#too much giggling occurred while drawing this

[pjxckson]

[takamimami]

I am a fucking idiot my brain clocked out while I was reading the prompts

All Angst;

2, 8, 11.

All with both Law and Kid (seperate)

Hello, my dear. Thank you for the request! I have been needing to crank out some good old heart-wrenching angst, so this request was much appreciated!

That being said, I am a sucker for both Kidd and Law, so this will be a two-parter - sorry to keep you waiting :3 but I promise there will be plenty of angst and smut in the next part, so hopefully it is worth the wait <3

Kidd/Law x F!Reader - SFW - "Please don't talk about yourself like that." - STORY UNDER THE CUT CW: ANGST; kidd is prideful and stubborn, law is moody and sensitive, crew mate!reader ---word count ~1k each

A simple comment about him controlling his temper was all it took to have you and your captain at each other’s throats. You couldn’t understand how he could be so brazen and hot-headed when danger stared him in the face, and he didn’t give you a chance to explain where your concerns stemmed from before he dismissed them completely, his stubbornness rearing its ugly head as he cut you off in the middle of your sentence.

“I don’t care to hear anymore, Y/N. I am the captain of this crew, and I will handle things my way. The pirate I am has gotten our crew to where we are so far - so if you have a problem with the way I handle things…”

🌷

“...Either keep it to yourself or get lost!”

You barely heard the words leave his mouth as he stared down at you, chest puffed out and breathing heavily as he yelled. Your eyes burned, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how hard his words hit you. Instead, you looked over to Killer - who normally played peacemaker between the two of you during your squabbles - to find him rubbing his temples as Kidd turned and stormed away from you, leaving you standing in the middle of the deck. Unbeknownst to you, Quincy was also lurking near the stairs to the helm, witnessing the fall out of what started out as a heart-to-heart with your captain.

You let the first sob shake your shoulders as the door to Kidd’s workshop slams shut, and Quincy and Killer are immediately on you, both of them reaching a reassuring hand to your shoulders. You brush away from their touch, storming to the bow of the ship to get away from everyone, feeling your chest tightening as you struggle to draw in breaths.

To your surprise Quincy follows you, lingering a few feet from where you grip the railing, trying your best to level your breathing as tears continue to sting your eyes. She doesn’t say anything, not wanting to leave you alone, but also not wanting to impose on your space as you try to settle your mind.

“He didn’t mean it,” she says softly, shifting closer to you as you turn and lean against the railing, keeping your eyes on the ground as she approaches.

“Yes he did,” you murmur, feeling the familiar self-doubt creep into your mind as you think over the argument that just occurred. “He’s always told me I’m too emotional for this lifestyle, so maybe I don’t belong here after all.”

Quincy flinches at your words, reaching her arms out and pulling you into a hug by your shoulders. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, Y/N,” she chastises, pulling away to look you in your eyes as she continues. “Kidd is just… emotionally constipated. Like, all the time. He views emotions as a sign of weakness, and he doesn’t realize that if everyone on this crew acted as irrationally as he did, we wouldn’t have made it this far.”

You hold back the new tears forming in your eyes as you look at Quincy, talking in her words as she offers you a gentle smile. 

“C’mon,” she nudges, “I know where Killer keeps his comfort snacks.”

She giggles as your lip curls into a smile, following her to the kitchen and immediately feeling a lump in your throat as you open the door to Kidd and Killer arguing in the kitchen.

Kidd’s eyes flick over to you, not even flinching at your disheveled appearance before he returns his gaze to Killer, who looks exasperated as he nudges his head in your direction. 

“Apologize.”

Killer’s authoritative voice makes you flinch as you keep your eyes on Kidd, his throat bobbing as he holds Killer’s glare. 

“Last time I checked, I am the captain of this crew,” he says between gritted teeth. He turns his gaze to you, eyes fiery with rage as he grows more defensive by the second. “And I don’t recall one of my responsibilities as captain to be coddling my crew when they don’t get their way.”

You feel your jaw tense at his words, and before you can swallow down the retort you take a step forward and press your hands to the counter. 

“Stop acting like a self-righteous prick, Kidd,” you snap, feeling the rage bubbling up from your gut as you lash out at him. “I only said what I did earlier because… I love you.”

The last words leave your mouth quieter than the previous ones, your voice cracking from the vulnerability behind them. This was only the second time you’d dare utter the words to Kidd, the first time you had been the day he lost his arm - when you weren’t sure he would make it. The two of you hadn’t spoken about it directly, but you knew Kidd was mindful of the way you felt for him, at least you thought that was the case until today.

You can feel Killer and Quincy tense as Kidd’s stance sharpens, his lip curling as if he were going to snarl at the words leaving your mouth.

“I didn’t ask you to love me.”

Your breath hitches as you hear the words hanging in the air, the weight of them bearing down on your shoulders as the tears burning your eyes begin to fall. 

Kidd looks away, almost wincing at your reaction as he speaks again.

“I am the way that I am, Y/N. You of all people should know this,” he grunts, moving from his spot across the kitchen and heading towards the door. “I don’t need any of you trying to change me or tell me what I should be doing.”

With that Kidd kicks open the door to the kitchen and stomps away, back out onto the deck. 

You try your best to hold in the sobs as you saunter over to the door, desperate to go curl up in your bed and try to sort through your thoughts. 

“Y/N,” Killer calls to you quietly, causing you to pause at the door as you try to muster the strength to answer him. 

Your lip quivers, the hole in your chest growing as you hear Kidd’s words echoing through your mind, and instead of saying anything you just look back at Killer. The pain in your eyes must have said enough because his shoulders slump as he watches you leave the kitchen.

Your vision blurs as you disappear below deck and into the women’s quarters, grateful that no one was around to hear you as your sobs rock you into a fitful sleep.

🐯

“...Maybe it's time to re-evaluate your position on this crew.”

You could feel your nails digging into your palms as you squeezed your hands into fists at your sides, feeling that familiar burn in your eyes as you watched Law resume wrapping the wound on his arm. 

He winces as he struggles to lift his shoulder, and you instinctively lunge towards him to assist him with wrapping the wound, your jaw tight as you work in silence. You fought the urge to tie the bandage too tight in retaliation as Law watched you work, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he took in how your delicate hands traced over his skin.

The door to his office swings open behind you as you finish tying off the gauze, and Bepo strolls in and drops a stack of paperwork onto Law’s desk before turning it over to the two of you. 

“Captain,” he says wearily, nodding awkwardly as he feels the tension in the air between the two of you. “Shachi and I are done sorting through the documents you brought back, and these are the ones that looked the most promising.”

Law turns his attention from you to Bepo, and you take the opportunity to shift away from him, shuffling towards the door in an attempt to dismiss yourself. 

“Y/N,” Law’s stern voice cuts through the air, Bepo flinching a bit as he casts a sympathetic gaze your way. “We’re not done, here.”

You squeeze your hands again, feeling your palms sting as you stop halfway through the doorway. You breathe in deeply before looking over your shoulder at him, his brows furrowing as he catches your heated glare.

Bepo salutes awkwardly as he shuffles towards the door, distress evident on his face as he disappears back down the hall, leaving you alone with Law once again.

You turn around and lean against the wall, eyeing Law from across the room as he hobbles over to his desk, skimming over the papers that Bepo left as he contemplates the next thing to say.

“I don’t appreciate being questioned, Y/N,” Law murmurs, eyes lifting to meet yours as he sits down behind his desk. “At the end of the day, the crew will do as I say, and I will take whatever necessary measures are needed in order to ensure we are successful.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you refocus on him. “So we are supposed to just stand idly by while you make reckless decisions, regardless of how risky they are? You expect your crew to just sit back and be yes-men?”

He grimaces at the tone in your voice, his eyes dropping back down to the papers on his desk. “I want my crew to trust me, and not question their captain’s decisions.”

“Well, I can’t do that, Law. Not when I care about you this much.” You feel your breath catch in your throat and your pulse rise at the realization of your admission. 

Law’s hand tightens on the edge of the table, and his eyes shoot back up to meet your heated gaze. “If you can’t trust me, Y/N, then why are you part of this crew?”

You suck in a shallow breath at Law’s question, wondering if he was asking it to you or to himself. 

“If you don’t want me here, just say that,” you say through clenched teeth, dropping your chin to your chest as you feel your eyes begin to burn.

Law grimaces, still holding firm as he keeps his gaze on you, “Your words, not mine.”

Not an admission, but his answer leaves little room for comfort as you slowly release the breath you had been holding. You can feel your pulse in your temples as you do your best to fight off the tears, turning away from Law and storming out of the room as you feel the first one slip through your lids.

You waited half a beat for him to call out to you, to come rushing after you to offer you the reassurance you were seeking - that he wanted you on his crew. But Law remained in his office chair as your trembling legs carried you down the halls of the polar tang, stopping as you round the corner to release the pressure building in your chest. A sob rakes through your body, your throat immediately going raw as the tears spill faster and faster. You bring a hand to your mouth to keep the sound from reaching your crewmates down the hall, ducking into the small corridor that leads to the small women’s quarters. 

You quickly enter the room and shut the door behind you, leaning your head against it as your sobs intensify, the sound vibrating off the walls of the empty room. You turn and lean against the door, sinking down to the floor and holding your knees to your chest as you try to get a grip on the emotions swirling through your chest. You hear footsteps approaching from down the hall and try to muffle the sounds of your cries, but Bepo’s soft knock at the door for some reason brings a whole new wave of emotions washing over you. 

“Y/N,” he calls gently through the door. You drop your head down onto your arms and continue sobbing, letting the pathetic sounds tell Bepo everything he needs to know as he lingers on the other end of the door.

“I’m fine, Bepo,” you croak, knowing you don’t sound anywhere near as convincing as you wanted to. “I’ll be gone soon, so you and the others won't have to worry about me. I’m sure you’ll find someone better suited for this kind of thing anyway.

Bepo leans into the door, wishing he could somehow offer you an embrace through it.

“Please don’t say that, Y/N. We need you.” 

Silence is all you can offer him as your eyes begin to burn again, fresh tears cascading down your face.

He stands there for a while before giving up, realizing you need this time to be alone as he places a supportive paw on the door opposite you before walking away. His footsteps disappear down the halls, leaving you alone with your thoughts - the sound of Law’s voice haunting your dreams as you slump onto the cold floor.

Part Two

100 Follower Event Masterlist ✨come say hai :3✨

[z3rinn]

# #. COTS AND CUDDLES !!

featuring : linked universe ! It seems that a mix up has occurred when renting rooms in the nearby inn, leaving the group with nine rooms instead of 10 !! but what's this ? the links offer to share a room with you ? what an interesting turn of events.. hmm, but just who do you pick? a zelda version of my twst post !!

this is my introduction to the lu fanbase !! luv yall and I hope you enjoy !

# #. TIME

Time offers you his bed with a gentle smile on his face, hands on your shoulders as he carefully guides you to the bed. His voice is soft, promising that you'd be in good hands while laying with him.

He laid beside you, his back to your front, as to not make you uncomfortable. Its silent and still for a few moments, before shifting closer to him. You can't help but press your chest up against his warm back, throwing your arms around him as you giggled. Time stilled, feeling your face press up against his built back. He chuckled as you fell asleep, a soft smile forming on his flushed face.

He doesn't shift much as the night goes on. Besides cuddling further into you, he sometimes turns on his back, laying your head on his chest. Time's arms wrap around your body, as the two of you snore the first of many nights away.

# #. TWILIGHT

Twilight takes your hand in his as he brings you to the room. Sweat dripped down your face as you looked back a the other boys- Twilight didn't even ask! He just straight up dragged you. But honestly? Could you really complain? It was Twilight for gods sake. It was a dream come true to just be besides him.

You lay on your side, facing away from Twilight as you try to rest. You can't help but notice how his eyes seem to be piercing thru you. He shifts onto the bed, your back to his chest. You could feel his breath against your neck as he shuffled closer into you. Oh my god. This man was going to kill you with his stare- jasajkqdkauiksuef. Twilight chuckled softly to himself, noticing you squirm uncomfortably. Before you knew it, however, Twilights hand wrapped around your waist.

You couldn't sleep much that night. Maybe it was because you didn't want to bother Twilight by moving in your sleep. Or maybe it was because you were too flushed to do so. Between his soft breaths against your bare neck, accompanied by the way he slightly rubbed your waist as you slept. You were never going to be able to sleep at this rate. Either way, Twilight had an amazing night.

# #. WILD

Like Twilight and Time, Wild offers his bed with no hesitation, that smile on his face growing even more so once you agree. He grabs you by the waist, carrying you bridal style all tye way to the bed. You couldn't help but the thoughts that ran over you due to his eagerness.

Wild falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed, meaning he's all over you as soon as he falls asleep. His legs are thrown over yours, arms wrapped around your waist in a tight grip. He often moves around in his sleep, and drags your body wherever he moves. No matter what you try he just won't let loose, it's honestly better to just let him hold on and move around until he wakes up. He's a great cuddle buddy tho!

Sometimes, late at night, you may catch him cuddling into your chest, listening to your heartbeat as he sleeps, his arms are wrapped tightly around you, as a small smile grace's his lips. It might even grow if you pet his head as you rest side by side.

# #. SKY

Sky is the kind of person most people would want to sleep by. He has a calming personality and a gentle aura that just draws you towards him. So how could you ever say no to his proposal?

He lays face to face beside you. His beautiful blue eyes gazing deeply into yous. Seriously what was with these men trying to swoon you at every turn smh. Although Sky seems like he's trying to start something with his alluring gaze, he sticks to himself. His hands and legs stay on his side of the bed, although, while the two of you lay under the soft blanket you may feel him brush up against you.

Deep into the night, however, Sky lets his body relax against yours, hands and legs intertwining with your own. He held your hands in his own, his body pressing up against yours. His head pressed against your own, as light snores left his lips. You cant help but smile at him. Sky loves sleep. But he loves it more when it's with you.

# #. WARRIORS

Warriors gives you a flirtatious smirk as he asks the question- but deep down you know he's squealing like a little girl finally getting to talk to her crush for the first time. It was funny watching him act all Macho as he laid on the bed, raising his eyebrows as he beckoned you over. This guy is a total nerd istg.

Honestly just to spite him it'd be kind of funny to just sleep on the floor- but then you remember that he's actually a pretty boy so can you really say no? No. You can't. At first you may think he'll be all up on you as you lay together- but in reality he just sticks to his side of the bed, out of your space. Little words are spoke between the two of you, just a quick goodnight with a gaze that leaves your heart melting, before he's off to sleep.

It doesn't take that long for either of you to fall asleep. But soon Warriors arms come to wrap around you. He’s holding you close to his body as he succumbs to sleep. Too close in fact. It’s as if he’s hugging you to death with how tight his grip is. However, you cant help but snuggle into him. It's not uncomfortable being in his arms, in fact, it may just be one of the best hugs you had ever experienced.

# #. LEGEND

Legend probably didn't invited you to sleep beside him. No, it was probably your fault that the two of you were stuck together. Instead of him inviting you, you invited himself into his bed. Honestly, its kind of funny.

He's probably scooted all the way towards the edge of the bed, facing away from you, and frowning in annoyance. The two of you definitely sleep back to back, no questions asked. Mainly because if he caught a look at your sleeping face he'd get all embarrassed for sure. There's is no contact or words spoken between the two of you, just utter and complete silence as he tries to sleep.

But deep into the night he shuffles closer to you, burying his head in your chest for warmth and comfort. His arms wrap loosely around your hips as his legs press against yours. It's very tempting to take a picture but you decide against it, keeping his head there for the rest of the night. When he awakes he's in a for a major surprise!!

# #. HYRULE

Hyrule is immediately nervous when he poses the question. Would you say no? Ugh that'd be so embarrassing for him if you did- would you even ever talk to him again? All these doubts consume his mind- rushing in on a never ending loop- until you agree with a smile on your face. That's still doesn't stop how nervous he is while laying besides you though.

Its awkward for a bit as you and Hyrule lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling as you talked the night away. He relaxes as time goes on. His hands are laid across his chest, a smile on his face as he speaks. You converse about his adventures, world, and vise versa. He spoke to you so kindly and gently. That you couldn't help but giggle alongside him.

You talk deep into the night, but suddenly the waves of tiredness consume you both. Accompanied by the cold air and the long and excruciating day you just went thru, you almost fell asleep immediately. You and Hyrule cuddle close for comfort. It's hard being in a different world- away from all your friends and family. But being besides him made it just a bit better.

# #. FOUR

Four is a bit embarrassed to be sharing a room with you, yet he gravbs your hand, intertwining your fingers as he leads you to the room. He tells you he can shift into his minish as you guys sleep. Giving the both of you more room and space in the bed. Yet you disagree, mainly because don't want to crush him obviously-

So instead you just cuddle him close to your chest, holding him against you as you 'immediately' fall asleep. You can feel him tense and squirm around in your hold- yet he doesnt dare do anything. Four can't move- that would disrupt your sleep! His mind is running, his face flushing a deep red, ad he feels you hold him tighter. How the hell was he going to get out of this?!

He settles down in your embrace, slowly succumbing to sleep after his mini heart attack. He moves up your chest slightly, resting his head just below your neck. His legs intertwine with your own as his hands wrap around you in a tight hug. You can feel his soft, yet hot breathing against your neck, making you smile against his forehead.

..

Honestly just make a giant dog pile with all of them and sleep together. That'll be fun!

I love all these Links <3

[lovelykil]

diet pepsi

reminds me of the aftermath of a skateboard date with kil. It's around nine and the both of you, burnt out and tired, drive for some fast food to fill your empty stomachs. Killua parks in an empty parking lot to eat before taking you home for the night. Of course the two of you eat, a few fries and a bite from your burger, but the blend of the salty savory fries and joyous laughter fills the car.

words are exchanged much more than silent munching, until you put down your food to lick the salt off your fingers. This draws Killua's attention, his eager eyes darting over to your lips. The way you suck on your finger like a lollipop simply just trying to get salt off your finger makes him feel weird. Who licks off salt like that? Maybe he was just being a perv, or maybe he was right.

you grab a napkin and look over at him, "before you take me home, wanna do something?" You ask as you toss away the dirtied paper. The way your voice sounded asking him that was far from innocent, you sounded hungry and mischievous glaring into his eyes with such a lustful gaze.

he blushes profusely, knowing exactly what you are indicating. He hesitates and grabs his phone, 9:15 it reads. Your dad wants you home by 9:45. He looks over at you, you raise your brow with a coy grin.

"15 minutes." He replies, strictly.

your smile grows and you chuckle. Your eyes narrow onto his lips and then into his eyes before leaning in to kiss him. He responds quick after your lips come in contact with his, his hand leaves his phone to lift your chin and turn his head to deepen the kiss. The sounds of wet kissing and light moaning begin to disturb the humming of the radio that plays in the background.

the both of you huff heavily once he releases you from the intense kiss, his thumb rests on your wet lip as his dazed blue eyes narrow down into yours. You stare at him with passion and curiosity but blush momentarily from his words.

"get in the backseat."

. . .

from the outside, the car windows are hazy and cloudy, a mystery to what may be occurring on the inside. But suddenly, a hand slaps the window and leaves a messy print. A loud passionate moan could be heard as well as the car shifts a bit. From the inside, it was hot and humid but neither of you cared. The fantastic feeling of your body moving against him was too much for you to care about the stupid temperature, he's been fucking you for good sake. He holds your hips as you ride out your orgasm causing you to moan so heavenly as you finish. Once you finish he reaches to retrieve his phone while you tiredly rest on his shoulder, out of breath.

9:50, it reads.

"shit, you take a damn long time to cum." He playfully teases, throwing his phone to the side. He yelps in pain from the sudden harsh sensation on his neck as you bite him. "hey! What the hell?"

you climb off him to lift your pants, "sorry, just wanted more of you." You grin at him. He glares at you for a moment, rubbing his neck before leaning to kiss you, you melt into the kiss, and soon giggle against his lips as he pulls you back onto his lap swiftly.

looks like you're gonna be extra late.

[manicpixiefelix]

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first step is submission.

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

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

Praise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The second step is acceptance.

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

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

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

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn't take long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

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

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

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good dog."

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

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

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

But he does, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that Oliver actually minds.

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

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

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

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

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

"Ollie, what are you -"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[katelynnwrites]

Wondering If I Dodged A Bullet (Or Just Lost The Love Of My Life) | Laura Freigang

warnings: angst and my round and round in circles writing

word count: 2897

summary: laura leaves penn state for frankfurt, another way to put it would be that you and your girlfriend break up because she leaves penn state for frankfurt

a/n: i struggled so hard to complete this and it ended up being far from my best work but it is what it is 🙃

You are eighteen years old when your world changes forever.

It happens in the form of a blonde striker named Laura.

Her eyes captivate you the second you meet them. They’re the same colour as the ocean on a stormy day and possess the same ever shifting qualities.

She’s all confidence on the pitch and yet oh so shy when off it.

When your college coach introduces you to her, you know it is inevitable that you fall for her.

You have all your lucky stars to thank that she falls for you too.

******

It is one month into your relationship with Laura that you learn she loves back scratches.

You discover it entirely by accident, having mindlessly run your fingers across her shirt covered back while she was studying.

The happy sigh she let out had been a soft one but you’d picked up on it immediately.

It’s still early in your relationship but Laura has always been open about her body to you so it’s only with mild hesitation that you tentatively slide your hand up under her shirt, to gently scratch your nails on her bare skin.

The German girl groans immediately. It’s a sound of contentment and you adore the way she melts onto your bed.

She’d come over to study and you suspect, to complain about her upcoming psychology test.

Your girlfriend is awfully smart, being more than capable of keeping up her grades while still being a regular starter for your football team

You suppose that attaining a sports scholarship to study in Penn State should have given you an idea of just how driven she can be.

Laura’s a year older and thus, a year ahead of you. She has way more course material than you and her compromise for making sure she is able to finish her work and still spend time with you, is doing her work in your room. Often with her head in your lap.

You giggle at her protests the moment you stop giving her back scratches.

‘Schatz please don’t stop.’ She begs.

Her ocean coloured eyes have this beseeching look in them, the one that you are never able to refuse.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ You laugh, resuming your previous actions, much to the blonde’s delight.

******

One hundred and twenty one days into dating Laura, you learn that there is nothing she wouldn’t do for you.

Your girlfriend is a big all or nothing individual, that particular characteristic drawing you to her in the first place.

The German forward gives everything she has on the pitch, absolutely one hundred percent of herself regardless of the minute or the opponent.

It just didn’t occur to you that she would bring that into your relationship.

From using the little stove in the dormitory kitchen to make your favourite breakfast on game days, to carrying your bag for you after trainings, Laura is simply committed to you.

You don’t know how else to put it.

She is just an anything for my person kind of girl.

You’re beyond grateful to be her person.

The striker is stepping up her game now, video calling you from her hotel room in Germany, just so she can wish you good morning.

There is a significant time difference between Pennsylvania and Frankfurt but your girlfriend makes it work.

The blonde sets an alarm to wake up in the middle of the night, just to call you for a few minutes right when she knows you will be getting up for your classes.

‘Good morning schatz.’ She whispers, taking in the early morning sun that is lighting up your room when you pick up her call.

‘I’d say good morning too but I think wishing you goodnight makes more sense.’ You tease.

Your girlfriend giggles, ‘I’ll take anything you want to wish me. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.’

You’re glad for the poor lighting because Laura’s words make your cheeks turn a bright red.

‘Lau? You did not have to wake up just to say good morning to me. Rest is important for you.’

‘I know. But I wanted to.’ She says softly, adoration filling her voice.

‘Lau?’ You ask again, staring hard at your phone screen to make her out in her hotel room.

It is dark but you manage to, the weak glow of her own phone screen helping you do so.

She is tucked into her sheets, messy blonde hair strewn all over her pillow as she giggles, ‘Yes schatz?’

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too.’ She breathes, a small smile playing on her lips.

Every time Germany has a training camp for their youth teams, Laura flies back to her home country to participate.

Each time, you miss her more.

Her absence is sorely felt and you’ve taken to dropping her off and picking her up at the airport just so you don’t have to miss her any longer than you have to.

‘I’ll see you at the airport in two days?’

‘Count on it.’ You promise and you blow each other a kiss before hanging up.

******

Six months into your relationship with the German player is when you find out that she has a penchant for stealing your clothes.

You have been wondering where certain items of your clothing have disappeared to and unbeknown to you, Laura has been hiding them away in her room.

Hoarding might actually be a more accurate term.

Despite how clingy you can be to your girlfriend and she to you, you don’t spend every night together.

When you do, it’s nearly always in your room because your bed is slightly bigger than hers.

It is a sore point with the blonde and she often jokingly complains that it is unfair of Penn State to give their star forward such a small bed.

Today is one of the few times you are in her room and the first time you are alone in it.

Laura’s late in meeting you and you know your girlfriend well enough to be sure that it’s because she has got a bunch of questions for her lecturer.

So you had used the spare key she had given you when you were just friends, before you’d even started dating, to let yourself into her room because standing outside it alone had been too awkward. You know she won’t mind anyway.

Tired from the day’s early morning practice, you flop down on her bed and dump your bag down at the side of it.

You absentmindedly shift her pillow to get more comfortable, only to find something beside it.

As you stare at the piece of clothing, you realise that it’s one of your missing shirts.

Lying back down, you find another of your missing shirts tucked under the other side of her pillow.

You are very confused now, beginning to wonder if you have been forgetful enough to leave not just one but two of your shirts behind, the last time you stayed over in her dorm room.

But if you were, then why hasn’t the blonde returned the shirts to you? Or said anything?

Thankfully, you hear Laura’s key in the door so you don’t have to worry about it for long.

‘Hey schatz.’ She greets cheerfully, flinging her bag onto the floor carelessly and sprawling herself on top of you.

‘Lau!’ You exclaim and she laughs.

Her hands cup your face gently and she presses a brief kiss onto your lips.

‘Hi.’ You giggle, after readily reciprocating her affectionate gesture.

‘Hi.’ She breathes.

Your girlfriend buries her face into the side of your neck, leaving more intimate kisses there.

You groan at the touch of her lips on your skin. It gives you butterflies inside but you can’t let it distract you now.

‘Laura…Laura?’

She makes a questioning noise but doesn’t slow.

‘Why have you got my shirts in your bed? Did I leave them here?’

The German girl freezes.

‘Lau?’ You prompt, reaching out to hold her hand reassuringly.

Her cheeks are rapidly turning a bright pink and she stammers, ‘I-I didn’t mean for you to find out about that…you’re going to think I’m so silly.’

You plant a little kiss on her forehead and gently tease, ‘I already think you’re silly, in the best of ways.’

Laura smiles and then shyly admits, ‘You didn’t leave them here. I kinda stole them from you because I love sleeping with your familiar smell. You always smell so good and something about it just calms me down.’

You stare at her in stunned silence.

Long enough that Laura begins to look uncertain.

Then you blurt out, ‘I love you.’

Your girlfriend lets out a small gasp, her pretty eyes shining as she whispers, ‘I love you too.’

It’s the first ‘I love you’ for the both of you and you cannot put into words how much it means.

Laura seems to be thinking along the same lines because she traces your cheekbone lightly, the action filled with adoration.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’ She murmurs, in between peppering your face with kisses.

‘Love you too Laura. So much, even if you do keep stealing my shirts.’

The blonde smiles and confesses, ‘Can’t help it. I bring a bunch with me to every national camp too.’

Before meeting the German girl, you didn’t know it was possible to feel this strongly for anyone.

But as it is with Laura, you discover so many firsts.

You hope that you discover many lasts too because you want what you have with her to be forever.

Fervently, you hope that Laura Freigang is the girl you have your last first kiss with.

******

Forty five weeks of dating Laura and you decide that she is the love of your life.

Maybe it’s the good morning and good night kisses, or the way she so obviously cherishes every moment she has with you. It could even be the way she smiles.

The corners of her lips tip upwards and her eyes light up each and every time she does so.

Your girlfriend’s brother says that Laura’s smile is different when it is directed at you. He claims that it is special and you are inclined to agree.

Laura herself is special to you. Boundlessly so.

She has a new found habit of sliding her hand up and under your shirt whenever you fall asleep together.

The blonde striker craves skin to skin contact with you, loves the peace it gives her.

After your girlfriend admits why she keeps your shirts beside her pillow, you offer her a better solution.

Instead of your shirts, she can have you.

Laura takes you up on that immediately and her assigned dorm room practically becomes a storage room for her belongings.

She is always in your room because she spends every night there now.

It’s one of her favourite things to curl up beside you and rhythmically match her breaths to yours.

You are warm and oh so real, unlike the often cold material of your shirts.

The German girl can be possessive and it shows in how she holds you close, even as she sleeps.

Laura presses you into her, her palm resting flat on your back and you love it.

It has you feeling safe and wanted, two things that your girlfriend has never failed to make you feel.

You know that you are right, she is the love of your life.

******

Three hundred and sixty five days of being Laura’s and Laura being yours is when she gives you a necklace for your anniversary.

It is a simple piece of jewellery, a small heart shaped locket hanging on a delicate silver chain.

‘Do you like it?’ She anxiously asks, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

Admiring the gift, you breathe, ‘I love it.’

Gently, you kiss her to convey just how grateful you are. The blonde smiles into the kiss, her hands cupping your face instinctively.

When you pull away, you softly speak, ‘Thank you schatz. Will you help me put it on please?’

The striker grins brightly, ‘Of course.’

She makes quick work of clasping it around your neck as you hold your hair up.

Glancing at the mirror, you play with the locket and Laura prompts, ‘Open it.’

You feel a tiny latch you hadn’t noticed earlier just as she says so.

The locket opens when you press down on it and you gasp as you see the photo of your girlfriend sharing a kiss with you in it.

You pull Laura into a different kiss, deepening it to show her just how much you love her present.

‘Love you. Love you. Love you.’ You murmur, in between the kisses you keep pressing onto her lips.

Laura lets out a pleased sigh, intertwining her fingers with yours and promising, ‘I love you too.’

You squeeze her hand in yours but can’t take your eyes off the locket.

‘Schatz, this is really beautiful.’

Your girlfriend cheekily but honestly admits, ‘Like you.’

Then she laughs at the blush that rapidly appears on your cheeks, affectionately brushing her lips across your forehead.

******

Laura’s locket never leaves its place, around your neck.

Not even when you are nineteen and the blonde, twenty, the two of you unsure where your relationship is going.

The striker has got an offer from 1. FFC Frankfurt and she knows that taking it will be the best move for her career. You know it too.

It is just your fear of what happens now that makes you anxious.

You love your girlfriend, adore her so. She’s only been yours for slightly more than a year but she is the love of your life. You don’t know what you would do without her.

Your day starts with Laura’s good morning kisses, you eat breakfast together, walk each other to classes when able to, study together, go for training sessions with one another and share goodnight kisses when it is time to sleep.

For a lack of a better way to put it, you do not remember how to live your life without her. You don’t you if you can and that may be codependent of you but it is the truth.

From the way the blonde is fidgeting with her rings, you know the feeling is mutual.

‘I-I don’t want to leave you.’ She quietly admits.

‘I know.’

‘I love you.’

‘I know. And I love you too but you have to do this schatz.’

Laura’s voice is pained when she echoes your earlier words, ‘I know.’

Touching your necklace carefully, you begin to unlatch it.

The German girl inhales sharply.

‘Don’t.’

Her ocean coloured eyes are welling with tears when she covers your hands with hers.

‘Keep it. I gave it to you. It’s yours. Please, it’s meant for you.’

‘But Lau-’

Her words are fierce as she insists, ‘No! We’re not over, you and I.’

Your smile is wistful and cautious when you look up at her.

‘Laura you don’t know that. You don’t know if any club will want to take me, let alone one in Germany. The chances of me ending up in Frankfurt with you are slim if at all possible.’

The forward’s frown intensifies, ‘Don’t say that. You don’t know that.’

As much as you want it not to be, your tone is one of resignation, ‘Schatz…’

Your dorm room feels stifling in a way it never has before and even though Laura is sitting right beside you, on your bed, she feels so far away that she might as well already be in Frankfurt.

The blonde is staring at you speechlessly and you take her hand in yours.

Holding her hand is familiar and an intimate gesture…one that you know you will not have for much longer.

‘I love you. No matter how much time passes, part of me is always going to love you. But you need to stop thinking about me. About us…and move on. You are going to do so good with Frankfurt. You are brilliant Lau, please show them exactly how talented you are.’

Your words are barely audible but you mean it. You have never meant anything more. It’s with your whole heart, your breaking heart, that you tell them to the German girl.

Laura’s tears are spilling down her cheeks and she is shaking slightly when you break your heart for good with the next two sentences out of your mouth.

‘I’m your biggest fan. That’s never going to change, it will just have to be from a distance now.’

******

Maybe it was stupid of you to let the love of your life go. But you needed to, needed to learn how to live on your own and let her be a star, halfway around the world.

In a way, you dodge a bullet too because as painful as it is, you learn. Without the striker leaving, you never would have learnt.

And for Laura who has been looking sad in all the nicest places and wanting to call your name until you come back home, it pays off.

Because some years later, as crazy as it is, you are in a German cab and telling the driver where the blonde’s place is.

You’re on your way back home to her, with her locket still around your neck.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[lesbojournals]

Drunken Crafts (Stucky x Reader)

It was a painfully average day in your house, Steve and Bucky off at Avengers headquarters doing god knows what while you lounged around. You had already cleaned the whole house to entertain yourself: the vacuuming was done, the bathrooms were spotless, all of the laundry and dishes were clean and put away. You had even started dinner, cooking a beef stew with vegetables in the pressure cooker.

What else, truly, was there to do?

You felt like Rapunzel in the beginning of Tangled–you had already read a book this morning, you took a shower, you even clipped the cat’s claws!

You pattered around the house, convinced nothing would entertain you at this point, until your eyes landed on Bucky’s bottle of Tennessee Whiskey.

You glanced back and forth, almost nervous to be caught sauntering over to the bottle. You shyly took it and brought it over to the kitchen, where you mixed it with some sweet tea you had made earlier.

You took a sip and sighed happily, bringing both the bottle and the tea to the living room where you planned on watching some youtube.

As the drink became more empty, new ideas sprung into your head. You decided to get out all of your crafting tools, deciding on making both Bucky and Steve a masterpiece. After another drink or two, you couldn't remember, you abandoned the crafts and decided hey, what better time than now to bake some cookies? It'd be a fun dessert after having your stew.

With that, you skipped off to the kitchen, drink in hand, to bake. At one point you decided to take off your pants, after all, they weren't your sweats and you didn't want to dirty them. The same thought did not occur about the XXL Avengers logo tee you had on.

You turned on your favorite happy music, bouncing around eating raw cookie dough from the wooden mixing spoon.

The music was so loud that you didn't hear Bucky and Steve enter. You were too distracted making cookies that you forgot you not only had music on, but youtube as well, and a mess of crafts in the living room.

Steve confusingly walked up the stairs as Bucky took off his shoes, unsure of why there was so much loud noise throughout the house.

“Beautiful?” He called, and his eyes softened immediately at the sight of you.

He stopped in his footsteps, leading Bucky to catch up and hastily go “Is everything okay, Stevie?”

Steve pointed at you, dancing obnoxiously with cookie batter in your hands, and Bucky sighed in adoration, before noticing that you had no pants on.

He practically bolted up the rest of the stairs, and you caught his eye as he fully entered the kitchen with a “Buck!!”

“What're you doing honey?” He asked, looking around the floor of the apartment to see your mess.

“Baking cookies!!” You happily answered, swaying back and forth with a giggle.

Before Bucky could comment Steve brought his attention. “Looks like someone got to your liquid gold, honey.” He held up the now empty whiskey bottle.

Bucky stared at the bottle with wide eyes, then turned back to you.

“Is something wrong?” You laughed, throwing your cookies in the oven (quite literally-you didn't realize how aggressive you were being).

Bucky smiled along with Steve, and grabbed you from behind. “Nothing, we just love you.”

“I love you both too!!” You said with a hiccup, then you remembered. “Oh wait !! I have a gift for you two!!”

You ran off to the living room, while Steve turned off the very loud music. They both followed you in, eyes nearly bulging out of their heads at the mess you made.

You didn't notice their look, instead holding up a large piece of card stock full of collage, stickers, and drawings. It said “DrAwINg fOr My SoULmaTeS” in letters from various magazines.

It was frankly a mess and didn't make any sense, but Steve took it in his hands anyway. Him and Bucky were silent.

You started tearing up. “You hate it!!”

Bucky rushed to your side, cooing. “No, no, darling. It's beautiful.”

“This is fridge worthy.” Steve announced, and you smiled giddily.

With a loud ding! your attention was immediately averted, deciding to shout (in Bucky’s ear none the less) “MY STEW!!”

You tried to run to the kitchen but Bucky caught you. “Why don't you let Stevie and I worry about dinner. You relax.”

You pouted, not thrilled with this decision that both of your boys seemed set on.

By the time they came back to you with a dinner plate in hand you were passed out on the couch, drooling all over the couch pillow. Bucky put your plate in the fridge and Steve picked you up, cautiously bringing you to the bedroom.

You blabbered on about something in your drunken sleep haze, repeatedly telling Steve “I love you, I love Bucky, You guys are my favorite.” and so on.

“I know darling,” Steve smiled. “We love you too.”

How did you get so lucky?

[littlemisslipbalm]

It shouldn’t have happened

Jake Kiszka x f!reader x f!oc x Danny Wagner

A/N: OMG first fic w danny! I love You man, just inspiration doesn’t always strike for me. THIS IS SMUT WITH QUEERNESS OCCURRING sorry if that’s not your cup of tea do not read and also 18+ FR

Warnings: penetrative sex, oral sex, fxf sexual relations, foursome? Mentions of weed and alcohol use, dirty talk/mild degradation

Word Count: 2.1k

-

It shouldn’t have happened. Not the first time.

And it certainly shouldn’t have happened again.

But here the four of you were. The last four at Jake’s place, staring at one another with drunken smiles and faded eyes. It was after 2am and nothing good ever happened then.

You had been in Danny’s girlfriend's lap all night already. You were close, it wasn’t anything new. And when you got stoned, you like to be close to people. Wanting to let Jake have fun at his party you’d left him alone, leaving you to bug Danny’s Angel of a girlfriend.

“Angel,” you sighed and the woman laughed.

“You’re on another planet, Y/N.” She ran a hand through the crossed individual’s hair.

You rocked your hips experimentally across your friend’s lap, feeling fuzzy and insane and needy and safe all at once. “Yeah, but you’re on it too.” You mumbled, staring up through your lashes after looking down at where your hips were touching. On fire.

“And are we on this planet with you two?” Jake called from across the room, legs spread wide as he slumped into his favorite chair, flipping his finger between himself and Danny beside him.

You ran your hands down Angel’s shoulders and grabbed hold of her arms tighter and leaned back, your eyes meeting Jake’s while you looked at the men upside down. You giggled as you leaned further but Angel tugged you back in warning, trying to keep you steady.

“Yeah, we’re all on the planet. Together. I can totally see it.”

Jake laughed and shook his head, standing to make his way over. “You are incredible, my love.”

You sat back up and sighed and it came out a bit like a whimper. Fuck, you were so wet. You needed to fuck. You needed them.

Angel’s eyes were wide on your face, still feeling you wriggling on her lap, hands drawing circles on her arms making her fuzzy too. You keened into Jake’s touch when he ran a hand over your hair, watching his girlfriend and Danny’s a little closer intently now that he was beside you two.

Memories were tearing through his mind. He knew exactly what you were up to. He smirked and settled beside you, brushing his hand down your back now. Your top was open in the back, leaving the expanse of skin bare. Warm and soft.

He settled his touch on your exposed upper thighs, your Jean skirt was so short and was barely of use with your straddling position on Angel. It was pornographic from this new angle, he could see your barely covered pussy pressing into Angel’s thigh. Jake drew in a breath, he had wanted this again but didn’t have the courage to voice it.

“Dan, c’mere,” Angel spoke out and Danny sauntered over to settle on the couch on the other side of the pair of you clearly seeing where this was heading as well.

You smiled at the three of them, watching you. You moved your hips again, grinding down into Angel. She hummed and you winked at Danny.

“Can we do it again?” You breathed, hips expertly beginning to move again. “I’m so wet,” you whined.

Danny breathed out a ‘fuck’ still in disbelief this had happened a first time, much less now a second.

“Yeah, where’s that?” Jake said right as Angel asked almost the same question teasingly, “Oh yeah?”

You leaned back, settling one hand on Jake’s knee to your left and let your other travel below your hitched up skirt. The black lace of your thong could already be seen if looked close enough at but your fingers pushed it to the side, slipping down your heat and pressing in for a moment of relief to gather the wetness pooling there.

You licked your lips in an attempt to silence the moan in your throat as your hips bucked needing it even more than you realized. You retreated the fingers, swirling them around your aching clit.

“Fuck, right here, you guys. It hurts.”

“Aw, baby,” Jake cooed, standing to move behind you and Angel on the couch now, slipping his hand down your arm to your slick fingers and stopping their work on your clit. “Your so desperate to fuck you’ll make a fool out of yourself in front of my best friend and his girlfriend.”

“Pretty slutty, Y/N,” Danny says, moving closer to his girlfriend to press a kiss to her neck.

“We’ve always known she’s a slut, c’mon Dan,” Angel coos, wrapping an arm around Danny to snake her hand into his hair while he begins to suck a mark into her skin. “She’s always dripping onto me at parties and on dance floors. She can’t help herself.”

You whined, keening your head back into Jake’s chest and rutting your hips into Angel’s lap. You couldn’t handle the stimulation and the lack of stimulation and how they spoke as if you were barely in the room. “Please.”

“But she begs so sweetly,” Jake murmurs, hands slipping to grasp at your tits over your shirt. “My princess just loves to fuck. Who are we to deny such a sweet girl?”

His lips press to the shell of your ear as he leans down, but his eyes stare straight at Angel who smiled back, her hands trailing up your thighs to where you needed somebody to do something before you died. It was a slick mess.

Her fingers are long and slim, pushing the messy fabric covering your pussy to the side again, she teases over the hot skin with a barely there touch and you whine again.

Jake shushes you as Angel grins. She drags her middle finger through your fold and slips inside you with embarrassing ease and everyone stops to watch as you moan out.

“Fuck, Angel.”

“Good girl.” She murmurs, granting a quick peck to your lips while Jake and Danny watch on. The sound of your pussy was so loud, she loved it. “So fucking wet…”

Her thumb works over your clit and two fingers slip in and out of you easily for a few moments. It’s not even long enough for the two guys to feel left out, you’re already so worked up that you cum quickly with a string of curses leaving your lips as you try to ride her fingers, bucking like a drunken girl on the mechanical bull at the bar getting off on the audience—something you had done before.

“Let’s move this to the guest room,” Jake suggests with a kiss to your temple.

Danny agrees and kisses Angel for a long moment before following you and Jake down the hall.

Your skirt and ruined thong are quickly removed before you get pushed onto the bed by Jake’s strong hand while Angel undresses Danny at the foot of the bed. Your hand slips to your already messy folds again as you watch Danny grope at her ass, kneading it with his big strong hands. Jake whispers in your ear about what a dirty girl you were watching the other couple with your hand in your cunt.

When they joined you on the bed, everyone was shirtless but you and the three of them looked wickedly at one another.

“C’mon baby, let’s see those pretty titties,” Jake moved to pull your top over your head and you giggled.

Angel widened her eyes at you for a moment, a secret joke passing between you two that neither of the men seemed to catch. You’d told her about Jake’s obsession with your tits and how he loved to fuck them whenever you let him.

On full display, you arched your back pushing your breasts into the open air. Your arousal made your nipples pebble under the watchful eyes of the three around you. It turned you on even more so you gave them a show, pushing them closer together with your arms before trailing a hand to play with one nipple.

Jake stopped you, taking your arm and pushing you to lay down fully. “Stop touching what’s mine, baby. I can only share so much with our guests.”

Angel appeared over you, kissing up your stomach, over your chest and up your neck. Her legs were straddled over your body while Danny ran his hands over her hips, pressing his boxer-clad hips into her ass. She moaned over you and then stuck her tongue down your throat. Her own tits pushed and pulled over yours in a way you had missed so much. The tender pressure of another woman’s boobs on yours, it felt so good. You wanted more, but Jake had restricted your hands, causing you to press your chest up into hers and whine.

“Such a fucking brat, Y/N,” Jake mutters, palming himself over his own boxers.

Danny hummed in agreement and pulled Angel back from making out with you, causing whines from both of you. “Jesus,” he laughed. “Would you like us to leave?”

“That might not be such a bad idea,” you said teasingly, but the look in your eye held the seed of a little truth.

“I’ll share my girl,” Jake said tersely, shuffling behind your head slowly. “As long as I’m present for it. Watch your tongue, missy.”

“Yeah, yeah, sir,” you teased and sent a wink his way.

He shook his head, still in awe of his girlfriend before pulling his cock free from its confines. He was almost unbearably hard. You moaned at the sight above your face and opened your jaw, aware and ready for him to take what he wanted.

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. You hummed and bucked your hips, opening your knees wider.

Angel and Danny watched on. Angel’s hands were on either side of your hips, eyes bright while watching your chest heaving as you exerted yourself to take all of Jake down your throat at this angle.

The knocking of your knees against her arms brought her attention to your cunt right below her and she grinned, moving her arms in between your legs and getting down on her elbows, bringing her level with your dripping center.

“Jesus, I didn’t know giving head turned you on so much,” she murmurs, blowing lightly over the hot skin. “Hot.”

You bucked your hips and she quickly pressed you flat.

“Silly slut,” Angel tsked and Jake chuckled.

Danny took the opportunity to begin tracing up and down his girlfriend's ass with his own hard cock. The scene laid out before him was incredible. Angel moaned in appreciation feeling the heaviness resting between her ass cheeks and slipping down between her folds every so often, teasing her. She pushed back towards him wanting more before refocusing on your cunt.

She dipped her tongue down between your folds and smiled when your hips immediately bucked up.

“Needy girl,” Jake tutted, still slowly sinking in and out of your throat.

You moaned around him feeling untethered and euphoric and insane. You were getting exactly what you wanted. What you needed.

Angel ate you out with vigor and, you’d never admit it even if it saved your life, but better than Jake. Her tongue slipped inside you and she pushed in and out in time with Danny’s thrusts to her own cunt. She moaned into your cunt, muffling her cries but sending vibrations through your body.

Jake and Danny groaned at their girlfriends writhing in ecstasy, feeling close themselves. Jake pulled out of your throat and pushed gently at Angel so that he could turn you around.

Obediently, you got on all fours and faced Angel and Danny, smiling at her and then went slack jawed when Jake pushed in with a loud moan.

Angel moaned back when Danny slapped a hard hand over her ass cheek and everyone felt fucked out and happy. The men finished rather soon after on another.

You had cum twice but still wanted more as Jake left a kiss to your hip and slipped off the bed to clean himself off. Danny had already walked into the ensuite. Angel was laying on her back staring up at you.

“Can I please rub my pussy on yours, Angel?” Your question was for Angel but you were looking at Jake, who was beside himself.

“You need that, princess?” He asked softly, running a hand over your back.

“I want it so bad.”

“Fuck,” Jake’s voice was shakey, you were perfect. “okay.”

“Dan?” Angel asked, turning to him paused at the door.

“Yeah, go for it, honey. If you want,” he chuckled.

The girls stared at each other, slowly grinning and then were immediately intertwined. Thrusting and humping, their pussy juices mixing and sounding into the room obscenely.

“Thank god. I’m spent,” Danny sighed, adjusting his boxers while eyeing Jake carefully as he redressed.

“That’s not a horrible sight either,” Jake nodded to their girlfriends kissing and moaning into each other’s mouths.

“No, it’s not.”

They watched the scene silently for a moment in awe and pride before settling into a different feeling.

“We can never do this again, huh?” Jake asked.

“No. Never.” Danny responded quickly.

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 2 - Pour myself a cup of ambition

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (also features Thomas Dorset x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x Tessa), Modern AU

Chapter Summary: Set 5 years after Chapter 1 (linked above). As your job takes you abroad for the very first time, you bump into the last person you expect on another shared journey full of revelations.

artwork credit: @colettebronte

Warnings: none really… some sexual language, swear words, bickering, and flirting.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter modern rom-com, heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally. Sorry that it's taken a while to get this next part written. I hope you all enjoy! <3

7 years ago (5 Years Later)

You stand just before the security gates at St Pancras International, engaging in a rare PDA moment. But you justify to yourself that this is the first time you have had to go away on business since you started your new relationship three months ago, and this one seems like great potential. Dr Tom Dorset. Friendly, sweet, handsome and, so far at least, well-adjusted and emotionally mature. Your friends agree he’s quite the catch. And he is pretty fantastic in all sorts of other ways too. You certainly have no complaints in the bedroom.

Just as he whispers how much he will miss you and kisses that spot on your neck that makes you a little weak, your moment is interrupted.

“Tom? Tom Dorset? Is that you?”

There in front of you is the man you thought you would never see again. Looking a few years older and dressed better, but there’s no doubt who it is. You’d never forget those eyes.

“Ben? Ben Bridgerton?!” Tom seems delighted, and it occurs to you that they must be old friends as Tom takes his arms from around you and shakes his hand warmly. Just fucking great.

“I thought it was you! I haven't seen you for years! Was the last time when I came to Ant’s at Trinity?! What have you been up to?”

“Medical school mostly,” Tom offers demurely, then turns to you. “Oh, sorry, Ben, this is y/n y/l/n, y/n this is Ben Bridgerton; I was his brother’s roommate at Trinity College, Oxford.”

Ben’s eyes cut to you, and you see a confused look pass over his face; like you are familiar, but he can’t place why. 

“Well, I must get this train, but it was great to see you! Email me!” Ben smiles warmly, and with one last brow knit in your direction, he takes off. 

“Thank fuck he didn’t remember me,” you exhale loudly when he is out of earshot.

“Ben?” Tom looks confused.

“Yes, We drove from St Andrews to London together five years ago, and it was the worst road trip I think I've ever had,” you bemoan. “He was dating a friend of mine, and I agreed to split the drive. Urgh, it was terrible. He’s so obnoxious.”

Tom looks over your shoulder. “Well, looks like he just got on your train, honey, so umm, good luck with that,” he chuckles, bemused as you roll your eyes.

“Just fucking great,” you sigh sarcastically and plant your head on Tom’s shoulder as he draws you into his safe, warm embrace again. 

“I love you; I will miss you,” he says softly, cupping your jaw lovingly as he gently kisses your lips.

It's only the second time he has said it, and your heart flutters as you break into a huge smile. “I love you too. I will be back before you know it,” you promise, pulling him in for a passionate kiss you hope he will remember.

As you part, he exhales raggedly. “God, now I’ll miss you even more.”

“Mmm, that’s the point,” you whisper coquettishly and run a hand down his back, inside his coat, unseen by people around you. “Text me, sexy stuff,” you request quietly, then gently bite his bottom lip.

He groans, “Good god, woman, get on that train before I drag you somewhere or buy a ticket to join you.”

___

You are still giggling and feeling so fizzy and light, like champagne is in your blood, as you skip onboard the train to Paris. Taking your seat in First Class that you’ve been assigned by work feels like such a luxury; excited to cover your first story abroad.

Your phone pings just as the train slips out of the station. Love you. Safe travels. Txx

You can’t help your little titter of happiness, and just as you go to type a reply, someone leans over from the seat diagonally behind you, across the aisle.

“I swear I recognise that giggle. The University of St Andrews?” 

It’s Ben. Of course, it is. Thanks for that fate.

“Yes,” you sigh, not turning around, annoyed he doesn't remember more detail. How could he possibly forget calling you beautiful? Your traitorous brain yells in your skull.

“Did we date?” he questions.

You can't help but almost snort at that. “Hell no!” You twist around. “You were dating my friend Gen. We drove to London together after term ended.”

“Oh, I remember now!” he smiles, “you wouldn't give me a Malteser.”

“You propositioned me!” you blurt out as you watch him pull an apple out of his bag.

“No, I didn't,” he laughs, “I just said you were beautiful,” and he takes a bite out of the fruit. “You still are, if it's any consolation,” he offers, around a mouthful.

“None whatsoever,” you fib, feeling your cheeks heat at the compliment. “And you still talk while you eat, like an animal,” you roll your eyes, barely believing how riled up you are from exchanging less than five sentences.

“Would you two like to sit together?” the man opposite you at the table offers.

“No, that's really not….” you begin.

“Yes, thanks!” Ben interrupts, and you scowl at him as he stands immediately, throwing his bag down next to you before swinging over as the man moves aside.

“So you were going to be a journalist?” he winks after he settles into the seat opposite you.

Up close now, he is still just as handsome as he was. Maybe more so, jaw more defined and smattered with stubble. The utter arsehole.

“I am a journalist. My internship at the Guardian turned into a job. I'm going to Paris to cover the climate summit,” you state proudly, squaring your shoulders a little. “You?”

“Visiting my fiancee,” he grins, and something twinges in your gut. Maybe getting tacos for lunch wasn’t a good idea.

“You are getting married? You?” you laugh in total disbelief.

And you are suddenly back in your old studio flat, hearing more about his player reputation. A few months after the drive to London, Gen came to crash on your sofa and commiserate her reentry to single life. She didn't seem that upset about the dalliance ending, to be fair, mostly about how much she’d miss the ‘fucking mind-blowing fucking’ as she had so indelicately put it. You can see the words floating like a speech bubble above her face in your mind “Y/n, I can live without the dick attitude, but damn, I don’t know that I wanna live without that dick, you know?” Then threw herself face-first into a cushion. You cut off her margaritas at that point. How much that had to do with not wanting to think about him and his member, you decided not to dwell on.

“Yes,” he cuts into your reverie. “Her name is Tessa. She's an artist too. She's Parisian.”

“Tres chic.”

“How long have you been with Dorset? Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess,” he smirks.

You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “This ought to be good,” you mutter as much to yourself as to him.

“Hmm, three months?” 

Dammit. How did the bastard get it spot on?

“Why?” you try to bluff, but the victorious crooked grin that unfurls over his face shows he knows he's right without you having to say it.

“Goodbye before a trip. Classic three-month behaviour,” he opines, taking another huge bite of his apple.

“Glad to see your eating habits have at least got healthier,” you state dryly, trying to change tack.

“Tessa likes to eat healthily,” he explains with an almost dreamy expression. Part of you is already impressed by this woman you have never met who has turned the human rubbish bin into a more impressive version of a man. “Has he told you he loves you?” he queries, spittling just a speck of apple onto the table.

“Why is that ANY of your business?” you frown.

“Because if he hasn't, he's a fool,” he shrugs casually as if those words aren't some of the sweetest you’ve heard.

“Luckily, he’s no fool,” you respond, confirming without actually confirming.

He nods. “Good. Dorset is a good one. Don't ‘y/n’ him away,” he jests, using air quotes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” you spit, suddenly whiplash angry when just a few moments ago you were impressed with his sweetest.

“You can't smoke in my car. Eating that will kill you,” he adopts a high-pitched voice and waggles his head as he mocks you.

“Fuck you,” you grumble.

“I would have, happily, but you said no,” he winks, and you want to punch him.

“I thought you just denied propositioning me!” 

He just shrugs and laughs loudly. You can tell everyone around you is most amused by your back and forth, so instead, you shoot him a glare and then change tack, staring out of the window as the countryside of Kent zips by. So irritated you forget to text Tom back for another five minutes.

___

“Do you know anyone in Paris?” he asks, pulling out an AirPod as you close your laptop sometime later. 

The train is somewhere under the Channel, and the darkness of the tunnel outside the window makes the train feel a touch more intimate, claustrophobic even.

“No,” you admit.

“How about Tessa and I take you out for dinner?” he proposes.

“Isn't tonight your first night together in a while?” you frown.

“Yeah… and?” he seems to be either not catching your train of thought or being intentionally obtuse, goading you into a trap to state the obvious.

“I would have thought you'd be otherwise occupied,” you arch an eyebrow pointedly.

“Oh…” he suddenly catches your drift and, rather adorably, a spot of pink dust his lovely cheekbones. OK, maybe not the latter.

“Certainly not wanting a third wheel, like me hanging around,” you point out meekly with a knowing smile.

“If that is your way of offering a threesome, I’m down,” he flirts, his voice suddenly velvet smooth, so much so the hairs on the back of your neck prickle up.

“God’s sake,” you mutter, feigning more indignation than you actually have.

“You're the one who told me about your lesbian experiences at uni!” he argues defensively.

“I was just trying to prove a point!” 

“Got to be honest, don't remember a damn thing except the visual that almost had me drive into a bus shelter,” he admits with a chuckle.

“And take out that delivery cyclist,” you remind, joining in.

There is a moment where your eyes meet in a joint nostalgia of amusement, and something feels softer between you.

“Listen, Tess’s brother is a chef at a great little bistro; we will almost certainly end up there anyway, as we usually always do. I'm sure she would be delighted for you to join us,” the sincerity of his offer touches you.

“Thanks, but I have to do some research ahead of tomorrow. I’ll probably just order room service and crash out,” you admit, knowing that is a lame response.

“Fair enough. Well, let's at least exchange numbers this time. Stay in touch? If you are at a loose end at any point, let me know, and we’ll happily give you a tour or just grab a drink?”

“Okay”, you capitulate and hand over your phone for him to punch in his number.

“Wonderful” he smiles genuinely, and his hazy eyes dance. “Are we finally becoming friends?” he teases gently as he seems to fiddle a little longer than needed to put in a few digits.

“I guess so,” you respond with a laugh.

He hands back your phone, and weirdly it's screen locked.

“Good, And as my very first act as your friend, may I make a comment you are not allowed to take offence to?” he questions, with an odd tone.

Your dander is suddenly way up. “Whatttt?” you elongate the word rife with suspicion.

He leans over the train table suddenly, and you startle as his lips are warm against the shell of your ear, your heart-rate spiking. “You have a fucking fantastic pair of tits,” he murmurs.

You splutter, shame, outrage and desire flooding your system in almost equal measure. Incapable of forming words, you sharply pull back into your seat and shoot him your most sour glare.

“Maybe don't hand your phone over when it’s open to the message thread with your boyfriend,” he chuckles.

You feel mortified, recalling the photo you'd texted Tom last night as a going-away present, and you are almost blinded as the train suddenly swoops out of the tunnel and sunlight floods into the compartment.

In fact, you are grateful that he gets a call just at that moment. It seems to last ages, and he wanders away, probably to find the buffet car, knowing him. By the time you see him making his way back through the carriage, the train is pulling into Gare Du Nord. You are on your feet and walking to the next carriage to alight. Not certain you can live down your embarrassment. 

There are a few moments as you wander around Paris over the next two days when your fingers itch to dial his number… but you never do, something always stopping you. Bizarrely, you think it might be the idea of meeting his fiancee, and you have no idea what that means, so avoidance seems like the best tactic.

After all, he’s probably moving to Paris soon, so really, what's the point?

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[queen--kenobi]

Kinktober Day Twenty Eight: Masks/Costumes

Tyland Lannister x OC (Elayna Reyne)

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Back at it again. Sequel to my vampire!Elayna piece

Warnings: NSFT (semi-public sex, hand jobs, cum eating, implied nipple play, implied fingering, implied dry humping). Blood drinking as a metaphor for sex while actual sex occurs

She waits for him in one of the secluded alcoves. Tyland knows to follow her, the slight tilt of her head when they make eye contact from across the ball room enough to indicate what she wants. Elayna hears him long before she sees him, the clack of his shoes echoing in the spacious halls of the Red Keep. She stays still.

Even from here, she hears his heart beat with anticipation. If she had blood in her veins, it would be singing in response. Instead, all Elayna can do is inhale. She smooths down the skirts of her dress, careful not to touch the black feathers on her dress. They sit in clusters above intricate embroidery, orange and gold threads forming a fire on her red dress, remnants of a past life. The deep red devil mask on her face only serves as a reminder.

Elayna sinks further back into the shadows. Her breathing slows. She stares with intense focus on the curtain in front of her, body poised to strike. Tyland’s footsteps draw closer. His heart beat echoes in her ears. She smells his beard oil. Still, she waits, eyes unmoving from a gap in the curtains, not even to blink.

The torch on the other wall gives her an indication of how close he is, beginning to cast long shadows in front of him. Elayna presses a bit more of her weight into her back foot. She catches the aroma of bergamot orange, rosemary, and frankincense. Underneath it all is something so distinctly Tyland it makes her head spin. Her mouth almost waters.

She waits until he passes by the fluttering fabric concealing her to pounce. Elayna darts out and grabs his wrist, pulling him into the alcove quickly. Tyland makes a noise of surprise but eases in her hold once he realizes it's her. She quickly removes his lion mask to kiss him, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He reciprocates, bringing his hand to the back of her neck to pull her close. Elayna navigates them further into the alcove so no one can see them and presses him up against the wall.

When they finally break the kiss, Elayna notes with satisfaction how dazed Tyland already looks.

“Hi.” She giggles, smiling at him. Tyland leans in to kiss her again, although this time it's much softer.

“Were we not going to wait until later to leave?” Tyland arches an eyebrow. His tone stays gentle and genuinely curious, clearly wanting an actual answer. Elayna runs one hand along his bicep.

“Oh, we're not leaving. Not yet, at least. I merely wanted to see you is all.”

Her hand reaches the lapel of his tailcoat suit. She toys with the fabric, looking at him from underneath her eyelashes as she does so. He looks delectable. Golden threads weave through the suit, creating lions in their wake. A dark fur rests over his shoulders, almost mimicking the pelt of a black lion. The golden edges around his mask certainly evoke the mane of one.

“I can’t be gone for too long. My brother might not notice, but others will.”

Elayna grins. She wonders how predatory it must look, her red mask still on her face.

“I'll make it worth your while.” She promises. Elayna leans in to nuzzle the side of his neck. His scent nearly overwhelms her. His pulse jumps beneath the faint touch of her lips.

“Elayna.” Tyland hisses. Despite his tone, she smells his arousal, nearly tastes it under her tongue. “We have been over this.”

The ‘just this once’ wasn't the once. Believing the initial lie was easy, but keeping it a promise was difficult. Elayna presses a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Relax. I promise, it shall be worth it.”

She runs her free hand along his chest, starting from his collarbone and slowly working her way down.

“I need it.” She murmurs. “Tyland, I need it.”

Tyland puts a hand on Elayna’s shoulder, palm flat, but he doesn't push her away yet.

“There are others.” Tyland tries to stand firm, but she hears the cracks in his voice. The last time she fed from him, both of them about nearly orgasmed. She remembers vividly sitting in his lap and grinding against him.

“Not the same. ‘Tis not the same.”

She means every word. The women she feeds off of are nice in their own ways. They make her body spark, and the particularly adventurous ones will return the favor she gives for letting her drink from them. Men are few and far between, a quick meal when the itch arises.

Tyland is different in a way she has trouble articulating. Tymon talks of blood like vintages, but Elayna cannot compare it. Sure, every other she can, but all pale in comparison to Tyland. The first time, she couldn't stop thinking about it afterwards. Draining three men dry barely touched the whatever place Tyland reaches inside of her. She wonders how high the number of bodies might pile before she could capture the same feeling.

“I need it. I need you. Only you.”

Tyland shivers in her hold. A moan sticks inside his chest. Elayna kisses the side of his neck.

“We're in public. If we are caught...”

“Let them. I don't care. I need you now.”

Tyland swallows. She follows the line of his neck up while her hand goes down. She reaches the hem of his trousers but goes no further. Tyland’s eyes dart from side to side. He must decide the coverage of the alcove and curtain are enough because he undoes his ascot to give her space. Elayna slides her fingertips underneath the fabric, palm pressing against his stomach.

“You will be the death of me.” Tyland doesn't sound too opposed to the idea. He nods his assent.

Elayna doesn't sink her fangs into his neck right away, opting instead to fully slip her hand into his trousers. His cock stirs, and Elayna slowly rubs at him over the fabric of his underwear. As she moves her hand, she tastes every inch of his neck with her tongue. His head falls back onto the stone wall behind them. She works him until he's fully hard before slowly sinking her teeth into his neck.

Her eyes roll into the back of her head at the taste. Elayna vaguely realizes she growls when his blood hits her tongue. Tyland gasps, a husky catch of breath. His chest expands, and the rush of air echoes to her chest. A slowly forming damp spot greets her hand. It has to be his pre-cum.

She needs to touch him, have skin on skin contact now. Tyland pauses when she slides her hand up. She slips her hand underneath the last barrier of fabric separating them. He moans. It's the most beautiful sound she's heard. The sudden flood of pure lust on her tongue makes her whimper. He tastes so good. She wraps her fingers around him and begins to move her hand.

Fuck. She needs... she can't.

Elayna pulls off of him. Every ounce of her screams to keep going, but common sense takes over. She'll drain him dry if she doesn't stop now. She laps at the blood coming from the small wounds and begins to move her hand as best she can.

Tyland grips her wrist. She frowns. Panic bubbles up inside of her until he speaks.

“Tighter. You're not going to hurt me.”

Elayna nods. She follows his instructions, gripping him tighter as she works her hand up and down. His pre-cum aides her movements, and she quickly gains confidence. She moves faster. Tyland’s breath catches several times until he's outright gasping. Still, it feels as if he's holding back. Elayna nips the shell of his ear.

“Don't hold back. I want to hear you.”

Tyland moans at her words. Her demand works because he's a bit louder, more gasps and moans and breathy sighs coming from him. His whole body tenses in her hold. His heart beats so fast it reverberates from his to hers. She keeps going, keeps working.

The sound he makes when he does come makes her toes curl. She doesn't let up until he grabs her wrist, wanting to prolong the pleasure for him. Elayna pushes back up. Tyland’s cheeks are red, hair plastered to his face. Elayna hums. When she slides her hand out of his pants, her fingers are sticky with his cum. Tyland flushes, but Elayna grins. Wordlessly, she pops each finger in her mouth and licks and sucks it clean. Tyland’s throat bobs, eyes wide with lust.

“Told you I would make it worth your while.”

Elayna expects him to be flustered, to pull away with an excuse. Instead, the hand on her hip moves upward towards the bodice of her dress. Elayna swallows. Her eyes meet his. Tyland gazes at her with both adoration and unadulterated lust.

“Let me return the favor.” It's phrased as a question but stands as a demand. Elayna's breath catches. She gasps when he trails his fingers along the curve of her breast.

“Tyland, with these skirts, I don't- oh!” She squeaks when his thumb runs over her nipple. His touch stays feather-light, but it still sends a spark of lightning through her. He presses a kiss to the side of her neck. His free hand takes gentle hold of the bottom half of her dress. He slowly drags the fabric up her legs.

“Let me worry about that.”

Elayna wants to argue with him. Between the slow and methodical kisses along her neck and the way he begins to toy with her nipples, she nods. His fingers tease the top of her dress. The thought of him pulling her dress down in the secluded yet somewhat public space makes her whine. If they were caught in such a compromising position, they would have no choice but to marry. She hates the way her pussy clenches at the thought.

“I, fuck, I trust you.”

[nukzo]

Today is a good fucking day. First with my man blade's cameo in acheron's trailer which made me jump up from my chair and clasp my hands together in gratitude for whoever greenlit it. Sucks that it's not actually him but whatevaa I'm just happy to see blade again ToT

SECOND WITH THE BOOTHILL LEAKS. CAN I JUST. WOW. THE ATTENTION TO THE DETAILS. His left eye being a gun sight, his flared pants, that crop top OMFG, those shoes. A FASHION ICON. Can we talk about how cheeky his pose and battle stances are??? I love how you can get a taste of his personality simply through his gestures, facial expressions and body language. Such expressive character animations! HIS SHARK TEETH SMIRK god I love it I love it so so much. ALSO ALSO THE WAY HE FIRES HIS GUN DURING HIS SKILL/ENHANCED BASIC ATK? THAT MOVE. That move with the gun being fired right by his waist made me kick my feet and giggle when I first watched it. AND OFC HIS ULT. HIM SHIFTING HIS HIPS WHEN THE EXPLOSION OCCURS?!?!?! BRO?!?!?!?!?! OK WHY DONT YOU SHOW ME WHAT ELSE YOU CAN DO WITH THOSE HIPS SIR. Oh ya I almost forgot about that scar on his abdomen mmmhhhhm cute. Very cute. I imagine that he could get that part replaced since he seems to have an artificial body (?) but he chose to keep it and that's just so cunty of him ...and adorable even. I also heard that the wanted poster shows different enemies depending on who his standoff is with? The attention to detail regarding his visual design is just muah! I hope they do his tale justice bcs the last thing I'd want is a very poor storytelling situation for such a strong visual character plz. I can't wait to see what his personality is like too. Seems confident but reckless, maybe a little stupid too ugh what can I say, I love that in a man

I CANT WAIT TO FINISH UP MY WORK AND DRAW HIM ALREADY. ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE BEEN THIS HYPED UP ABOUT A CHARACTER SIMPLY OFF OF VISUALS

[robertphilip]

did baby morgan have a mother’s day with…. v*nessa?😶 or rather, did that day occur at a point in time during her presence in her life?😒 furthermore though, what are robert’s thoughts about the day? especially since he lost his mom in his 20s :(( AND OF COURSE HOW DOES HE CELEBRATE HIS GISELLE WHEN SHE’S THE GREATEST MOM OF ALL TIME????

she was not there !! and it makes me wanna explode !!

honestly, when that first mother's day with Morgan rolled around, I don't think Robert even realized it. which, that same thing happened on his first father's day, he doesn't realize it's His Day until that morning, and is like, "hey... I'm a dad now !!!"

but anyway, Vanessa was not around, and it was just the two of them, and Morgan was still adjusting to life without his ex, so there was still some struggling, and I think the day just kind of. went by like normal.

and I like to think that, before Giselle comes into their lives, Morgan would make little drawings for Robert on mother's day. she never outright says anything like, "oh I'm celebrating you because you're both my dad and my mom" but that's the intent behind those sweet drawings 🤧

as for how he celebrates Giselle, I think sometimes they'll go out for breakfast, and other times he and Morgan will make her breakfast in bed. and Giselle strongly prefers handmade gifts (though she won't ever complain if they buy her something, of course) which Robert internally grumbles about because he sucks at arts & crafts, but his true love wants handmade gifts, so he tries !!! in the Disenchanted junior novel, Giselle wears a sweater that Morgan made her and it says, "Word's Greatest Mom", and I feel like that was for sure a mother's day gift. and while it was Morgan's idea, I'm sure Robert helped.

I think he tries his best to bake her cupcakes, or a cake if that's what she wants, and he really, really tries to get the frosting right, and if he's drawing flowers, and hearts on the food, again, he tries his best !!! Morgan always giggles about it because his art is just so bad, and Giselle tries very hard not to laugh, too, because yeah, they really are not... great, but they're also very beautiful, and again, it's the thought that counts !!!!

He'll usually buy her some kind of jewelry too, typically a necklace, which he's much more confident about presenting, because he did not have to make it himself. and of course, he always gives her flowers 🌸

oh, and his parents !! I completely skipped over that, oops, okay, so because he's so busy with Morgan, I don't think he quite realized he missed mother's day, and the year before, he just sort of mentally blocked it out. but I think when Morgan's a year old, he took her to visit his mom's grave, and they leave her favorite flowers, and that becomes a yearly thing.

and when Giselle's there, Robert decides to just focus on her, but she insists on visiting his mom because she's his mom !! and she likes visiting his parents, especially since she never actually got to meet them. (also, unrelated to mother's day, but I can absolutely see Giselle regularly visiting his parents graves, and talking to them, telling them all about Robert and Morgan, and later, Sofia 🤧)

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

let's see, for Jia and her Raak: 13, 14, 59, 99? 😼

Aah, thank you very much for these asks, Lumi! 🥰

💕ask game💕

13. What is something they find hot about their S/O?

Okay, I have mentioned this before quite a few times—both Miraak and Jia think of intelligence as a desirable trait, so they find it hot when they unfold their knowledge and intellect to one another, when they teach each other new things. I'd also say that Miraak (a little more than Jia here, even though she likes this too) is quite attracted to the display of power, so he rips his clothes apart enjoys it when Jia stops being a pathetic wet kitten full of fleas and allows her dragonfire to show. Especially for a person like her who keeps sabotaging her potential, it's somewhat of a double pleasure to Miraak when he finally sees it, her feral side covered in blood, totally unhinged...👀 Now, concerning their physical appearance, I believe that they are so ridiculously in love that every single thing on them has them like "!!!😍!!!", but if they had to choose, I'd say for Jia is Miraak's giant embrace where she loses herself as he spreads it around her, his deep voice, both when he sings and talks, and their height difference because she laughs when he tries to kiss her and bumps his mouth on her forehead. For Miraak, it's her freckles! He finds them both endearing and attractive since they're not only on her face but all over 👀other parts👀 he loves like the horny man he is, and we might see him tenderly draw constellations with his finger on them...😼

oh, sometimes Jia raises her eyelids very slowly when she looks up at him, and while it's a thing she does mostly unconsciously, Miraak finds it very very hot, too!

14. What is something they argue about constantly? Is it a deep-seated issue or something small?

OUGH, in the AU I'm preparing they argue constantly over everything—we will see them argue over small things and more serious issues (Miraak is usually the one who grates on Jia, and she pulls a Jamie "I'll slap you until your ears are red!" Fraser). In TPATD, however, their relationship hasn't had many tribulations (that I know of; they may decide to change that🤷), except for One Big Issue that will occur at some point and involves a deep-seated topic between them; this might be painful to be confronted with them...🥺

59. Is there a spot they tend to kiss or caress habitual?

For Jia, it would be Miraak's hands—his knuckles, palms, and wrists, and it matters that she kisses/caresses these spots habitually; in a future chapter, they will thoroughly discuss this...🥰

For Miraak, it'll be either her forehead, when it comes to a kiss, or her shoulder, for both when he caresses and kisses her. It's the spot he knows she is scarred by Alduin, a wound that although healed still bothers her with random pains and aches, and she's almost always sore there (to the point she has difficulty using a bow anymore). Also, it's a spot where she has a cluster of freckles so he can't really resist!

99. Who gives off "they said no pickles" energy?

AH, THIS QUESTION MADE ME GIGGLE.

Again, in the WIP AU, Jia is the one who gives off "he said no pickles" energy. She's Miraak's guardian angel, always has his back, and protects him while he's busy being pathetic, despite her being six/seven years younger than him. In the main fic, they are somewhat balanced and equal in that aspect, with Miraak giving off The Vibes and being Jia's angel a liiitle more, but just a tiny bit!

[angelumcaedis]

The Red Means I Love You (894 words) by angelumcaedis Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate) Characters: The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Knifeplay, there's not actual sex but durge is getting off on it, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Non-Consensual Bondage, Sadism, Bloodplay Summary: The Dark Urge (she/her, no description or name used) has a nightmare. Mild spoilers for the Dark Urge through Act 3.

(Highly recommend listening to the song of the same title which I had on repeat while writing)

Click above to read on AO3 or click through the readmore:

“I will make it good for you, I promise,” she panted, pupils wide, face flushed.

Astarion tried to lean away from where her knife lightly stroked his cheek, not quite hard enough to break skin - not yet. But there wasn’t anywhere to go - he was bound too tightly to this tree for him to do much at all.

“Darling?” he began, voice strained, “Not that I’m against trying something - different - but normally one has a conversation about this sort of thing first.”

“You will be the prettiest corpse I have ever had the privilege of creating, my love.”

There was something so precious in the way his eyes blew wide with fear, genuine fear, ears pinned back like the prey he was. She breathed in deep, scenting his terror, arousal shooting through her core.

Now, where to start?

She had prioritized immobilizing his hands, those clever hands, so deft and nimble and altogether too good what they did (picking locks, of course.) It wouldn’t do for her prey to wriggle his way free, so she had tied his hands up and far from each other.

This also created a conveniently spread canvas on which to work her art. And art he would be. Art was easy when you started with something as gorgeous as him.

There. She pressed the blade against his stark collarbones, tracing their outline as she cut, a thin line of red following in its wake. Astarion hissed, fangs on full display, an odd mixture of fear and aggression in his eyes. She grinned up at him.

“You’ve had your turn, and now it’s mine,” she said as she pressed her lips to the cut, tongue laving over the sliced flesh as she tasted her lover’s blood. He tasted of iron, old and rusted, not quite fresh as the truly living. But there was something there…

A thought occurred to her. She put the knife to her own thumb, drawing a well of red from her own flesh, and tasted it. Yes. There it was.

He tasted like her.

Her heart soared with giddiness. He was truly a wonder, and would make such an offering to her lord father. A sacrifice suffused with her own blood, the blood of Bhaal. Overcome with emotion, she surged forward and took Astarion’s face in her hands. She kissed him deeply, their blood mingling with their spit.

“Augh!” she stumbled back, hand jumping to her mouth. It came away covered in…. Well. More blood, specifically hers this time. “You… fucking bit me!”

“Oh come on, it’s hardly the first time.”

A hysterical giggle overcame her. Her beloved was so funny!

The blood was stark against the paleness of his skin in the moonlight. He licked his lips, staring her down. His gaze still held fear, but there was a spite in his eyes now - he wasn’t going to just lay there and let her have her fun.

That’s fine. She’s always liked the ones that play hard to get.

She surveyed him up and down, considering where to go, what to do, next. Ah yes. The legs. She admired those, and his speed on the battlefield. She knelt next to him and began flaying the flesh to highlight the curves of the thigh, peeling a thin later of flesh away just enough to expose the striations of muscle beneath. She could hear his sharp intake of breath, clearly trying so hard not to give her any satisfaction by offering her any sound. He stayed strong for so long as she carved first his left and then his right according to her vision.

She broke him when she set her lips against him once more, pressing kisses into the bloody wounds as she stood up slowly. A choking sob tore its way out of his throat, face already soaked with the tears he had shed silently thus far. She cupped his face in her hand, brushing a bloody thumb across his cheek.

“Beloved, I am making you even more beautiful. I only wish you could see it for yourself.” She knew he would appreciate it, surely, could he only see her work.

Astarion glared at her with furious eyes, red glinting in the moonlight. He bared his fangs and hissed, “You’re just like him. Like Cazador.”

Bile rose in her throat, burning the back of her tongue as she staggered back, his words like actual knives to her chest. She retched, falling to her knees on the forest floor as she emptied the contents of her stomach.

---

Suddenly, a cool hand on her back.

She startled, looking around. She wasn’t in the forest, her hands were not slick with blood.

There was vomit on her shirt, and a bit on the blanket as well. She was in a tent. Astarion sat next to her, alive and well, hands out placatingly. He was clothed, and his clothes were bloodstain-free. He looked concerned.

“Bad dream?”

She nodded, dazed. Her skin burned in shame as she realized her body was still tingling with energy - with arousal. Her stomach twisted again, but there was nothing left to expel. She got up on shaky legs, brushing off his helping hands.

She stumbled out the tent flap, mumbling, “I think I need some air.”

As she stalked off into the night, all she could think was: Gods, he had been so beautiful.

[khasiehondra]

A Shadow of an Eagle Chapter 4: Rumor Mill: Alice

The common room was buzzing that evening to celebrate this month's birthdays. Amit, Sophronia and a few others were the guests of honor in tonight's festivities. While delighted to be there, she was exhausted. The Pensive Guardians had wiped all of her energy for the next month. They were terrifyingly beautiful but she would have been fine if the discussion in the map chamber did not allude to more of them in the future.

“You don’t seem to be having as much fun as the others. Thought you would be excited for your first house party?” Samantha was very sweet to be so concerned for her. 

“I’m alright Samantha, just a little drained. The professors have me doing extra assignments to catch up since I started so much later. 

“Are you too drained to socialize,” She turned Alice a little bit to face someone, “Someone has been trying to talk to you for a while now but I don’t think someone is getting the hint.”

Andrew was very handsome. They had started on rocky footing after the Duncan incident. “Once a coward, always a coward.” He had been so firm in his words, but after their yelling match in the common room one evening it was as if something had changed. He had not only apologized to Duncan but to her as well. “We have sort of a truce going on. I think I could manage some conversation if I really must.” She giggled with Samantha and walked over to Andrew. 

“Is that a Butterbeer or are you also partaking in the stash of fire whiskey that somehow made its way in here?” She had slid up next to him and looked into his brown eyes. 

“Just doing my prefect duties and testing it for the house.” He gave her a sly smile and scooted closer to her, abandoning the conversation he was just in. “Definitely fire whiskey in that lot.” 

“Haven’t had any. At home, father would let me drink wine at dinners, and the muggle doctors claimed it was good for us.” Alice was swirling her cup of butterbeer. “I don’t mind the butterbeer but sometimes it is still weird being out of my routine.”

Instead of words of encouragement, Andrew held out his cup to her. “It burns a little more than wine, but you don’t have to.” 

She grabbed the cup and drank. It warmed her up quickly and she thought her entire body had instantly turned red. “That was,” the aftertaste finally got her, “different.”

“Alice? Are you alright? You drank the rest of the glass.” Andrew was facing her now, hand on her arm just in case. 

“I just feel a little warm. I may step out for a bit.” He was still a prefect, even if he was breaking the rules himself. “I won’t stray far, wouldn’t want to get detention for being out after hours and with my breath covered in firewhiskey.” 

Andrew’s hand slid to her fingertips and the gravitational pull he currently had on her led them from the common room. There were more stairs than she remembered, but Andrew’s guidance brought them to the stairs leading toward the quad. She should have eaten more at dinner because her balance started to falter. Silently, Andrew maneuvered her in front of him and held her steadily with both hands. When they finally made it outside Alice felt alive again. 

“Come on, lets look at the stars!” She pulled Andrew along and plopped him in the grass next to her. “It’s different seeing them like this than through a telescope. That I don’t own yet.”

“No more firewhiskey for you.” He was very close. Their hands were still intertwined and she felt him rub small circles on the back of her hand. “Would you be mad?”

Confusion crossed her face. “To not have to drink fire whiskey again, no I would not. I guess it did make me feel warm. If anything, I’m glad I didn’t drink more than what you had. That could have been dangerous. It’s important to maintain ones wits in all situations.” 

He shook his head, “Not about the fire whiskey, about this.” It didn’t occur to her how little space there was between them. That speed at which that gap closed confirmed that they had been absentmindedly drawing closer to each other the entire time. He took her lips in his, softly and slowly. Her eyes didn’t close but seemed to grow.

Andrew is kissing me! Instead of enjoying the moment, she broke the kiss. “Andrew, if this is because of how much you drank, we must stop.” She was hoping that wasn’t the case.

“Trust me, I would have done this sooner if I had drank more. I've been getting to know you for days and wanted to be by your side." He looked into her wide, crystalline like eyes and closed the gap between them again. This kiss was more confident. It grew and Alice had lost all sense to anything around her. Her first kiss was with someone she had formed an organic connection with, and on top of that he was a gentleman through and through.

It had to be a while before he abruptly whipped his head to the space behind them. 

“Andrew, what is it?” She still had the sleeve of his robe in her hand, the other on his shoulder. 

“I think I heard someone.” Looking back at her, he gently smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Let’s go back to the common room, shall we? People may wonder if we are missing for too long a time.”

In all honesty, it was a wonder she made it to Care of Magical Creatures as early as she did. The only issue it caused was that as the girls swarmed her the minute they reached her. Samantha, Natty, Cressida, and Imelda crowded her table with smiles and big eyes. “Um, good morning. Is this an intervention of some kind?” 

They exchanged looks as if wondering who would fill her in. The silent consensus was that Samantha was her closest friend so she needed to say. “There was word going around after breakfast that someone had seen you and a mystery man snogging after hours on the grounds. Everyone is trying to figure out who it is.”

“I couldn’t believe what I had heard but my curiosity had beaten me,” Natty claimed. “I wanted to confirm as well if you were really seeing someone. Cressida, here, was the one who had informed us when we were leaving the Great Hall this morning.” 

“And Imelda and I both overheard this on the way into the Great Hall.” Imelda nodded at Cressida’s words. 

This was happening fast. The realization that Andrew was correct and they were in fact seen snogging on the grass of the quad. It must have been so dark that he couldn’t be seen, but she also chose not to wear robes concealing her if it was after class hours. 

“It was you! You’re as red as a dirigible plum!” She looked around her and lowered her voice, “Was it Andrew? I saw you two leave together but you never told me what happened.” 

“Andrew Larson?!” The girls all gasped and squealed. Your hands were covering your face and you noticed more of the class arriving. 

“Can we talk about this later. I can assure you, that it was a spur of the moment thing, with whomever it was.” Your cheeks felt as if you had swallowed a barrel of fire whiskey instead of just half a glass. Students began filing into the open hut and you want this conversation to be over. 

“Of course, but I think you’ll need to figure out what you’ll want to tell others when they ask you. I’ve heard others place bets on who the boy is!” Samantha winked and placed herself at the table behind her. “Oh, I heard Sallow was a top pick in the gossip chain. He just had an instance getting caught in the library and Peeves said he was with a girl. Others are deciding to connect the two instances.” 

Oh no. He doesn’t deserve that. At that moment, he walked in and took the table beside her. The little eye contact they had made her realize he didn’t know. No snarky comments, no banter. He would be either living in this moment or denying everything. She smiled and quickly gave her attention to her empty parchment. The hole she felt him burrowing into her head didn’t help. Risking a glance she saw the last two students stroll into the open hut, Poppy Sweeting and Andrew. Thankfully, Poppy made her way to the front as Andrew took the open space next to Arthur. 

Paranoia was killing her inside. She found solace in the distraction and passion that was Poppy with the beasts. Her natural instinct and understanding amazed Alice as she struggled to keep the kneazles from swarming her for food. Before class was over they had taken a quick detour to see Highwing the Hippogriff. When they made it back, Sebastian was waiting with her belongings. 

“Hello Poppy, mind if I steal Shaw from you?” He handed her a fully packed satchel, placing his hands in front of him. 

“She’s all yours Sebastian,” she waved at Alice yelling, “I’ll send you an owl later!”

 “Sebastian, is something the matter?” Please don’t be the rumor, I can’t have this keep happening to him. Especially when he has been so kind to me. “Something troubling you?” 

“Nothing that I can think of, I was thinking it would be beneficial to teach you some spells that the professors do not want to teach at Hogwarts. I believe that it would be better to learn from them if they could save your life one day. Would you meet me near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom?” 

“Let me guess,” she crossed her arms over her chest, “after hours?” The smirk he gave her was all the answer she needed. “I’ll see you tonight then.” 

He was walking toward Garreth when she turned into the strong chest of Andrew. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He didn’t even look phased. 

“It’s my fault, Alice. Not just the lack of making my presence known. I heard about what people are saying. I haven’t made any comments, I didn’t want to say anything without talking to you first. If you want to say it was me, I wouldn’t be mad. It would actually give me a reason to do that again.” Heat slid through her body, her heart was beating like a thousand butterfly wings. “If you don’t know what you want, I’ll wait. I know you’re busy, and I will respect your space.” 

She was going to catch a lacewing fly if she didn’t close her mouth quickly. How could one person be so handsome and gentlemanly? “Andrew, thank you. I am overwhelmed by everything I have going on to think through this. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything as of now. I would like to see more of you. It should get easier, being in the same house.” 

An impish grin flashed through his eyes. “If it was as easy as you say, that kiss would have happened sooner.” He winked, turned and waved.

Finally being able to collect her bearings, she turned to exit the hut. If he hadn’t been so close she would have thought she imagined it. Sebastian looked as if he was about to set the world on fire. Alice was only able to see a glimpse before he had turned away, but the look of rage on one’s face is unmistakable. 

[dreams-of-valeria]

CHAPTER SEVEN

| Series: The Glass Cage Epidemic | Pairing: Evan Peters OC x FOC | Warnings: Mention of death, Obscene language | Word count: 1,991 | Rated: Explicit |

I woke up in an embrace. 

For a moment, I refused to believe it. But several blinks later, the gorgeous skin of his chest was an inch away. He was fast asleep with me in his arms in a sleeping bag for one. In candour, while this wasn’t the intended outcome I had seeked when I had suggested the sleeping bag in the first place, it was a wonderful bonus. He breathed in soft snores, and I was terrified of moving. It would be almost a sin to wake someone who looked so peaceful for once. 

I counted the freckles on his neck, his chest, and fought the urge to run my tongue over them. His neck smelled earthly sweet, with a hint of his cologne. The way his arm was placed around me made the dip above his collarbone deepen, which was just so inexplicably attractive to me. Although only my flimsy tank top lay between us, I wanted to be closer to him, now that I finally had an opportunity. I wanted his embrace to enclose me, to consume me. Perhaps it was the incredible sex we’d had against the backdrop of this fairly romantic setting; us sharing a sleeping bag in a greenhouse as the sun rose at our feet, but I yearned to become a part of him and live within him.

I wanted to be a part of his lovely fingers, the dark roots of his hair, the splashes of black in his coffee brown irises and everything else I could feel. I noticed too late how deep I was entrenched outside reality.

His chest swelled against me as he drew in a deep breath, different from the ones I was used to, only moments ago. He became aware of his arms around me and flashed me a tender, dimpled smile. 

“Hey, there.”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I can move. Can you?” He tried stretching as much as he could in the limited space, but left his other arm around me. 

I pretended to try. “Nope.”

“Well, shit,” he sighed and nuzzled his nose into my hair. “This is how it ends. Can’t beat this view, though.”

I smiled into his neck.

“I guess we just turn into stone now,” he said drowsily. I wouldn’t mind falling back asleep. His embrace was long sought and fruitfully delivered. It’s funny how we go through most of our lives just wanting to be held.

“And then some pretentious sculptor will leave a bronze plaque at our feet titled, The  and draw some gratuitous phallic symbolism. There’s a lot of penises in art galleries lately, have you noticed?”

He chuckled, and I felt the vibrations rumble in his chest and transfer to mine. Oh, I very much liked that.

“I can’t speak for the phallic symbolism, but I think the sculptor will dub us The Lovers.”

I skipped a breath. “Why?” I didn’t look up at him. I was afraid I would meet his eyes with mine brimming with hope.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he drawled again, his day-old stubble rubbing against my forehead.

“No,” I leaned back to force him to look at me. “Tell me.”

Atticus wordlessly gazed down at me for a long time, and cleared his throat. He then joined his hand at my cheek and drew in a breath.

“Cleo, I–”

“You!”

Our necks craned to find the source of the sound, and it came from above–well, behind us. We saw her approach from the staircase in her fuzzy bathrobe over satin nightgown, her frail body looking like it would take one good gust of wind to send her down five storeys.

“Fuck,” I breathed and the next few motions occurred at the speed of sound. Unzipping the sleeping bag, telling Atticus to run, Mrs. Halloway shouting “Azrael!” 

“Does she have a dog?” Atticus yelled over her voice as he grabbed the sleeping bag and I gathered our clothes.

“No, it’s her fucking falcon,” I yelled back, and we lept across the roof and over the plank, just as I heard the screech of that wicked beast.

“Holy shit, it’s huge!” Atticus was giggling as he ran to the staircase. We kept running until we reached my apartment, and collapsed on the floor behind the closed door.

And then we laughed. Oh, how we laughed.

I often think about that moment when we were one in our mirth, now that I knew I could never have that with him again.

***

That little shenanigan mended whatever bridge lay between us for the next week, and things felt good. Firm. I never asked him what he was going to say before we were interrupted, and he seemed unbothered either way. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was relieved. Atticus could be dreadfully non-confrontational about the things that scared him. Fear was the only option I could see as reason for him to be so non declarative. I knew no cause for it, but I had an inkling. Certain gestures and words he displayed in our ongoing . . . courtship? Agreement? Implied his niche refrain from commitment, perhaps from past marred experience(s). I do not know if he knew I recognised those aspects of him, because he never said anything. 

It bothered me enough to deeply upset me for long periods of time, but I had a renewal of confidence in the bond we shared, enough to keep all questions of the why and what away to enjoy my time with him. That’s what I told myself, to just live for now. I will have time later.

But this notion didn’t prevent me from taking new steps. I invited him home for Thanksgiving, ensuring both my mother and brother, and Atticus that we were there in our capacity as friends, to his relief and my mother’s disappointment. She liked him of course, and witty as a fox Troy was, recognised the physical intimacy immediately. And of course resorted to obscene remarks that somehow always went over my mother’s head. Atticus on the other hand, God bless his heart, thought it was hilarious to watch me squirm.

It was strange to have him stand in my childhood bedroom, because he was so inquisitive by nature. He wouldn’t sit until he had performed a survey of the room thoroughly enough to commit to memory. And that was how he would learn more about me, instead of just asking me. He preferred to decipher vague clues and mementos to know the person inside. For all his lust for talking and discussion, he was quite docile in his attempts at connection. So I bore the brunt.

I remember he spent nearly half an hour at my bookshelf, occasionally pulling a paperback out, giving it a once over or reading the pages I’d marked years ago, and asked me why. I told him I just wanted to remember it for the next time. He would flash an esoteric smile and resume the whole process all over again, and I would watch him from my bed, the sound of rain pattering against the window next to me, and his stature just existing. 

Dinner itself was thankfully uneventful save for Troy reciting that he ran shirtless through the college grounds on a dare and nearly getting arrested for it but ending up in the school paper and my mother pressing her hand to her face in utter humiliation. In the end, it was Cornell and by some miracle, he was too smart to kick out. 

Atticus had already picked out what he wanted me to read to him that night, but wouldn’t let me see until we were finished tending to other matters. I can’t recall what exactly brought about a change in his behaviour, perhaps it was my mother’s gentle demeanour or my brother’s idiot personality, or maybe the qualms of our humble living, but he was very delicate with me that night. 

He carried me to bed although it was five steps away from the door, and laid me down gently with a soft kiss instead of his usual tossing and playful cackling as he got on top of me. Even the way he undressed me felt so reverent and careful, like he had suddenly been cautioned of how rare I was. Despite all his idiocy, I wouldn’t put it past Troy, but the fervour Atticus was showing seemed to stem from inside. I nearly stopped him to ask why as he trailed tender kisses down my body like footprints in warm sand, but reconsidered. He was in a zone and I would not disturb him. 

His body nestled comfortably between my legs and our chests touched just enough to leave some breathing room and sweat to find its way through. Atticus was gentle in his movement, and sometimes wouldn’t move for minutes at a time, as we got distracted with words. He was hellbent on making me giggle, saying how it felt great because of the way we were connected. The rain had dimmed down to a drizzle, and the faint pitter patter punctuated our heavy breaths and moans. 

After what felt like hours, he raised himself up on his palms and angled himself differently so he could pace up. I raised my hips to his, licking my lips. I ran my hands through his hair, and he opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but instead kissed the inside of my wrist.

That was when we heard the knock on the door. My hand snapped up to his mouth and closed over it for fear of his giggles in critical situations. Technically, he was supposed to be asleep in the guest room in the basement. 

“Everything ok, mom?” I called softly, hoping she’d hear my drowsy voice and leave.

“Just brought you some water, hon.”

I looked at him and began to plot out a solution, when Troy’s voice boomed.

“Jesus, mom, just let them shag in peace!”

Atticus giggled behind my hand and I clenched around him. He only seemed to like it. 

It took her a moment to understand, and she hurried off with a nervous chuckle and a caution to use protection. Well, that was only slightly mortifying.

Atticus moved off me and lay on my right as I covered my face.

“I heard your mom and went soft,” he explained, his hand assisting himself. 

“I’d be worried if you didn’t.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s an attractive woman,” he moaned when I kissed his neck, and we both realised the timing of it and giggled. “But you, cherie, are bonerific.”

He flashed me that asymmetrical grin I loved, making me double over in laughter again. 

“Need some help?” I asked, closing my fist around him. He was unsheathed. 

“Be right back,” he whispered and headed for the door, pointing dramatically and locking it. My eyes went wide.

“I didn’t lock it?”

“Glad to know your mom knocks,” he chuckled and stood at the foot of my bed. “Ah, goddamnit!” he groaned, glancing down and attending to the matter vigorously.

“Remember that time in the greenhouse?”

That seemed to do the trick. He crawled towards me on his knees, saying, “Here comes the airplane open up!”

Atticus took his rightful place again, and drove himself deep inside me in one motion. I buckled over–it wasn’t painful exactly. It was a strange sensation of being stabbed by a very impressive dagger dipped in the best narcotics. I liked it, just didn’t expect it. When I finally gained composure, I slapped his bicep. “I told you, don’t do that!”

“Then don’t moan like that,” he mocked in what I could assume was his mimicry of my voice. 

“Like what?” I asked, fully expecting what was coming. But just before he could do it again, I clenched around him. Atticus gasped and looked down.

“Fuck, do that again."