#the SOULLL IT HAD

[cthulhum]

rip supernatural u would've been so loved and considered a cult classic if u ended after 2 or 5 seasons

[amourane]

your fated one

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

genre: fluff, mentions of pregnancy

w/c: 1.2k

summary: you never believed in fate until you met regulus black.

warnings: none

a/n: i love regulus black sm with all my heart and soulll, also i've been in a fluffy mood lately can you tell???

“Merlin.” You whispered as you held the pregnancy test in your hand, stomach churning at the two positive lines that were drawn on. 

Immense happiness filled your body before the dread came…how were you going to tell him?

Regulus lay in your shared bed, his dark hair tousled against the pillow. You stumbled out of the bathroom, head spinning from the new knowledge that had been bestowed upon you. Everything seemed surreal.

The morning sickness had been relentless, the missed period a silent alarm that something was amiss. Yet, the reality of it all hit you like a ton of bricks as you stood there, clutching the bathroom door frame for support. You and Regulus hadn’t even come close to discussing the topic of children. The both of you had basically just graduated from Hogwarts and the engagement ring that sat on your finger was the symbol of a promise of a life together.

Regulus glanced up from his book, concern etched into his features as he took in your distressed state. "Are you alright, love?" His voice was laced with worry, eyebrows furrowing as he approached you. "You don't look well."

Your throat felt dry, parched even. Your fingers were trembling as you felt tears prick your eyes. Merlin, what if he didn’t want the baby? Regulus was so young and so were you, having a child was something you hadn't even begun to fathom. 

“Y/n, darling?” There was a moment as his eyes caught sight of the object in your trembling hands, his expression shifted from confusion to realization. “Is that…?” 

His voice trailed off, eyes widening in astonishment when you nodded in approval. A wave of happiness washed over him and he felt warmth spread throughout his chest. His joy, however, was quickly tempered by concern as tears continued to streak down your face.

“Love, what’s wrong? Isn’t this meant to be a happy occasion? You’re pregnant!” He asked softly, bringing you to sit on the edge of the bed, his arm around you. “Do you not want the baby?”

“No! Of course I want the baby!” You shouted, voice cracking. “It’s just…we’re so young Reggie and we’re getting married soon, I don’t want to walk down the aisle looking like a fucking whale.” You wailed like a banshee and your fiancé broke out in laughter. 

“You are not going to look like a fucking whale darling, and we can postpone the wedding if it makes you feel any better, I’ll wait forever for you.” He cooed as he gave you a kiss. The tears didn’t stop but you felt happier. “I’ve always wanted a family and the journey we’re going to have together will be amazing. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“What if you love the baby more than me?”

“Not possible, I could never love anyone more than I love you.” He cupped your cheeks, adoring the way you acted like a petulant child at times. 

You sniffled, hands rubbing your belly. “I can’t believe it…”

Regulus's smile widened, his eyes alight with a newfound brightness. "Believe it or not, love, but fate has a funny way of bringing us together." He teased, his playful demeanor bringing a smile to your lips.

“Fuck that shit, I don’t believe in fate.”

“Love, we’re literally a witch and a wizard.” 

“Still don’t believe in it, you know me Reg.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, pushing you down onto the bed gently, peppering your face with sweet kisses. You could see the ways his eyes sparkled with something new. His smile was brighter than ever and his cheeks were rosy. You felt a new batch of tears brimming at your eyes and you soon started to cry again.

“Y/n?” He asked, wiping your tears away with his hand. “Are these tears happy or sad?”

“I just l-love you so much.” You sobbed. “I fucking love you Regulus Black.”

He bit his lip to hide the joyous laughter that was bubbling up inside of him but a chuckle escaped from his lips. You smacked his arm as a scowl took over your features.

“You prick, I’m here confessing my love to you and you’re laughing!”

Regulus bursted into laughter before summoning a mirror for you to look at your reflection. Your eyes were swollen and quite evident that you had been crying. Your hair was frazzled and all over the place.

“Even though you look like a mess, I still love you.”

"Good." You replied, a grin spreading across your face despite the lingering tears. "You're getting married to me."

//

Amidst the cheers and celebration, you and your newly-wed husband stood hand in hand, surrounded by friends and family. Little Leo, just five months old, nestled in your arms, his wide eyes already reflecting the familiar stormy grey of Regulus'.

“How’s little Leo doing?” Your husband cooed at your son and he giggled, tiny hands latching onto Regulus’ finger. “Me and Mama just got married. She’s officially Mrs Black now.”

Your heart melted at the words he said. The long dinner table was seated with chattering guests and you thought now was the perfect time to finally say the speech you had been preparing. Regulus still hadn’t a clue about what you were going to say so this was all going to be a surprise. 

Passing Leo into Regulus' loving arms, you pressed a kiss to your son's forehead before rising to your feet. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to you, curiosity and anticipation flickering in their gazes, including Regulus' and Leo's.

“Hi everyone.” You gave the faces you knew for decades a wave. “I've been waiting for this moment to share something I've wanted to say for a long time.”

You saw the way your husband’s face was knitted with confusion and you couldn’t suppress the grin that took over your face.

"Regulus Black, you have always been, and always will be, the light of my life. From the moment we met at eleven to this day at twenty-one, time has flown by, but my love for you has only grown stronger. You've given me the greatest joys in life, and I will never stop cherishing you. We've faced hardships together, but with you by my side, I know we can overcome anything. I cannot wait to continue this journey with you, raising our son together."

You could see the emotion welling in Regulus' eyes as you spoke, his expression mirroring the depth of your love.

“I used to say I didn’t believe in fate, that was a lie. I believed in fate the moment I met you Reg, you made me believe in it. We are destined for each other and I hope that I spend every second of my life with you. Fate brought us together and it will keep us together. Our family of three.”

You finished your speech and you saw Regulus’ eyes fill with tears as he got up and kissed you deeply without hesitation. The room erupted in cheers and congratulations, the love and happiness palpable in the air.

“We have fate to thank for this I guess.” He smiled as he rested his forehead against yours.

Tears were now running down your face as you gave your husband another kiss. Your gaze shifted to your son, cradled in Regulus' arms, and then back to your husband, a wave of love washing over you. 

“We sure do.”

[lokissweater]

hi nicole! i had a thought about mlb!megumi that kind of had me wondering

so u know how some mlb teams get into brawls or heated altercations sometimes in the middle of a game? like in 2018 when tyler austin (yankees then) and joe kelly (red sox then) got into a fight LOL

it got me thinking: what if a member from the opposing team said something about mlb!reader mid-game (like in a taunting way) which would tick megumi off, do you think it would also trigger a punch or two out of him? i dont condone violence obviously but for some reason.....the thought of megumi going all out to defend his girl is kinda sexy IDK IDK MAYBE IT'S JUST ME

i'd love to know your thoughts cos i kinda brain-rotted over this for a long while 😵

OHHHH ABSOLUTTEEEELLLYYYYY !!!

we saw this STRAIGHT UP in the the second mlb!megumi when a random dude was messing with his pretty little thing bc he wanted tickets to the world series ERM ?? 🤨🤨 AND MEGUMI DID NAAAWWTTT HESITATE TO LITERALLY RUN ACROSS THE FIELD AND PARKOUR TO GET TO HIS GIRL AND SAVE HERRR !!!

AND IM GONNA HAAAVEEE TO WRITE THIS IN ONE OF THE CONTINUATION FICS but megumi does not give a single fuck. if it’s to do with reader and someone is making her upset he suddenly LOVES violence i fear !!! 😻😻

i can totally see a player constantly turning around and being a MORON and bad mouthing megumi to her, saying things like “you’re dating that?” , “you could do so much better” , “tell your man he can’t bat for shit.”

and megumi is just hearing it all, with every stupid sentence his blood is BOILING and BOILING until just after swinging his bat to hit, he chucks that shit to the side and stomps over while swearing up a storm and threatening him, shoving him hard until they’re both shoving at each other and reader is STRESSED THE FUCK OOOUTTTTT bc megumi starts swinging like a mad man and is actually knocking the other player straight in the jaw multiple times and there’s just blood on their baseball uniforms !! 😻

AND READER PATCHING GUMI UP AFTERRR?? OH LORD YALL ARE GONNA SEE THIS IN THE NEXT ONE FUUUCCKKKK !!!!

i love you anon THANK YOU BLESS YOUR ENTIRE SOULLL FOR THISSSS !!! <3333

[dinogoofymutated]

This is just a personally headcanon of mine but I feel like Wolverine would not fuck with a Daddy kink.

LIKE HERE ME OUT- He's a father figure to too many mentally unstable teenagers for it to be attractive to him. I just imagine him pounding someone and they call him Daddy and suddenly he's filled with immense grief because he messed up with raising Daken and Laura. Or he gets mad awkward because he thinks of the people he sees as his kids, Kitty, Jubilee, etc.

Bro I agree with this with my SOULLL!! When you first sent it in all I had time to read atm was "Wolverine" and "daddy kink" and I thought the same thing!! He's just too fatherly, and it makes a daddy kink really weird. If anything he'd be into like the hunting/prey kink thing?? The one with the chasing?? But definitely not daddy kink

[wickwood]

Okay I just got home from watching Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and I have a few thoughts I want to share

NO SPOILERS INCLUDED

But I do refer vaguely to scenes and characters in the movie and my feelings about them so if you want to go in completely blind on how to feel about things then don’t read.

• AMAZING AMAZING AMAZING

• I (surprisingly) absolutely loved the sequel, I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun watching a movie in my life. And I was completely ready to feel let down and disappointed.

• Monica Bellucci is so hot in this

• I love you Lydia. I worship the ground you walk on (just like someone else we know).

• I hateee Rory. Die Rory die.

• Danny Devito? How did you get here??

• I missed the entire backstory of Beej and his ex wife because some dude started screaming at the security guards and had to get escorted out 😭

• It’s okay though because I’m seeing it again tomorrow

• SO MANY PLOT TWISTS. Holy shit I really was not expecting some of them.

• SOULLL TRAIN

• I lovvvveeeddd getting to see a bunch of the Neitherworld and have some new canon facts about it

• Bob did not deserve that. Best character award goes to…

• At first I was like “wtf is that the end??” and then with the last scene I was like “yesss my precioussss give me more”

• There’s a puppet/prop that is actually so disturbing. You’ll know what I mean when you watch it. Think I will actually have nightmares about it lol.

• THERE IS NO END CREDIT SCENE so don’t bother waiting unless you genuinely want to read the credits

• I am actually so excited for all the fanfic and art that’s going to come from this movie. There is sooo much source material to use now.

• Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice when?? Give it to me now Tim Burton

[iwanty0uu]

“𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑃𝑢𝑚 𝑃𝑢𝑚 𝑁𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟“~𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · .

pt5…

He maneuvered you through the walk way and turned on the lights, as ‘All Mine ‘ began to play through the small JBL speaker resting on his bed along with a basket full of his hoodies, candy, skin care things, and flowers. He then brought out a huge target bag and gave it to you, smiling showing his pearly whites. Grills still in, mustache only a bit longer than usual made him look extra fine. “AWWWWW CON CONNN HOW SWEET OF YOU!” you practically screamed nearly dropping the bag, hugging him. Lifting you up laughing, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he placed you on the bed. “Boy fuck no I’m not laying in your bed in my outside clothes” “You’re ridiculous y/n” he sighed watching you strip, sliding off your biker shorts and folding them, and stuffing them into the portion of your bag made for dirty clothes.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Sitting criss cross apple sauce while he leaned on his dresser, licking his lips at the imprint of your pussy through your underwear. Such a pervert. A long purple heavy item was pulled out of the bag, you seen a plush white fabric on the other side, and to your surprise, it was the weighted blanket that you had been eyeing in target but was sold out when you went to buy it. “Thank you so much boo!! I literally love your whole soulll” you said wrapping the blanket around yourself. You went through the whole basket, saying thank you every time you found something new, showering him with words of affirmation and compliments. “I’m gonna go use this in the shower” you said taking the face masks and shower gel your almost-boyfriend got you. He couldn’t help but spoil you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It was his love language and he did it because he loved you. He was in love with you, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it, but he was afraid that he would fuck up the one thing that he cherished in his life. So Sasha helped him write a letter and made it look all Shakespeare-ish. Dipping it in coffee, leaving it to dry, tearing and burning it a little, he was so pleased with how it looked but didn’t want to see your reaction to it in fear of rejection. You left the steam filled shower all clean and lathered up in some nice Aveeno lotion ,hair neatly tied in a head-tie alone after removing your bonnet. “Ima shower too” He said quickly grabbing a towel and leaving the note on the bed. “what’s thi-“ the door shut before you could answer. “rude ass” the note was flipped over, a curious smile grew on your face, intrigued by the old style love letter. You read it, all of it, it was so heart warming that you couldn’t help the tears that fell onto your face.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You didn’t know that he felt that way about you, it felt so good to be loved, and needed and cared for. His shower abruptly stopped as you knocked on the door. Hurrying to dry off, he opened the the door, met with a hug. “Connie I’m in love with you too, and I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without you”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ‘Let Me Break Your Heart Again’ by Laufy played on the speakers now.. great timing.

Relief hit Connie as tears brimmed his eyes, he was a thug but thugs cry too.. that was the most gangster thing Connie could have ever done in his life, and it was being vulnerable, vulnerable enough to admit how restless he was every night you were upset at him, every night that you didn’t warm the side of his bed the way you did during sleep overs.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The depths of despair dragged Connie into it’s grasp and forced him to stay there until he figured out why he felt so depressed without you. But it so happened to be the reason in itself.. he was without you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A passionate kiss filled both of your lips. You wiped his tears away and wiped your own, wet eyelashes looked up at him as you pulled away from him. You both smiled in relief as you smooched his lips. “Baby you got abs? Yea you gettin some tonight” you said before ripping the towel off his abdomen, revealing his pretty pink dick.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It was perfect, and you didn’t know how you were going to take it all in but it didn’t matter because that bitch had no choice but to fit. He lifted you while squeezing your ass, sliding the basket on to the floor, laying you back on the bed. He reached over to his bedside table and picked up the purple condoms you bought for him as a joke that he had saved just for a moment like this and slipped it on himself.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He deepened the kiss again, untying your robe and throwing it on the floor along side the rest of the organized chaos. “Connie I need you so bad right now” you said, rubbing the small melanated bunch of nerves in between your legs. “Let me do that for you mama” he said, sliding his fingers inside you, “ah” you sighed. You missed the feeling of him pumping inside you like this, walls clenching around his fingers , you smiled as he let them enter your mouth,licking up your own juices made you almost cum right there. His hood lined up perfectly with your entrance, like his cock was made to fit your pretty cunt. He thrusted deeply “Ouue fuck connnn” you moaned, wrapping both legs and arms around him, lapping at his neck like it was candy, everything about him tasted sweet, He thrusted into your pussy slowly at first so you could adjust to his length, then his strokes got rough and aggressive.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

He hit your cervix with every stroke which made you go feral. Lewd slaps and squelches filled the the nearly silent room. “Fuckk this pussy Connieee”, no longer feeling his throbbing dick inside of you, you whined at the emptiness “turn around for me lovey” he whispered in your ear while you turned yourself over, he placed a pillow under your stomach and grabbed a hold of your hips, inserting his cock right where it belonged, he started back his rough pace, slapping your ass as you grabbed the sheets “fuck back” his voice stern, “fuckkk yes baby im-“ He moaned out, grunts occasionally leaving his mouth, flowing into your ears, filling the room, his words seeped through your skin, his touch was intoxicating, you were addicted to his hands and the way your body molded into him perfectly, thinking about his cock digging into the back of your pretty pussy was enough to send you over the edge.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

An orgasm blossomed inside of you, leaving thick trails of your cum on connie’s shaft, “Im cumminggggg” you whispered halfway through pleasure, his thrusts became sloppy and more like jabs, his hips staggered as you felt his them lock in place, his dick twitched inside of you “fuckk baby this pussy so tight” you felt the release of sperm into the condom inside of you, “And who’s is it baby?” he asked grabbing your neck gently kissing your cheek waiting for an answer “ all yours papa” you replied as he smirked at the rightful answer, his lips touched yours, causing you both to fall into a deep kiss that felt like it lasted forever. He left pecks all over your neck and cheeks, feeling that familiar shyness from months ago, you giggled and hid your face into his neck, covering your exposed breasts that were filled with hickeys. “Girl what you tryna hide? Like you didn’t just tell me that this pussy was mine while i was digging you out” he laughed mocking you “Nigga ill never fuck you again stop” you cheesed hiding your eyes while Connie snuck a kiss on your clit before disposing the condom, wiping himself off, then you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Now mostly clothed with connie’s shirt and your pajama shorts, and connie in some sweat pants, you both laid in bed cuddled up, lights off, mess on the floor left for tomorrow. ”That dick was excellent” you said dapping him up “I’m glad you liked it girl” he said kissing you. “Damn you love these lips” - “Which ones?” you playfully shoved him and giggled “You’re officially my boyfriend Connie” you said “But keep this between us, nobody knows what we do but they know that you’re mine.. i like my privacy.. keep these hoes wondering” he nodded and smiled at your remark, cuddling up closer to you, while you shifted some of your attention to the TV which was playing ‘The Craft’, and then back to him. He turned your head to face him fully, looking into those big brown eyes that got him here, he finally answered ,“Yea baby i like the sound of that”….

+*:ꔫ:*﹤ ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

*also the video of you and sasha on the slingshot went viral on tik tok which made you gain hella followers that you would be shocked to see in the morning.*

That’s all folks! They’re relationship is the cutest and i hope yall ate good after getting this five parter! If you couldn’t tell, i really fuck wit purple but Lele loves all her babies~𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ<3

1：42 𝒶𝓂

[thatdeadaquarius]

i swear, i WAS going to leave you alone for the rest of the day. I thought 'oh no, you've bothered them enough for the day, wait until tomorrow' (they did not, in fact, wait until tomorrow) however i had thoughts and wanted to share them with you! 😊

concept: I was scrolling through some of your previous posts for a second time today (still all very cool and awesome btw) and the one about the reader saying swear words without knowing what they are kinda stuck with me.

So lets reverse it! You, the creator, fall into teyvat and CAN speak the common language there, while also still remembering your own native language. and so your native tongue becomes super holy to them (eg. 'omg, the creator is speaking in their holy tongue, lets all listen and nod')

Unfortunately, this has its drawbacks, especially because the majority of the times you speak in your native tongue you are cussing out everyone.

3 potential scenarios have stemmed from my brain because of this.

You getting annoyed at your worshippers and yelling at them, then afterwards they all thank you for blessing them

Swearing so often that the people around you start to pick up on the words and now all of your worshippers are parroting swear words at really important events, while you try and keep a straight face

Accidently teaching one of the kids swear words and then klee starts saying 'fuck' all the time and the adults are all like 'thank you for teaching klee one of your divine words, it truly is a blessing. what does it mean though?' and you're just sitting there like 😅

also thanks for being so nice about my shenhe post :) i love her so much <33

NOO dont worry abt it!! Ill just answer whenever i got the time!! I definitely dont mind multiple asks from the same person dw bby 👍✨️

Here, a cookie for ur time 🤲🍪 PSPSPSSPSPS ITS WORKING THEIR COMING IN, I ALSO HAVE CAKE AND DRINKS!! :D

So this is gonna sound demanding,, BUT SHARE YOUR CONCEPTS AND IDEAS WITH ME ALWAYS YES YES I WANT TO BE THE FIRST TO SEE IT YALL R FEEDING MY SOULLL 🛐

This reverse is so much funnier than the OG way, you have such a BIG BRAIN👏👏

Those scenarios had me fucking laughing my ass off, the BLESSING THEM 😭KLEE 😭 PLEASE-

Also this might be ass writing bc I can’t get rid of my headache rn :/

___________

Look what you've done.

It was so harmless at first, teaching Amber a word or two there bc she was curious abt ur accent,

The reveal that Teyvat's language wasn't your native language.

But that was still manageable, that was still okay

From Amber, to Eula, to Venti, to Kaeya, to Rosaria, to Diluc, to Jean, that information spread slowly but surely

After all, you didn't use it often, no one here in Teyvat even vaguely recognized it (not even a vague similarity from one of the other countries even)

It wasn't like,, shocking to the majority of Mondstadt's residents that you had a different native lang. (nor any of the other countries once they realized you were here, and had a diff native lang.)

I mean, you were the Creator,

why wouldn't there be some ancient powerful holy lang. that only you (or along with some lucky priest/vessel/follower) could understand?

.

..

However, it did become a problem when you, as the human experience dictates, got irritated 

You see, Teyvat isn’t an easy world to get used to, from the elemental reactions, the huge amount of hostile/active flora and fauna, there was a lot of room (even as favored as you were as the Creator) for accidents

You had already had a few mishaps, asking the waiter to bring you some salt bc ur table didnt have any on accident, bumping into the allogenes who wanted to walk around with you that day when they stopped abruptly

...

But now you can confidently say you can pinpoint the inciting incident in hindsight.

You had been traversing Liyue, and of course, it’s very rocky, even the well beaten paths outside Liyue Harbor were littered with pebbles and stones

So bc theyre respectful sweethearts, Shenhe, Xiao, Zhongli, Ganyu and the rest of the Adepti wnated to have a calm brunch at Cloud Retainer’s Abode w/ u <3

On the way up, bc u insisted normal walking was fine- no Xiao you want to see the sights teleportation isn’t necessary right now- nO Shenhe, really, the walk will be good for you, you don’t need to be carried-

Zhongli. 

You are supposed to be a mortal these days, not a 60 meter/feet long dragon- 

WHAM (u were so busy telling them to quit it that u werent watching ur path, aint none of their thousands of years old reflexes good enough to save u from being a clumsy fuck)

and your on ur ass.

“Fuck, ow,” immediately Shenhe has swept you up, Ganyu is rambling nervously, Xiao jumped but hasn’t said anything, but you can feel his worry from how tense he is, Zhongli’s hands are hovering, unsure if he should touch, and Shenhe- Shenhe- you can’t breathe- 

“Fuck guys stop, I’m fine-”

They;re eyes widen, Zhongli looks a little happier?? wtf all u did was-

oh no.

...

Now, everytime you have dinner with any of the Liyue characters they bow their heads, and in unison “Fuck guys stop I’m fine”

...

And it just got worse.

Bc you spent a few weeks in Liyue, and you had a lot of events to attend, little incidents like this happened everywhere

“Shit!” you drop a tea cup

“Damnit” some miner guy in town dropped his pickaxe loudly

You blame Zhongli and Ningguang.

Fuckers wanted to make sure they showed you utmost respect, so they both remembered every. single. word. of your language you have ever said around them.

Between Zhongli’s memory and elegant appearance, and Ningguang’s influence, your cuss words spread overnight

Families are now sitting around their dinner and thanking you for Teyvat’s bounty of food, “Thank you Creator for our meal, fuck guys stop I’m fine.” the kids and everything 💀

Liyue literally has become the most dirty mouthed city overnight, and they look SO PROUD OF IT  😭 😭

u never telll any of them LMAO

It’s a little rough, but I hope u got smth nice outta this, ur idea was so good I didn’t even wanna add anything but I wanted to show my appreciation for sharing those with me lol 

TYSM FOR SHOWING UP AGAIN!!

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

[a1ecmcdowell]

get to know : THE REAPER LORE!

a short list of hcs & need-to-knows about the reaper!

pls know, and this applies for the fic too & i'll put the disclaimer there too, i'm taking a lot of liberties w this fic & cole & soldier boy / ben. like i got the idea when the prequel show was just barely announced. so lots of assumptions are made & lots of hcs that i'm working with as canon. if any of it turns out to be true send eric kripke over here to pay me IMMEDIATELY. if anyone steals anything ab this fic i will come to ur house.

includes, brief mention of familial illnessㅤㅤㅤㅤi made up ben's last name in a diff fic and i'm rolling with it as canonㅤㅤㅤㅤwar talkㅤㅤㅤㅤstormfront content warningㅤㅤㅤㅤfrederick vought content warning too while we're at it

there were two names that everybody knew in 1945 — soldier boy & the reaper

cole is richard madden faceclaimed if u couldn't tell

cole served with ben in ww2 :') he was honorably discharged, though, after the compound v took in him

vought needed his powers for their own personal use

he joined up for ww2 because his family is suffering from tuberculosis and the payout for joining was needed to pay for their endless treatments

it's the same reason he ended up in the test trial for compound v

his powers are, generally speaking, light & dark manipulation. there is lore to this but i'm gatekeeping it for now

i will tell you though he's got laser eyes. and yes they are making him go blind but he won't tell A SOULLL

his dark manipulation powers make shadows exist like corporeal beings

there's only six prominent supes in the 1940s. others did get the serum but only six were chosen to be part of vought's campaign to normalize their existence in the mainstream world

cole was the very last of the six to get the serum

the others include: stratostorm, stormfront, bloody mary, and obsidian

before payback & the seven, they were the original quote unquote supe group, so kindly deemed the six

this is what inspired the future name of the seven

they didn't function as a group though. ben was the most prominently broadcast for his time served in the war, and the others were mostly media puppets

other than stormfront she had her own fuckshit going on bro 😭

stratostorm's real name is steven redfield, bloody mary's is joanne young, and obsidian's is sebastian orville

they're all like ... irrelevant until they're not hehe

u know stormfront's name i'm not givin her more attention than she already has

the only real resentment in the six is between ben & cole

the newspapers & radio broadcasts LOVVEEE to debate who is more powerful

and ben is so arrogant. bc obviously it's him. he's the one that toughed the war out like ??? isn't it obvious it's him

cole does not care though. he just doesn't like ben LMFAO

all of the speculations literally just spark a rivalry. not to mention there's a festering resentment between the both of them for their economic background differences

cole works personally for frederick vought

he sincerely honestly truly has too much to worry about that isn't a dick measuring contest with ben anderson okay

he's a year younger than ben btw. not that it matters they r both ageless

so in this fic, it starts in 1945 after the end of the war right. ben's 26 & cole is 25

honestly i might add more to this later but i feel like that's just the general stuff u need to know before getting into it. if u wanna know literally anything just send an ask bro i yap ab this man to any & everyone!

[syrooo]

!JUJUTSU WEEKLY REPORT!

MANGA SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 261 AHEAD! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

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GOJO IS BACK AS YUTA'S VESSEL, THE FIGURE WE SAW ON CHAPTER 260 WASN'T GOJO IT WAS YUTA!! (ILL EXPLAIN AT THE END)

SO YUTA COPIED KENJAKU'S TECHNIQUE RIGHT BEFORE KILLING KENJAKU. AFTER GOJO WAS KILLED BY RYOMEN SUKUNA, SHOKO HEALED HIS BODY FULLY AND YUTA PROTESTED THAT HE TAKE OVER GOJO'S BODY AND USE IT TO FINALLY DEFEAT SUKUNA. THEN, SHOKO CUT GOJO'S HEAD OPEN AND TOOK HIS BRAIN OUT AND REPLACED IT WITH YUTA'S BRAIN. ALSO IT'S BEEN FIVE MINUTES (IN THE MANGA) SINCE THE SWITCH HAPPENED SO YUTA IS PERMANENTLY IN GOJO'S BODY FOREVER.. IF HE TAKES HIS BRAIN OUT NOW THEN YUTA WOULD DIE.

My thoughts: this chapter was a complete DISRESPECT to GOJO, YUTA and YUJI. For GOJO, his entire life was tragic and Even when he's dead he's still being used as a weapon. For YUTA, becoming the next GOJO was about HIM GETTING STRONG ENOUGH TO KILL SUKUNA NOT STEAL GOJO'S BODY! For YUJI, they didn't even let YUJI be the mc even after GOJO died. He was doing sukuna good blows WHY TF BRING GOJO BACK? IT SHOULD'VE BEEN NOBARA WITH RCT AND HER OWN DOMAIN EXPANSION YOU DON'T REALIZE HOW MUCH POWERFULL HAIRPIN/STRAW DOLL + BOOGIEWOOGIE WOULD'VE BEEN LIKE NOBARA WOULD DEAL SO MUCH DAMAGE WHILE BEING FAR AWAY LIKE A SNIPER IF SHE HAD EVEN A DROP OF BLOOD OF SUKUNA! SHE WOULD'VE DONE SO MUCH DAMAGE TO HIS SOULLL. IN CONCLUSION, THIS WHOLE CHAPTER WAS PURE ASSPULL. GEGE REALLY WANTS TO DO HIS IDOL MANGA-

[satanicsanity]

(possible hinted at spoilers for good omens)

Not a welcome home related post but..

Finally decided to watch "Good omens" because I need more gay angst in my life /j /hj

Wrapping up season 1, a little confusing and I had to Google a couple things, but I absolutely ADORE this! Aziraphale and Crowley are so incredible oh my goodness I love these two (very aware I'm going to get my soul crushed eventually most likely-) 🩷🩷🩷

Anyways, loving it SO much so far oh my goodness!

UPDATE! UH.. I finished all seasons 1 and 2!! Only took about er... Well... Several hours since I started at around 4-5pm and it is now nearly 4 in the morning! 😅

BUT OH MY GOODNESS GOLLY THAT WAS INCREDIBLE AND PAINFUL..- I knew the S2 end was coming AND IT STILL HURT MAN- UGH MY SOULLL.... THE SILLIES, NOO..-

Scratching at the walls for a good omens season three holy hell T^T

10 hours, 53 minutes... IT TOOK ME ALMOST 11 HOURS TO FINISH ALL OF IT AND I REGRET NOTHING

@anxious-enby [shakes you lovingly] HELP ME /j

[s0m3one224]

Went to Los caifanes and Café Tacuba concert tday and AAAAAAA OMG I LOVE THEM!!!! it’s crazy how I was so excited to see caifanes but had a better time wt Cafe tacuba. Like don’t get me wrong I love los caifanes but I felt Tacuba in my SOULLL. I’ll post more videos Abt them on another post :b. I totally recommend them but if u don’t know where to start just ask me and u shall receive 😝

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[shinyshade8026]

J flinches at the ballroom door slamming shut behind them and whirls round to face it, immediately faltering when she sees who’s stood there. R looks back with hollowed eyelights and a malicious, fanged grin, bearing wings like V and a thin cord-like tail ending in a toothy maw. “What’s wrong J? Aren’t you happy that I’m all better now?” R questions at the horror painting her face. 

“Cyn’s promised to make us all better and ensure we’ll never be separated ever again, so why don’t you and Tessa just relax. I promise everything will be alright.” She adds as she slowly approaches J, gently hugging her and causing her to freeze up momentarily before shakily returning the embrace.

Tessa watches tensely from the side, eyes widening in alarm as she catches the tail moving. “J, watch out!” The warning comes too late as the tail scores a firm bite on her shoulder, J crying out in shock as she feels Cyn rapidly taking over her systems. “R-R, why?” She questions in disbelief, quickly understanding when R’s eyelights flash white and her fanged grin contorts into a pained grimace for a moment before snapping back.

J touches her visor to R’s, “I love you, my flower.” She whispers as she succumbs and her eyes turn yellow, mentally smiling when a strangled “And I love you, my knight.” escapes R’s throat.

All it took was looking at the screenshot and I had my gala scene lol

MY SOULLL

[kissingrhi]

oh wowowowowow

so so excited to sit down and DIGEST the absolute art that i know this fic is going to be!! gotta thank op for tagging me and being so sweet — and for providing such wonderful writing! 💕✨ here we goooo

notes notes notes and comments and annotations, whatever you wanna call them idc:

- “For so long as Oliver wormed his way into Felix's life, into his circle of friends, that's all Farleigh had been; dismissive looks and long, enticing fingers poised with cigarettes and disdain like he was a model for Marlboro.” quite delicious characterization if i say so myself… you write perfectly for the delicate lines and nooks and crannies of their dynamic and it scratches my brain

- “Anger and lust have never truly been strangers.” ????????? oh that ATE

- "my etiquette teacher would be rolling in her grave if she heard that!" LMFAOOOOO goodnight

- also love how you give the reader a personality and sort of characterize them…. reiterating this from before but it just SATISFIES MY SOULLL!!

- “desperate for a hungry-eyed academic like Farleigh who'd actually put in the work to study how to best tame a beast like you.” sexy. all i can say. sexy. hozier poetic lyric depicting the ins and outs of intimacy kind of sexy

- "your etiquette teacher know you beg like that?" 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

- “And your reactions to him; the way your fingers curled, the shiver he could see run down the length of your spine, and how quickly you had to press your face into the mattress, most likely embarrassed by whatever Farleigh would have seen in your expression.” HIII???!?! HELLO???😊😊😊

- “The chain around his neck hangs like the sword of Damocles above your own throat, and with the blue, searching, hungry eyes of a man who remembers every last cruel remark you'd tossed at him in the past week.” jaw dropped at this. are you fucking kidding me? gorgeous. stunning. art.

- “Now that Oliver knew inside and out - pun entirely intended - you were deliciously predictable. Easy to lull into a false sense of superiority.” giggle and also, again with this divine characterization of the reader themself!!! THANK YOU!!

- the way i started GIGGLING at the entire “sit” passage needs to be study… op you scratched an ITCH WITH THAT — Wowowowowowow

- “Oliver's lips are inches from yours, leaning into your space with intent, "stay," and you go quiet.” this Tension??? oh i’m flushed. Haute.

- “There's something intoxicating about you, the way everything you do in these moments is a war between your cruel nature and your hedonistic desires.” OH FUCK. OHHHH FUCK

- “You have spent all week treating Oliver Quick like nothing more than a dog; you hate that it turns you on when he returns the favour.” this exploration of oliver and the reader’s dynamic is so fucking good omg

- this food is so fucking good lois.

- ofc farleigh would know how to properly (erotically) choke someone. adds up

- "Didn't say speak." BITCH. i could write a thesis on that line ALONE — i can hear his cadence VIVIDLY echoing in that.

- “This malevolence is its own kind of fun; your desire to hurt, to wound, to sink your teeth in like a cornered animal betrays you to Oliver.” dog motif methinks…..art

- LMFAOOO THE COLLAR IM CRYINGGG (so incredibly Haute)

- "If I can't make you bark like a good girl, princess," Oliver murmurs, catching your lips in a kiss even as you try to bite him, pulling back with a cold smile, "then I'm going to make you beg." AHHHHHHDRJEORHEKENFME

- something so so so degrading about making the reader beg for a sip of water and i’m EATING IT UP

- "and aren't you pretty when you cry." 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😊😊😊😊😊

- “Oliver will give you this - and only this - before he drags every bit of satisfaction out of you that he wants. So he is careful, doesn't let the water spill, lets you breathe between mouthfuls when you indicate.” i know it’s about to get WICKED

- “"Yes sir," you managed sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you drank more of the water, but something snapped, rewired in Oliver's brain. Farleigh could see it too.” my brain also just short circuited because i can see this so fucking VIVIDLY!!!! like…

- we know that oliver’s got his weird, festering psychosexual quirks — i think control plays such a huge role in all of that and a sir kink with him is just… Right

- "Is that how you think you're going to get fucked tonight?" No response; Oliver's thumb begins moving on your clit, pressing insistent circles as your breathing grows deeper, "are you going to be a good girl?" Oh. My. God??????????????????????

- “you swallow hard, eyes opening to meet his; he can see this almost pains you, "please Oliver Quick, can I have the last of my water?" Those two fingers inside of you, curling, teasing, pulling a groan from you, eyes fluttering closed, and your voice barely above a whisper, "may I finish my water, sir?" to say this storybuilding and creation of the bond between these characters has altered my brain chemistry is an understatement — this CLIMAX and snap of all that built of tension is so satisfying andddd… Haute.

- "You fucking bit my hand," his voice ice cold, you see there's no humour in his eyes as you pull back and try to stammer out something, anything, genuinely caught off guard, "so thanks won't cut it, princess; you can start with an apology." OH??? where do i even… omg i’m like lightheaded rn

- i can quite literally HEAR farleigh’s voice in my head rn… oh em GEE. i mean the script does say he has a “cruel streak” … mhm yup this is delectable

- “This confidence becomes him.” love this detail

- “It's almost cute, your eagerness, the way you lean down in anticipation before.” who wouldn’t be eager let’s be real

- "You want this?" Just like a pet owner with their clearly eager dog, Oliver teases you.” i’m like HEATED… lord have mercy i’m not gonna make it

- “Beg for it.” started growling instantaneously

- “Mouth hanging open, panting like a desperate whore, you beg for Farleigh's cock in your mouth, your throat, to be facefucked and used, whatever - you felt like you were going insane from the suspense. All the words come spilling out from you, begging and dripping with need that Oliver almost gives in right there.” 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

- "Good dog," Farleigh mumbles, desperately working his own hand up and down his shaft.” i’m losing my fucking mind omg

- “I got you here, Farleigh, Oliver thinks with bitter triumph, everything else is sloppy fucking seconds.” this dynamic + the way you wrote the act itself??????? oh Wow

- “he murmurs as he takes your face in his hands, and immediately you're his, "crying for me?" The teasing starts warm, but as he's wiping the first of the tears from your cheeks, as you're nodding with embarrassment, his teasing turns mean and sharp and smug, "crying like a desperate, little cockwhore," he doesn't even time to let you react before he's giving your cheeks a gentle squeeze; "open up," he orders in that same cruel, loving, smug tone that makes Oliver's hairs stand up on the back of his neck.” this switch???? OH MY GOD O HFKMGORMDMF

- “Never felt someone so fucking desperate for someone they hate," Oliver bites out, almost impressed by how easy it was to bury himself in you.” speechless 😊

- “But your cunt still clutches at him like it was made for his cock, so slick with how much you need this, need him in this moment, that it's already dripping down your thighs.” this + taking farleigh in the mouth..:!3&;&3&;’d

- “Oliver is genuinely impressed that you're able to take all of Farleigh like that; he wonders if he'd dedicated time to training you.” (he definitely has)

- “Thank- thank you, Oliver Quick," your voice is demure and grateful among your sniffles and whimpers, and Oliver can't help but smile to himself. His pride in you extends only to your final show of submission, though it's pride nonetheless.” IM SICKKKK

op… somehow. SOMEHOW. you were able to top yourself from the first part of this. this absolutely scratched some kind of itch for me (and maybe opened many new doors, because holy shit). you write this dynamic deliciously and i know it has to be insanely hard to mend and mesh these characters together in this way — but you’ve got it down to a science. this was just… Gorgeous. i don’t even know where to start!!! just wow. wowowowowow. 💕💕💕💕💕💕

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

2/2: think about me while you do it [SMUT]

{ part one here }

Summary: In which Oliver puts you in your place, and makes you beg to be there.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, dehumanising language and overall incredibly degrading talk, BDSM, leashes, dacryphilia(crying), reader being treated like a dog, bondage & restraints, creampie, so much begging, sir kink, oliver having the time of his life as a manipulative dom, pet name used for the reader "princess" and being referred to as "good girl"

A/N: 7434 words. never ever as long as i live will i ever write this pairing (farleigh/brat!reader/oliver) again, and not only can you quote me on that, but you can take it to the fucking bank. that being said, i did genuinely LOVE writing this, i think they're dynamic is so incredibly fun to explore, and honestly there's something hot about the mind games they all play on each other. it's just that it takes FUCKING FOREVER for them to do anything because they all hate each other. well, you and farleigh hate oliver and he hates both of you, but you also like to cause problems on purpose which pisses them both off. i love it. i never want to write them again. 10/10 LETS GET WEIRD WITH IT i would love to know what you guys think about this all :) oh also we definitely get heavy on the farleigh/oliver in this as well

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

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Farleigh has always had these long, delicate fingers that Oliver's been fascinated by since they'd met, since he'd grabbed his thigh - so achingly briefly - in their tutor's office and levelled a grin that surely read as apologetic to the professor for running late, but turned so immediately dismissive the minute his gaze flicked to Oliver himself. For so long as Oliver wormed his way into Felix's life, into his circle of friends, that's all Farleigh had been; dismissive looks and long, enticing fingers poised with cigarettes and disdain like he was a model for Marlboro.

But the coldness in Farleigh's eyes turned warmer, especially over the Summer at Saltburn, and Oliver couldn't deny the heat of his frustration didn't have some kind of want pitting in his stomach. Anger and lust have never truly been strangers, at least not if he was judging by the way Farleigh had been looking at him tonight.

Now, Farleigh was looking at you with that heat in his eyes, looking at your parted lips and breathless smile like he wanted to devour you whole after so readily giving in to Oliver's degradation. Then he's watching the gentle way Oliver caresses your face in the moments that follow, and that heat too turns degrading.

"You really have no self respect," he scoffs; the mood shifts sharply to the left. There's that look in your eyes again like you're on the verge of causing more trouble.

"He said I had no manners!" You protested as Farleigh moved back from you, "my etiquette teacher would be rolling in her grave if she heard that!"

"Etiquette teachers aren't a real thing, are they?" Oliver, genuinely baffled enough to be pulled out of his earlier mood, automatically shuffles back as Farleigh gently pushes you over. You land on your stomach with a humph, hands still trapped at the small of your back, though now Oliver can see the skilled, tight way his belt was binding them. It conjures up images of expensive leather contraptions, restraints, and you on display, desperate for a hungry-eyed academic like Farleigh who'd actually put in the work to study how to best tame a beast like you.

"Do you think she ever stops to think why we call her a princess?" Farleigh scoffs in a brief moment of solidarity as he reclines on the bed. Oliver actually, genuinely laughs at that, much to your chagrin, at least until Farleigh's hand, those beautiful fingers, pushing down the waistband of his own boxers to finally give his cock some sorely needed attention. "Don't think your manners are the most scandalous thing you've been a part of tonight," he adds, turning his head to you with a deliciously sly smile, "your etiquette teacher know you beg like that?"

Oliver had caught sight of the way you were pouting, legs kicking ineffectually against the end of the bed considering how you were trapped in your position, like a little worm. You turned your head to face Farleigh with that same sulky expression, like all three of you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"My arms hurt," is all the response you give.

"Good," Oliver hadn't meant to say that out loud, nor had he entirely realised how fucking pleased he'd sounded as he'd said it, but it had seemingly escaped him nonetheless. His focus had been caught on the lazy rhythm Farleigh had been using to keep himself hard, but he still found himself enjoying the sound of your complaints, it seemed.

And your reactions to him; the way your fingers curled, the shiver he could see run down the length of your spine, and how quickly you had to press your face into the mattress, most likely embarrassed by whatever Farleigh would have seen in your expression. It seemed Farleigh himself wasn't even immune, cock momentarily twitching in his hand before Oliver realised how long he'd been staring, and that Farleigh's bright yet smug expression had meant he'd definitely noticed.

"You are taking to this remarkably fast," Farleigh sounds almost pleased, almost proud. You tell him to shut the fuck up, face still pressed against the duvet, but can't kick anyone from this angle, much to his ongoing amusement.

Surfacing, but still rather flustered, you announce sharply that you're not touching either of them until you can use your hands again. Oliver remarks that that's the point, and there's a part of him that's far too pleased about how it makes Farleigh laugh too. Of course this sets you off - he should have known - but it's easy enough for Oliver, sitting on his knees beside you on the bed, to keep you from sitting up too far once you've managed to roll over onto your back.

He knows he's different in this light, leaning over you, everything awash with the blue and silver of the night. For just a moment, it's as if you know you're helpless, his hand flat and warm on your chest, on your sternum, and you can see it in his eyes that he thinks you're helpless beneath him too. The chain around his neck hangs like the sword of Damocles above your own throat, and with the blue, searching, hungry eyes of a man who remembers every last cruel remark you'd tossed at him in the past week.

"Can I at least get some water?" You break the moment, and Oliver almost has to laugh, "it's not funny, I'm thirsty and for some reason," you pointedly rolled your eyes, words dripping with sarcasm, attempting to regain some of the composure you liked to carry yourself with, "I can't move my arms."

"Of course, your highness," Oliver briefly acquiesces, lips twitching into a smile as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom, hoping their was some kind of cup in their. Re-joining the room, he finds Farleigh to be amused, and you to still be on your back, annoyed -

"- not kidding, I'm not doing anything with either of you if you don't take this belt off of my damn hands," you were still insisting. Farleigh just grinned.

"Yeah, Miss Green-Light-Princess, we'll see about that."

Considering how your expression scrunched up to something almost flustered, and you didn't have any kind of comeback, it was safe to say you were still on board, just as Farleigh was delighted to call you out on it. Oliver reintegrates himself, sits himself on the edge of the bed and wears a little smile even as you call him your hero with more bitter sarcasm than he's ever heard from anyone in his life.

"Sit up," so gentle, so opposite of the ways he's been speaking to you just before he'd left; Farleigh is regarding him curiously, but you just roll your eyes. Now that Oliver knew inside and out - pun entirely intended - you were deliciously predictable. Easy to lull into a false sense of superiority.

"I can't."

"Roll over," the sweetness is quickly disappearing. For a brief moment, Farleigh's gaze meet's Oliver's, and he knows exactly what Oliver's doing, even if you haven't clued in. There's a spark of devilish glee that they share in this moment, but Oliver can't let it show on his face.

"What?"

"Roll over, I'll help," Oliver's smile doesn't reach his eyes, but you dubiously agree. Perhaps you think he'll undo the restraints around your wrists. Of course he won't, you should know better than that.

With you obediently on your stomach, Oliver puts the water on the nightstand. One hand goes to your shoulder, the other holds your shoulder.

"Now princess," he murmurs low in your ear, tone oozing condescension, "sit," like ordering a dog when he pulls you upright; you don't even fully notice at first, the pressure from the angle that he pulls your arms makes them ache once more, but then you're sitting up on your knees, and Oliver's lips are inches from yours, leaning into your space with intent, "stay," and you go quiet.

There is fury when he looks in your eyes; your jaw twitches as you bite down on a hundred different retorts. There's something intoxicating about you, the way everything you do in these moments is a war between your cruel nature and your hedonistic desires. You want to kick him, you want him to spit in your mouth, you want to ruin him, you want him to ruin you. All of it is written in your eyes.

You have spent all week treating Oliver Quick like nothing more than a dog; you hate that it turns you on when he returns the favour.

Farleigh is eating this interaction up, watching like a hunter who lay in wait for his prey, content with how Oliver so skilfully toyed with you -

"There's a leash in the bottom draw of the night stand -"

"Farleigh Start, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands when I get them back," you hissed, but Farleigh's comment had piqued Oliver's curiosity. Before you could even look back to give Farleigh a withering glare, Oliver's hand found your throat. Thumb and fingers against your delicate pulse points, not yet cutting off the blood flow, but right where they needed to be.

Ironically it's Farleigh's voice in the back of his mind, a night out at the pub where it had just been mostly guys, and somehow the topic of their sex lives came up. It had been Farleigh who had rolled his eyes and explained - it's here, idiot - reaching over to demonstrate on Felix himself - it's cutting off the blood flow that makes their head spin, not actually choking them to death. Gorgeous fingers momentarily placed on his cousin's throat, Oliver had memorised the placement. Considering what he now knew of Farleigh's relationship with you, he didn't need to guess why he was so sure back in the pub.

"Didn't say speak."

"I'd kick you if I could," your lip curled, even as his grip on your throat tightened. That fire in your eyes was betrayed by the way your heartbeat practically danced beneath his fingertips, "give me my water, I wasn't kidding about that."

There's a long, tense moment where Oliver deliberates. Then, very slowly, he lets you go, and turns, reaching over to the night stand. Out of the corner of his eye there's a very sudden flurry of movement, and of Farleigh moving unexpectedly fast. The water actually shakes with it, spills and splashes several drops onto his thighs, cold in the humid room, before he turns to see the tableaux of attempted rebellion. Farleigh looks still amused, but rather exasperated, like he expected as much, expected to have his hand in your mouth, your teeth in his palm, other hand digging nails into your shoulder as he attempted to hold you back.

"It's like you forgot, Ollie," Farleigh says with a mean little smile, "my dog's the kind that bites," still he plays along, the words coming out lazily despite how he seems to actually have to work to pull his hand from your mouth. Your anger at being thwarted seemed to simmer just beneath your skin; this smile you now wear is laced with malice that hadn't been there before.

"Just having some fun," you practically spat, with both of Farleigh's hands now on your shoulders, holding you in place. This malevolence is it's own kind of fun; your desire to hurt, to wound, to sink your teeth in like a cornered animal betrays you to Oliver. Your pride is starting to win over your desire; your capacity for cruelty is overcoming your desire to be put in your place. Perhaps it was getting to real, perhaps you remembered how much better you supposed you were than Oliver himself. This is exactly how he wants you.

Princess. Collared.

Taking a deep, deliberate breath, Oliver levels a flat, unimpressed look at you. Both you and Farleigh are waiting, watching, letting him lead in this moment, and he does. Water in one hand, he carefully reaches down to the bottom drawer of the nightstand - when you move, the bed moves with you, but Farleigh's grip on you never yields, never lets you lunge at Oliver the way you keep trying. The collar is sleep and simple, padded on the inside, with a leash to match. It even has a little bell, and an engraved tag.

Bitch.

Oliver chuckles a laugh as he reads it, he can't help himself.

"Farleigh thinks he's very funny," you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what Oliver had found so amusing. Farleigh does look particularly pleased with himself over your shoulder.

"It was true when I got it engraved and it's still true now."

But Oliver's moving on again, asking Farleigh to hold the glass of water for him as he fiddles with the collar. He is quiet, intense, arms around your neck as he takes his time doing up the collar; his face is so close to yours, sharing your furious, shaking breathes.

"How is our princess feeling?" Oliver takes the moment to check in, genuine, though it seems to irritate you further, "green light?"

"Do not flatter yourself into thinking I am yet speechless," you spit, "if I truly thought you offered me nothing, and wanted nothing more from you, I am more than capable of making that abundantly clear." You were endlessly fascinating to Oliver; you wanted to maim him, but you wanted him nonetheless. He tightens the collar around your neck. Farleigh still has one hand on your shoulder; his thumb comes to press against the edge of the collar, against your skin meeting the leather as he makes a pleased hum. "Green fucking light, scholarship boy," you give a mocking little smile to Oliver, the bitterness never leaving your eyes.

"Good -" the moment Oliver has latched the collar, has the leash curled at the back of your neck around his fist, you strain forward against it. The bell rings with the movement, a delicate sound for an indelicate moment -

"But I am warning you," forehead pressed against Oliver's, you're straining for any inch, any millimetre more you could get from his unyielding grip on your leash, you practically snarl against his lips with venomous hatred, "about what you will get when you treat me like a dog." Yet Oliver makes sure to remain impassive, perhaps even a little amused, in the face of your threats.

"If I can't make you bark like a good girl, princess," Oliver murmurs, catching your lips in a kiss even as you try to bite him, pulling back with a cold smile, "then I'm going to make you beg."

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Farleigh's voice purrs in your ear, and some of the viciousness about you eases. You sit back, back out of Oliver's space, and watch as Farleigh hands the water back to Oliver's waiting hands, trading him for the leash.

"For you," there's contempt in your eyes as you watch Oliver while addressing Farleigh, "I'll think about it."

Oliver's gaze meet's Farleigh's as he presses his laughter to your shoulder; something in his eyes almost says, well, good luck, I tried. Like Oliver isn't revelling in this chance you've laid before him; like he doesn't know how quickly your body betrays you at every single opportunity.

"If you want some water, you have to ask nicely," Oliver offers. A pause follows, and he watches you change tact.

You relax, letting the fight leave you, pressing yourself back against Farleigh as much as you could. Feeling his face so close to yours you turn, practically nuzzling against him.

"Even if I'm nice, he's going to be mean about it," your voice comes out so sweetly, so transparently manipulatively, "I just want a drink of water, you wouldn't make me beg for a drink of water, Farleigh," you insist, voice plaintive, all doe-eyed and pouting and not looking at Oliver.

"I can and I have and you didn't complain this much," Farleigh saw fit to remind you, giving a wide, mean smile. Your lip began to quiver.

"You're not even fucking me and I'm going to cry," you tried whimpering.

"Funny how none of those sound like any of those safe words," Oliver points out. Your lip stops quivering, in fact, you glare at him out of the corner of your eye as you pout, still trying to be soft and gentle with Farleigh.

"That's because they're not," Farleigh says far too knowingly, far too smugly, muttering into your ear once more, though loud enough for Oliver to clearly hear how sharp and praising it is, "and aren't you pretty when you cry."

"Can't cry if I'm dehydrated," you huff, and finally Farleigh, with a roll of his eyes, gives in with a sigh.

"Give her the water."

You immediately perk up, looking far too pleased to be getting your way, and lean forward expectantly. Oliver will give you this - and only this - before he drags every bit of satisfaction out of you that he wants. So he is careful, doesn't let the water spill, lets you breathe between mouthfuls when you indicate.

"All of it; it's good for you," still he tells you, tone like a teacher, cup insistent at your lips.

"Yes sir," you managed sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you drank more of the water, but something snapped, rewired in Oliver's brain. Farleigh could see it too.

"Oh he liked that," he commented, eyes alight with intrigue, and you frowned as you indicated for Oliver to lower the cup.

"I'm not saying it again."

"The optimism you have about what you will and won't do tonight is adorable," Farleigh tells you, planting a teasing kiss on your cheek, while you tell him to piss off.

"Give me the last of my water, you fuck," you finally manage, and Farleigh finally feels like he can lay himself back down, cackling at your audacity in the face of everything that had just happened. He also drops the leash, at least confident in either Oliver, or his own reflexes, for the time being, "do you want me to drink it all or not? Pick a lane."

Oliver, glass in one hand, reaches between your legs with the other. Immediately, you close your eyes, breath catching, knowing exactly what he was playing at.

"Is that how you think you're going to get fucked tonight?" No response; Oliver's thumb begins moving on your clit, pressing insistent circles as your breathing grows deeper, "are you going to be a good girl?"

"I'm not going to bark for you," you manage through gritted teeth, though after a moment, you half stutter out a moan, "please can you let me finish my water?" Two fingers slide teasingly down your slit, "please, Oliver -" you swallow hard, eyes opening to meet his; he can see this almost pains you, "please Oliver Quick, can I have the last of my water?" Those two fingers inside of you, curling, teasing, pulling a groan from you, eyes fluttering closed, and your voice barely above a whisper, "may I finish my water, sir?"

Oh yes, he did like hearing that from you.

"Of course," Oliver sits back, pleased, licking his fingers clean like a pleased cat while assisting you with finishing off the glass of water. You can't meet his gaze, already embarrassed by how quickly you'd given in. He watches your tongue dart out across your lips, collecting the few drops that had strayed, clinging to the edges of your lips. Beautiful mouth, he's sure he can put it to good use.

"All better, princess?" Farleigh snarks from behind you. Oliver thinks he can see you bite back on a harsh retort, and once again watches you change tact. Shifting away from him, half turning so you were now perpendicular to Farleigh and able to properly look at him, you wriggled your legs out from under you, perhaps a little more comfortable to your side, like a Victorian woman on a fainting sofa, it's an unassumingly sweet pose for the situation. Though it clearly matched the energy you were trying to give off.

"Yes, Farleigh, thank you, Farleigh," without even sparing Oliver a single glance. For a long moment, Farleigh's gaze slides from your innocent act to Oliver, looking unamused and still holding the empty glass. A strange moment of understanding passes between them the minute Farleigh sees Oliver's gaze snap to the leash down your back. So he sits, leans in close to you, and takes your face in one hand. It's clear you're leaning in to this perceived moment of tenderness, but Farleigh stops, a breath from your lips.

"You fucking bit my hand," his voice ice cold, you see there's no humour in his eyes as you pull back and try to stammer out something, anything, genuinely caught off guard, "so thanks won't cut it, princess; you can start with an apology."

"I -" you begin to frown, but then the bed dips behind you, and Oliver's cool hand is grasping at the leash, pulling gently.

"Didn't say speak," he warned, and didn't even give you a moment to butt in before continuing, "show Farleigh you're sorry."

Farleigh, clearly delighted by this turn of events, sits himself up, shuffling back to lean comfortably against the headboard. This confidence becomes him, legs spread in invitation, generous cock resting hard and wanting against the smooth plane of his stomach. For several long moments, Oliver watches Farleigh lazily stroke himself, simply watching you and Oliver through a smug, half-lidded gaze.

"You should see yourselves," the teasing barely hides how his voice is dripping with want. Unsurprisingly, you try to play it off, becoming flustered at the implication of you staring, of how much you knew you wanted him. But Oliver meets Farleigh's gaze, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Farleigh's smile widens.

"Aren't you lucky?" Oliver murmurs into your ear, grip on your leash tight as he keeps his eyes locked with Farleigh's. Though you've gone quiet, Oliver's unsatisfied with your lack of proper response, and gives a pointed yank on your collar.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm lucky," you sighed faintly, "sir." Farleigh snorts a laugh, and Oliver grins, shuffling himself to sit on Farleigh's other side, by his hip, and looks expectantly at you before giving your leash a tug. At least you seem to be getting into this, considering you actually perk up, scrambling as best you could to sit yourself between Farleigh's legs.

There's something about the gleeful little grin that you give Farleigh in this moment that give away how much genuine joy and anticipation you have to have your mouth on his cock. He too seems at home in this moment, settling back against the headboard with his hands behind his head. It's almost cute, your eagerness, the way you lean down in anticipation before.

"Can I have my hands back now?"

Farleigh goes to sit up, goes to say something, as if he'd realised you'd probably need your hands for the act, but Oliver cuts him off before he can.

"No." And it's too firm for him to argue with. When you look at Oliver this time, there's something there that wasn't before. A moment of genuine doubt, a moment of genuine submission.

"Sir, I think I need my hands for this," instead of argumentative, it's almost pleading. This is the moment he knows he's starting to win. Oliver tips his head to the side, as if regarding you curiously.

"Do you?" He can see the doubt in your eyes grow; it's driving him mad the way he's holding himself back, but good things take time.

"I think so," you don't sound sure.

Oliver moves slowly, deliberately, and makes sure you're following his movements. Farleigh's cock twitches in Oliver's cool hand, but all Farleigh does is let out a low, pleased hum. He starts simply, thumb gliding over his slit, collecting the precum that had been beading there, hand then moving up and down in even strokes. For a moment, he chances a glance at Farleigh, only to see his head lolling back against the bedframe, pleased smile on his lips.

When an actual whimper escapes you, and Oliver feels you tug on your leash in his other hand, he remembers his task at hand. There's lust in your eyes as you wriggle, thigh clenching and rubbing together at the sight of Oliver working Farleigh's cock. This might be far easier than he thought.

"You want this?" Just like a pet owner with their clearly eager dog, Oliver teases you.

"Yes," your practically bark, breathless and eager and embarrassingly fast. It actually seems to catch both Oliver and Farleigh off guard, Farleigh's cock clearly reacting positively in Oliver's hand to your obvious desire, and Oliver giving Farleigh a genuinely impressed look.

"Never seen someone so eager to get their mouth around a cock before; you must've done something special to her."

"Do you want me to teach you or do you want me to show you?" Farleigh's eyes shine as brightly as his smile in the silver-blue glow of the night. Oliver's mouth goes dry at the thought, his own cock aching at the mere thought of what it would be like to look up at Farleigh with his smug approval - knew you could be boy for me, Oliver - and he wants to hate the idea, but he can't. But he doesn't get the chance to respond -

"No, mine," slips from you like a whine, unexpectedly possessive. It brings both boys' attention back on you, however, and you seem to realise your slip up. Mouth opening and closing, you can't even seem to find the words to defend yourself; at least you've learned to shut up.

"Careful princess," Farleigh says surprisingly coldly, slipping back into dominance with practiced ease, "you're lucky, remember?"

"I'm lucky," you nod emphatically, but you're straining against your leash, wetting your lips.

"Good girls get treats," he yanks your collar back to remind you who still holds your leash, "this a treat for you, princess?"

"I do genuinely enjoy it," you admit honestly, seeming a little flustered to be saying as much, looking to Oliver with a sheepish smile, "not with anyone else though," it's actually a very sweet moment.

"Really?" Farleigh seems genuinely flattered, wide, bashful smile on his face as he sits forward a little.

"You seriously don't understand how hot the noises you make are," you laughed a little self consciously, "I came completely untouched once just from going down on you."

"Are we here to stroke Farleigh's ego or his cock?" Oliver rolled his eyes, already tired of this, but Farleigh sat back obliging, while you tried to bend down, but very much couldn't.

"Pick a lane, Oliver," you groaned, before quickly amending, apologetically, "sir." Farleigh snickered. Oliver's gaze grew cold.

"Beg for it."

He pushes his hand between your shoulder blades, forcing you to double over and bend down, but then kept his grip on your leash tight as he held the shiny, plump head of Farleigh's cock just inches from your lips.

"Please," already you were back to playing along, mouth open, breathing heavy, whimpering as you hear an impatient moan from Farleigh himself, "please, sir please -"

"Please what?"

Mouth hanging open, panting like a desperate whore, you beg for Farleigh's cock in your mouth, your throat, to be facefucked and used, whatever - you felt like you were going insane from the suspense. All the words come spilling out from you, begging and dripping with need that Oliver almost gives in right there.

Oliver's hand has been skilfully fisted around Farleigh's cock this entire time, keeping him hard and ready and in the perfect spot to drive you made, just out of your reach. He'd half forgotten he was even doing it, getting him all worked up, leaking, slick, fingers shiny and sticky with Farleigh -

"Oliver -" Farleigh chokes out in a kind of warning tone, as if to tell him to stop playing around one way or the other.

"You think you deserve this?" Oliver finally lets Farleigh's cock go, and you actually whimper. Oliver wipes his hand off messily against your mouth, once more demanding to know if you think you deserve this. You're begging, please tumbling from your lips even as Oliver presses two fingers into your greedy mouth.

"Please, sir," muffled so much that it's almost indistinguishable as your thorough tongue laps at Oliver's fingers, "please, I need him," and the desperate tears are welling in your eyes as he keeps his fingers in your mouth but pushes you back up onto your knees.

"Will you sit for me if I give you what you want?" He pulls his fingers slowly from your mouth. You nod, heartbeat alive when he wraps a firm hand around your throat, "will you stay for me if I give you what you want?" Another nod, lip trembling and breathing so desperately hard. He applies more pressure.

"Anything," you gasp, hips moving again, insistent, desperate for friction; he'd see to that soon, "speak, shake," you wet your lips, "roll over."

Oliver glances over his shoulder to where Farleigh is watching with rapt attention. Good.

"Good dog," Farleigh mumbles, desperately working his own hand up and down his shaft.

Oliver lets go of the leash carefully, and your eyes snap back to him. Just as you promised, you sit, you stay, a good dog, watching him move closer to Farleigh with intent. He hears your breath catch the moment he takes Farleigh's cock in hand, and the desperate chanting of 'pleasepleaseplease' as he lowers himself down. For a moment, he looks to Farleigh, a silent question of permission, but considering he too can hear how desperate and needy you're behaving at the mere sight of this, he realises, at least in part, what Oliver's doing and seems entirely on board.

You were right, Farleigh moans and whimpers like a whore with a mouth on his cock. A wanton melody made all the sweeter for your begging having turned simply to needy noises. What Oliver can't fit of Farleigh in his mouth he continues to jerk off, momentarily slipping down to gently squeeze Farleigh's balls, earning him the most beautiful series of swears Oliver's ever heard. Tongue always moving, caressing, often lapping at Farleigh's slit and the sweet, salty slickness, Oliver works hard to make him feel good - which he knows he's more than capable of, despite his demeanour he's nothing near a virgin in any realm - without getting him to close. He'd still leave that for you.

For a moment he glances up at Farleigh, and the bitterness in his eyes at the edge of the obvious lust, like he resents Oliver for being so good at this, makes it all worth it.

I got you here, Farleigh, Oliver thinks with bitter triumph, everything else is sloppy fucking seconds.

When he pulls away, he makes sure there's a distinctive, lewd slurp before he takes a deep breath.

Looking to you, the fight is back in your eyes, but it doesn't fucking matter; Oliver won. He pulls you in for a rough kiss -

"I hate you," you snarl at him through your intensely frustrated pout, even as his hand grabs your jaw, "interloping little slut, where the fuck do you get off -?" But the minute he pushes his tongue into your mouth you still try to press yourself against him, to kiss him harder, taste all of Farleigh in him that you could. You know you're sloppy fucking seconds to him, and you hate him for it.

"I was thinking it was going to be in you," Oliver says blithely as he pulls away from the kiss. In the back of his mind he knows it's a loaded statement - ha - but he hasn't forgotten the colours if this was a bridge too far -

"Fucking finally you have some common sense," you sneer, as if you weren't still on the verge of tears, "I was going to say that if you ruined my sheets I was going to have you arrested."

"No you weren't," pipes up Farleigh with an eyeroll. Immediately embarrassed you tell him to shut up, "no, I don't think I will; I'm beginning to think you guys are a bunch of fucking teases -"

Oliver gives him a thin smile, handing over the leash, having gotten all the permission he needed.

"Are you going to be good for Farleigh?" He whispered low in your ear, "didn't you want this?"

"Weren't you just begging for it?" Farleigh smirked down at you, lust-filled approval in his voice, "come on, baby," he murmurs as he takes your face in his hands, and immediately you're his, "crying for me?" The teasing starts warm, but as he's wiping the first of the tears from your cheeks, as you're nodding with embarrassment, his teasing turns mean and sharp and smug, "crying like a desperate, little cockwhore," he doesn't even time to let you react before he's giving your cheeks a gentle squeeze; "open up," he orders in that same cruel, loving, smug tone that makes Oliver's hairs stand up on the back of his neck. But you seem to react with relief the moment you have your mouth around him.

There's something that even Oliver finds entrancing about Farleigh in this moment. He'd been leading you both for so long that he'd forgotten where it had all started, the way Farleigh had spoken so early on, and how even in your most vicious or playful, part of you would always refer back to him. Part of Farleigh had earned your respect, and in the end, he had been the only one in the house who made the princess feel like her place was on her knees.

"Now your little power trip is over," Farleigh's voice cuts through Oliver's thoughts like a fucking knife, as always, painful and clean and precise, "do you need my permission to -" but Oliver's done with his bullshit tonight too.

"Shut it Farleigh," he rolls his eyes and starts to move once more. Time he focuses on your bound hands, finally deciding that you'd probably had enough, or at least were willing enough to listen to either Oliver or Farleigh in a way that mattered.

"Oh my god, freedom!" You immediately announced, sitting up to throw your hands in the air with a genuinely delightful glee.

"You see what you've done," Farleigh looked over your shoulder to Oliver, tossing his belt to the side, but you were already using your freedom to crawl up to meet him. Oliver's surprised by how genuine and affectionate you are when you tell him to be quiet for a moment. With one hand still working on him, the other being used to brace yourself up, you kiss Farleigh gently. What surprises Oliver even further is the momentary look of actual love in Farleigh's eyes as he cups your jaw and kisses you back.

Then you're moving back, making sure to let them both know that you weren't kidding about how much you enjoyed going down on Farleigh. However you do give pause, looking at Oliver through narrowed eyes for a long minute where he's sitting by your knees, watching the exchange, not quite sure where he was meant to go from here.

Your foot lashes out at him. Hard. It's unexpected. Somehow, so is the second kick that follows immediately after. The third he anticipates, but by that stage you'd shunted him to the edge of the bed, and though he tries to catch your leg he falls off, unsuccessful.

"What kind of problem do you have?" Oliver is scowling from the floor, his shoulder and hip sore from the fall, while Farleigh is laughing his ass off.

"What are you, a coat rack suddenly?" You demanded, matching his scowl with one of your own, still braced on your hands and knees over Farleigh, "also fuck you for making me beg for water." Careful, Oliver thinks, he's not quite done making you beg.

"Maybe his dick's broken," Farleigh snorted, "which would be a fucking shame; have you had a proper look at it?" Oliver bristled at the implications, though he knew he'd be thinking about the compliment tucked in there for days to come.

"You are both right fucking insufferable," Oliver snapped, getting to his feet and brushing himself off with indignation.

"Yeah, I'll cry about it in the shower later," you could clearly be heard rolling your eyes. There's a few pointedly obnoxious moments where you make a point of gagging on Farleigh's cock before coming back up for air and to add, "fuck me or fuck off - woah, okay, good choice!"

Before you can even finish your ultimatum, Oliver's decided he's come too far to, well, not. Grabbing your thighs with all the strength he could muster, he pulls you almost entirely away from Farleigh, to the end of the bed, half off the bed, causing you to faceplant into the duvet the moment your knees were no longer supporting you. Farleigh's protests fall on deaf ears, however, as all Oliver allows himself to focus on is keeping you stable, bent over the end of the bed like this.

Still, Farleigh shifts down to accommodate your change in position, despite his eye rolling and claims that Oliver's being dramatic, it's overshadowed by the sudden, loud moan that escapes you.

"Never felt someone so fucking desperate for someone they hate," Oliver bites out, almost impressed by how easy it was to bury himself in you. In the moment he gives you to adjust, his hand pressed to the small of your back to which you eagerly arch back against him, he watches Farleigh. It's his turn to be smug.

After a moment, he gives a few, shallow, experimental thrusts. Each time you rock back to meet him, to take him as deep as possible, and each time he hears a faint, pleased whimper. Your body and it's desires has betrayed you at every single opportunity, which is information Oliver gladly keeps in the back of his mind.

"Come on princess," he leans over to you to murmur in your ear where you'd pressed your face to Farleigh's thigh for the moment, attempting to keep going with your hand on him when your body could only focus on the rhythm of Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, "you've got a job to do, don't you want to be good?"

"I want to be good," you keened, before making the effort to prop yourself up, taking Farleigh in your mouth once more.

It's the last moment of care that Oliver affords, however, as he very quickly sets a rough pace, nails digging so hard into your hips that he thinks he might draw blood. But your cunt still clutches at him like it was made for his cock, so slick with how much you need this, need him in this moment, that it's already dripping down your thighs.

The three of you get lost in each other, each desperate moan from your muffled by Farleigh's cock hitting the back of your throat. The sensation soon sets him off and he can't keep his hands off of you. Up on his knees he takes over, takes your face in his hands as you look up at him, teary-eyed with a heady kind of bliss, and he matches Oliver's rhythm as he fucks your face.

Oliver can only imagine the kind of mess you look like right now, but has to focus on sustaining himself, making sure he doesn't leave you with any more excuses to belittle him tonight. So he reaches around, between your thighs, and his fingers find your desperately sensitive clit.

Immediately your stance slips, widens, gives him better access to your clit, and he hears your muffled moan become a choked sob. The beginning of the perfect end.

Farleigh's getting close, his pace is faltering, his hips are stuttering, you're whining and gasping desperate breathes between each of his thrusts, that have turned to wordless, overwhelmed sobs in the past few minutes. Oliver is genuinely impressed that you're able to take all of Farleigh like that; he wonders if he'd dedicated time to training you. He can't dwell on it, not when Farleigh's eyes have fallen closed and he's started mouthing what Oliver can only assume is a string of swear words.

For just a moment, Farleigh looks like an angel. Ethereal. He almost glows. Perfectly at peace and content and not a total, unbearable smug asshole. Then he pulls his cock out of your mouth and lets his legs give out again, flopping back onto your bed with a wide grin.

"I thought Oliver couldn't make you speechless," Farleigh teased, while you had in fact moved past words almost entirely, except -

"Please," you sobbed desperately. Farleigh, who'd never gotten to see you like this from here, lights up, moving back to you. You're shaking, barely able to support yourself, and he finally sees Oliver's hand between your thighs, and puts two and two together.

"Please?" He wears a smile that's all teeth, gently taking your shoulders and the pressure of keeping yourself up. In return you find yourself holding his face, his arms, everywhere, for support as he moved you back to press against Oliver. Taking the hint, Oliver wraps his arm around you, firm against your back, keeping you secure as he fucks up into you.

"Pleasepleaseplease -"

"Words, princess," Farleigh tells you as he brushes Oliver's hand out of the way, letting him focus on the new angle, the new sensation, the way you're trembling and so close to cumming on his cock. Before you can even formulate proper words at first, your head falls forward onto Farleigh's shoulder, sobbing, aching with how good you've been made to feel.

"I'm so close," you choke out, "please can I -"

"Selfish," Oliver admonishes coldly, and the reaction is immediate.

"No, no," you whimper apologetically, something Farleigh's never heard from you before. Lifting your head you lean back, fitting yourself against Oliver further, trying to placate, "please, no I promise- you, I need -" you take a deep, shuddering breath, "Ollie, please, it feels like I'm going to fucking die if you don't cum in me," you blurt out. Farleigh actually laughs, he's never seen you so fucking weak for another person.

Your begging and desperate pleas spur Oliver on, holding you tighter, fucking you harder, until he finally leans forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. It sends you over the edge, has you seeing stars as you cry out. Shudder and sobbing with your release, you feel Oliver bury his cock deep in you as it twitches and throbs and paints your inside.

Oliver lets you go, lets you fall onto Farleigh as your orgasm is still quaking through you. Oliver's hands grip your hips, keep you flush to him, keep you from pulling away.

"That's a good girl," Farleigh murmurs in your ear. He's holding you close with one arm, the other gently running his fingertips up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. He doesn't bother sparing Oliver a second glance, Oliver isn't an important part of this equation to him anymore. Not that that matters to Oliver.

It was far easier to pick you apart, to own you inside and out, than he'd ever imagined. He'd brought you to tears, made you beg for every last bit of fucking pleasure including every inch of him and then some. He would leave you aching, leave you knowing that you both knew the truth of where your place is in his world.

Finally Oliver pulls out of you, wiping his softening cock on your thighs before he thinks about getting dressed. He does take a few moments, while you're still half bent over the bed and being supported by Farleigh, where Oliver watched with a detached kind of approval, the way his cum starts to leak out of you, down your thighs with your own shining arousal.

The princess had been collared, cuffed, and his, inside and out.

"Thank- thank you, Oliver Quick," your voice is demure and grateful among your sniffles and whimpers, and Oliver can't help but smile to himself. His pride in you extends only to your final show of submission, though it's pride nonetheless.

"Good girl."

[fzrticv]

I making the walk in closet Headcanon a thing for my blog now.

[konijnenbijter]

this idea randomly popped up in my head and I had to draw it

Doomverse!Dust, Doomverse!Killer, Wrath, Doomverse!Horror and Doomverse!Horror Papyrus by @abrasive002!

also Horror is a hangry midget and frickin adorable

edit: nO- I forgot killer's soulll