the blade yet, but he knows it’s coming.

However, his attention remains on you. Watching you with the same focused determination that you’re watching him.

He wants to see what this does to you.

“Are you sure?” you hear yourself whisper, more timidly than you’d meant.

He nods. So subtle, you almost miss it. “Yes. I trust you.”

I trust you.

There’s a ripple in your chest where your heart lies, and you swallow.

Then…you rotate the knife, and let the cutting edge move across his cheek.

You hardly apply any pressure, a bit too nervous to actually hurt him. But even the sight of the silver metal dancing across his face makes your stomach flutter.

You squirm a bit harder against his thigh before moving the tip of the blade down, watching as it travels across the equally sharp curve of his jaw.

He sucks in a quiet, strained breath, his body rising and falling ever-so-slightly as his eyes flick across your face. “Are you okay?”

It’s your turn to nod, which you do, mutely.

“Bee, come on.” It’s almost a warning, but you don’t look at him. You look at the knife in your hand. You look at the way it slips under his chin. Look at the way goosebumps form in the wake. “Need to hear you say you’re okay.”

“M’okay,” you murmur, still mesmerized. “Just don’t wanna hurt you.”

His fingers instantly press harder into your hips. “Hurt me,” he says, so sincerely that it just about catches you off guard. “Hurt me. It’s okay. I promise. I fucking promise, Bee. Don’t care, just want you to do it. Want you to do whatever you want. Please.”

And now he’s begging you to cause him pain, and while this speaks volumes to his masochistic tendencies, you can’t help but feel pleased.

So, you use the position of the knife under his chin to tilt his head up.

His eyes widen but you can see the desire swimming behind the hopeful expression.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, this time with a more devious undertone. “You sure you want me to hurt you, pretty boy?”

He’d likely laugh at the nickname if it were any other moment. It��s something you used to call him back in high school, and now…now it seems to have found its place once again.

After all, he is pretty. Especially right now, with a blade teasing his skin.

“Yes,” he whispers, and you clench yet again around nothing.

And the need in your stomach has grown as you slowly roll your hips over his leg, now drenched with you.

And this slow, torturous pace that you’ve set so as to not hurt him is biting you in the ass now. Because it’s going to kill you.

And it’s going to kill him, too, if the growing erection in his boxers is any indication.

But not once has he suggested you help him out. Something that almost disappoints you, seeing as one of your favorite pastimes is turning your partner on. Making them feel good. Watching the way they fall apart.

A trait he seems to share.

It makes you smile to see so many similarities, so many kinks in him that mirror your own. Further proof that you made a rather good choice in a best friend.

When the pressure begins to pick up, and the urge to throw caution to the wind and grind against his thigh until you’re screaming overwhelms you, you make a decision.

You toss the knife to the floor, wrap your arms around his neck, and just take.

You suck on his tongue as he groans, his palms sliding down your back before they’re disappearing beneath the hem of your tank top.

Then, he slips around the front to collect your tits in his hands, pushing them together before running his thumb over the nipple just to feel you shudder.

Everything else is disregarded as he works to get you off. To feel you come against his thigh.

And he’s so warm. So feverishly hot that it makes your fingers shake as you trail them down his chest just to mimic him by slipping them under his shirt.

His stomach. You whimper against his mouth at the feel of his abs. The way they bend, and dip, and ripple as he works in desperate breaths. As he snakes an arm around your hip to drag you a bit harder over his leg. As he braces himself from the pleasure.

Struck with new inspiration, you reach for his wrist, tugging it out from beneath your tank top to bring it up to your throat.

Cautiously, you guide his fingers to the sides of your neck, pushing them into your skin just hard enough that he’ll get the hint.

And for a moment, he stills, seemingly unsure of whether or not he’s ready to have this kind of control over you.

But then, he gets a better grip. Touch constricting around your airway until each potential breath dissipates from your lungs and small, floating stars dance behind your eyes.

You give him just a moment to decide if he likes it or not.

And then…everything changes.

So fast, and so sudden, you hardly have time to process.

He growls into the kiss before he’s lifting you off his lap, tossing you onto the other side of the mattress, and placing himself above you.

His hand instantly returns to your throat, making a home on your neck as he squeezes.

And you gasp, back arching off the bed as he dips down to kiss you again.

But not just kiss you.

Take you.

He tugs on the pink fibers of your bottom lip with fervor. Angry enough that you can’t help the whimper that slips from your mouth into his.

And he feeds off it. Presses his bent knee back into your cunt just to tease you, forcing more pleasure to roll over each nerve ending.

A moment later, you taste the metallic, tangy flavor of blood as it drips back into your mouth and down your throat.

He’s made you bleed.

Yet another kink to check off the list, and you squirm against his leg once more as he eagerly sucks the droplets into his mouth.

His lashes flutter, and your heart just about jumps out of your chest.

Breathing harder than you ever have, you watch with awe as he finally uncurls his fingers from your airway to lean back and see you. Study you.

Then, his thumb finds your lip. He swipes it through the blood collecting around your mouth, eyes wide and filled with need.

He pushes it into your mouth, albeit gently, with the unspoken request that you suck.

So…you do.

You suck the ever-loving shit out of his finger as your pussy practically vibrates against his knee, forcing him to inhale in a sharp breath of his own.

He’s happy.

So goddamn proud that you don’t quite know what to do with yourself except keep making him happy.

A second later, he’s dragging his thumb back out just to trail it down your chin. Blood and spit staining your skin exactly the way you love.

Exactly the way he loves.

“Shit,” he mumbles, his other hand smoothing down the side of your ribcage. “Shit, Bee…look at you.”

You say nothing. Can say nothing. Because he is everything, and you aren’t even here anymore. You’re merciless to his intentions. Desperate for each touch, hanging off each word, each thought.

He pushes your top up until it collects just above your chest, thumb returning to your sternum to paint a picture of his obsession.

He drags it between your tits before moving it over to your nipples, smearing the blood over the peak as it hardens.

Then, his eyes meet yours…and he lowers.

His lips wrap around you, licking at the ruby marks over your breast before pulling you into his mouth.

And it’s game over.

It’s sadistic, and cruel, and absolutely perfect. Everything about this—about him—is perfect.

His leg against your cunt, his mouth on your body, his curls tangling in your fingers.

Everything.

Him.

You.

All of it.

Your head rolls back against the mattress, your focus finding the ceiling as you will yourself not to scream.

But you do moan, rather lasciviously, and the sound of it has Harry’s nails pulling at your skin.

And you’re rather excited about the marks you might find tomorrow.

“Fucking killing me, Bee,” he grunts, popping off your tit to nose under your jaw. “M’so goddamn lost on you. Do anything for you…anything.”

Anything.

“Everything,” he adds, squeezing your hip. “Shit…don’t think I can do much more. Might actually kill me.”

And you know what he means. Know exactly the kind of pain mixing deep within his belly at the lack of release.

And suddenly…you’re struck with inspiration. Possessed by an idea you know you’ll come to regret tomorrow.

But you really don’t fucking care.

You grasp onto his face, palms melding with his cheeks as you force his eyes on you. “Harry?”

He seems to steel himself at the sound of his name, the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he presses his knee further into you.

You squirm once more, arching a bit higher as you pout at the unfairness. “Thought of…something else…we could try.”

His brow raises. “Yeah?”

You nod, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I want you…to fuck me.”

He’s torn between two reactions. Surprise and acceptance.

You can feel just how much he enjoys the idea by how firm his grip on your body becomes. How pointed, how ravenous.

But you both agreed there was no going back after something like that. And you can see the way he considers your proposal.

And you know him. You know he’s asking himself if this is really what you want. If you’re in your right mind. Aware enough to even suggest such a thing.

He’s asking himself if you’ll regret him.

And you want to assure him that you could never…but you can’t. That’s not something you can promise. All you can do is hope he does it anyway.

You sit up just enough to nuzzle your nose against his, exactly the way he had before. “Please, Harry…please…need you. Need to feel you, gotta feel you, Har…hurts so bad—”

He makes another animalistic noise in the back of his throat as he presses his forehead to yours. “Bee—”

“Gimme everything, Har, please,” you continue rather insistently. “Be so good for you. Promise. Just need it. Need you…can’t…can’t fucking take it, Harry—”

“Fuck,” he just about groans, lowering his hips until they can grind against yours.

And the feel of his cock, so close yet so far…nearly does it.

You mewl at the contact, the sound pathetically desperate, but it seems to be the only thing to tip the dominos.

And every fear, every hesitation, every warning is instantly shoved aside as he kisses you once again. “Promise me we won’t change.”

He rolls himself over your cunt a second time, just before you can answer, and you whimper once more as your nails scratch down his shirt. “Har—"

“Fucking promise me,” he repeats, nearly hissing the instruction at you. “If I do this—if we do this—you have to fucking promise me, Bee. Can’t fucking lose you. Can’t do this and then lose you, I can’t—”

“I promise,” you whisper quickly. “I promise, Har, just…please.”

And that’s all he needed to hear, a smile breaking free across his face as the last domino finally falls.

“Good…cause we’ve still got quite a bit of list to go.”

DON'T YELL AT ME, THERE'S ANOTHER PART COMING, I SWEAR!!!

Next Part:

~ Feel Me* (Pt. 4)

Previous Part:

~ Show Me* (Pt. 2)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@onlystylesss28 @winterrays @jessitpwk @aslugforharry @allthelovehes @straightnogayhs @adoringhrry @harrysxcarolina @lillefroe @avasversion @littlelunamoon @harrysgf01 @indierockgirrl @lexiecamposv @spinningoutwaiting4ya @hs-tpwkrry @vyctorya @b-reads-things @thiyaabs

#harry #harry edward styles #harry styles #harry styles fan #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles concept #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #blurb #imagine #smut #concept #harry styles best friend #best friends to lovers #harry and bee

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sukunasweetheart · 6 months

Note

im gonna tell you my favorite thing about sukuna right neow because i think youd be the best writer to write this (i jus love you) of yoru uncomfortbale, its ok. But hear this knowledge i know that you may not know or if you do thats GREAT.

sukuna can lactate. CANNONICALLY.

PLEASEEEEE lmfoaksdn i love this... ive read a few fics with trueform sukuna lactating and maybe its my turn to do a little something for it too... this is ur warning lmao it turns very smutty at the end bye

its good for a little sub!sukuna too, he's never let anyone come near his chest except you, so he'd probably be new to all the sensations youd give him ^^ you're overexcited and sukuna is probably grimacing at you, thinking youre a weirdo and a pervert for wanting to suck on his teet so bad, but after a lot of convincing, he lets you try to relieve the ache of his TIDDIES with a big eye roll

and boy, does it feel weird. you suck on his nipple like a newborn, and as your tongue rolls around his sensitive bud, he can't stop the shudders that go down his spine. his growing erection becomes painfully obvious and he's almost horrified about it, why does this feel so good?

you groan at the taste of his sweet milk and he finds it oddly fulfilling-- knowing that you're enjoying the taste of his...milk. you roll your hips around against his boner and sukuna's large hands land on your waist to guide your movements.

you suck on his one nipple until it's puffy and swollen and run dry, before moving on to the other one.

"fuck... slow down. it's not goin' anywhere," sukuna huffs at you, looking down at you with flushed cheeks and red ears. you don't respond, only continuing to squeeze out every drop from him using your mouth. you're also getting wetter and wetter between your legs with every passing second, drunk from his sweet taste, wondering how such a bitter man could produce something like this out of his chest.

sukuna breathes heavier above you, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head as you lap up every drop that comes out. he jerks his hips up every now and then, unable to help himself. he'll need to fuck you dumb after this as a punishment-- or a reward, perhaps?

he gets closer to soiling his hakama pants with his load, but he's doing everything to hold back because it's humiliating enough that the king of curses lactates, and is currently letting someone drink from his pecs. he can't be cumming into his clothes like a virgin on top of that. he grits his teeth and restrains himself.

it was a futile effort however, because you do something unthinkable and brave on your part, suddenly using your teeth into the mix, biting lightly on his sensitive nipple, immediately sending him over the edge.

sukuna jolts and his clothed cock presses up against you as he blows his load into his pants, the shock of the painful pleasure having shot down his spine. you hear him groan deeply and hiss at you, retaliating by grabbing a handful of your hair. but you're unrelenting, and your mouth is still latched onto him. your cheeky grin pisses him off.

once his orgasm subsides, sukuna pries your lips away from his puffy nipples. they're swollen and sensitive. he has tears barely protruding from the corners of his eyes, and there is a brilliant blush on his face.

"fucking hell. you're insatiable. one perverted fucking woman," he tells you with a growl.

"but you liked it. loved it, even. so much that you came in your pants-"

you yelp as you're manhandled onto the bed. sukuna practically tears the clothes off from your body, stripping you bare, down to your dripping wet pussy. he roughly slots his fingers into your soaking cunt, a mean glare in his eyes, having flared up from your provoking.

"you're sopping wet. not much better than me, are you?" sukuna sneers, fingering your most delicate spot. you moan, unable to respond, too preoccupied with the pleasure.

he removes his digits and then shoves them into your own mouth, to shut you up. then, he frees his still aching cock from his pants and shoves it into you all in one go.

"all nice and loose f' me," he groans, feeling your welcoming walls around his dick.

"i wonder if i bred you nice and full- would i get to have a taste of your milk too?"

you suck on his fingers and whimper, full of lust and desire.

"oh? ...you don't seem to hate the idea. i'll fuck a baby into you, then," he says darkly.

...and a blissful night ensues, where you get to enjoy getting pumped full of the milk from his cock, not just his tits.

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #poe answers #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna

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manicpixiefelix · 8 months

Text

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way)

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: When Oliver's lies are revealed to you and Felix, you have a much better time understanding his reasoning for it all, and Oliver convinces you to help talk Felix around into hopefully forgiving him. Felix, however, just grows more frustrated as it appears that you've very quickly moved on from the betray, and are urging him to do so too. Meanwhile, Oliver has come to realise that no matter the outcome, Felix will never really want anyone else if he has you by his side.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: death (YOU DIE IN THIS ONE), murder via overdose, oliver's birthday party situation, oliver being incredibly manipulative, reader and felix arguing a lot, felix being a bit of a dick, angst with an unhappy ending, toxic felix/oliver endgame, heavy drinking and drug use

{ now with an epilogue }

A/N: 6267 words. ooft ouch ooft my heart. i dont like reader & fi fighting and this whole thing fucked me up bigtime. like bigtime bigtime. big angst, please heed the warnings. what do you think about this one? i like it even if it made me cryyyy

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

"Please," Oliver's lip trembles when he grabs your sleeve. He doesn't try and chase Felix after you all get back from the disastrous trip to his parents' house, perhaps part of him knew he wouldn't get through to him in this state, so he latches on to you instead, "you- you know," and even just the helpless sense of desire in his voice is familiar to you, "I just wanted to be his friend, be your friend; be close to you both -" Oliver's fidgeting with your sleeve and your heart's breaking for him, despite the betrayal of his lies.

"Ollie-" you sighed, but he took both your hands in his, tears gathering in the beautiful blue eyes you've come to care so deeply about in the past year.

"I never meant any harm," he insists. His hands are shaking.

"I know, Ollie," you finally concede, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

"He won't listen to me- won't believe me; please, please, I need you to believe me, I need Felix -" and though he can't seem to finish the request, it's enough. The lies he's told, what they mean for the friendship you've all forged, it makes you feel more than a little queasy, but you think you understand him. At least better than Felix would in this moment.

"I'll try," though your tone doesn't inspire confidence, "just give him space, give him time -"

"I don't have time," Oliver croaks out weakly, gave dropping to the floor, "he'll throw me out tomorrow and never look at me again," this time, when his grip on your hands tightens, it becomes almost painful, face scrunching up as if dreading the tears he was about to shed, the things he was about to say; "and even if you don't hate me the way he does, I'll be losing you too."

Your silence speaks volumes. You hate that he's right.

"You know you're the only hope I've got left." Oliver's nails dig into your skin, but your hands don't shake.

"I will try, that's all I can do."

By the time you get to your room, Felix is already cutting up lines of coke with a delicate little razor from one of the various stashes you and the other wards of the Saltburn Estate had hidden throughout the building over the years. He doesn't look up when you enter, quietly, and furiously focused on the task at hand, cross-legged in the middle of your bed.

Sitting behind him, you lean in to press your forehead between his shoulders, sighing deeply.

"Yeah," Felix mumbles, "it's a bit like that, isn't it?"

Squeezing your eyes closed, all you can see is the love and desperation in OIiver's eyes as he'd held you back, begged for your understanding, forgiveness, friendship -

"You never loved someone so much you'd do anything to keep them around?" You asked softly, and feel Felix go still, "you never lied about your family because you were worried about how people would react if they knew the truth?" The more you consider, the less anger you feel towards what Oliver had done.

"You're different," Felix's voice is carefully neutral. There's a pause, a snort, a line of white powder going up his nose, "you didn't pretend that your dad died just to get sympathy out of me," he points out, already picking at the threads of similarity that you'd laid before him in hopes of softening the betrayal he felt so strongly.

Then he's moving again, doing things you're still not sure of, forehead still pressed to the fabric of his shirt between his shoulders. Sighing, louder this time, you go to say something more, to try and argue your case further, but Felix cuts you off. It's the sharpest he's ever been with you, you think, practically orders you not to talk about this anymore.

Then, he shifts, he reaches for you behind himself, and you move with him, without prompting. Felix leans back, and you move to his side, allow yourself to settle your head on his chest, looking up at him. One hand loosely draped over you, Felix tucks his other behind his head, eyes closed; even if they were open, he wouldn't be looking at you.

"Just shut up about Ollie, just shut up -" his tone is much softer now, but his words still bite more than you're used to, "I don't want to hear anything about fucking Oliver Quick right now." There's a nausea twisting in your gut that you're unfamiliar with, heavy and upsetting, that you somehow know has everything to do with Felix's tone. Part of you feels so embarrassed for even feeling like this, for being so wrapped up in pleasing him that even the slightest hint of disapproval for the first time in years has you so viscerally uncomfortable.

The other part of you ducks your gaze, and curls up against his side, obedient.

"Sure, Fi."

A long silence, softened only by Felix's deep breathing for several long moments before you finally feel him relax.

"I love you," it sounds almost like an apology. You wonder if he knows how to do that. Still, the nausea in your gut immediately begins to clear. This time, when you close your eyes, you try to just be present in the moment for what it is, Felix's arm around you, his steady heartbeat warm beneath your ear; you can find contentment here if you tried.

Much to your chagrin, Felix's mood and feelings of betrayal also meant he was no longer interested in the full costume you'd put together for him for Oliver's birthday party. He's well aware his mother would be appalled if he just showed up in jeans and a shirt, so he reluctantly pulls on the wings you'd spray painted up on the roof a few days before.

"I put time into this, Fi," you pleaded softly, looking at the rest of the costume you'd put together hanging sadly, untouched in his wardrobe.

"Maybe I just want to save it for a happy occasion," Felix refused to even sit down at the dresser, despite where you'd neatly set out both of your accessories for the night. He doesn't even spare the various, gold accoutrements that you'd curated for his costume a second glance, simply fusses with his hair in a way that won't even last.

"You're being ridiculous about this," you finally voice, unable to stop yourself, "he's still Our Oliver, his family doesn't change that -"

Felix goes still in the mirror, expression displeased when he meets your eyes in the reflection. Nausea again. You never want him to look at you like this ever again; you half want to apologise already.

"I don't care about his family, I care about how I don't know if I can believe anything he says! He lied to you, to me, he was clearly lying to his family, considering they have no idea he'd be nothing but a fucking joke at uni if it wasn't for me!" The outburst blindsides you, it seems to even blindside Felix, who has to take a few moments to compose himself before he can look you in the eyes again. Softly, that look of betrayal is turned upon you, "how can you be okay with that?"

A million answers blow through your mind - love, compartmentalisation, hypocrisy - but none feel right. There's no way for you to justify this to Felix, at least, not one that would make him happy, make him understand.

"Our Oliver-" but as he's standing, he cuts himself off, shaking his head, "Your Oliver -" but the words get stuck in his throat. After a beat, he scrubs his face over his hands, "I just don't understand," far calmer, he lets out a deep breath and continues, "how you got over this so fast," but before you can answer, his eyes open, and there's no fire, nor fury, just hurt; "and I need you right now, but not if you're going to be like this."

Oh, you're going to be sick.

It's apologies that spew out of you, nervous, still only half ready, and regretting every word that made Felix look at you like that. He tries awkwardly to tell you that it's not that bad, that he just wishes it felt like you were on his team. Insisting that you are gets you a weak smile from your best friend, but he still leaves seeming unconvinced.

There are voices outside, on the grounds. The party has begun, the sun will be set soon.

Half of your costume hangs up beside Felix's, your elegant, green gossamer robe shining next to the matching, gold gossamer pirate shirt that you had made for Felix. Neither leave the wardrobe, and perhaps you are underdressed in what was basically a set of incredibly ornate, bejewelled, and bedazzled lingerie, and boots, but you couldn't even bring yourself to care.

Perhaps, you consider, if Felix had blown up before you'd gotten this much on, you'd be as dressed down as he was for the event.

Before you leave, however, you go to double check yourself in the mirror, and don't think to knock. Oliver catches sight of you in the mirror before you properly realise he's there. Both freeze, both deer trapped in each other's proverbial headlights. Both with red-rimmed eyes. You wonder if he knows, if he waited with baited breath and an ear pressed to the bedroom door as Felix tore him down and you immediately gave him up to keep your best friend happy.

"You look like a dream," Oliver's voice is hoarse, and he turns to properly face you, to give your costume a generous look over, "merry wanderer of the night," he offers, meeting your gaze again. The line, pulled straight from the play upon which the whole night was based, was one you'd gleefully recounted to him when you told him you would be going as Puck.

There's a slight, sad smile on his lips, a shyness to the way he leans against the counter, but none of the awkwardness he carries around others. There, in his boxers alone, you realise how vulnerable he truly is in this moment, the moment you've so callously interrupted. But Oliver doesn't call you out, nor does he shy away from your gaze.

All words have escaped you in this moment, however. Even the idea of Felix's reaction to his moment makes you feel ill, but part of your heart still breaks for Oliver, for this boy so overwhelmed with love that he would do anything for it.

"I can go," Oliver says softly, apologetically, when you seem frozen even still. It breaks you out, however, and you shake your head vigorously.

"No, its okay Ollie."

"Your," he says slowly, pointedly, "Ollie." He'd heard. Fuck; how much? "I heard all of it," he admits slowly, approaching you. This time, you are the wild animal, cornered in the bathroom. Oliver doesn't look at you like prey, he doesn't approach you like a predator; he doesn't want to spook you, "I didn't mean to get between you and Felix," his voice is soft, and he sniffles a little, but tries to smile through it, "ever; back at Oxford, over Summer, ever."

But you can't bring yourself to look at him. Gently, you loop a finger through the fine, silver chain around his throat, keeping your gaze focused on it without ever tugging it too hard.

"I'm trying," you whisper, voice watery despite your best effort, tears gathering in your eyes, "but I -"

Oliver pulls you into a hug as the damn finally bursts, and the tension, the pressure of the day that had already been pressing down upon you finally breaks. Oliver lets you cry on his shoulder, petting your hair gently.

"But you're a good dog," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you're too distraught to catch the echoes of resentment in his tone.

"It's all I know how to be!"

"I know, pet, I know."

Once you've calmed down, you apologise for your outburst, for having him comfort you at a time like this. There's something different about him, about his smile, the look in his eyes, as he just assures you that it's fine, that he's going to still try and enjoy his night.

After cleaning yourself up and fixing your makeup, finally you make it downstairs. There's more people on the first floor than you'd been expecting, so you have to worm your way through the crowd to search for Felix.

"My gentle puck, come hither!" Felix voice rises through the crowd; if your ears could prick up, they probably would. Just the brightness in his voice lifts you from your melancholy, and when you finally reach him you're beaming.

And he's already drunk.

Which you would like to be too. As if anticipating your requests, he puts two fruity looking drinks in your hands, and picks up another two with a wide smile. You trot along behind him as he cuts a path through the crowd towards the sofas where your friends from Oxford had found themselves. A cheer rises when they see you, all glad for your company, all desperate to hear how your Summer had been so far.

At first, you're simply sitting on the arm of the sofa, beside Felix, bright and animatedly engaging in conversation with the others. Felix finishes his first drink and his arm goes around India, tucked up against his other side, but as soon as his second drink is finished, and you've leaned across him to put your own empty cup on the coffee table between you all, he uses it as an excuse to pull you into his lap.

"Felix," India says when she means what the fuck are you playing at right now? Felix gives a surprisingly cold smile, his hand slipping from her shoulder, moving lower to grip her side rather possessively. You simply wait, ready to move at a moment's notice.

"What?" There's something biting in Felix's voice, something that sounds so uncharacteristically mean as he raises his voice enough for the group to hear, "aren't you all still deluding yourselves about me and Y/N? Don't you still think we're related - or whatever it was Farleigh told you all?" Immediately the tension in your little circle of friends spikes. Felix's hand is practically between your thighs, gripping your thigh like he owns you. In any other circumstance you'd probably enjoy this, but every single one of your friends is suddenly looking at you like they'd never seen you before.

"You hot people disgust me," India finally breaks the tension flippantly, and everyone else cackles with laughter. Felix does actually grin at her, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"No we don't," he teases gently, and India tries to continue playing at being annoyed, by insisting that she needs something stronger than the bar could offer. As she stands, she looks back, holding out her hands to you and Felix.

"Come on, disgusting hot people; I know you're both already high and probably want some more."

"Knew there was a reason I liked you, India," you grinned, glad to have escaped that encounter without much of a mental or physical scratch, though Felix does make a point of grabbing your ass as you stand, even with India holding his other hand.

However you're another line deep in the bathroom, with India, Felix, and two of the others who'd followed along, when that good mood evaporates. Oliver stands in the door, waiting, watching; you're the first to notice him, to catch his gaze properly, but all he does is clear his throat. Felix looks to him when Oliver finally calls his name, but pointedly acts like he doesn't in the next moment.

"Can I, er, talk to you for one second?" Oliver asks faintly, but is met with no response. Instead of looking at Oliver, Felix momentarily flicks a frustrated gaze at you, like he feels your sudden discomfort and fidgeting is a personal betrayal, "you can't ignore me forever," Oliver tries, but Felix gives him a cold smile.

"I can try."

"Fi," you hissed, but all you get is another glare.

"Felix, we need to talk," Oliver was begging now, but he turned his attention to you, pleading, "can you get him to please listen to me, just for a moment -" but his words have your heart freezing in your chest. You can't even stutter Felix's name out before he's dismissing you both.

"I tried being nice about this," Felix huffed, "but if you're still insisting on playing Devil's Advocate for him, the both of you can fuck off and go bother the rest of the party." He relights his cigarette, but he doesn't even look at you once. One more time you try, reaching out, apology on your tongue, but he shrugs you off and finally gives a cutting look, "no I told you, okay? You're over it; fucking great for you. I'm not, and I don't have to be, so piss off and be over it away from me."

You stand, momentarily unsteady on your feet before you regain your balance and head to the door. Everything in your mind is a mess of emotions. The drugs and alcohol are sending you into overdrive, though neither is the reason you're feeling so sick. Still, while you know where Felix is coming from, one look at Oliver as you reach the door and you can't help but stop. Turning back, you hope Felix can read how damn hurt you are by all this;

"I'm not a monster for having a heart, Felix."

And you take some small victory from the surprise in his eyes. Before he can respond, however, you grab Oliver's hand and lead him away.

With another two fruity drinks, you and Oliver sit on the edge of the fountain outside, watching the revelry, mirroring each other's weary slump.

"How are you finding your birthday party?" You asked lamely after a few minutes. Oliver took a few moments to deliberate, while you sipped down your drink quite quickly.

"Don't know anyone," he says mildly, "and the people I do know think I'm a joke -" right, he'd heard Felix's earlier comments about the group from Oxford's feelings, "and I was aware kind of from the start of knowing youse," he casts his gaze to you now, turning to you, eyes meeting yours, "that my two best friends were bonded like those cats at the shelter, the kind you can't separate from each other or they'll cry all day and refuse to eat until you put them back together," the smile he gives you is humourless, and doesn't even reach his eyes, "but one hates me and the other has no spine," he shrugged like he hadn't just insulted you, going back to people-watching, "so I don't think it'll go down as my best birthday ever."

"I have a spine," you scowled, as if straightening your posture proved his point at all.

"Why? You don't need it," still as mild as before, Oliver takes a long, loud sip of his drink, "you've got Felix."

"I'm trying to help you, Oliver, I swear -"

"You don't know how to stand up for yourself, Y/N," this time, the look that he gives you is simply pitying, "I'm sorry I asked you to try and stand up for me." The words ache like a punch to the gut, "you're not even trying to help me for me, or for how much you supposedly love me; you love that I love Felix."

"Oliver, I love you!" You insisted through angry tears and gritted teeth, "how your mind works, how you figure things out, the books you like, the way you're constantly watching and cataloguing and remembering, it shows you care about the world around you and the people in it. I love that you're obsessive and ambitious and that you can be ruthless -" it comes out messy and unrehearsed, but you slowly see the shock and genuine awe on Oliver's face as he comes to terms with the fact that you're being genuine. For the first time all evening, you think you see guilt in his eyes. It's gone too fast, Oliver turning away.

"I love you too," he says gently, following it carefully with, "but we both know who you crawl into bed with at the end of every night." Then, under his breath, sounding so forlorn, "do not separate."

"Oliver-" but he stands, stretches, and finishes off his beer.

"He's probably already missing you, waiting to forgive you," he puts his empty beer bottle down on the edge of the fountain, and for just a moment, he reaches out and gently holds your face. Nothing is said, but there's endless, unreadable emotions in his eyes as he gazes into yours.

Then he's gone.

Making your way back to the estate itself, you forgo looking for Felix, half ashamed of the idea that Oliver was right, and instead slip beneath the velvet rope that cordoned off the upper floors of the house. Back in your bedroom, the stash of coke Felix had raided before the party was still reasonably well stocked, and the bottle of bourbon that you'd stashed in the broken piano last Christmas was thankfully untouched. There was something seriously sad, you think to yourself, about drinking and snorting alone in your room, upstairs from a party where you know your friends are all doing it too. But you don't want to see them. Don't want to see anyone.

The remainder of yours and Felix's matching outfits taunt you silently from the closet door on which they hang. They're beautiful and vapid and cold; you hate them.

"Oh, sorry, didn't realise you were -" it's Felix at the door - of course it is, who else would it be? - who startles you out of your thoughts. There's no frustration in his eyes anymore, no anger, just surprise. His gaze roams over you, from the drugs balanced on your knee to the half-full bottle cradled in your lap, "you okay?" Oliver's right, of course. Oliver's right about a lot of things.

"Yeah," you sniffle, taking another swig of the drink, "what did you need?"

"Think they're gonna sing happy birthday to Ollie soon," Felix leans against the doorframe. You share in an awkward silence for a long moment.

"That why you're here?"

"I came up to see if there was any of that coke left from before," he says, looking at the mirror on your knee and the still mostly full baggie on the bed next to you. Then, he gives a sheepish little grin, "yeah," he admits.

"We should be down there," you say without thinking. Felix's expression falls, and he kicks at the doorframe for a moment, "you do care about his family," spills from you; you're not even sure from where. Felix's expression grows darker.

"Why are you so insistent about doing this?"

"Because you love him, Felix," you remind him firmly, before putting down the bottle and rolling up the already significantly curved bill beside you, "and he loves you, and you know that," picking up the mirror, you make short work of the last line to avoid looking at Felix. Dragging your finger across the glass, you pick up the last of the residue, wiping it on your gums. Your hands remain busy as you pack the remainder of it all into the little, wooden box it was kept in, as you spoke, "you hate the parts of you he figured out, the buttons he learned how to push; Oliver," you snapped the box shut, looking up at him, "was too good to be true, and that's why you're hurt; you're scared it's like Eddie all over again, too good to be true -"

"You shut up about Eddie -" Felix warned, but you stood, box in hand, approaching him with a fierce, intoxicated determination.

"Eddie was never too good, you were just in love! Eddie wasn't even loyal!" You cried, shoving him with the box, letting out a desperate sentiment that you'd let fester in the darkest part of your heart for over a year, "he was never going to be loyal! He never loved you as much as you loved him! Never! And you were so blinded by how happy he seemed to be with this 'better life' you were offering him, you could never bloody see it -"

"You are drunk and high," Felix spits at you, clearly holding himself back from tears.

"But all I ever want is you to be happy," hanging your head, you push the box into his grip and stumble back to the bed, searching for the bottle, "why can't you trust me about this?"

"Oliver fucking lie to me, betrayed me -"

"Us!" You shouted, unscrewing the lid with vigour, "to keep you in his life. You just don't like what the lies he used to keep you around say about you." And with that you furiously started chugging more of the drink.

"I'm done with you," Felix's voice is weak, hands coming up to cover his face. Lowering the bottle, all you can do is stare at him. It's like you've been splashed with ice water.

"Fi -"

"I need space; I need you out of my room for the rest of Summer."

"Fi, please -"

"I thought you were fucking better than this!" He snapped, finally stalking away, while you were too disorientated to even go after him.

The first thing you manage to do is stumble to the bathroom and throw your guts up into the sink. Physically you feel a bit better, but the nausea you can now tell is psychological. Downstairs, though you don't know how much time has passed, the house has transformed itself into a rave. Too bright. Too hot. Too sticky. You think you catch sight of Ollie, but your gaze quickly moves to Felix, silhouetted by neon and haze, looking like an angel. Beside him, India sparkles and giggles and her hands are all over him. You want him to be happy, you don't want to interrupt but you have to -

Someone catches you before you faceplant in the middle of the dancefloor, and it turns out it is Oliver.

"You look like a bit of a mess," he says, aiming for a light, joking tone, but it almost sets you off. Seeing you about to start crying, Oliver starts to panic, and suggests the two of you get some air. Though you want to protest, you see Felix and India, hand in hand, making their way to the side doors. Oliver, champagne in one hand, has his other arm under yours, supporting you as the two of you made your way out too.

The night air is cool, a sharp contrast from inside, so sharp it almost stings.

"I should'a kept my mouth shut," you whimpered, "I didn't need a spine, why did I listen to you?" Oliver is simply quiet, listening to you ramble, getting the gist of what had happened between you and Felix as you slowly made your way to the maze.

"I don't wanna go in," you whispered at the entrance, looking down it's tall, green corridor. Oliver looked at you strangely.

"Worried you'll get lost?"

"I could never get lost, Felix made sure of that plenty of times." Carefully, you extract yourself from Oliver, sitting cross-legged by the entrance of the maze, looking out over the rest of Saltburn with your back to the hedges; Oliver watches you curiously, "I can wait for Fi here."

"I can't wait," Oliver finally says, "I don't have the time. I have to try."

You, surprisingly serene and content with your decision, more at peace than you'd been during the entire walk over, make no attempt to stop him. You just tell him you'll be here when he gets back. This time you genuinely smile, insisting he go in without you.

"I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

So he goes, and you listen to his footsteps retreating. After a few minutes, however, he returns.

"I think you need this more than I do," and he hands you the bottle of champagne he'd been carrying. Turns out there's only really a quarter of the bottle left, but at least you think it won't be enough to make you sick again.

As frustrated as Felix could get, he's never not forgiven you. That's all you can think about as you finish off the bottle.

You would apologise. You would make it up to him. You could make this better again.

Except...

Hang on, wait, who was that who just ran out of the maze? Someone ran out of the maze? You were pretty sure someone did anyways... maybe India, if Oliver had confronted -

Oliver is the second to escape the maze. Instead of heading directly back, he waits, unseen for Felix to leave, observing the way he'd stumble out, not even glancing around enough to see you on the ground in the shadow of the maze itself. Once he was sure he was alone, Oliver crept over to your catatonic body, mouth agape, bottle still clutched but empty in one hand. Still breathing, though it was shallow, he checked your pulse only to feel a heartrate like a humming bird. If he called out now, Felix could hear him, could get help, could save your life.

But Felix would want for nothing as long as he had you by his side.

When you start convulsing, Oliver leaps away, startled. But he watches, and remains quiet. He takes the bottle, and just for a moment presses his forehead to yours.

"I'm sorry," it almost gets caught in his throat, "I loved you, I promise I did."

And he leaves.

Oliver wakes to a knock on the door. While Felix doesn't exactly seem happy to see him, it appears he has bigger things to worry about.

"Is Y/N in here?" He cuts right to the chase; there's dark circles under his eyes.

"Have you gotten any sleep?" Oliver yawns. Felix shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"I've checked literally every other room in this house," ignoring him, Felix explains himself, "I told them last night I wanted them to stay somewhere else, but I didn't mean it," he frowns, peering around Oliver as best he could, trying to see for himself. Oliver, who already knew this, but still played dumb, went wide-eyed.

"You didn't talk to them last night?"

"I was talking to them a lot last night -"

"They were waiting outside the maze for you; they were there when I left."

Oliver's never seen Felix run so fast.

It takes Duncan informing the rest of the family over breakfast that a gardener has spotted Felix sat by the edge of the maze for the past hour, to clear up his whereabouts.

"And have you heard from Y/N?" Elspeth adds, though Venetia buts in.

"Probably at the maze with Felix," she rolls her eyes; Oliver looks at his eggs, his runny, sickening eggs, and keeps his mouth shut. Elspeth sighs and requests someone go and collect them, tell them that lunch is ready, and promptly directs a smile at Oliver, asking how he'd enjoyed his birthday.

Oliver's halfway through an awkward thanks, assuring her it was grand, before Duncan re-enters. For the first time since Oliver first laid eyes on him, he looks genuinely shaken.

"I, uh, I do apologise," his words keep getting caught, and he can't seem to focus his gaze for too long, "I have some tragic news; Captain Y/N has passed away."

The world stops.

Felix Catton sits in the shadow of the hedge maze with you, his best friend, the love of his life, dead in his arms.

"I thought you were fucking better than this!"

His last words to you echo endlessly in his head as he cradles you to him. He'd found you slumped over at a painful angle, clearly having been sitting cross-legged on the grass, waiting, just as Oliver had said, still wearing part of the outfit you'd prepared. You looked so cold, so he'd wrapped you up in the robe he'd been wearing, maroon; you'd always said it was your favourite of his, but you'd never wear it, said it looked better on him.

"Can't believe I made you wait," it wasn't the first time he'd muttered it since finding you, "I'm so sorry, I won't do it again," he assured, and leaned in, pressing his forehead to your cold shoulder and collarbone, "and I didn't mean it about needing space from you; I couldn't even do it for one night, I got so lonely I spent the entire night searching all hundred and bloody something rooms we have, for you."

"Felix?" Venetia's voice is the first one he's heard since Oliver's, and it shakes, "Feef?" And maybe it's the way he can tell she's started crying, or the nickname he hasn't heard since he was six, but it all hits him at once. Finally he starts to cry, the shock giving way to anguish as Venetia drapes herself over him at the sight of you. Farleigh goes into shock, silent, falling to his knees before he brings his head down too, completely shutting down.

Oliver doesn't know how to react, doesn't know if he can. He stands back from the others, back from even James and Elspeth, silent. He did what he had to do. It takes him a long time to realise he's even started crying too.

Elspeth and Sir James try to keep up a sense of normalcy around the house, but barely anyone is able to keep up. Farleigh and Venetia show up and barely speak, Oliver can't bring himself to even look at anyone at the dining table, and Felix hasn't shown up for three days straight. He's been locked in his room, and none of them blame him.

None of the others know that he comes out at night. Well, he opens the door during the day since the staff have started leaving plates of food for him at his mother's request. But during the night, Felix leaves his room to crawl into Oliver's bed. Oliver never makes comments, but he always makes room, and Felix still hasn't kicked him out of the house. Small steps to victory.

"All those lies, all that shit you told us, you did it because you'd do anything to keep us around," on the third night, Felix speaks into the darkness, back to Oliver under the expensive sheets.

"To keep you around," Oliver corrected quietly, "I knew as long as I had you around, I would have them too." After a few moments, he could hear Felix start to sniffle. Carefully, testing his luck, Oliver shuffled around to face Felix. Wriggling closer, he draped an arm over Felix's chest and pulled him close, pressing himself against Felix's back. In the moment, Felix takes Oliver's hand and laces their fingers together.

"They always loved you, Felix; I never saw anything like it."

Small steps to victory.

At your funeral, Felix finally sees your parents. He wonders if looking at them is anything like looking at the idea of who you would have grown into. He doesn't think so; their expressions are so cold beneath their performance of grief.

They do, however, seek him out, ask his name, and hand him a framed photo. They say they won't be needed it anymore. It's you and Felix beneath the Eiffel Tower, arms around each other, each of you using your free hand to together form a heart between you, laughing at something just off camera. Oliver makes a disdainful remark about your parents, but slips his hand in Felix's, and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

Elspeth asks if Felix wants to keep the photo in his room, and when he remarks that he doesn't know, she suggests it gets placed with the other family photos over the fireplace in the television room. It fits in perfectly.

"I love you," Felix mumbles in the dead of night, pressed up along Oliver's back, lips in his hair, arm around him, "like proper love you." Oliver is quiet, "the kind of love I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but now I'm terrified that the reasons I love you aren't even real."

It's been a few weeks, he's intergraded back into life at home, but has taken a leave of absence from Oxford. As has Oliver. He still hasn't left Saltburn, he wonders if he ever will, if he ever has to.

"What parts?" Oliver said, voice barely more than a whisper, "I'll never lie to you again; I want you to know the truth of me." There's a rush of electricity, his fingers and toes feel all tingly; he doesn't want to sound too enthusiastic, but can't help but feel a giddy rush.

"I like how you can figure heaps of stuff out, but," Felix hesitates and hums, "I don't think I like what you figured out about me," he admits.

"I'll never bring that up again," Oliver reassures him, but Felix just hums once more, "and I figured out more stuff about you, good stuff; I figured out what made me love you too."

Felix presses a kiss to the back of his head. He doesn't smile, but that's to be expected nowadays. Felix doesn't really smile a lot anymore.

But Oliver takes it for what it is; his victory.

{ epilogue }

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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arabaka · 1 year

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𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐗 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ━☆ *⋆ ˚｡⋆ . 𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜.

(JJK MEN X AFAB!READER) - FT. GETO, NANAMI, AND GOJO. HOW THEY REACT TO YOU LICKING THEIR STOMACHS.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CONTENT WARNINGS: SMUT. PLEASE SEE INDVIIDUAL SECTIONS FOR SPECIFIC WARNINGS. NO PRONOUNS USED. ゜・。.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ WORD COUNT: 1.1k (approx. 400 per chara). ゜・。.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CONTENT WARNINGS: READER IS A WORSHIPPER OF GETO. POWER IMBALANCE. ゜・。.

Geto expects you to treat every inch of his body with reverance; he is a god after all and you, a lowly servant like the rest but that’s not what he tells you when the others have retreated to their corners, leaving you and the sorcerer to your very important, very special business.

Because when it’s only you and him whose breaths fill the room, utter filthy, depraved noises only the wall is privy to, he kisses saccharine sweet names, praises even, to your skin until there’s enough spit on you that you will never question who you belong to.

And he lets you do the same to him, considers it worship when you push the robes off his shoulders, lips latching onto the newly exposed skin until you’re drawing a path down his body. You look radiant, skin glowing from your master’s attention, that you just can’t help but drag a line with your tongue up his stomach, moaning in contentment when his hand comes to firmly clasp and press around the nape of your neck.

“That’s it. So good.” His groan rumbles his holy body, hips bucking and rubbing along your own form as it comes to climb over his, cunt not missing the chance to grind along the prominent, angrily throbbing bulge still restrained from his underwear.

You think now, you can have him but your pussy, already so wet with anticipation, will never be on to call the shots. That is his right and his alone.

He forces you back down with the same clasp around your neck, pressing your nose to the space between his pecs before guiding your pouted and puffy lips down until your tongue is over his firm, well developed abs.

“I did not say you were done, however.” Geto speaks so pompously because he can. “Continue.” Is the order he leaves you with, a bite to his single utterance that tells you one thing: you are not in control.

“Not now, love. It’s been a long day.” The sigh that leaves his mouth just then is largely burdened, with only a smidge of room given to you as an opportunity to cheer him up.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CONTENT WARNINGS: NOTHING TOO WILD TBH. READER IS FORWARD. READER IS DESCRIBED AS HAVING BIG BREASTS. ゜・。.

You jump on the chance, knowing your husband, Nanami Kento, so well that you only need to listen to the needs of his body to perk him right back up. No matter the work hours, no matter the circumstance that’s drained him by the time he comes home to you, you’re always willing and capable of taking care of his dormant passion.

“You don’t have to do anything, Kento.” You promise him, standing so close him your chests meet when you breathe. Fingers gingerly running through the steam pressed, finely pointed collar of his blue button-up while his work at loosening the spotted tie he so predicatably wears. You press in even deeper, fat and heavily plushed breasts squeezing tight against his hardened chest as you reach the length of his tie and so easily toss it to the bed. “Let me.” You whisper when one of his hands comes to cuff your wrist, as if to warn you but his own body betrays him, cock so uncomfortably swelling in his slacks and briefs.

You start with peppering kisses to the column of his neck and with every inch you lower yourself too, you make sure there isn’t a space of flesh you haven’t touched with your lips. You so delicately pop buttons free on your way down and you know Nanami is on board when he himself shrugs off the shirt and you know he’s desperate when he himself lets the shirt just crumple to the floor, organization out the window when all he can focus on is the way your tongue, flat and so, so wet is leaving a glimmer trail of spit from his chest down to his stomach. You kiss circles around his navel and his body shivers– no, trembles at the stimulation of cool air hitting his skin.

Working on his belt, you continue to look up at him, fluttering eyelashes revealing the sultry glint in your eyes. “Gonna make you forget all about today, Kento. You just let me take care of you.” And before the belt comes down, you lick another fat stripe up his torso with a shameless smile stamped over your face.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CONTENT WARNINGS: BONDAGE (GOJO IS TIED UP). WHINY GOJO. DOMINANT READER. ゜・。.

Part of being with the Gojo Satoru is putting up with his shit. The other half is him putting up with yours. You’re a chaotic force alone, but together? It’s something otherworldly.

And there’s no one that can tease the unstoppable tornado that is the man with Six Eyes like you can. No one else gets to see this side of Gojo: the man with more power in this finger tip than anyone known to man is always reduced to a blubbering mess who can only take breaths from shallow, quivering lips.

He’s restrained, blindfold still obscuring his cerulean blues from you, and struggling under your fleeting touches and surprise kisses. Surprise because while he does continue keep you two safe with his powerful abilites, he’s promised you that while he’s strung up for your pleasure as much as his that he will not let vision ruin the raw, unbridled anticipation that inevitable comes when the two of you are completely laid bare for one another.

So you kiss him wherever you please, a whine bubbling up his throat when you draw near his pecs, lips ghosting around the nipple, his heigtened sensitivity causing them to perk up in no time. You slobber over the pebbled peaks, lolled out tongue sliding over the soft and gorgeously pink buds but just he’s starting to rattle the chains that bind him, you pull away.

He whines, the beautiful angel that is your lover looking hot as sin with the splotches of drool you’ve left in your wake glimmering under the low light from above. “Baby, please.” He sounds so pretty when he pleads.

“Not now, Satoru.” You breathe over his skin to taunt him.

He babbles, “P-Please, I’m dyin’ here.” You know he is because the beads of pre-cum have now turned into thin strings trickling down his shaft, breaking into rivers down the veins that so opulently adorn his length. You shimmy down his body, first intending to lick him clean of his desperate juice but you only leave him with a hot breath until you set your targets on his neglected abdomen. You have a taste for the man, showing it by the way you so lovingly lick up and down his stomach, your other hand working his cock with a rolling wrist.

“That feel good, baby?” You coo at the man who is now thrusting into your fist, trying to rush the friction as you continue to swirl your tongue over his torso, lips latching on every so often to leave hickies as your calling card. “Don’t answer that, actually. Your body’s doing all the talking.”

#geto x you #geto x reader #nanami x you #nanami x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #geto smut #nanami smut #jjk smut #.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 🍰 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ a little treat for gojo. ꒱#.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 🍰 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ a little treat for nanami. ꒱#.˚₊ ੈ ʚ 🍰 ɞ ₊˚. ꒰ a little treat for geto. ꒱#credit to cafekitsune for the dividers!

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justathoughtfulangel · 1 year

Text

Consequences ~ Kai Parker One Shot

*not my gif

Pairing: heretic!Kai x vampire!reader

Word Count: 2,688

Requested?: No

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only), BDSM themes, Daddy kink, Dom!Kai, sensory deprivation, fingering, thigh riding, orgasm denial, spanking, blood sharing, unprotected sex (be safe!), oral sex (fem. receiving), and aftercare

This IS a reader insert fic; I just don’t like writing with Y/N in the place of names. Use Rosalie/Rose as a placeholder for Y/N and Wilson for L/N.

Description: Someone tried to play with Kai's girl, and he didn't like that very much. Now, she had to surrender to his every whim until he was satisfied... until he convinced her she belonged to only him.

Ice clinked around in the glass as Kai swirled his gin and soda. He was leaning against the bar, steadily downing his drink. Rosalie was just a few feet away, hidden in the dancing crowd but still in his line of sight. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her prance around with Caroline and Elena, carefree with her closest friends. Rose glanced over to him every now and then, waving enticingly with a little wiggle of her fingers.

Malachai was dressed well, attracting attention with his classic rings and a smooth black jacket. Rosalie, too, looked so very sexy in her skintight black miniskirt and golden top. Unfortunately, Kai wasn’t the only one who thought so. With his attention occupied by the lovely little minx, Kai failed to notice someone approaching his girl.

Rosalie was perfectly capable of fending off unwanted attention, but Malachai made his way over to her anyhow. Impolitely shoving through the masses of people, Kai made it to her side, wrapping his arm around Rose’s waist and pulling her into his side possessively.

“Yes, so, as you can see, I have a boyfriend.” Rosalie tried to speak kindly, but really, she had no patience for creepy assholes who forced themselves onto women. Kai only had to glare at him wordlessly to send him packing.

“We’re leaving.” With his tone on edge, Rosalie knew it was best not to argue with him. Saying goodbye to her friends, she left the club with Kai, saying nothing and hoping he wasn’t too upset.

Malachai was possessive; he knew it, too. When he’d had much of what he wanted or needed in his life taken from him, he’d begun latching on to things he couldn’t bear to lose. Rosalie was the only one who he cared about. She was his family and his lover… his everything.

Sensing his distress, Rosalie’s hand reached for his, their fingers twining together as they walked to the apartment they shared. He squeezed her hand with much more force than normal, and if she were human, some of her bones may have cracked under the pressure.

It was late into the night, and no one was around. Unable to be patient any longer, Malachai hoisted her up over his shoulder – proud of the little gasp he elicited from her – and ran all the way to their home. He unlocked the door with magic and didn’t waste even one second before throwing her down on their bed.

With a snap of his fingers, all her clothes were gone. He towered above her, one of his hands enclosing around her neck and holding her down: at his mercy. It didn’t cause her any pain; it just showed her who she belonged to.

Rosalie was a strong, independent woman. Malachai knew that, too, and he respected her for it. This, however, was a side of her that only Kai was able to see. Here, she was his little plaything, and she loved every single thing he subjected her to… even the consequences of his depraved, dirty thoughts.

“You see this right here, princess? This is the difference between me and you. You’re a tiny little kitten, naked and trembling below me.” His free hand began trailing down her bare torso, two fingers pinching her left nipple cruelly. “I can do whatever I want to you, and you’ll just take it. Why is that?”

It was a rhetorical question, one that they both knew the answer to. Nevertheless, she answered him anyhow. “Because I’m your good little girl, Daddy.” Kai hummed in approval, loving how powerful she made him feel. “Is that right? Are you a good little girl for Daddy?” He slapped her right breast harshly, her squeal of surprise exciting him beyond measure.

“Aah! Yes, Daddy…” Pleased with her response, Malachai leaned down and kissed her deeply. It consumed her severely. “Daddy wants to try something a little new tonight, darling. Do you trust me?”

Kai’s hands continued to explore her body. Before she had a chance to answer, the index finger of his right hand began teasing her clit, sending her mind into a frenzy. “Y-yes Daddy… I trust you.”

He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. “Tell Daddy what your safe word system is before we start.” His finger picked up the pace, making it difficult for her to speak. “Yellow means ‘I need you to slow down’. Red means ‘I need a break’. Black means ‘Stop everything at once’.”

Kai looked into her eyes, already loving the burning pleasure in them. “Good girl.” Kai’s lips trailed from her collarbone to her neck, nipping at the soft flesh. As his teeth drew the tiniest bit of blood, two of his digits thrust inside her. He positively growled when he felt how ready she was tonight; this would make things a lot more fun for them both.

Licking up the offensive drop of blood, Kai hovered above her. His fingers unzipped the black leather jacket from his body while the two inside her didn’t stop their assault. He wanted to see her get right to the edge of her ecstasy, anticipating that wild drop into rapture; only he had the power to take her there.

He discarded his jacket, tossing it on the ground. Rosalie was mewling and whimpering beneath him, and he smirked. It was so, so easy to get her in the palm of his hand.

“Are you close, baby girl?” Kai knew the answer to that before she spoke, but he enjoyed playing with her. It told her again and again that she was his. She could only nod, overcome by the torturous machinations of his fingers.

Grinning in triumph, Kai took his fingers out of her and slipped them into her mouth, silencing her protests. “You get to cum when Daddy tells you, princess. Not before, and not after.” Slapping her face lightly, his eyes bore into hers. “Nod if you understand.”

Rosalie sucked on his fingers, tasting her own juices, and tried to calm her racing heart. At his command, she nodded. Kai removed his hand from her lips, trailing the wet fingers down and circling them around her right nipple. As he did, he nuzzled into her neck.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Rose’s body was still trembling with aftershocks from her denied orgasm, but she stroked his hair, nonetheless. “I love you just as much.”

Kai held her for a while, hoping for her body to relax almost all the way before continuing. He peppered kisses all over her face occasionally, reveling in the soft giggles. They were just as enchanting as any other sound from her. Once he felt her body sink into the mattress, Malachai used his favorite little cheat in the bedroom: his magic.

Without any toys or ornaments, Kai stole her sight. His touch returned, now multiplied. With her vision gone, Rose failed to decipher which of the six hands roaming her were connected to Kai’s body and which were purely a mirage. They were everywhere: clutching her ass, pinning her down, teasing every little bit that drove her mad with excitement.

With her orgasm just cheated away, Rosalie was right back on the edge. She couldn’t identify Kai’s real hands, but she knew exactly where his mouth was. It snaked down her sternum, painting her with wet, hot kisses. She whined in complaint, and Malachai wanted to taunt his little fucktoy.

“Let me hear how badly you want it, darling. You know much I love making you scream for me.” Despite his order, Kai silenced her. Their mouths meshed together, their lips dancing with the other’s in pure heat. He tugged his jacket off, not bothering to halt his attack on her.

This was taking too long. Another snap and his clothes vanished along with hers. He wanted her, and he wanted her now. Stopping his little spell, Kai grabbed her hips and flipped her over. She cried out, and with one arm hooked around her waist, Kai played with her dripping sex, receiving a rush of pride as a result.

Malachai’s fingers tangled into her hair, pushing Rosalie’s face down into the pillow. “I am the only one that can do this to you. You’re my helpless little toy, and you’re going to take each last drop of attention you get from Daddy gratefully.”

Not giving her what she wants just yet, he brought her legs closer together, sliding his hard cock into a little gap between her thighs. Rosalie’s eager juices soaked Malachai’s shaft, getting him ready to fuck her senseless.

“Ohhh, Daddy, please…” Rose was a whimpering little mess, pleading for him to just ravish her. “You want it that badly, huh?” There was nothing more Kai wanted than to make her wish come true, but he wasn’t done yet. Within a second, Rosalie found Kai under her. Her legs straddled his left thigh, her aching sex flush against his hot skin.

“Earn it, baby girl. Ride Daddy’s thigh and get yourself right to the edge again. Do it well, and earn Daddy’s cock.” Fire coursed through her every nerve, making her mind melt into a haze of lust and attraction. His hand grasped her face, the cold metal of his rings contrasting with the heat flowing between them. “Look at me when you grind against me.”

With her eyes locked on his, Rose started rocking her hips against the apex of Malachai’s thigh. He smirked up at her, feeling her wet his skin with her excitement. She could feel her clit rub against the hard muscles of his leg.

Taking her by surprise, Kai smacked his hand against her ass. He was rewarded with her little gasp, gripped her chin, and pulled her lips to his. With harsh, desperate desire, he spanked her again and again, nibbling on her lower lip and not letting her stop. Her skin grew hotter, and her body started trembling.

“Keep going, princess. And don’t you dare cum until I let you. Do you understand me?” Rosalie moaned loudly, nodding and doing her best to obey for as long as she could.

Malachai wouldn’t make it easy for her, of course. Sitting up, he grasped her hips. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, and he rubbed her sex into his thigh. Her clit thumped against his pelvic bone with each rough grind. “Daddy! Please let me cum! Please, please, pleaseeeeeee! I can’t take it anymore.”

Luckily for her, neither could he.

Lifting her up, Malachai slammed her down on his throbbing cock. His moan mixed with her cute little scream, and his thumb assaulted her overstimulated clit. Rosalie’s eyes were screwed shut, and he did not like that even a little. “Look at your Daddy when he takes you. Open your eyes, and let me watch while I drive you insane.”

Their eyes met once more, and a jolt of ecstasy ran up Rose’s spine. “Daddyyyy, please let me cum!” Kai thrust into Rosalie relentlessly, watching her unravel for him. “Cum.” With one word, she had all the permission she needed. Rosalie exploded with pleasure, her body thrashing atop his. “That’s it… just let go, that’s a good girl.”

She’d gotten her first orgasm, but Daddy was nowhere near done with her. Malachai turned and pinned her to the bed beneath him again, his hips not stopping. “Since you were such a good girl for me today, I have a little prize for you. You can cum as much as you want tonight, over and over and over, until you’re satisfied.” One hand closed around her neck, and his eyes bore into hers.

“No, that’s not right, actually. You’ll keep cumming until I am satisfied.” Applying pressure to the sides of her throat, Kai stole some of her air. He was the only one who could have her like this. “You are mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours, Daddy. I’m Daddy’s good little girl.” Rose’s voice choked out of her, and just as her first climax subsided, another began. She fell over that edge again, writhing uncontrollably.

Kai watched with triumph. “Just one good fucking, and you’re a toy for my amusement. No matter how hard you’d try to fight it, you will always end up Daddy’s well-behaved slut.”

This went on for hours. Kai did everything he wanted with her, drawing mind-numbing orgasms out of her to his heart’s content. When the sunrise was just a few minutes away, Malachai begged her for just one more. “Please, baby. Just one more. You can do it. Just one more time for Daddy.” Rosalie was spent, never having known rapture like this before.

She didn’t know if she had it in her, but as she felt Kai shoot his hot cum inside her, it hit her again. It nearly hurt with how it took over her body. Her teeth sank into Kai’s neck, drinking to fulfill her last desire. Malachai growled into her neck, finding the crook of her collarbone and returning the favor. As their last mutual climax quelled, both of them fed on the other. Elation, lust, and love flowed between them.

Rosalie collapsed with exhaustion, and Malachai pulled out slowly. He looked down at the carnage he caused between her legs, going down to lick her clean. His tongue lapped against her sore sex, drinking down their essence and listening to her tired mewling. “Oh, I wore you out, didn’t I, baby girl? You did such a great job for Daddy.”

Summoning a washcloth, Malachai wiped down her skin, ridding her of the sweat and the little bits of dried blood on her neck. Scooping her up, Kai rested her against his body. Rose’s head rested on his chest, and his comforting hand smoothed her hair.

“Thank you, Daddy… I love you.” He chuckled a little, finding it slightly amusing. “Princess, you’re thanking me? I should be thanking you. I’m so unbelievably lucky to have you. Thank you for trusting me, for giving me all of you… for letting me love you as much as I do.”

Kai held her as close as possible, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Are you okay, love? Hurt anywhere?” Given that she was a vampire, the fun sex injuries he got to inflict on her healed themselves. She may not have been physically hurt, but he knew she would be vulnerable and sensitive right now. Rose shook her head, not using her voice at first. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?” His cheek pressed against her head, his arms squeezing his girl close. “Could we take a bath together?” Kai smiled at the simple request. He could give her anything she wanted, and she seemed to want nothing more than him. Their bathtub began filling in the other room, and Malachai didn’t let go of her just yet. “Of course, love.”

Rose raised her head, listening to the running water behind the bathroom door. Looking up to meet his eyes, she rested her chin on his shoulder. “I love your magic.” Rosalie pressed her lips to Kai’s in a sweet, loving kiss. “I love my magic, too.” He really did. Not only because he could use it for his every whim, but also for his ability to use it to protect her. Keeping her safe and happy, making her feel cherished, what better use could there be?

Lifting her up in his arms, Malachai carried her to the bathroom. He set her into the warm water, sneaking in behind her. With her back resting against his front, Kai peppered kisses along her cheek, jaw, and neck. Nipping at her skin playfully, he laughed with her. Nothing was amusing; everything was just perfect. For someone who hadn’t known happiness for the majority of his life, this was everything he could have dreamed of and more.

Their mouths met again, their lips sliding between the other’s beautifully. This embrace was about nothing more than loving each other.

She knew him, and he knew her. He would never let go, and neither would she. They would have each other forever.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope reading it was just as fun for you!

I welcome your thoughts, comments, constructive criticisms, or anything under the sun.

If you enjoyed this piece, check out more of my Kai Parker stories from my Malachai Parker Masterlist. If you’d like to be added to my taglist, please send me a message or comment on this post.

Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel

Master Taglist: @bluelicious, @socio-kai-path1972, @genevivetaylor, @kolsangel, @callsign-luckyshot, @felinegrate

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