#this is indulgent. oh well. goodnight!

[formulaonedirection]

[mars-ipan]

green day was really really fun and probably one of those nights you remember for the rest of your life :) we watched howl’s moving castle when we got back (i’d never seen it!) and i understand why everyone wants howl bad. i do too

[phagodyke]

so deliriously tired helpppp

[kellystar321]

.

[fangswbenefits]

Patience

Summary: You are too eager to ride Astarion, and he proposes a solution to your impatience. After all, experience is the best teacher and impatience its fiercest enemy.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Inexperienced Tav. Thigh riding. Edging. Sexual frustration. Precum. Handjob. Cum. Muffled moans.

Word count: 2.4k

“Hello.”

Astarion’s eyes lifted from the pages of the dusty book in his hand, carefully following your every move as you dropped the flap of his tent and secured the strings in place.

The universal sign for ‘do not disturb’.

A faint knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Hello, darling,” he said, straightening his back as he sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor.

You dropped next to him on both knees, eyeing the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”

His smile grew wider, slightly entertained by your evident lack of self-awareness. 

For all intents and purposes, Astarion could read right through your innocent question.

After all, you were by far his favourite book to indulge in, and – quite frankly – the most alluring.

“Oh, something regarding the political scene of Waterdeep,” he mused, feigning boredom as he snapped the book close. “Gale outdid himself by carrying this tedious literary work around, though it is very much on brand for him.”

You nodded, clasping both your thighs and biting your lip. “Sounds interesting.”

Except you weren’t at all interested in it, were you? Your avidity was rooted in something else entirely.

And he had every intention of indulging you, his resolve fueled by the hardly noticeable way you fidgeted under his stare.

“Dropped by for a goodnight kiss, did you?”

The question startled you, and he inwardly chuckled from anticipation.

“Yes… I suppose so,” you whispered, your eyes dropping to his lips.

To the untrained eye, one might mistake your words for uncertainty.

But Astarion knew you well.

Too well.

Your body language never failed to provide all the information he sought and it told him more about your intentions than words ever could.

Forcing a dramatic sigh, he set the book aside and patted his thigh. “Come here, darling.”

As expected, you eagerly shifted towards him across the carpeted floor before settling on his lap looking positively delighted.

He could already foresee where this was headed.

The moment his hands came to rest on your waist, you immediately looped your arms around his neck as if bracing for the inevitable. 

“Where’s my kiss, then?”

You beamed at his antics and leaned in to press her soft lips against his.

Your inexperience was palpable and clashed head-on with your eagerness, which often resulted in sloppy and clumsy kisses as you came to terms with how to handle your own lust.

Astarion didn’t mind having you take control. After all, experience is the best teacher, and he wouldn’t deny himself the fun of having you struggling with taking the lead.

Outside this tent, you called the shots.

In your shared intimacy, you trusted him to guide you through the intricacies of carnal bliss.

But he was ready to test just how much you had managed to break from your inexperience.

Your warm tongue darted across his lower lip and he immediately allowed you to slide it inside.

Sloppy.

Desperate.

Hungry.

He couldn’t hold back a chuckle as you grazed his fangs, pressing yourself hard against his crotch. The hip rolls followed soon after, and he knew it wouldn’t take long for his cock to stir in his trousers.

A breathy moan rumbled along your throat as his tongue tried to redirect yours. At this rate, you’d nip yourself on one fang. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy the sweet taste of your blood filling his mouth, but it would be far too distracting, and he might not resist having his cock inside you in record time.

The grind against him only increased in pace and pressure, and he felt one of your arms drop and snake in between you two, hand fidgeting at his waistband, tugging eagerly.

Oh, you poor, sweet thing…

You craved touching him more than he had anticipated, and the tingles of pleasure rushed down his body and worked on further teasing his cock.

A needy whimper was what ultimately broke the kiss, and your quickened breaths fanned his lips. “Let me… please…”

“What do you want?” he asked mischievously.

Your other hand slipped from his neck and clumsy fingers kept fumbling with the lacing at the front of his trousers.

Clearly, dexterity wasn’t your forte.

But he had enough for both of you.

“Please…” you repeated, pressing further against him.

Delicious tease…

“Use your words, darling.”

A growl of sheer frustration filled his ears. “Let me ride you… please.”

Crude and straight to the point. 

Delicious.

His cock immediately twitched from the sound of your sweet voice and, for a brief moment, he considered your plea.

But he figured that some reining in was in order.

Your eagerness often resulted in impatience, which often meant he'd come way faster than intended just from your teasing alone.

This time, he wanted to savour the moment.

He quickly grabbed both your wrists before you could free his hardening cock. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”

A string of whines immediately ensued as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “No… no… no… please…”

You began grinding down against him desperately as frustration took over, and he simply couldn't suppress the deep groan that escaped his throat.

Gods above…

“I know, darling… I know,” he cooed sweetly, rubbing the back of your neck as he prayed to whatever God above to grant him the strength to withstand the delicious roll of your hips. “Be patient.”

Your whines only intensified. “Then… your fingers?” you asked as you pulled back to stare at him, hope kindled in your eyes.

The prospect was tempting. Almost too tempting to pass. He was certain you were already desperately clenching around nothing, your wetness dripping as your body readied itself to have him inside.

However…

He clicked his tongue, letting go of one wrist to graze your bottom lip with his thumb. “What about…” He paused as you parted your lips, inviting him in. “My thigh?”

“Your… thigh?” 

“Yes,” he said, now teasing your upper lip.

Your grind slowed down into a dull pace as if trying to test digest his suggestion.

“But why?”

He grinned sympathetically. “And why not? You are too eager and should exercise more patience.”

You pouted sheepishly and his cock stirred even more. “But… I’ll be quiet…”

This did make him chuckle as he could almost taste your despair. Under different circumstances, he would have adored watching your mouth part as you slid down his cock, but he wondered how long it would take for you to fully soak through his trousers.

“We both know you’d struggle to keep it down,” he said, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt before slipping under it and caressing the warm skin of your lower abdomen. “But the point is: I would very much like to have you grinding along my thigh.”

You swallowed, shivering under his touch and averting your eyes.

All flustered for him.

It always did wonders to his ego and cock.

Letting go of your other wrist, he captured your chin in his hand, wanting your eyes on him once again. “You want to ride me, don’t you? Then feel free to do so, darling.”

Your eyes widened. “Fully clothed?”

He pondered for a moment, one finger slipping under the waistband of your trousers. “Maybe taking these off?”

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately scrambling with the lacing and nearly losing your balance in the process as you lifted your hips to pull them down your legs and kicked them to the side.

He caught a fleeting glimpse of the swell between your folds, the faint candlelight allowing him to spot your wetness glistening around it.

The pulsing pressure building up around his cock was testing his limits.

Fortunately, Astarion had no issues grounding you with his hands on your hips as you hurried to settle right above one of his thighs as he uncrossed his legs, but not quite lowering yourself all the way down.

“What about yours?”

A mischievous smile danced across his lips. “Take a seat, darling.”

You nodded and gripped his shoulders as you aligned yourself with the bulging muscle along his thigh, pressing down firmly.

A strained hiss parted your lips from the sudden friction and helped your hips find a proper rhythm to begin with.

“You’re so… mean,” you huffed in frustration, eyes locked with his. “Just let me…”

Astarion wasn’t being mean. Not in the common definition of the word, at least.

He would be mean to deny you of this altogether. 

But to deny you would be to deny himself, and he could be quite selfish at times.

Your voice immediately died down as he flexed his muscle, earning a soft mewl from you.

“You were saying…?” he teased.

The way you had to bite down hard on your lip was answer enough, and you merely shook your head as he kept on taunting you.

It wasn’t long before he felt the dampness beginning to seep through the fabric of his trousers. In truth, he wasn’t at all surprised by how soaked you already were. 

So eager…

“Can I just... touch it…” you moaned, dropping your hand to his crotch, teasing his considerable bulge. “Please…”

His hips bucked up into your palm, driven on pure instinct and he let out a blissful groan. “I’ll manage.”

He wouldn’t.

In fact, he was quite sure he was going to come embarrassingly fast in his trousers if you kept riding him like that.

But the alternative was to let you grip his cock, which would not be a wise decision either.

“Don’t be stubborn,” you said with an adorable pout.

Eventually, Astarion settled for the latter, realising he was being consumed by maddening lust and might as well fully indulge in your eagerness.

He quickly unfasted the lacing and hissed in relief as you tugged the fabric down just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, your hips never faltering. 

The moment your warm fingers wrapped around his cock was when he realised just how wet he also was for you.

A quick glance down allowed him to spot a few droplets of precum rolling down his length before coating your fingers and knuckles.

Another groan left his lips as he struggled to keep his hips steady so as not to ruin the delicious and determined pace you had set grinding against his thigh.

He just wasn’t strong enough to resist you and your evident inexperience as you tried to match your strokes along his cock with your hip rolls.

“Gods…” he growled, eyes nearly fluttering shut.

Deciding that you might need some help, he wrapped his own hand around yours, quickly finding the sweet spot that allowed your hips to move in unison with both your hands.

A loud whimper broke from within you.

“Keep it down…” he managed to say in between needy grunts.

You nodded vaguely as your wetness began to coat the skin under his trousers, further pushing his sanity to the limit.

Oh, he was done for.

He was quite fortunate he wasn’t buried deep inside you or you’d already be filled to brim with his seed.

And against his better judgement, he decided to push himself even more by tugging at the buttons on your shirt.

He needed to see them.

He needed to see your breasts sway as you rode him.

His dexterity would always prove fruitful in the most random situations, and he was skilled enough to undo each button with just two fingers, trailing down your torso, until the thin fabric of your shirt spread apart enough for him to catch sight of one full breast undulate with each roll of your hips.

A perky nipple peeked through and he felt his cock twitch dangerously in your hand.

He pushed the fabric aside so he could have both of them swaying at a mesmerising pace.

You hurriedly slipped out of your shirt, shoving some of it in your mouth to muffle your increasing moans and whimpers.

Astarion felt his balls tighten as a warning.

He wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate.

Not with you so desperately riding him and with your hand stubbornly squeezing more and more precum from him.

Astarion could slip into shadows like one else, bending silence and stealth to his will if he so wished to avoid being spotted.

But there was only so much he could hold back with you so easily ruining him.

“I’m… going…. Astarion…” you groaned, closing your eyes as you threw your head back, nearing your peak and biting down hard into your shirt.

He increased the grip of his fingers around your, yearning to mimic the tightness of being inside you.

“Not so tight…” he pleaded, too lost in his pleasure.

The fabric of his trousers that covered his thigh was absolutely drenched and he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered.

In fact, he was tiptoeing the edge of his self-restraint, now matching his hips with your own.

A sudden spasm from you alerted him that you were coming hard, your fingers squeezing so tightly around his cock he had no other choice but to bite down on one end of your shirt, feeling his fangs tearing easily through the fabric.

You kept on spasming on top of him, your breasts swaying with each contraction that tore through your body,

He managed to fuck your hand a couple of times before he reached the point of no return as his balls tightened, the rush of liquid coursing through his cock as the first spurts of cum spilled from his tip.

For a moment, his mind blanked as his own powerful contractions took over his entire body and senses.

He felt his cum seep through his own shirt as he used your trembling hand to squeeze the final drops from his cock, not bothered where they landed as long as they were out and by your hand.

You slumped into him, whimpering softly from the aftermath of reaching your peak.

It took him a few seconds to catch up with you and he quickly released your torn  shirt from his mouth.

“You owe me a new one,” you said, panting against his neck and still not letting go of his cock.

He blinked a few times as he descended from the overwhelming bliss you had thrust him into.

“Darling, you owe me.”

You chuckled faintly. “And why is that?”

He caressed the back of your hand, absentmindedly coating it in cum with his fingers. “You’ve just learned to have some patience.” 

Masterlist

[puppydollgstar]

Poly TF141 x Fem!Reader

This is a really self indulgent little fic! Pronouns for reader are she/they. Reader is also caribbean (I am reader lmao)

A very self indulgent little writing piece bc I'm sad and woke up alone today :( (my family was out for work and it's been a hard week for me aaaa) its unedited so probably filled w a bunch of mistakes lmao

Story below the cut! :)

You wake up, the heavy fog of sleep still pressing you firmly to the mattress. Even though your eyes are open, squinting at the dim lights of the room, you make out the voices and silhouettes of your loved ones. Price, or at least whatever sounds like him, was in the kitchen, talking lowly to someone. His voice was still gruff with fatigue but he sounded calm and content. You could hear the static of the TV from the living room, some sort of sport channel was playing. A stifled voice hissed over the noise of the TV, "keep it down, you'll wake them." That had to be Kyle. He was always so worried about you. "Sorry." That was Johnny. You heard the creaking of the couch, then the ruffling of pillows and blankets. "Oh shit!" A loud clatter on the ground, then the groaning of the couch shifting beneath Johnny's weight. "Hope you didn't break the remote." Kyle snickered. "Bah...it'll be fine. Nothin a little duct tape can't fix." The couch creaked again as more weight was added to it. The Hum from the TV soon got quieter.

"See? It's fine." Johnny again. You could practically hear Kyle rolling his eyes. Suddenly, a high pitched squealing caused your heart to stutter. You opened your eyes, only to then recognize the noise to be the sound of the Kettle. Simon's brewing tea most likely. You heave out a sigh, placing a hand on your chest to feel the beating of your heart slow down again. That sound was enough to wake you. You sighed and rolled over, tightening the sheets around you. The mattress beneath your body heaved out an angry creak from the shift of your weight. Suddenly, footsteps and a knock at your door. The hinges creaked as the dim light from the living room flooded your dark bedroom. "Morning sleeping beauty." You could hear the smile in Price's voice.

Lifting the covers off of your head, you turned to peek at him within your nest of blankets. His smile then turned into that signature grin, the one that makes him look like a big soft teddy bear. Walking toward your blanket burrito, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before grabbing the hem of your Bonnet and sliding it back down onto your hair. "Left your breakfast on the stove. You can heat it up when you're ready." Wrapping his arms around your big cocoon, he gave you a tight squeeze before exiting the room. "Princess is up?" Kyle asked. "Might need a minute or two to rest. Best you boys leave her be for now." You could hear price grunt and the Crack of his back as he leaned down to press a kiss to either Johnny or Kyle. Honestly, maybe both.

You rested for about 10 more minutes before lifting yourself out of bed. Shivering at the cool air of your room, you reached for a nearby sweater. Pulling the hoodie over your head, you realized that it was Simon's. He probably forgot it in here when he kissed you goodnight. You then reached over your bed and grabbed your favourite plushie, snuggling it close to your chest before stepping out your room. Johnny and Kyle were snuggled up on the couch and greeted you both with soft smiles.

"Mornin, Hen. You sleep well?" Johnny's voice was soft. He opened his arms for a hug. Approaching your boyfriends, you then kneeled on to the ground and wrapped your arms around their waists. Resting your head in Kyle's lap, you then looked up at Johnny with a smile. "Yeah..I slept good.".

"Glad to hear it, babygirl." Kyle leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before reaching down to affectionately squeeze your shoulder. The three of you stayed like that for a while, enjoying the warmth of one another along with the hum of the TV.

Johnny let out a yawn, stretching his arms and groaning at the quiet 'pop' of his shoulder. "Price and I tried to make ackee and saltfish. I think it turned out pretty okay. We left you a plate for breakfast." You felt your mouth water at the thought of breakfast. You weren't really hungry the night before so you skipped on dinner. "You mean to tell me, your pasty Scottish ass combined with John's British self, both tried to make a Caribbean dish?" You laughed. "Emphasis on tried." Kyle added, a small snicker of his own. "Well...I thought it was okay..." Johnny looked a bit sheepish. "We did end up burning the bake though...But you can't fault us! Its hard as shit to fry dough in oil.". You laughed, getting up off the floor and holding your stuffy close, "Well, I haven't even tried it yet. I'll be the judge of if you disgraced my culture or not." leaning down, you press a kiss to both of your boyfriends before walking toward the kitchen.

The aroma of ackee and saltfish filled your nostrils along with....Chocolate tea? At the table, Price sat with a mug of coffee and a few papers from an overdue report. Simon stood at the kitchen island with two mugs of tea. "Hey, lovie." He smiled, lifting his balaclava over the bridge of his nose to take a sip of the tea. You made your way over to Price, hugging him from behind and pressing a kiss to his temple before walking over to Simon. "Didn't know you like chocolate tea." You smiled, grabbing the cup next to his and taking a sip. The warm flavours of cinnamon, nutmeg, and chocolate hit your pallet, filling your belly with that fuzzy feeling of comfort and nostalgia. "Didn't know either till today. Price and I stopped by a Caribbean market earlier this morning. Saw it on the shelves and thought to give it a try." he shrugged before taking another swig from his mug. Setting your cup down, you then walked toward him and pressed your face into his chest. Your own lazy way of giving him a hug. He laughed before setting his own mug down and wrapping his arms around you, lifting the hem of your bonnet to smother your forehead in kisses before pulling it down over your eyes.

"Hey!" you playfully scolded, lifting it back up to your forehead. Simon took a playful swat at your ass before walking over to the stove and grabbing your plate of food. "Take a seat, I'll warm your breakfast."

Pulling out the chair next to Price, you then sat down and leaned your head against his shoulder. "Glad to see you up and about, love." Price smiled, wrapping an arm around you. Simon came back and placed your heated plate of food in front of you, "Enjoy." he smiled, leaning down to quickly peck your cheek and kiss Price before heading to the living room.

You shut your eyes, enjoying the smells and soundscapes that filled your home. From Price flipping through the various pages of his reports to the grumbling of Simon, telling Johnny to "move his thick ass over." on the couch. you felt content. You felt at home.

[lis-likes-fics]

aaron hotchner drabble

tw: none, fluff. 750 words

Aaron is a light sleeper. It just comes with being in his line of work. When he married you, sleep became a little easier to indulge in. He loves holding you as he sleeps, an arm around your waist, his nose nuzzled in your hair. You're a warmth he adores, and one he welcomes.

And you're also really funny.

Sometimes in a worrying kind of way.

The bed dips next to him sometime in the middle of the night, and Aaron is warmed by the movement and the chill that follows. His eyelids part heavily as he orders them to open like the agents he orders on the field. His sleepy gaze follows you out of the door of your bedroom, closing it behind you as you do. He lets out a groggy sigh, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Aaron shuffles the covers off his body and stands to his feet. He opens the door you closed and walks after you.

He comes up carefully behind you as you stand in the living room with a pillow in your hands. You're tapping on it like it's a tablet, giggling about something under your breath and then “typing” something out.

“Hey, honey,” he whispers, setting a hand on your waist so gently and he turns you to look at him. Your eyes are open, but you seem to look right through him, even as you snake a hand around his own waist. “What did you find?” he asks as he takes the pillow from you.

For a moment, he gets worried. Because as soon as you hear him, your smile drops and you look annoyed.

“I don't want to hear your excuses.” You give up the pillow, staring past him as you shake your head.

Oh?

“I'm sorry,” is what he says, wanting you to elaborate without accidentally upsetting you.

“You can't just give me wet-willies.”

Oh.

If the pillow hadn't proved it, your reprimand just did. Never in his life has he ever given you, or anyone for that matter, a wet-willy. You're sleepwalking again.

“Okay,” he chuckles lightly. “No more wet-willies.”

He rubs your back as you lean into him. You make no move to walk, so he just holds you.

“What about the baby?” you ask randomly.

He raises a brow, wondering what's going on in your head. You could be talking about Jack, but you've never called him “the baby” before. “What about the baby?” he counters.

You tilt your head. “Did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?”

You scoff, blinking strangely. “The goose bit a bug on the baby.”

Your nonsensical words amuse him to no end. Part of him feels guilty for finding this so entertaining. You've been a tad stressed lately, which is why you've been sleepwalking a little more than usual. But it's nothing the two of you can't handle.

“Is the baby okay?” he asks as he guides you slowly back to the room before Jack wakes up at the sounds of your voices.

You scoff again. “It's a baby.”

While that does answer his question, he takes it anyway. “Well, let's talk about it in bed,” he says.

You walk with him, though your words protest. “We can't.”

“Why not?”

“The zombies.”

Wow.

Aaron can't help the little chuckle that slips past his lips. He looks at you, “Where are the zombies, honey?”

“On the toaster.”

He loves you.

“How'd they get there?”

“Tap dance.”

“Tap dance?”

“On the sofa. Like this.” You raise your hand, wiggle your fingers, and then give a thumbs up. When you've finished, you drop it again at your side.

“That's really good,” he laughs, trying to be quiet as he leads you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot. You hum in response.

“Lay down,” he murmurs at your side of the bed.

“On the plank?”

He nods, his smile hurting his cheeks. “Yes, on the plank.”

“But there are sharks.”

He kisses your forehead fondly. “I'll protect you from sharks.”

“Okay.” You lay in bed, and he pulls the covers over your body and rounds to his side. When he's securely at your back, he wraps his arms around you once again and pulls you into his chest.

“Goodnight, honey,” he whispers into the back of your head. He kisses your shoulder, sighing gently. “I love you.”

“Love,” you mutter distantly, “like loaf. Bread.”

He smiles against your hair, rubbing your side. “Yes,” he says, lulling you back to sleep with soft touches. “Bread.”

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[bloomries]

Hi I was wondering if you could make a part 2 worth the dateables for the “in another universe” fic. I just read it and it was amazing and now im crying 😭.

in another universe...

includes : diavolo, barbatos, simeon, solomon.

summary : what could have been, in a better universe.

warnings : gn! reader. angsty angst. death & mortality (solomon). prob a little ooc but shhhh. italics indicate the 'other universe.'

part one here.

DIAVOLO

...you weren't the prince of the devildom.

It was another day filled with princely duties, and another day you find yourself all alone. It was painfully empty in the large bed, and you knew you couldn't do a thing to fix it. Instead you close yours eyes and wish you could have woken up in his arms.

In a perfect world, you'd wake up in the arms of your beloved. Not Prince Diavolo, just Diavolo. You'd wake up to the feeling of kisses peppered against your face, and giggles would fill the room as you try to push him away but he won't relent. "G'morning my love," he whispers between kisses, "We gotta get up~"

"Noo," you whine, and he chuckles, pulling away to look at your cute scrunched up face. "Let's just call in sick and stay in bed allllll day." You peak an eye open to see Dia, who grins.

"Sounds like a perfect idea." And thus the day was spent burning making food, watching shitty tv drama, and cuddling- and of course kissing too.

But when you open your eyes, the coolness creeps in, and the emptiness of the room is unsettling. A knock on the door alerts you of Barbatos' presences, and he speaks from the other side of the door.

"Are you awake?... Lord Diavolo asks me to send his regards, he has another day ruling over the Devildom, and wants to let you know to not expect him until late." Pulling the sheets over your face, you decide to indulge in your fantasy world a little longer before facing the harsh reality.

BARBATOS

...i came first.

It's not that you didn't understand, no you knew perfectly well that Barbatos' job was very important and required him to be away from you for long periods of time. What you didn't understand was that he refused, almost too eagerly, a day off. Diavolo noticed he'd been working him too hard and offered a little vacation. You thought he'd take it, so he could spend what little time granted he could with you, but instead...

"I was thinking we could head to the human realm, and have a nice date there."

"Oh yeah?" You coo, leaning closer to him and grinning. "And what should we do there?" He hums, deep in thought. A nice restaurant, perhaps dancing involved, walking around a fairy-light lit park, being in each others arms. Yes, that sounded nice, and thus he informed of you such thoughts. "That does sound nice, it's a date then." You press a kiss to the corner of his lip- tease. He's quick to correct your mistake, placing a proper kiss to your lips.

"You... You rejected the offer?" Barbatos undoes the buttons of his shirt, glancing over his shoulder at you with a slight frown.

"Obviously. As much as I'd like to trust him..." He tsks and shake his head, pushing away the thought. "Nevermind. Shall we turn in for the night?" He slips into more comfortable clothing, giving you that cool, unwavering smile. Ah, you don't know how much more you can put up with this...

SIMEON

...you stayed the night.

"Goodnight." Simeon spoke in a soft, quiet voice, his smile kind. It makes your heart do somersaults. You bid him a goodnight as well, and as he goes to turn, you hesitantly catch his wrist.

"You know... You could stay the night... If you wanted." His eyes widen. Stay the night? Something inside him shifts, his eyes filling with what seems to be pity.

"I'm sorry... I can't..." He speaks, gently removing your hand off his wrist and giving you a weak smile. "Goodnight." And then he leaves, not a single glance back. Did you just ruin your friendship with five words? You just wanted him to stay a little longer, just be near you for a while more...

"Stay the night?" You nod, fiddling with your shirt. "Well... I suppose that would be okay." Your eyes widen in delight. Really? He'd stay? He chuckles at your obvious enthusiasm and allows you to drag him back into your room where you set up a spot for you to sleep on the ground.

Simeon shakes his head at this. "I'll take the floor." After a little arguing, you both end up on the bed, both too jittery with excitement of staying near your crush to properly sleep. As you try to close your eyes, try to calm your mind, however, you feel a pinkie brush against yours- and feeling a little bolder, you move your hand even closer. Eventually, your hand in Simeons, and his in yours, you both with small, dorky smiles as sleep comes for you both.

Tomorrow will likely involve a long talk.

SOLOMON

...we could grow old together.

"You're going to be the cutest grumpy old man." It was an offhand comment, something you didn't really think about, you were just teasing him... But then the mood in the air shift, and it got real quiet, and you were suddenly reminded that you wouldn't be growing old with him.

"Shit... Sorry." You, but Solomon waves his hand dismissively, forcing a smile as he claims it's no big deal. It is, though, it's an incredibly big deal. Not only feeling the despair of it, but Solomon too- if he could, he'd most definitely choose mortality with you than whatever he's got going on now.

Sitting in your own separate rocking chairs, holding hands. You reading a book while Solomon nags about 'children theses days' or something or another. Getting up and then having to help him because his knees are what they used to be. Listening to a song considered old, dancing close to each other and remembering all your beautiful memories together. Eventually dying together.

Ah... But none of that will happen. He'll eventually watch you pass away, and he'll try desperately to hold on to your memory but when your face fades away from his mind who will he become? Solomon gingerly holds back tears that sting his eyes. Damn his immortality, damn it all. He truly wishes he could give it all up for a lifetime with you- it'd truly be worth it.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 26.

Summary: In which you and Venetia finally discuss the thing you've been avoiding all Summer since Oliver arrived. You finally get the truth from her, and wish you hadn't. Still, you finally offer the truth to Felix.

{ masterpost }

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

A/N: 3101 words. where have i been? don't worry about it. where have you been? anyways i hope you want some drama to sink your teeth into. went into a much different direction than the chapter outline i had for it. unedited, but would love to hear from you guys as i'm getting back into it!

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Things have been quiet since Farleigh left. Was sent away. Whispered gossip and speculation between the Catton siblings and Oliver that you feel too strange to indulge in, and an ache in your chest that you feel like you're not allowed to talk about. For all his disappointment regarding Farleigh's betrayal of the family, Felix knows your own hurt runs far deeper than you will ever let on. Yes, the two of you fought often, and in time you all knew he'd be back, but this conflict had made your bond especially fragile, and in his absence you feared it may never again be what it once was.

And Oliver seems to pick up on it too.

"Are you going to prune all of his flowers too?" Oliver asks, sounding so casual, but his words catch you by surprise, and your expression drops as you turn to him. It's late, in the study together, and he's got one of your botany books open in his lap.

"Whose flowers?" You know who he means, but hate the very thought. You hope you'd misheard. You hope you're wrong, but you're not.

"Farleigh's."

"What makes you think that?" You ask, turning back to the textbook in front of you, laying open on the desk.

"I just mean... well after trying to go under the Catton's noses like he did," Oliver shrugs, like he can't see your growing upset at the reminder, can't see how your face has fallen. This Summer night feels so cold; many have since Farleigh had left.

"No," you tell him faintly, turning to the next page of your book, heart beating uncomfortably in your chest, "he's still family."

"Oh," Oliver doesn't say much more about it after that, nor does he stay all that long either.

"Zinnias," you murmur, face still turned to your book, when he goes to retire for the night. Oliver gives pause, and you tell him, "Farleigh's flowers are the zinnias; they look a bit like a sunset." Oliver doesn't have much of a response, other than telling you goodnight, but you weren't sure what you had been expecting otherwise.

He's somehow even quieter than usual in the wake of the scandal, but he clings to you and Felix now more than he doesn't, and you find yourself clinging to him too. He's been good enough to not bring up Farleigh's departure around you either, though he has taken Farleigh's usual seat beside you at the table. Honestly, you don't really mind; you'd rather that than the emptiness continue to remind you. Surprisingly it's Venetia who seems to have grown wary of him.

"You and Feef must be pleased," she languishes, her back against you in the bath next to her own room, perfumed steam turning golden in the candlelight, "mummy and daddy both like this one."

"Please don't talk about Ollie like that," you sighed, chin on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

"Daddy called him 'an intriguing, well-read, young man' the other day," Venetia continues as if she hadn't heard you at all, "and mummy called him charming and thoughtful, and much better than 'the last one'," she offers candidly, "she just liked that he liked my brother, I don't think she ever really cared for Eddie himself much," she leans back a little against you, and turns just enough that you can see her smirk at the corner of her lips, "you didn't either, did you? Even before everything happened between me and him?"

Lowering your face, you pressed your lips to her shoulder firmly, taking a moment to compose your thoughts before diplomatically telling her that Eddie didn't matter anymore. It does you no good to ask her why she's bringing this up now, but you still ask. As expected, Venetia ignores the question.

"Where did Eddie go after he was cast out? Rude, by the way," she adds, "he was fun," her tone is so jarringly light, though you know part of it is just to get a rise out of you. You don't take the bait.

"That was your mother's decision, not mine," you offer flatly.

"Did you have him killed?" Venetia's glee at the very idea was downright malicious, playing at sounding scandalised. You don't even want to humour her with a real response, just giving a flat, side-eye, "oh, don't give me that look, I'm sure your parents have plenty of people killed all the time."

"They don't -"

"Or they're just not telling you about it," she shrugs, pondering for a moment, "I think our family could get away with murder given the right circumstances, you know? But I could definitely see Pearl having critics murdered for negative reviews on a whim all the time," at her mention of your mother, your face scrunches up. Unfortunately she did have a point, but you hoped your parents, for all their sins, weren't actually that petty and vindictive.

"You're more my family then they are, Ven," you choose instead to say, and Venetia hummed, taking one of your hands beneath the water, lacing her fingers with yours.

"That's sweet as long as I don't think about it for more then a second," she giggled, tipping her head back against your shoulder, turning her face to yours with a mischievous smile, "but that still means you get one, and I'm asking if you and mummy had Feef's ex-boyfriend murdered and buried beneath the flowers in the fairy garden."

"If we'd had Eddie murdered - which we didn't - I wouldn't have had him used as fertiliser in the fairy garden," you tell her firmly, "my flowers deserve better than that." At that, Venetia snorted a laugh, leaning forward to grab her body wash. Sliding seamlessly to the other end of the tub, she begins to methodically wash herself, starting with her arms. There's little else to do but watch her; you don't want to encourage this conversation if you could help it, but you're not sure where to to go from here.

"He was really quite ghastly, wasn't he?" Venetia says suddenly, not even looking at you.

"What?" Your tone is immediately sharp.

"Eddie; he was awfully cruel to Felix," she elaborates casually, like she's completely unaffected by the sudden intensity of your gaze, "not outwardly," she muses, pausing in her scrubbing as she finally meets your gaze, her own thoughtful, "but, like, insidiously, beyond even cheating on him."

"With you," you remind her harshly, but there's an insistent earnestness in her expression that you really hadn't been expecting as she continues.

"With me, yes, but that's the thing," here she gives pause, as if searching for the right words, "he never talked about you or Felix," she finally says like she still can't quite believe it, "you I suppose I understand, but honestly it did always, I don't know, I suppose it irritated me how little he talked to you or even about you, even when he was around you. But it's like Felix didn't even exist either when he wasn't around him," with each word she speaks, her expression falls just a little more. This is all making you feel rather ill; you can't even bring yourself to want to try and comfort Venetia in some way as she seems so helpless and small with her thoughts fixed on the memory.

"I think I wanted to prove that not everything revolves around my brother," she admits softly, "but I suppose it would always be easy taking something he never really had." Her voice is so small when she turns her far away look upon you, "Eddie never really loved Felix, not really," it's not a question, "there was no regret about hurting him," she mutters bitterly, gaze drifting again. Venetia barks a rueful laugh, "you know he apologised to me? I know he's not dead," she admits, "he called after landing in America before I thought to block him, Summer wasn't even over, he didn't even mention Felix let alone ask if he was alright. I was fine!" She laughs angrily, and when she looks back at you, there's tears in her eyes, "but Felix was -" but it catches in her throat, and it's like she finally sees the hurt and anger in your eyes with all she's admitting to. Immediately her gaze drops, apologetic and self conscious for her self involved outburst given the circumstances; she knows she's not the victim.

Felix was shattered.

Venetia clears her throat suddenly, looking away. When she speaks, when she tells you that she knows you warned Oliver away from her, her tone is forcibly bright. But you can't speak. You don't want to be here, don't want to be around her right now. All of your suspicions about Eddie had been right in the end, and now she had to go ahead and bring up Oliver.

Venetia says your name softly, but you stand.

"I can't do this tonight, Venetia," you tell her coldly. It's a strange feeling, to hear her protest, to hear her almost beg for you to just look at her, but you can't do this tonight. After Eddie, you'd iced her out for the rest of that Summer, but she'd seemed contented; she'd won against Felix and so you were not required to keep her entertained. You'd never stood up to Venetia in any way that mattered before.

"Please," it comes out so small, so fragile sounding. Towel wrapped around yourself, you turn, expression hard as you're able to manage.

"Why?"

"So you do know he's lying," she mumbled uncomfortably, then, "I don't know," Venetia admits after a very long silence. Clutching the lip of the ornate tub, she looks almost like a child again, looking, for the first time in your memory, guilty.

"Is it just like last time? Taking something from Felix?" You accused, finally feeling that anger, that resentment beginning to burn in you, "was it better?" You hissed, "when you realised Ollie actually loves him? Or was it worse?"

"I thought if I could get him to look at me the way he looks at you, it'd prove he doesn't really love you," Venetia blurts out. Her gaze is on the floor, and you've gone entirely still. The next words she speaks are biting, full of frustration, "I hate him. I hate the way he looks at you. I don't care how he looks at Felix, everyone loves Felix."

Oh, there is was, unspoken behind her words. As long as Felix, and only Felix, had your heart, she knows she'll always have you around. If Oliver manages to steal your heart, she's afraid that you'll choose him, and she and Felix will both lose you. Her understanding of it all is childish at best; can't she sees that you're capable of so much more than that. You've never conformed to binary choices like that; doesn't she know you better?

"I'll never forgive you if you fall in love with him," she tells you as you reach the door.

"You'll learn to live with it."

With each step back to your room, that hollow feeling in your chest keeps gnawing at you from the inside out. Shielded from the world by only a towel, you feel, for the first time in a long time, you feel too exposed as you roam the halls of the Saltburn Estate. Farleigh had called you spineless, said you'd let Oliver break Felix's heart, and now he's gone. Venetia had so hated the idea of anyone else loving you that she'd tried to facilitate that heartbreak herself, and now you're leaving her behind. All this for Oliver Quick, for the idea of a boy who might love Felix the way you knows he deserves. But even so, Oliver had been party to Venetia's cruelty against you and Felix, had lied about it, had made you complicit when you'd seen through that lie.

Anything to make sure Felix was happy. That's how you justified your own, whether it be indirect or not, cruelty to those around you. But he'd hurt so much more in the long run; the writing was on the walls.

The moment you step into his room, he turns, surprised. He's on the balcony, half folded into one of the wicker chairs, reading and smoking and looking like a dream. Before you even say anything, he knows something is wrong. When he asks, you can't answer, moving almost robotically to change back into your pyjamas.

"I think I need to talk to Ollie," you mumbled without thinking when Felix takes your face in his hands. You barely see him, still stuck in your own head. He frowns, asks why, asks what's wrong, and the care in his voice brings you out of your trance-like state. Swallowing hard when you finally look him in the eyes, your resolve begins to crumble, "I want to know why he did what he did before I tell you," you admit, voice barely a whisper. Felix's expression darkens for a moment, and his hands move from your face to hold you by the shoulders. It grounds you, but the look in his eyes makes your heart ache.

"What did he do?"

"It's different from last time," you shook your head, already trying to soften the blow for what you're about to admit, "Ollie actually loves you, I don't know why he did it." Pressing your forehead to his shoulder, you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes in this moment.

"What did he do?"

"I need to know why he did it," is all you can manage; you can feel yourself beginning to break, "I need to talk to him, I need to ask, I need to know, because that's the only fucking piece left; why?" Pulling back, away from him, you sink down onto the end of the bed, your face in your shaking hands.

"I know why she did it," you finally admit, "I wish I didn't, but I do. I hate her," comes out through your teeth, bitter and anguished all at once.

"Venetia?"

"They've been lying to you, Felix," you choke out, "been lying to your face, because they love you." All you can do is hope that it's true, "it's why she did it, she couldn't stand the thought of someone else loving me, because she thought if I loved him back, I'd choose him over you, and she wouldn't have me around anymore."

"Vee and Ollie?" Felix already sounds heartbroken when he whispers the words. Without looking at him, you nod. The awful, ugly truth, finally, "and you knew?"

"Ollie pretty much admitted it when I didn't believe his lie; he knows I trust Farleigh with my life," you breathed, finally looking up at him, apology in your eyes. Felix looks as though his world is crashing around him. Again, "since I was the one who saw Ven and Eddie together last year, not him." Felix's eyes go wide at this, stepping back, only to starts pacing, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't believe him?" Felix huffs as he tries to process everything.

"Because I've been trying to find a way to make you believe that what happened isn't like last time."

"But it is!" Felix finally snaps, stopping dead, "I don't want to do this again," his voice cracks, and when he turns to you, there's tears in his eyes, "how can you say it's not?" It's almost pleading, desperate for any kind of hope.

"Because he loves you!"

Immediately, both of your eyes are on the door to the bathroom, holding your breath, fearing Ollie himself may have heard your outburst, may be listening in. You're fairly certain he's not, but your heart is still in your throat.

"I know he loves you, Felix," you finally breathe, hanging your head, "you know he loves you."

"Then why would he -"

"I don't know," you reiterate, desperately, "it's why I need to talk to him." In the quiet, Felix takes deep, shaking breaths, before he sits on the floor before you, legs crossed, his forehead braced against your knee.

"I don't want you to go through that again," you tell him softly, sincerely, carding your fingers through his soft, dark hair.

"We could run away," Felix whispers faintly, echoing words you'd spoken to him just a week ago, when you'd been first dealing with this whole situation and hadn't wanted to admit the truth then either, "like you suggested; get a flat in London, never go back to Oxford, never speak to any of them again," when he looks up, resting his chin on your knee, you see the sadness in his eyes despite his soft smile, "just us."

You both know it's an impossible dream, but still, you huff a soft laugh, your thumb brushing his cheek as you cradle his face tenderly.

"Okay, just us; that's all I'll ever need."

His smile grows just a little wider, leaning into your touch and this moment. But the moment, the idle dream, it has to come to an end. Felix's face falls once more.

"You love him," he sighs gently, mouth pressed into a thin line, "I love him, Y/N," he sounds so helplessly, "I wish I didn't, but I do. I love Oliver Quick, and he's going to break my fucking heart, isn't he?"

"He loves you too, Fi," you assured him gently, "that's why he lied, why..." you take a deep, guilty breath, "why I didn't tell you."

"What the could he even say to salvage this; you warned him about Venetia. The more I think about it, the more I- I- I fucking hate it. Them."

"I don't want you to talk to him," he tells you quietly, his voice calm and serious as he speaks over your protests, "I don't like that you had to do this, that you felt like you had to do this for me. Let me talk to him."

"Fi -"

"You make me happy," he tells you firmly, "everything you do makes me happy; you don't need to do this. Even if me talking to Oliver doesn't make you happy, at the very least, let me do what I can; I want to make sure you're never unhappy for my benefit. I want you to be happy too, I hope you know that."

All your protests die in your throat.

"I do, Fi."

"Then let me do this. This is my relationship too, you don't have to do all of this alone."

[heylittleriotact]

💚WIP WEDNESDAY💚

Mostly I’m posting this because I want to harass my moots into sharing what they’re working on so I can distract myself from what I’M working on. So: @emmg @caffeinatedmunchkin @aldisobey @allofthebarks and @preciouslittlebhaalbae please indulge me. In exchange, have an unedited WIP of Chapter 2 of Massage

Under the cut for length (and spicy)

As it turned out there was actually a nightcap involved.

Emmrich’s mysterious bed dwelled in a hidden bedchamber in the laboratory behind one of the many bookcases lining the walls and down a curving set of stairs that split into two chambers: one emerged into a warmly lit cavern of sorts, spacious yet cozy, and the other Amina could only assume was space set aside for Manfred - his own room. She thought it very sweet that Emmrich saw fit to give Manfred a space to call his own. She knew perfectly well that wisps didn’t sleep, so she had no idea what the sentient skeleton did with any time he spent alone - she made a point of asking Emmrich another time.

The entire space was composed of the stone foundations of the island the Lighthouse stood on, and despite the rustic implication of a bedroom in a cave, Emmrich’s room was actually quite homey: the bed itself was on a raised section of stone, and ancient but pristine rugs covered the floor, overlapping in places, each of them rich, bright colours of magenta, turquoise, or marigold. The bar was set against the far wall and boasted a humble assortment of spirits and liqueurs which included the extremely expensive absinthe she was sipping as she allowed herself to idly snoop around the room while Emmrich excused himself to make sure Manfred was settled in for the night.

The room was illuminated by the soft glow of candles perched on various outcroppings and recesses within the stone walls. The cavern was humid and warm, but the air felt fresh and clean, free of the heavy stagnant quality air tended to take on in a cave.

More bookshelves framed either side of the bed, with side tables built into the base of them. On the side of the bed that Emmrich obviously favoured, Amina could make out the shape of a pair of spectacles and a book on the side table.

She stepped up onto the raised platform of stone and wandered over to the table, the sound of her shoes muted by the soft carpet beneath her feet.

She gently moved the rectangular gold framed spectacles aside and picked up the book, flipped it and read the cover, her eyebrows raising. “Oh my…”

It was a collection of erotic poetry with a gold embossed depiction of a couple - their genders unclear, entwining passionately - splashed across the cloth bound cover.

She tutted and set down her absinthe, leafing through a few pages and feeling her pulse quicken at the thought of Emmrich reposed in the bed on any given night, naked except for the gold spectacles perched halfway down the bridge of his nose, holding the book in one hand, stroking his cock feverishly with the other, his chest heaving, each breath rapid and desperate and sharp, teetering on a soft whimper or moan as he indulged in the exceptionally vulgar verses until he spilled over his own belly, his seed catching the wavering candlelight and shimmering prettily against his skin and the wispy hair that grew on him.

She let out a low expletive and shut the book, replacing it on the side table and picking up her absinthe to drink some of the intensely herbal spirit in an attempt to jar herself back to reality. Her hand ghosted over the front of her skirt, and she palmed her crotch as if to temporarily placate the burning need between her thighs. Where was he? How long could it possibly take to say goodnight to Manfred and make sure he understood he was not to wander into Emmrich’s room under any circumstances tonight?

She wondered if she should spend this time making herself ready for him: she supposed she could undress and arrange herself on the bed so that when he entered the room again the first thing he’d see was her nude form, spread out for him like a feast more sumptuous than the dinner they’d just had, wearing only the network of scars that spanned her flesh like a topographical encyclopedia of injuries she’d survived… and those adorable spectacles, of course. She’d sip from the glass of absinthe in her fingertips and haughtily ask if he came around this place often, and he would think her so cavalier and witty and irresistibly attractive that he’d shed his clothes and take her with desperate need marking every one of his movements.

Though perhaps he was of the sort that got a thrill from the act of undressing her. Yes… that seemed like something a man who freely boasted about his familiarity with the finer points of anatomy would be keen on: savouring the textures of different fabrics as his fingers grazed over them, pulling gently here, tugging gently there to methodically flay her clothing from her body as if it were her skin and she was his newest, most recently deceased patient: she required preparation so that her bones, still and silent, could be put to use housing an eager spirit, and he was not at all unfamiliar with the process of unmaking someone.

He would gladly oblige.

The honour would be all his.

[ariesize]

emmrich x rook: 'til the grass around my gravestone is deceased

A/N: its 4.7k words of library sex and mushy gushy feelings. TW for blood and smoking again. also on ao3 (click to check tags).

Rook’s lounging on the floor of Neve’s office, the mouthpiece connected to one of the hoses of the hookah in the middle of the group is dangling from her fingers as the smoke slowly trickles out of her mouth. Lucanis, Neve, and Davrin are all present, everyone feeling light and buzzed from the smoke. 

Nights like these make Rook feel normal. She’s with her friends, listening to Lucanis tell a story about a contract gone spectacularly wrong and for a moment she can pretend this is totally normal - that they aren’t in the dread wolf’s hideout in the fade while, taking a reprieve from planning to kill two other gods in a fight to save the world. No, none of that is allowed in here tonight. Check your apocalyptic baggage at the door and sit on the floor and pretend like everything is fine.

“Illario wouldn’t even look at me for two weeks after we got back,” Lucanis is saying with his eyes bright and smile wide, coffee in hand and passing the hose to Davrin, who wipes tears from his eyes from laughing so hard. It’s nice to see these two getting along - tensions were high after Weisshaupt and Rook was nervous they would never be able to reconcile afterwards. But here they are, this strange little family falling into step with one another. 

“Were you ever able to figure out who took your pants?” Davrin asks, causing another round of laughter from the group. Lucanis shakes his head, crossing his legs in front of him and letting his head rest on Neve’s desk behind him from his spot on the floor. 

“Never, but that does not stop me from checking every Rivani merchant stall I see. I loved those pants,” Lucanis says with a wistful note. The air in the room is warm and thick with smoke and Rook could be content to stay there for hours more, laying on the floor and indulging in the evening - or what passes for evening in this place where the light never dims - but she knows if she doesn’t move now then she’s never moving again. Her body is still aching from a fight against the Antaam she encountered in Rivain earlier in the day and she can’t help but wince a little as she starts to stand up.

Rook’s movement is met with a chorus of disapproval from the group, Davrin going as far as to give her two thumbs down. She takes one last drag from the hookah and blames her aches and pains and says, “I don't think I can follow that story up, Lucanis,” nudging his leg gently with her foot. “It's well past time for me to go lay down on something that isn't a floor,” Rook says as she makes her way to the door. 

She looks back at the group and gives them a small wave, blows them a kiss goodnight. Davrin shoos her away, Lucanis says she's no fun as he takes another sip of coffee, and Neve gives her a wink that makes Rook falter for just one second. There’s no way she knows anything, right?

Rook leaves before anything else happens that might make her linger even longer and takes a deep breath when the door shuts behind her. The air is warm but not stifling, almost comforting in a way. She doesn't think of the lighthouse as home but it is safe and for that she is grateful. She stretches her arms out, reaches down to touch her toes, listening to her joints pop and oh that feels nice, she thinks, all loose, warm and buzzy from the hookah. 

As much as she loves spending time with her friends, this crew who is rapidly approaching the sector of her brain reserved for family, she is all too eager to head inside and seek out the person she's been spending most of her time with lately. If she wasn't so relaxed and fuzzy from the evening she'd be trying not to sprint inside, through the doors, and up the stairs and into Emmrich’s bed as quickly as she possibly could. 

And who can blame her for it? She's living out dreams she didn't even know she had. Her previous partners were fast, quick, nothing to write home about - barely even footnotes on her life's story. But Emmrich? He’ll get an entire volume. Rook never knew she could be treated this way. Emmrich spends time with her like he actually cares about knowing who she is. He asks questions, recalls little comments she doesn't even remember making in the first place. He’s brought romance to her life where previously there was none. Rook didn't think she was worth gestures big or small until now. 

It’s in the way he touches her like he can’t believe it’s him who gets to do such a thing. What a concept, that he’s the one whose bed she crawls into late at night, where she wakes up in the mornings. It's with his hands that he gets to unravel her and put her back together again, his sighs that meet her lips, his words and praise that rest against her skin. 

How funny it is to have found this man made of light and love in the dark and chilly halls of the Necropolis. She's almost indebted to Solas for without him and without this war she never would have found Emmrich. 

She's equally as besotted with him too. There is nothing Rook loves more than to just be in his presence. She may be the leader here but he commands attention so effortlessly that she feels like jelly when he looks at her across a room or across the battlefield. How did she get so lucky, to be the object of his affection?

She brings him back all sorts of items from her travels when he doesn't accompany her - I found this ink in Treviso and the dark green made me think of you. Look, this flower grew in the Hossberg Wetlands of all places and I rolled it in a map so it didn't get destroyed - and he accepts them all with glee. “My little crow,” he said once after receiving one of her many gifts, laughter wrinkling his eyes and his hands coming up to cup her face, “truly living up to her title.” 

Rook is pleasantly surprised to walk through the doors and see Emmrich sitting on the green couch, a book open in his lap and a stack of others placed on the table before him. He doesn’t seem to notice her walk in so she uses that to her advantage, pulling on a lifetime of crow training to creep around and peek over his shoulder. The book he's reading is, of course, in a language she couldn't even begin to place. She presses her lips together to keep her from smiling too big in case it turns into a laugh. Rook will never understand the allure books and knowledge holds over him, but she can appreciate it all the same for books and learning have made him into who he is now, her brilliant professor who studies her with that same meticulous care. 

He’s too observant, too practiced at noticing students sneak into class late, too in tune with his surroundings out of necessity borne from life in the Necropolis, because she doesn't manage to sneak up on him at all actually. She's lost her touch, or maybe she just wants him to find her in every room so that she can't hide from him. She's addicted to his gaze and his attention, every look between them feels like she's been drinking the sweetest, most delicious wine she's ever had. It's then that he finally acknowledges her - he doesn't turn to face her but rather says softly, “Do you intend to say anything or just lurk in the shadows, my dear?” 

Rook laughs and, since they’re completely alone in this space, drapes her arms around his shoulders from behind and buries her face where his shoulder meets his neck. His hand comes up to grasp one of hers and brings it to his mouth, gently kissing it before returning it to its previous spot. 

“Guess I’m a little out of practice,” Rook says, her words muffled by his shirt. She goes around and sits down next to him, promptly swinging her legs onto his lap and laying back so her head is placed upon the arm of the couch. His gloved hand comes to rest against her shins, the other has been claimed by Rook who is holding it with both of hers, idly fidgeting with his rings and bracelets. “Am I interrupting?” she asks, knowing full well he'd stop doing just about anything if she asked him to. 

“Nothing that can't wait until another time,” he says and is instantly met with a coy, lip-bitten smile from Rook. She looks from his eyes down to his hand where she’s sliding her favorite ring, the one with the emerald, up and down his finger. “Although, might I suggest we move this conversation upstairs?” he adds, knowing exactly what that look is a prelude to.

She can't even pretend to have had other motives for seeking him out to start with. Her thoughts are always revolving around him these days, and she can't help it if those thoughts quickly turn from innocent to, well, anything but. She’s flesh and blood and who can blame her if her thoughts turn to daydreams about his hands on her, his mouth whispering sweet nothings against her lips as his cock drives in and out of her. 

Rook really does consider his offer to go upstairs for about three seconds. She almost starts to get up because truth be told she’ll do anything he asks, too but then pauses, an idea forming and she knows he's not going to go along with this but she might as well try. Rook is anything but a quitter.

Theory: Emmrich loves books, loves being surrounded by them, and though he hasn't said it yet she thinks he just might love her too. Therefore, through the combination of these elements, maybe he would be so kind as to fuck her. Here. In the library. 

“I actually think I'm perfectly happy here,” Rook says, her voice dropping ever so slightly. Her lips start to pout as she drops his hand onto her thigh and moves hers up to the neckline of her shirt. “It is a little warm in here, however,” she says as she unfastens the first two buttons. She slowly brings her hands down over her chest, her eyes never leaving his. 

Emmrich may be a gentleman and a scholar, the perfect image of a polished and professional man, but he is a man at the end of the day. A man who has divulged, in great detail, exactly how her body makes him feel. She knows he loves her curves, her short frame and the way he towers over her. He’s touched every inch of her with hands and lips and could tell you about every scar and mark and dimple she has. Rook uses this to her advantage now, hoping the tiniest amount of skin revealed from those first two buttons are enough to make his mind wander to the rest of her body that he already knows so well. She sees his eyes following her neckline down, pausing at her cleavage as his eyes grow darker, his cheeks flush ever so slightly. 

It’s now or never, she thinks as she moves her legs off of him and onto the ground, pushing off of the couch to circle around it. She wants to make this seductive, his young lover in a library openly throwing herself at him, begging to be touched and fucked while the threat of being caught looms over them. She goes to wrap her arms around his shoulders as she had when she walked into the room earlier, but never gets the chance as he’s already a step ahead of her.

He looks completely unphased as he too gets up and starts putting books back on the shelves next to the couch. She's leaning over the back of the couch and she knows she's overdoing it but she wants to see him affected by her, and wants her little scheme to unfold right here in the library. Her head is resting on her folded arms on the couch, her back is arched and she's practically begging for him to come over, touch her, do anything he wants to her. 

Emmrich spares her a glance, and she sees a look - hungry but tame - ghost over his features. He takes his time putting the books back, letting his fingers run along the edges of the spines, the shelves, even flipping through a few of them before putting them back in their spots. It’s torture for Rook to watch and wait for him to acknowledge her. It’s as he slides the last book in place that he finally says, ��Rook, I know what you’re trying to do and I must insist. This is not the place.” 

“But it's the library. Haven’t you ever thought about having sex in a library?” she asks. 

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but that particular adventure was crossed off my list many years ago,” Emmrich says, causing Rook’s mouth to fall open in surprise. She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised - he’s regaled her with sordid tales from his student days plenty of times before - but she can honestly say she wasn’t expecting him to say that. 

She recovers quickly though, her eyes firmly set on the prize in front of her. 

“Well, as lovely as that must have been, you’ve never fucked me in a library before and I’d like to see what the fuss is about,” she sighs, turning her head to face the opposite direction. She’s rapidly approaching begging territory, ready to get down on her knees and plead with him to take her right here where they stand. She knows he secretly enjoys this side of her, a little sassy and a little demanding, just so he can knock her down a notch; Emmrich argues that he is not into using his authority in a professorial manner over her in this type of context, saying he wishes to keep these two parts of his life entirely separated, but she has yet to see him follow through on that claim. 

She hears him move but doesn’t know where he is until he’s right behind her, hands gripping her hips hard and lips brushing against her ear. She inhales sharply at his breath on her skin, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across her hip bones. “Anyone could walk in. Taash is right upstairs. What if they hear?” he says quietly while Rook tries to shift under his hands and turn to face him. His grip is unrelenting, however, and she’s forced to stay still underneath him. 

“It’s thrilling,” is all she can manage before one of his hands, the ungloved one, comes up from her body to cover her mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows how weak his hands make her, how easily she’ll follow his instruction if he takes the lead. 

“If we do this then you are not to make a sound,” he says, teeth nipping at her ear and his hand catching the moan threatening to escape her mouth. “If you do, I will stop immediately. Do you understand?” Oh how quickly the tables have turned. In an instant she went from having to convince him this was a good idea to him taking the lead, ordering her to follow his rules which she is all too happy to comply with. 

Rook nods, silently mourning the loss of his hand on her mouth as it goes back to her hips. It’s suddenly very real; she truly can’t believe she got him to agree to this as fast as he did. He was absolutely already thinking about this, she thinks, suppressing a smirk from forming across her lips.

His hands quickly begin working where her pants are fastened and she wants to help but their positioning, plus the other hand on her hip, are keeping her firmly rooted in place. It doesn’t take much to get her hot and ready, something he’d been delighted to learn early on in their relationship. After his hand on her mouth, his lips against her ear, and the fact that he’s indulging her in this fantasy and she’s already delightfully wet when he tugs down her pants slightly and reaches his hand in between her legs. 

“My dear, I do believe you’ll be the death of me,” he whispers as he slips two fingers inside of her while his index finger rubs at her clit. She wants to let him hear how good he makes her feel, wants to let the whimper that’s building in her throat out but she can’t risk him stopping now. She asked for this, begged for it even, so she’s going to do exactly as she’s told. 

He’s supposed to be a good teacher, afterall. Might as well follow his careful instruction to the best of her abilities. 

Rook barely even gets to enjoy the feeling of his fingers inside of her, his warm hand with jewels and gold and ink smudges that she so desperately loves, before they’re gone. She hears him fumbling with the buckles and buttons of his own pants and she spreads her legs a little farther apart in anticipation while rising up on her tiptoes to account for their height difference. She braces her arms on the back of the couch, says a quick prayer to the Maker that the rest of her team is busy elsewhere and won’t ruin this for them. 

What she’s not expecting is his hand coming up in front of her face. His palm is facing upwards, his fingers still shining with her slick, as he leans over her again so his lips are next to her ear when he commands, deeply and softly, “Spit.” 

She has to bite down on her bottom lip so hard to keep her mouth from opening and obscene sounds from falling out. Her lip is bloody, her eyes are closed and her breathing is deep and hard and this is the first time he’s ever asked her to do this. It’s like he can see directly into her brain and knows all of her secrets and fantasies.

To her credit, Rook is a great listener. She gathers spit in her mouth, lets it slowly spill from her blood tinged lips and into his waiting palm. She is so careful not to make a single sound, and she is rewarded by a warm exhale of breath on her neck and a soft, “Very good, my love,” said into her hair. 

She doesn’t know why she’s the one who has to be quiet when she’s not the one covered in loud gold jewelry. The sounds of his bracelets clinging against one another as he quickly strokes himself make her mouth water even more, this bubble of silence momentarily burst by the metallic sounds of his hand moving up and down. 

Rook does such a good job staying silent when he finally enters her from behind. She so badly wants to say anything, make any noise at all, as he sets a punishingly quick pace. She’s breathing heavily as she adjusts to the feeling of him inside her, her exhales being the only noise she can hear aside from the sounds of skin on skin and all of his fucking jewelry. 

Of course he isn't following his own rule, still close enough to her ear that he can say all sorts of filthy things between them. “Such a good girl, staying so quiet just like I asked,” he whispers, his breath hot against her ear and she might as well bite her lip off from how hard she's bearing down on it. The challenge of being quiet only enhances this for her, though. Knowing any sound she makes could get them caught is utterly thrilling. 

The hand that isn’t gripping her hip moves up under her shirt and cups her breast, fingers rolling and pinching her sensitive nipple until she’s seeing stars. She pushes her hips back against him and is pleased to hear the quietest moan from behind her. His hand on her hip grabs on even harder, definitely hard enough to bruise, and all of those aches and pains she was complaining about earlier today are no longer bothering her; her brain is unable to recognize sensations not being caused by her lover at this moment.

Rook was almost able to forget they were doing this out in the open until a crash from upstairs startles both of them. His hand quickly comes up from her breast to her mouth, covering it to ensure she stays as quiet as possible. They hear a muffled groan and a string of expletives from the direction of Taash’s room. Neither Rook or Emmrich make any movements, both of their hearts beating like crazy while they wait a moment longer to see if they’ll be caught or not. 

They wait one beat, two, until she slowly rocks her hips again, pushing back against him to drive his cock further inside of her. His hand is still over her mouth and she softly drags her tongue across his palm, tasting her spit and his skin and finally he picks the pace up behind her, pushing into her with more force than before. The friction is almost too much yet still not enough, her release is still out of reach but his hand over her mouth is definitely helping. 

Rook lets her mouth fall open as much as his hand will let her, lets her tongue dart out and across his palm once more before gently brushing against the bottom of his fingers, over his rings until she cannot reach any more skin. He removes his hand for just one moment, long enough to brush her hair off her neck so he can suck on the spot behind her ear, kiss his way up to the pointed tip before going back down to leave bites and bruises along her neck. 

As nice as this is, and as much as she’s enjoying herself, she needs more, needs something else to stop her brain from thinking too much and relax, let her pleasure build until it crashes. His hand on her mouth was definitely helping, and before she can think she’s reaching back for his hand and bringing it back to her lips. 

She doesn’t place his hand over her mouth this time, however. Instead she takes two fingers, his index and middle, and puts them right inside of her mouth. She hears his sharp intake of breath behind her, his rhythm faltering for just one second. It’s not often that she’s able to surprise him but she feels like she won this round of a nonexistent game. His speed quickens, he’s driving into her with such a force that she feels her knees going weak. The friction is so delightful, rougher than she expected he would ever be with her but that combined with his fingers on her tongue has her eyes rolling back, moans building in her throat that will never see the light of day. 

Rook gently starts to suck on his fingers, coaxing them deeper and deeper into her mouth until she’s got them as far back as they’ll go. Her throat is relaxed as her tongue swirls around his fingers, spit pooling around the edges of her lips. It’s filthy, it’s addictive, it’s too much at once and there it is, that familiar pressure in her belly. She’s filled with nothing but Emmrich, his cock and his hand, his body pressed into hers and he’s quietly telling her how perfect you are, how she wants everyone to see her like this, and it’s intoxicating. She’s drunk off of him, and oh how perfect it is. He slowly starts to remove his fingers from her throat and mouth, giving her one last moment to lick and suck them before removing them completely while telling her how amazing she is for taking him down that far.

His hand moves from her mouth and snakes further down until he’s between her legs, his fingers still covered in her spit start rubbing circles around her clit, and it's too much. She lets out the tiniest of sighs, pressing her lips securely together so no sound escapes as her orgasm rips through her. It’s not long until he follows her over the edge, just a few more thrusts and he’s holding her hips flush against him as he comes inside of her, biting back his own sighs of release and ecstasy. 

Conclusion: After rigorous testing, this theory can be confirmed as True. Professor Volkarin did indeed kindly enough fuck her in the library. Whether he was convinced through his love of libraries, books, or for her own self has yet to be discovered, however it can be suggested to be through the combined power of all three.

When Rook’s brain is functioning slightly again, her knees no longer wobbling and her arms no longer braced on the back of the couch for support, she can’t help but let a small laugh out. Her pants are still pulled down, Emmrich’s come is now slowly leaking out of her and down her leg. Her blonde curls are a mess and her lips are red and faintly smeared with blood from where she bit down too hard. Her neck has blooming bruises from his mouth and teeth that are already coming to the surface. She looks absolutely wrecked and she knows it, the perfect picture of debauchery. She can see it in the way he looks at her as she turns around to face him, and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face or the hearty laugh that bursts out of her throat. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she whispers, still afraid of being caught. She finally bends over and pulls her pants up before working on getting her hair back into place. Her bangs are matted to her forehead with sweat and she really can’t wait to take a bath shortly. 

“That makes two of us,” Emmrich replies as he finishes buttoning up his pants. He looks far better than she does, but her trained eye notices the sweat on his forehead and the blush on his cheeks, the way his shirt and vest are slightly more rumpled than usual. It’s not long before he can’t contain his own laughter, his gloved hand reaching over to cup her cheek and kiss her before they can keep laughing.

There’s no heat behind this kiss. It’s sweet, full of reverence and what she hopes is love. He doesn’t go far when he breaks away from her, only moving so he can gently press his forehead against hers. 

“You’ve turned me into a lovesick fool, my dear. I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t convince me to do with you,” he mutters, pressing one last kiss to her lips before pulling back and stepping away from her. “However I think it’s time we went somewhere to get cleaned up, preferably somewhere private this time,” he adds, the corners of his lips coming up into a smile. 

“Lead the way,” is all Rook can say. She doesn’t think now is the best time to blurt out that she’s oh so deeply in love with him but it’s all she can feel, absolutely sated and perfectly in love. Maybe tomorrow, she thinks as she starts to follow him towards the stairs, that’s when I’ll say it. 

For now, though, she’ll go upstairs with him. She’ll let him clean her up and then defile her again and again until neither of them can stay awake any longer. And maybe, when she’s cracking her eyes open for the first time tomorrow he’ll still be in bed with her, awake but content to hold her as she drifts in and out of sleep in his arms. His hands can trace patterns into her skin, his gentle touch tethering her to consciousness. It will be warm and cozy, soft and lovely and perfect and should she be so lucky it's how she’d choose to wake up every day for the rest of her life. 

[wreckedandpolemic]

DAD!MATTY THOUGHT OF THE DAY!!!

Girlie going away for a little trip with Charli, so Matty is looking after baba for four whole days!!!

And it’s just him looking after them and letting them sleep in Matty and Girlies shared bed when they get fussy 😭😭😭😭

i’m not even lying i felt myself well up reading this it’s so CUTE… you have a sweet little family breakfast (matty cooks, obvs) then you kiss your babies and your husband goodbye and hop into charli’s car. vera’s lower lip is already trembling, ever the mama’s girl, and if she cries, fiona cries. and if the twins cry, alanis pitches a fit for attention, and that’s a headache matty would rather nip in the bud lol.

right, my girls, he says, scooping vera up before she can cry. what do you girls get up to when dada’s not home, hmm? alanis cocks her head, and he can literally see her scheming, the expression so reminiscent of you that he almost laughs. mummy lets us have chocolate for dinner and stay up past bedtime, she says, smiling like butter wouldn’t melt even as she shoots vera a death glare when she opens her mouth. fiona agrees emphatically and he laughs.

matty shakes his head fondly, still idly bouncing vera in his arms. her thumb is in her mouth and she tucks her head into his shoulder, his heart melting as she cuddles in close. i don’t know about chocolate for dinner, but i’ll see what i can do about bedtime, okay? how’s that sound, baba? she considers it deeply, and then nods. d’you wanna build a fort in the lounge? watch some films? and he makes it so sweet and soft and cosy, all your expensive throw pillows and blankets spread out on the floor, string lights wrapped around the chairs propping up the sheets, and despite his bad back and dodgy knee, matty gets on the floor with them, climbs into the fort and lets them crawl over him to get comfy before he starts the movie. he snaps a couple of pictures to send to you of the girls all cuddled up together around him, all smiling faces and curly little heads, and it’s so adorable that you almost want to turn around and go home and snuggle your husband and daughters on the living room floor.

matty ends up with a spread of picky bits for lunch/dinner, popcorn and crisps and frozen pizza galore, and he does let them stay up past bedtime, carrying them carefully up to bed once they pass out in the lounge. of course, he has to deal with three grumpy five- and seven-year-olds who haven’t yet figured out how to sleep in at seven a.m. the next morning (after getting off the phone with you at two teehee) and regrets everything. still, he’s determined to muscle through and maintain his status as a fun dad through the weekend, so he drags himself out of bed and makes them smiley-face pancakes to start the day.

alanis is sulky, fiona sullen and vera withdrawn, and matty’s like you know you could just go back to bed? there’s no law that says you have to wake dada up by pulling on his hair and jumping on the bed at silly o’clock in the morning? but of course, there’s no reasoning with them, so he tries a different tactic, bundling them back into the fort and spinning a slow, soft record until they fall asleep. his sweet, energetic girls are back when they wake up, and fiona pads into the kitchen to find him and excitedly asks to play tea parties. he obliges happily, indulging in their fantasy game with gleeful yes-ands.

it’s only a few minutes after matty’s settled down to sleep himself that vera shuffles into your room. what is it, baba? it’s a school night, you need to get good rest, he murmurs, frowning when he hears her quiet little sniffle. i miss mummy, she says, i want her to kiss me goodnight or i can’t sleep.

oh, sweetheart. mummy’s still on holiday with auntie charli, but she’ll be back before you know it, promise. he lifts her from the floor and pulls her into bed with him, kisses the top of her head and brushes away her tears. i miss her too, baba. come here, darling, just go to sleep, you’ll be okay. she tucks herself into matty’s chest, eyes fluttering closed, and his heart swells.

and ugh i could go on and on and onnnn this is the cutest fucking thing in the world oh this dilf why is he not fathering my children right neow…

[gay-dorito-dust]

Please what about Jaime Reyes (Blue Beetle) x shyreader x ex!Billy Batson? the adopted daughter and well known superhero/protege of the only Wonder Woman where the gods & Zeus gifted his adopted granddaughter powers & weapons. Jaime deeply in love with her tho they’re dating, fluffy. https://pin.it/37REnv4

Bonus: her, Damian Wayne and Jon Kent being bestie trio. Jaime, Jon & her being fliers trio

Things between you and Billy didn’t work out (bummer) and so came the joint decision to call it quits. Enough said.

Damien wanted to get rid of Billy permanently but had to be talked down from actively doing so by you and Jon, telling him how that wouldn’t be necessary and that all you needed was some time and comfort from your dearest friends. Yet in Damien’s eyes, the offer to be rid of Billy was still very much on the table.

All you have to do was just say the word and he’ll dispose of Billy for you.

Now did it hurt? Yeah naturally, but you were back on your feet within record time just in time to for whispers of a new hero by the name of Blue Beetle found itself reaching you and your friends ears.

So after a long winded debate amongst yourselves you, a begrudging Damien and Jon decided to indulge your curiosity and set off to meet up with the newest hero on the block; Which -whether you were aware of it at the time- happened to lead you into meeting your now boyfriend, Jaime Reyes.

Khaji-Da would probably think you and Jon as potential threats, completely dismissing Damien at first until being proven wrong for underestimating him. Kinda like;

Khaji-Da upon first meeting Damien: what’s this sassy lost child?

Whereas now the Scarab would then constantly forewarn Jaime of Damien’s presence whenever he was spending quality time with you.

Damien is just watching out for you in the only way he knows how and Jon happens to get himself caught into it more often then not at this point but has proven to be just as defensive over you as Damien in some instances.

Khaji-Da: Jaime, I sense a threatening presence behind you.

Jaime: who- *looks over his shoulder to see Damien just stood there menacingly as Jon brightly smiled from beside him, being none the wiser.* oh. I see what you mean now.

Jon: he’s nice, isn’t he Damien.

Damien, sharpening his sword whilst keeping his eyes on Jaime and you : hmmm

Jon: jaime and y/n are cute together.

Damien: hmmm

With that kind of out of the way, let’s move forward and focus on your’s and Jaime’s relationship because honestly it’s tooth rottingly sweet.

First off Jaime will always, and I mean always, look at you as though it was the first time he was seeing you after you, Damien and Jon assisted him in battle. It was a wide doe eyed look filled with awe, wonder, admiration and immediate infatuation that pre-relationship you often found it adorable how hard Jaime tried to find the time where you weren’t being tailed by either Damien or Jon or both of them together, just so he could spend some alone time with you.

When he did manage to catch you alone, it always ended the exact same with Jaime walking you back, lending you his hoodie when he noticed your lack of warm clothing, smiling to himself when he saw you muzzle yourself deeper into his warmth that had transferred over to the hoodie. Before proceeding to pushing the hoodie back into your hands when you tried to give it back to him; Not so subtly hinting at you that you should give it back to him the next time he sees you as he wished you a goodnight as he heads back home with images of your sweet smile locked within his head, all the while a dopey grin spread across his face as khaji-Da comments on his ever growing fondness towards you.

This type of shit never stopped even long after you started dating, if anything it only became more rampant to the point where your cheeks would be hurting from all the smiling Jaime had you doing because that’s the effect he had on you and you loved it more then anything. It was a breath of fresh air to be in love once more and to get to be in love with Jaime Reyes was a blessing sent from the gods, it was almost as though you were in a honeymoon phase of your own when you were with Jaime, you felt alight with him as he did with you and that in of itself is beautiful.

Love is beautiful.

You honestly didn’t think you’d get back into a relationship since Billy but you were glad that you were wrong because Jaime brought you to life, you were able to breath and be yourself with Jaime without shame of who might be looking and you hoped that’s how he felt with you, because you wanted him to be just as comfortable with you as you did with him. And he did. Jaime felt all that you felt with him but tenfold, he loved love and he loved being in love with you. It didn’t matter how long you’ve been dating for because Jaime would always feel as though he’s falling in love with you with each and every day.

Cliche as that might seem but it was the gods honest truth! Jon and Damien couldn’t ignore that fact either given how they could read you like a book due to how long you’ve been friends. You’ve never looked happier then you did when you were with Jaime and vice versa.

You’d hold hands whenever you felt convenient, giggling away with one another as the brightest smiles spread across your faces, completely and utterly lost within one another to the point where it seemed that the only thing that either of you could hear was the sound of each other’s childlike chuckles and voices that tasted as sweet as ambrosia.

*You and Jaime being cute and shit*

Damien: 😑😒🤢

Jon: 🤩☺️🥹

Bonus content based off a video I saw:

Jaime, siting next to you: don’t look now but I think that guy in the seat opposite you has a thing for you.

You: ???

*Jaime, then rushes himself to sit in the empty seat opposite you, smilingly widely as he stares at you.*

You: 🥺☺️🥰 Aww Jaime!

Jon: Aww jaime!

Damien: I think I’m going to puke-

[ghoulsister1]

❤️The Devil's Favourite❤️

Lucifer x Reader. GN Reader. (Lucifer from The Sandman) Fluff. Reader visits Lucifer. Lucifer loves their darling human. Just some sweetness and kisses. Cuddling. My first time writing for the beautiful Lucifer🥺❤️

You stepped into the large room hesitantly. No matter how many times you visited your lover, you still worried about some of Hell's demons. Some of them knew you were Lucifer's and should they lay a finger on you, it would mean instant death at the hands of the Morningstar or Mazikeen. But still you worried some demons wouldn't care for such rules, there were some who dared to defy Lucifer and of course were dealt with accordingly.

Upon entering you saw the tall figure of your lover, Lucifer standing over the balcony, looking down at the hellfire and chaos below. You stood for a few mins before you cleared your throat to greet.

"Good evening my love" You Greeted them softly. Lucifer turned around upon hearing your voice. They smiled upon seeing you and made their way towards to you.

"Good evening my darling Y/N. How are you? Have you been well?" Asked Lucifer as they came to stand in front of you, smiling softly.

"I have. Tired at most, been a hectic week. But never mind about my week, how have you been?" You Asked sweetly. Lucifer tutted and walked closer to you.

"Come now my dear, you know I love to hear about your day or week. Mine has been relatively the same, except for a few disruptions but nothing me or Mazikeen can't handle. Come into the bedroom, the walk must have been tiring" Lucifer Suggested, taking you by the hand.

You followed without protest and soon you were in the large master bedroom of Lucifer's domain. A large Queen sized bed of red velvet sheets and pillows with dark satin drapes was there, a large round table and a balcony with a view to the hellish fire and brimstone outside.

You sat down on one the dark plush armchairs and sank into it comfortably. Lucifer sat on the one across from you.

"There, now you may unwind for tonight. I'll ask one of the demons to bring us up a few morsels and something to drink" Suggested Lucifer as they gazed at you.

You blushed under their gaze and they smiled upon seeing the pink tinge in your cheeks.

"You are too kind, my love really" You Blushed.

"I like having you around my dear. I'm always happy to see you and I look forward to our little meetings and dates. I hope you feel the same way, my dear or does my company tire you?" Teased Lucifer.

"Oh no never! I love our dates!" You Cried, flustered but Lucifer just laughed softly.

"Oh hush now my sweet, you know I love to tease you. I know you feel the same, rest assured" Assured Lucifer. You smiled at them and they returned the smile.

A demon eventually arrived with food and drink. You and Lucifer wined and dined, indulging in conversation and sharing a few laughs.

It was eventually time to leave but tonight, you didn't want to go back to the mortal realm, alone.

"Lucifer?" You Asked softly.

"Yes my beloved?" Answered Lucifer.

"If it's not a inconvenience to you, may I stay the night with you here? It's just, I don't feel like going back to my realm alone tonight" You Explained, blushing and looking away shyly.

"Why dear, of course you may stay. Stay as long as you like my love! You are always welcome in my domain my love" Replied Lucifer, smiling softly. You smiled.

"Come, let's go to bed" Offered Lucifer and the two of you were in bed, you snuggled up close to Lucifer as they held you in their arms, pressing a kiss lovingly to your lips as you returned the kiss.

"Goodnight my love" You Whispered.

"Goodnight my beloved" Whispered Lucifer tenderly.

[lemonandlime22]

Deuce x gn!Reader

Summary: Deuce helps you with groceries on a cold evening

Warning(s): cussing, not edited

A/N: just thought I’d write smth very self indulgent with one of my fav bois, its mostly just word vomit ngl lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An uncomfortable shiver slowly spread through your back and arms as the uncharacteristically cold wind blew harshly into your body. It was the start of summer, just hours ago the sun was shining bright in a blue sky with not a single cloud in sight. But now as you walked back to Ramshackle with your arms full of bags, clouds were all you could see and the strong winds made it feel like it was winter. The only warmth that you could feel was the setting sun shining through a brake in the clouds at the horizon.

You would have worn a coat if you had known it was going to be this cold, but no! It just had to look like the perfect weather for a long walk from Sam’s shop and back. You internally cursed whatever had caused this fast switch as you curled into yourself.

“Hey! Yuu!! Wait up a sec!” Looking back you saw the blue haired boy running up to you and waving his arm to get your attention.

You quickly stopped walking and waited but kept looking back at Deuce. Once he had caught up he only took a deep breath before smiling and giving an awkward 'Hi'. This surprised you, especially considering how far he had ran in that short amount of time, then again he was in track and field so you guess it did him good.

After a very awkward moment of silence, Deuce perked up. "Oh right!" Your classmate shouted, "I meant to take this for you.."

Before you could question anything, he grabbed the grocery bags from your arms. "Uh- thank you? But you really don't need to-" You were cut off by Deuce quickly shaking his head. "No no no! I insist... Please, let me help you?"

He had asked with such a soft voice and his eyes could only have been described as an actual puppy's eyes. You truly didn't have the strength to say no to him. "I-I mean sure.. if you really want to..." You said with a sigh and walk next to him as he began to make his way to Ramshackle.

The cold chill of the coming night began to pick up, and now you really started to regret not bringing your jacket. But you refused to bring this up, knowing Deuce he's probably do something like give you his jacket if you said anything, and he was already carrying all your groceries for you.

Unbeknownst to you, Deuce was smiling like a mad man, he was so happy that had caught you on your way home. He had made a long list of things he wanted to do for you, to show that he cared about you. Trey told him that it was the little things that showed others how much you cared for them and Deuce was determined to make sure that you knew that.

In his mind if you do know, then you’ll be reassured enough to confess, seven knows he’s far to terrified to say anything.

While Deuce was lost in his own world, you were freezing your ass off right next to him. ‘How tf did it get colder?!?’ Was all you could think. As soon as a sharp cold wind went through, you gave in and hooked your arms around this to try and get some assemblage of warmth.

The first year's mind completely shut off for a moment after you interlocked your arms, but he never stopped walkin'.

And his mind stayed blank for the whole of the walk to Ramshackle, and even when he helped put the groceries away. It wasn't until he was walking out the door that he was finally able to have a coherent thought.

When you and Deuce were standing in silence at the doorway. As he was about to wish you goodnight, you spoke before he could.

"Well, um- Thank you for helping me." You said quickly before giving a chase kiss on his cheek before slamming the door shut

Just like that, his mind stopped and his heart raced for the rest of the night and most of the next day. Until he saw you at lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[look-at-the-sky-im-still-here]

Somebody knows (unfortunately.)

Nobody will know part 2

you got me so hyped with your comment @propertyofseverus that I wrote this unplanned 2nd part >:)))) enjoy <3

Ship: Olivia x Severus (both are adult professors), warnings: slightly (?) subby Sev, risk of being caught, penetrative sex, biting, collars/leash, mild voyeurism, Lucius briefly appears

----

The parent teacher conference night is exhausting, as always. Petty parents with their random questions and expectations, not knowing the depth of the work she already does and thinking they know so much better. Please, spare me your drivel.

She's generally not a people person. Especially not when it comes to stupid people.

A pair of parents exit her office, bidding their goodnights. Olivia groans and leans back in her chair, rubbing her temples. She feels a terrible headache rolling in. Thank Merlin, though, Malfoy hasn't shown up yet. Hopefully he won't, either.

She has a soft spot for Draco but his father... good lord. She could strangle that man.

Liv opens her schedule. "Two more conversations..." At least the night is almost over. I have a feeling my head isn't gonna stop pounding 'till I sleep, though.

A sudden flash of light on her desk makes her flinch.

"Huh?"

A small potion bottle has appeared, most likely through a spell. She picks it up and looks at the little card hanging off it. 'For your headache.' It reads.

Her cheeks warm and a pleasant smile spreads across her face. He knows her so well. Even while they're both working he still thinks of her...

"Psh. And he has the gall to act like he's not sweet."

She downs the potion and sighs in relief when her headache fades. She makes an indulgent little chuckle and bites her lip.

I should visit him when I'm done...

-

Severus sighs and writes down the notes of the last discussion. He despises these nights, too. So much time wasted when he could definitely be doing better things.

His scowl hardens when he hears his door creak open. Another one? Great.

He looks up.

Oh, no, it's not. It's Olivia. She shuts the door behind her and leans against it. she regards him with an unreadable expression and for a moment both are silent.

"Is something the matter?" He eventually questions, expression a bit softer.

A smile spreads across her face. "No. But I thought I'd pay you a visit..."

He instantly gulps at her low tone and suddenly he feels hot at the collar. "You got the potion I sent."

"I did. It was... very sweet of you." She murmurs, approaching his desk. "I just had to show my appreciation somehow..."

"...What are you thinking..?" He looks up at her. Part of him is irritated and scandalised, he knows what she's doing, but also, he can't help but feel a bit excited about it.

"What do you think...?" She purrs, unbuttoning two buttons of her shirt.

His face darkens considerably when he's offered a tasteful view of the soft swell of her chest. Hastily, he looks away. "Really, Liv? C-can't wait until later?" He mentally curses himself at the tremor in his voice. "You know I am still working-"

"All the parents have gone. It's just us here." She plants her hands on his desk and leans forward, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes.

"...Surely I didn't send you a potion of lust." He grumbles, meeting her gaze.

"Haha. I don't need one to want you." She moves around the desk to come closer, to which he stands and stumbles back. She's the only one who sees him like this, this normally bitter and cold man now so flustered at her advances. He's not happy about the effect she has on him but at the same time... to be wanted so carnally is an intoxicating feeling.

"I'm warning you, Liv." He steps back whenever she steps forward, attempting to keep a stern expression.

"Elaborate." Olivia is enjoying the hell out of this.

"I-" He grunts and shakes his head. "I know what you're doing, t-trying to seduce me-"

"You say that as if you don't like it." She comes closer.

"Not when I'm supposed to be working...!" He catches her hands by the wrists before she can grab at him, but she just smiles sweetly.

"It won't take that long, love."

"That's what you say every time- and then an hour later we're still... occupied. N-not to mention last time. We almost got caught." He huffs indignantly, but doesn't push her away when she leans into him. His back hits the wall.

She says nothing, just leans in slowly. Despite himself, despite his arguments, he's leaning forward too, almost instinctively. His grip loosens on her wrists and she slides them up, over his shoulders.

"Damn you... insufferable woman..." He mutters against her lips, eyes fluttering closed.

"You love it that way," She whispers and kisses him.

Almost instantly, his reservations melt away and his hands are sliding up her back, pulling her flush against him. Damn her, truly. Damn him for giving into her so easily. She plucks open the buttons keeping his long cloak draped over him and tosses it aside. He shivers a bit at the cool air hitting his back, but grunts and does the same with her cloak. With her neck now exposed, he presses warm kisses to the skin under her jaw, eyes closed. Her perfume is subtle but intoxicating, something foresty, something like the rain.

"Mm- Severus.." She leans her head back so he can reach better.

He groans. "For the love of... I could eat you whole if you'd let me," He murmurs under his breath, setting his teeth into a spot on her neck and making her squirm.

"Yes... I would let you." Amusement twinkles in her gaze.

"Don't say that..." He shudders all over and she soothes him with a gentle caress. Briefly he pauses, suddenly acutely aware of how 'out-in-the-open' they are, gulps, and rips open the door to his potion storage. "In here."

"Oh?" Liv purrs, sliding her hands over his waist. "Nice and private, mh?"

"Yes. Please." He grumbles, embarrassed but so unbelievably fond.

She's fine with that... she just wants him. She takes his face in her hands and kisses him again, walking him back into the storage room and closing the door so quick it gives a rather loud 'bang' against the doorframe.

There's shuffling, followed by a surprised gasp and a quiet chuckle in the dim light of the room.

.

-

.

In the hall, Lucius walks. He's on his way to the Potion's Master's office to discuss business. But strangely, when he gets there, nobody's around.

'What? Did he leave already?" The blond mutters under his breath, frustrated. "And here I was thinking he never left this room."

Just then, though, he hears shuffling and quiet bumping noises coming from a door to the back.

"What in the...?"

.

-

.

"Mmmh... oh, Sev..."

"Fuck." He buries his face in her hair, gripping her waist tightly as his hips meet hers time and time again. She leans against the shelves, eyes closed and pressing back into him. Every time he ruts his hips forward, bottles and ingredients on the shelves rattle and shake. Her dress is hitched up far enough for him to pound her cunt but nothing more. They have to be discrete, after all...

She holds back a whimper as she clenches around him. Her panties are tossed on the floor, long forgotten.

She leans back up, pressing her back into his chest. His hips stutter for a moment, because when Olivia's hand passes over his throat, a silky, smoky black collar winds itself around his neck. Tight enough for him to feel it, but comfortable nonetheless.

He jerks in surprise and she smiles. "Stop moving, love." A leash of this same, mysterious energy forms, attached to the collar, and she pulls it taut, pulling him tighter against her. A breathless whimper escapes him at the pressure.

"O-Olivia... What are you-"

"Just a little experiment, darling." She clenches and both of them groan. "Remember... I'm in charge here."

"I, ah- am I ever going to be in... charge...?" He grunts, aching to keep fucking her but also very keen on obeying her. He usually isn't like that... is that a magical effect?

Or is it just her?

"Perhaps... even I like to take a load off and relax from time to time." She purrs. "But not right now." She plucks open her shirt fully and her nipples harden at the cool air against them. "Now... keep going, love..." She grabs his hand and brings it up to her exposed chest. With a weak little gasp he holds her tight, large and warm hands squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts. She purrs in delight, leaning her head back onto his shoulder as he resumes his frenzied thrusting. Olivia holds the leash tight, wrapped around her fist, making sure he's not going anywhere. Not like he could possibly want to.

His fingers press to her nipples, feeling the heat of them. He gently pinches, squeezes, rubs them. The way she squirms and gasps is all the reassurance he needs. He closes his eyes, focuses on nothing but her and the surprisingly exhilarating feel of the collar on him. Part of him feels as though he should be irritated, he's not a dog or an animal, after all, but it's different... It's like she's saying he's hers. A pleasurable tingle goes down his spine at the thought.

He's trying so hard to keep his desperate noises to himself and she can tell. It's kinda cute, isn't it. His eyes squeezed shut, panting harshly into her neck and every heavy breath he takes is exhaled shakily, sometimes with the slightest whimper. His hands slide down her belly, internally irritated at the fabric separating them there, but she enjoys the caress regardless. Especially when his fingers dip lower, stroking over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She spreads her thighs a little wider to invite the contact but in turn causes him to thrust deeper into her, to which a startled but pleasurable cry escapes her throat.

"Ngh!" His hips jerk and he almost comes just from that. But he holds it back.  

She claps a hand over her mouth and he grunts.

"B-Be careful, Liv-"

"I know,," She hisses back.

.

Lucius' eyes widen at the sound that suddenly emanated from that room.

"What..." he whispers, face growing red. "Don't tell me he's...?" He shakes his head. Couldn't be Snape, no way. He doesn't seem the type. Still though, someone is being sinful in there. There's cloaks laying on the floor. He grins widely. How should he go about this? Swing the door open and catch them in the act? Wait until they come out?

He slinks over to the room and peeks in through a crack in the door. But what he sees shocks him.

.

Olivia's facing him now, one leg holding her up and the other hooked on his waist as she gets plowed by her darling husband. She grips onto him tight with one hand, the other still firmly holding the leash. "Gooood b-booy..!" She gasps and he scoffs.

"L-Liv- I'm no such th-thing.." His voice cracks a little.

"Shh. You are," She fiercely kisses him, muffling any utterance he was about to respond with. "My good boy."

He can't hold back the desperate whimper this time and it fills her with delight. So, to hide the clear embarrassment in his expression, he buries his face in her chest and holds her tight to him.

"Ngh- You're doing so good... keep- keep doing that...!" She squeezes him tighter, legs trembling. She leans in and bites his earlobe to which a startled moan escapes him.

.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

Lucius is so hard, he can't believe it. He knew Severus is married to Olivia, but he hadn't anticipated them to actually be this... wild over each other. Considering the man Severus is, anyway. It's like he's watching a complete stranger.

Part of him is appalled at the audacity, another part is so unbelievably envious. Narcissa never looks at him in that way, with such carnal want. He palms himself through his trousers, biting his lip.

Like Severus had initially anticipated, this is definitely not as quick as Liv said it would be. Insufferable... Yet, he lacks any kind of true annoyance over it. This is a far better way to spend his time than what he was doing before... what was he doing before, anyway? He's so unbelievably sensitive and despite his efforts he can't hold back the noises. It's music to Olivia's ears.

Her pussy throbs, she's so wet that he feels it on his inner thighs. "Severusss-! I'm- I'm so close."

"F-fuck- me too- darling-" He leans up to kiss her again, shifting one of his hands to her lower back for better leverage. They're ravenous. Olivia bites his lower lip and he sucks in a sharp breath, the jolt of pain going straight to his aching cock.

Lucius watches, listens. He's a darn creep for this, but he can't bring himself to tear his eyes away. There's a morbid curiosity there, though he's also enjoying the view... He grinds into his palm harder, gritting his teeth.

Olivia whimpers, finally, when she comes. Her pussy flutters and clenches from the stimulation. She gasps. "C-Come inside...!"

"Ah-! but...-" He hisses.

"Do it, I'm p-prepared..!"

"Of course- y-you would be, h-uh...!"

"Shut up and- s-stuff me already-"

He chuckles lowly, though there's no mirth in his expression, just pure hunger for her. "As- as you wish." He plants his hands against the shelves hard enough to send some ingredient flying, rolling across the floor and out of the small crack in the door... He doesn't care. Olivia clings to him, burying her face in his neck and biting down on him hard enough to leave a mark. A broken moan escapes him and he buries himself in her as she grips onto him tight and doesn't let him move his hips away.

Mmm... so warm. Her depths milk his sensitive flesh and he's left breathing shakily.

They truly should do this more often.

She sighs pleasantly and leans into him.

Lucius holds back a groan. So erotic... But not enough to finish. He could barely see enough. He takes a step back, annoyed, but doesn't notice the glass vial by his feet and steps on it. His blood runs cold at the sharp 'crack' that sounds.

Instantly, the pair is alerted.

"Someone's here...!' Olivia covers her chest instinctively and makes the magic collar disappear.

Severus hastily pulls back from her, wincing at how sensitive he still is, and rearranges his clothes. Olivia ducks behind a shelf to clean herself up and Severus swings open the door to catch the retreating Malfoy just before he's managed to exit the office. He looks at him over his shoulder, though then quickly runs out of the door.

"Malfoy!" Severus is about to follow but stops when Liv calls out.

"Let him go." She emerges from the storage room. "The creep isn't gonna admit to anything anyway." She grumbles, looking slightly dishevelled but at least dressed again.

"Let him go? What if he tells on us?" He clenches his fists.

"He's known me long enough to know that if he does, I'll hunt him down." She walks towards him- a little unsteadily from the pounding she just got. "Besides, it's our word against his."

Severus looks doubtful for a second but then sighs and holds her as she sways unsteadily on her feet. "If you're sure. But should problems arise I will blame you for this."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine, but you have to admit that was fun." She nuzzles him affectionately.

He chuckles, fondly. "Yeah... you surprised me with that collar."

"Did you like it?"

He's silent for a long while.

"Mmh?"

"No. I don't know." He grumbles, embarrassed.

"Would you be open to trying it again? With a proper leather collar, of course." She strokes her fingers down his chest.

"I-" He swallows. "...Perhaps."

"Wonderful. I'll get you something custom made, my dear Severus..." "I- oh- r-right." He huffs indignantly. Always making him flustered...