#fuck you goat man I’m dancing on your old man he’s my old man now

[consul-valerius]

“Are you going to just stand there and let this outfit go to waste?”

“I’m going to tear you apart with my teeth.”

Had to pause all the oc lore dumping to get out something unabashedly horny, and who better to use (hehehehe) than Lucio :’))) was thinking specifically that this is how he greets Sam whenever he comes to Vesuvia, but let’s be real, he could be spreading his legs for anyone LMAO

full nude undercut aaaand a special little pet play treat with an implied butt plug undercut :’) minors I’ll take ya fucking knees if you interact.

If anyone tags this as gender bending I’ll fucking bite

This is the first full body, not joke post Lucio I’ve drawn ?.?? He’s so. Shaped. And I don’t think I really nailed some of the stuff I wanted to, but this was fun and I should draw more lewds of him in the future lmao I also refuse to draw him without his red eyes, they’re peak character design and idc idc he doesn’t have the plague, he’s just high LMFAOOO

#bottom draws #lemon #the arcana #the arcana lemon #count Lucio #the arcana Lucio #lucio morgasson #feels weird tagging him and no one else LMAO #I mean there’s implied: #Sam x Lucio #I should do more with them considering Lucio was supposed to be Sam’s main LI LMFAOO #fuck you goat man I’m dancing on your old man he’s my old man now #I always get weird when I post super self indulgent stuff but then I remember this is my house so LMFAOO

[nice-and-accurate-ramblings]

⚠️WARNING: GOOD OMENS 2 EPISODE 1&2 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!⚠️

I need to get my live reactions out because I am LOSING IT. Do not read beyond this point if you don’t want spoilers for the first two episodes!!!

I am going insane after the prime premiere so here are my insane ramblings externalized:

THE COLD OPEN IN EPISODE 1 KILLED ME IN MY SEAT INSTANTLY

THE NEBULA. ANGEL CROWLEY (whose name we don’t get, ofc, that made me laugh). HE WAS SO EXCITED AND AZIRAPHALE’S “I WOULD HATE TO SEE YOU GET INTO TROUBLE” AND THE W I N G.

The fjuckin. WING. I AM UNWELL. I AM GOING INSANE JUST THINKING ABOUT IT

AAAAAAAAAA

And then the title music played and I apologized to my friend that I dragged to the premiere for being Extremely Not Normal. And then told her it Would Get Worse.

GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY, IM-

Maggie: Oh nooooo, we’re locked in the coffee shop together,,, what will we doooooo (every fanfic author in the room just got so many ideas.)

Hm. Lindsey, huh? Hmmmmm.

That’s uh. Not a normal amount of texts. That seems a bit Not Great. I’m watching you Lindsey. I haven’t seen you yet but I am watching

THE APOLOGY DANCE AHSHDJFJF!!! Stan Pines and Crowley have something in common apparently. Also. Aziraphale what do you mean you had to do it in 1941. what were those other times. Where did this come from. I need EXPLANATIONS.

There’s no way their two-halves-make-a-whole miracle is what set off alarms in heaven. Gabriel Absolutely Did Something.

There are too many flies in the book shop for this to NOT come back to Beelzebub somehow

Re: Beelzebub- why ask Crowley to keep them in the loop if Shax already asked him that? Are they just not communicating, or is this somehow connected to Beelzebub???

My heart fuckin stopped when Gabriel started singing Everyday.

Crowley. Crowley I need you to repeat that bit about Jane Austen. CROWLEY YOU CAN’T JUST DROP THAT, I-

Good to know that scene overlooking the ocean was in fact as emotionally intense as expected. aaaAAAAAA

Re: Job minisode- “I’m a demon. I lied.” Gives a whole new fuckin context to the “Would I lie to you” “You’re a demon” from season 1. AaaAAAA

Another one from that minisode: Aziraphale thinking that heaven could be convinced to not destroy the earth if they just understood properly in season 1… aziraphale being disgusted by human food and drinks until he was tempted to try it and understood… Mr Gaiman I am in your walls for this

Anthony J “You can’t kill kids” Crowley strikes again. And we still don’t get clarification on what kind of kids he meant, which is incredible honestly. Plus, the goats were adorable :)

How is the jukebox doing the same thing as the Bentley. Is this a “every record eventually turns into Everyday in the same way music left in a car too long turns into Best of Queen” or is this a Pointed Thing

Have I mentioned that I would die for Muriel? I would die for Muriel. It has been two episodes and I simply adore the low ranking sunshine angel.

They are so fucking married

“OUR CAR” “OUR BOOKSHOP” they are so fucking married. Crowley why are you sleeping in your car, pls it’s OUR bookshop 😭😭😭

Aziraphale took drivers tests before they were cool (aka mandatory) 🙄 come on Crowley keep up

Aziraphale driving the Bentley is something I didn’t know I needed and yET-

First the “naked man friend” comment and then a random guy stealing the seat across from Aziraphale in the pub… rip crowley

Gabriel with the Terry Pratchett paperback… Gabriel reading off the first line of Good Omens… wait the book exists in the world of the show- Aziraphale owns the book in the world of the show- what

Never thought “Archangels don’t know where babies come from” would be a plot point and yet. Here we are.

Pausing one more time to go absolutely feral over the ending of the Job minisode because that played my heartstrings like a FIDDLE. “I’m like you now” “I’m a fallen Angel” and “I’m not here to take you to hell, don’t think you’d like it”; “I’m on my own side” “Sounds lonely” and “I’m a demon. I lied.”; how heckin PRETTY THE WHOLE SCENE WAS

someone please send help because idk how I’m going to be normal after this.

Okay, scheduling this for a little after the episodes drop and spoiler tagging like crazy! SOON, THE REST!!!

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens s2 spoilers #goodomenss2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #gos2 #good omens liveblog

[nani-nonny]

Seeing the Summary makes me giffy especially father-son moment.

Seeing CJ crying makes me go 'Don't hold back, cry! Cry damn it!!', like he suffered a lot, he deserves to be a child.

Seeing how Draxum just couldn't stand it's either because of CJ or he had reached that point of old age!🤣

Seeing April with bat made me go 'Boss girl!!' And it's sad they can't beat him up... Yet.

SEEING PEEPAW PUNCHING OLD GOAT MALE WIFE MADE ME HAPPY AND LAUGHING AGAHAHA!! EVEN HIS BROTHERS WANTS MORE OF THIS BLOOD BATH XDDD

When future April said she's jumping off the ride i was like 'WAIT SHE'S JOINING THE REST?!?!?' Am giddy, the leonardo hotel has one more guest!

WAIT SPLINTER LOST TGE SCROLL IN TOILET?!?! DAMN THAT TOILET TOOK EVERYTHING!!?

Hearing future April's first sentence made me SCREAM!! APRIL!!!!💛💛💛

When purple said party he was CORRECT!! OH MY GOD I CAN'T STOP STIMMING FROM EXCITEMENT AND HAPPINESS FOR LEONARDO AND EVERYONE!!! ❤🧡💛💙💜

" spaghetti and meatballs " SPLINTER MY DUDE AHAHAHA!! WHY THAT?!?! 🤣

" balled up around his energy.” i imagined the brothers and April dancing, playing DJ and Donnie doing fortnite dance XDD

GIYOD8YIYY DONNIE AND THE REST STILL UP FOR THE " am the dad " CALENDAR?!?!

" Draxum, what exactly did you do while I was planning the different ways to get you back for the pain you made me endure? " GOLD 🏆

Man I LOVE HOW THE BROTHERS ARE COMMENTING ON EVERYTHING!! THEY'RE LIKE... 3 MINI ME XD

Even in death Donnie won't admit he's wrong xD totally me 🥲

When draxum said he's getting old my brain though he did something like takin a piece out of him and putting it in, AND HE DID!! OH DRAXUM AM SO SORRY!!

Awww he rushed away because he's embarrassed!! Soft old barry!!

When Leo felt warm inside i thought 'Congratulations! Now you have a body heater, use it in winter!'😂 and i love how everyone just cut Donnie off. “They’re parasites?” HE DID NOT JUST SAID THAT!! ADHD GOES HARD IN THIS ONE.

Finally " *giddy stimming* We’re getting family shenanigans next chapter!! " LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO NANI!!!!!

Aaaahhh I DIDN'T FEEL THIS MUCH EXCITEMENT IN LONG TIME, DON'T GET ME WRONG I LOVE AND DEVOUR EVERY FIC YOU WRITE BUT THIS MAKES ME GO CRAZY!!!! ❤🧡💛💙💜

Oh, Casey’s definitely going to act like a child, we already saw a bit of it in this chapter with the young turtles hehe

And lollll future splinter had lost the scroll down the drains and never bothered to look for it but I believe present!Splinter still has it somewhere in all the moving boxes

Purple looking at F!Leo’s core expecting this:

But got this /j:

My heart is melting from how much you enjoyed this chapter!!!! <3333 it was difficult to write out but I’m glad it came out right

And I completely understand that this chapter is more your style, it’s more family fluff than I’m used to writing lol

#whispers of distant souls #nani nonny answers #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #future leo au #future leo returns to the past with casey au #rottmnt future leo #happy stimming from the comments #it took a hot minute to get to the family fluff arc lol #and I just noticed we’re about to surpass DMD’s word length #spookyyyy~

[kindtobechurlish]

Some fucks don’t get the idea of enemies, and fucks who want to make themselves into family.. they want to make themselves into natives and you are Spanish. I say, “is this Florida?”, and you see the game as the game. You hear of sexy son hypothesis, to hate it? You think of being forced to someone, you think of a fish and chip diet, and a fuck has his fun by the pub and after work activities, and you go silent? He would have a son, with you, and that’s means to show his wealth, country, family, as others are in ALMOST. They want the fat fuck with a family, job, life, flag, to help them, with his “ancient freedom.” And, there it is. What is so-called white supremacy? I’ll define it, and when I define it, see nations who can’t come to not care about white supremacy, they aren’t better than Russia, their talk with “Anglo-Saxon”, to avoid Jew talk, they call it guff, and now you see identity and people livid at me. The Jew changing his identity to mesh with whites, and you aren’t white? See what you being in, the nanny state, and in it I want no parts with you.. and I’m done with the incompetent gerontocracy as a fuck can’t say a guys name right. Do you see? Imagine me being afraid to ask your name, because I might not be able to pronounce it.. and there it is, have no parts with me, see yourself to understand sexy son hypothesis and what is it when the pencil is just that and you need paper. “I went to school”, I work with people at the bottom. I hate it. See my actions.

Peasants can’t change their vocabulary, call me the n word when I demand change, and when I want no parts with them they want work. You PEASANT! If I am saying sorry, I don’t want you saying it, look, wait, and don’t get in my way, or Indian war dance, or make it about a pardon or I don’t mean to get in your way, BUT.. that is better, a lot better, don’t be this churl and when I want you in penury, ALMOST, you not like it, don’t want to be GRANDPA, just to want women my age and younger than me, and I don’t want to be your brother.. I don’t want to eat with your wife, and when someone makes mistakes, as a young man, I leave him to the old folks and I’m ready to renege the old folks. You don’t see? I hate being around peasants, two races, white black, set the mould, and the gray area shows peasants and I don’t want you meshing with white peasants as negroes are in servitude, slavery, immigrants are in slavery, for water, just go back to where you come from. Philosopher-king does what he does for his country and himself, see what is.

I don’t want to be around peasants, they and their white bread just to not know what to order at McDonald’s, they think they are aristocrats with their police, policy, and they aren’t democrats, and in it you see they aren’t me. Now, they want my culture, for themselves? See my culture, and I come to a point where I can do without a woman who is the amount of a goat.. a kid, a female goat, and she’s ready for casual sex. I’m not about that, and I hate learning “game” for the sake of having a woman. Who will take one for the team? This is no team, and I’m not taking shit for you, you didn’t know, so see my actions and have no parts with me. Go test the people you did talk so freely with, and see what they can do for you. Don’t have parts with me. A fuck says thank you, and I just need an angle and I’m the adversary. Fuck yea. KEEP TALKING. Idiots. 😈

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Resolve to Read this Blog!

So, it’s New Year. 2022 has done it’s song-and-dance routine and fucked off to the backstage area for a fag and a crafty wank, leaving us in the as-yet-untested hands of 2023. And you know what that means, don’t you, children? That’s right! It’s time for my annual New Year’s Resolutions Blog, in which I suggest resolutions that might get you killed, arrested or covered in gunge for my own sick amusement, and you lap it up like the culture-deprived fucking content junkies that you are. So, without further (or indeed any) ado, here’s this year’s crop. ‘Enjoy’- a word that is here used incorrectly.

Dare to be Square You know what I’m fucking sick of? ‘Geek chic’, or whatever the fuck we’re calling it nowadays. You know the look I mean- the sexed-up nerd look with the big glasses and not-really-a-suit that people are still, inexplicably, wearing to cash in on the still-quite-recent credibility of geek cultural IP. And do you know why I’m sick of it? Because it’s missing the fucking point. Being a massive pulsating nerd isn’t about looking ‘chic’. Proper geeks don’t choose clothes with the intention of announcing to the world that they’re geeks- they choose clothes for the number of gadgets and gewgaws they can fit in the pockets. So here’s my New Year’s challenge to you- if you want to dress like a geek, dress like a real fucking geek: a buttoned-up white shirt, abysmal plaid trousers, a pocket-protector with three different coloured biros and a pocket calculator on a chain. Oh, and a haircut that you can do yourself with a washing up bowl and safety scissors. Feel chic? No? Fucking good! That means you’re doing it properly! And yes, before any of you say anything, I’m aware that I’m the most overdressed man on the planet. It’s not hypocrisy because, while I am a geek, I’m not just a geek and my clothes are chosen to reflect completely unrelated aspects of my identity. My waistcoat and tie I chose to reflect my dandy-ish sense of British self-assuredness, and my Geoffrey Dahmer-patterned underpants I chose to reflect my love of cannibalism.

Admit that Fanfic Isn’t ‘Cultural Mythmaking’ Look, I love a good bit of fan fiction as much as the next man- especially when the show, book or property on which it’s based is being run into the ground by the last company to buy its rights (usually either Jeff Bezos or Mickey Mouse- he’s not just their mascot, he’s secretly the evil mastermind behind the whole horrific enterprise). By all means, keep writing fanfic. I encourage it! But a lot of you are in your forties now and your pretence that you’re doing something noble and important (as opposed to daft and fun) is getting creepy. It’s like if a man brought his anime body pillow on a double-date and introduced it as his girlfriend. Wait, wasn’t that the plot of an episode of Crackanory? The point is, it’s time to let it go. Admit that what you have is a hobby and that that’s fine. Cut the pseudo-intellectual bullshit about cultural artefacts being shaped as much by the fanbase as by the creators. As an actual now-published writer, I can assure you that I don’t even think about you randos when dredging a new story or setting from the filth at the bottom of my flinty little heart: I’m too busy channelling my mental illness and snorting powdered Mars Bars like fucking cocaine.

Contact a More Diverse Range of Great Old Ones We all love summoning Cthulhu to issue in the end of the world, but has it ever occurred to you that he’s not the only Elder Being who waits dreaming beneath the minds and lives of men? Well, it should have! How do you think poor old Nyarlathotep feels, getting snubbed at every fucking cataclysm? Or Hastur, the King in Yellow- that guy practically invented the concept of spreading suffering through the slow, infectious patterns of cackling madness. Then there’s the Goat of a Thousand Young (whose true name I can’t actually post online because it contains an incidental racial slur). You all bang on about female representation but where’s she when you’re etching your sigils and runes of unspeakable power? Yeah. I bet a lot of you are hanging your heads in shame right now. Don’t be so fucking thoughtless next time.

Set Fire to Fancier Places Every time there’s a riot, people set fire to the local MacDonald’s or KFC or whatever. And I sympathise- I really do. I’ve only ever been into a MacDonald’s twice in my adult life, but both of those times did leave me with a powerful desire to commit arson. The thing is, setting fire to a Macky Dee’s is just white noise at this point. It doesn’t make much of an impression. I think it’s time to aim higher: ignite Claridges or set a Fortnum and Mason ablaze. Maybe a burn down a John Lewis. Because if the goal is to make the rich and powerful sit up and take notice, you’re not going to do it by gutting a burger joint they don’t go to. You have to deprive them of the ability to buy fragranced tea-bags and fiddly little kitchen implements that only come in handy when you’re cooking a really specific brand of artisanal Burmese peach cobbler. You know- shit richos actually care about.

Make Friends with a Crow I feel like this one’s pretty self-explanatory, but in case you need me to list the incentives, they are 1) You’ll have a bro who can peck your enemies’ eyes out for you, 2) You’ll never be short of a nest and 3) Whenever your crow friend is around you’ll automatically look like 20% more of a badarse just by proximity. So yeah: befriend a crow. It’s not just a New Year’s Resolution, it’s the best decision you’ll ever make.

Find that One French Pharmacy With the Time Travel Drugs So, the last time I was in France on a family holiday, many years ago, my mother got a cold and went to the first chemists’ we could find. What she thought she was buying was a painkiller and flu-suppressant. As it turned out, it was an immensely powerful hallucinogen that made her see giant insects and fucked with her perception of time so thoroughly that to her it seemed like it was running backwards. Isn’t that a drug you want to try? I know I do, so let’s resolve here and now, you and I, to go on a magical odyssey to find the amazing French Abstract Time Dilation Drug and use it to bring the plot of the film Tenet kicking and screaming into reality!

Go on an Epic Quest for the Shimmering Sword of Cothroptar Okay, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but the dimensions are aligning and soon the realms of Checkor and Tarton will spill over from their respective realities and into our world. Earth shall become the battle-field of two mighty armies, equipped with hyperreal battle-scarves and heat-seeking throwing-sporrans. The only hope to win the war and bring peace and justice to the weft and weave of tactile other-space is to journey to the land of Cothroptar, which lies across the Sea of Singing Absinthe. There, you shall meet a triclops in a three-piece suit, who sees things all to clearly, and will have to best him in a contest to see who can write the dirtiest limerick. If you succeed, he will give you the Sword of Cothroptar, which can unite the Berbury Tribes and force a peace between Checkor and Tarton, thereby sparing Earth the ravages of another Great Fabric War. So, you should probably resolve to do that.

Re-Read that Last One Because it might take a couple of goes to sink in.

Make Love to Patrick Stewart Beneath a Starry Sky Look, I know it’s a daunting challenge, but it’s probably your last chance. He’s an old man, folks. He’s not going to stay compos mentis or continent for much longer, is he? I’d get in there while you still can.

Reinvent a Dive Bar I love the concept of a dive bar; absolute shit-holes where the strange, unsettling and menacingly surreal is allowed to happen simply because everyone inside is either weird themselves or too burnt-out to stop the weirdness. But I’ve always been slightly disappointed that you can’t actually dive in them. Thus, I give you perhaps the finest resolution on this list: I ask you to go forth and reinvent a dive bar… by flooding it. I don’t care if you do it one cup at a time or just connect a pump to the nearest swimming pool and a run a hose to the place- by the time you’re done, I want that shit-hole to be a swimming pool. A swimming pool where I can buy beer and where cocktail olives float past on their way to a better life.

Stop Reading this Before Your Fucking Brain Melts You know, I could probably keep adding more and more and more of these, but I’m going to stop now because if I don’t, I might actually kill one of you through sheer force of strangeness. Plus, I kind of need to go get a cuppa.

I don’t have a witty round-up paragraph, so instead allow me to leave you on the following soul-destroying, robotic note: END OF BLOG.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #new year #happy new year #new years resolutions

[liamiya]

day nine – narumi gen, video-games/quality time

warnings: agender!reader; nothing else i think; not proofread

word count: 470

It was hard to get some alone time with Narumi. Attacks could happen at any moment, and the man had to make them a priority, no matter what you two were doing. So, those small times that you could spend with him are your treasure.

— What? How do you even do that? — He yelled, pointing at the screen.

— The strongest soldier in Japan is losing to his partner on Super Mario. — You shook your head, scowling sarcastically. — Unbelievable.

— I'm not losing! — He huffed and focused on the screen, his red eyes wide and shining.

You did the same. Your eyes focused on your screen, the expression on your boyfriend's face was priceless. You were set on making him lose this time. 

As the match was arriving to its end, you felt your focus and eyes starting to get sharper. You knew that map and you knew that you were already very close to winning from Narumi. When you both could see the finishing line, you felt something wet against your ear. Gen had just licked your ear.

— Gen! What the fuck? — You put your hand over the side of your face. — You licked my ear?

From the side smirk on his lips, you already had your answer.

— No, but look. — He pointed at the screen. — I won.

He got up and started doing a little dance.

You threw your controller at him and groaned loudly.

— Oh my God, I'm dating an eight years old. 

He noticed how upset you looked and dropped down next to you. His head rested on your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

— Aw baby, c'mon. — You gave him a dirty look and he pouted even harder. — Don't give me that look.

He batted his eyelashes at you, trying his best to crack you with his puppy eyes. The more he looked at you, the more your heart melted. After some seconds of him holding you against him, you sighed and hugged him back.

— You're lucky I love you, you menace.

His cuteish eyes went wide. His mouth fell open and you realized what you said, your own eyes going wide.

— W-Wait… You love me? — He whispered.

You nodded and looked away. You were too scared of his reaction. You two never talked about it, the feelings you both shared were casual until now, since you both don't even know if you're doing to see each other in the next day. His fingers gripping your chin suprised you. He pulled your face close to his and he kissed your lips softly.

— I love you too. — He smiled widely. — Let's play again. This time you can win.

taglist: @coco-goat-milk , @nanaminswaifu , @whyispistashanuttaken ​​ 

2021 © content belongs to liamiya, do not repost or edit without permission

#gen x reader #gen narumi x reader #gen narumi #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 fluff #kaiju no. 8 #gen narumi fluff #gen fluff #narumi fluff #writing #imagines

[downywrites]

bird took request and wrote it. bird hope’s its oke. It’s late here I will die thanks

Ask here

Aww, thanks mate. I really appreciate it! Let’s get on with the writing, shall we?

It was a known fact that Schlatt was not the nicest of people. The ram constantly pissed people off, made rules that made the others spiteful, and, to put it simply, enraged his subjects. And, boy, did they love to voice it. Quackity groaned loudly, slamming his face into the desk of papers he had. The worst part? It didn’t even hurt. The paperwork stacks were big enough that his face never made contact with the table. The vice president’s wings flapped slightly in their work binds. “Why is there so fucking much?!?”

Tubbo sighed, ears flicking downwards even more, scuffing his hoof on the floor dejectedly. “I dunno, man. Is this just the same letter, mailed like 17 different times?” A tired puff of air escaped his mouth as he glared tiredly at a veritable pile of angrily sign letters, each with the same to and from. The duo’s tempers were building to a breaking point. Tubbo ground his hoof into the unpolished floors as he grit his teeth. “Shouldn’t Schlatt be here to at least see what they are saying? He really doesn’t understand his people…”

Quackity scoffed at the goat hybrid’s words, hands itching to yank the old, musty books from the presidents that had preceded the fool that currently controlled the country. The duck pulled off his work restraints that he wore, unloosening the leather straps and letting them fall on the floor. “I’m done with this shit. It’s time to make him pay.” Tubbo shied away from the idea. “I don’t think that’s a good idea...he might kill us if we do anything bad to him.” The other turned around, eyes gleaming with the man’s old playfulness. “Nah, we’ll do something bad that he can’t prove. Something so devious, that stupid grass-grazer wouldn’t see it coming.” He rubbed his hands together, chuckling like a madman while ignoring the protest of the other herbivore in the room. “Hey, I’m also a-” “Tubbo.”

The smaller of the two stepped back into a small pile of letters, nervousness spiking at the change of tone. “I- uh, sorry?” Quackity clapped his hands together. “We strike at dawn.” Sighing with relief, Tubbo nodded, ears flopping slightly as he did so. He headbutted the other carefully, tail wagging when the other pat his head a little. “You really don’t give a fuck what Schlatt says about your butting tendencies, do ya?” Tubbo giggled, a light, reedy sound that echoed slightly in the absence of the person who usually occupied the place. “Yeah, nah. I don’t think Schlatt cares about me enough to worry about that.”

Quackity wanted to say otherwise, eyes glancing to his desks and back to the minor. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words refused to come out, jamming and freezing up right before he could say anything. Shutting his mouth so he didn’t look like a fool, the gambler watched as the land-dwelling hybrid sorted through some of the piles with careful hands. A sense of warmth and fondness grew in his heart before he could put it out. He shook his head vigorously at the thought. ‘No, I can’t bond with him. A gambler never shows his cards.’

Another voice in his head disagreed with his words, slamming their cards down on the table. “Well, are we a gambler right now, or are we a vice president? It's a change, Quackity. You need to understand. Tubbo loves you. Are you going to love him back, or make him sad?’ One of his hands came to rub at his temple. ‘Damn, I didn’t think that taking such a random spot in the cabinet would make me have to change so many of my habits.’ Ironically enough, Tubbo piped up at that very moment.

“Hey, as the vice president of the whole of the country, I think you could answer a few of these ourselves!”” His ears perked up in excitement, his little puffy tail wagging behind him as he sorted out some of the lesser complaints and twirled a fountain pen in between his fingers. Sitting down on one of the couches, his eyes scanned over one of the letters, wincing at the harshness of the words on the weak parchment. The sound of the pen nib scratching against the back of the paper cut through the silence in the room adjoining the office. Wings flapped slightly as he moved. Sitting down carefully next to the younger, he crossed his legs over each other, eyes glancing at the squid ink on the paper.

After a while of silent writing, his voice, croaky from smoke and yelling and all that which is bad, escaped him. “Hey, you know, I never really got to tell you my plan.” A small, little breezy laugh from the other. His voice rang out, all sweet and flowery, like a bee that had just landed on a flower, yet sharp underneath, like the stinger nestled deep in the insect’s body. “Go on, tell me big man. I’d like to hear it.” Their voices intertwined as the rain poured outside, drumming melodically on the old shingles of the presidential house.

The calm never lasted long enough for anyone’s liking. The lights of the sun’s first rays slipped through the room, casting a dancing shimmer onto Tubbo and Quackity’s resting faces. The duck hybrid blinked himself awake, wincing at the light drilling into his eyes from the stained glass window. “Ugh..” Rubbing his eyes and sitting up, he winced at the pop and crunch of his joints shifting. “Ouch. Bad sleeping positions can suck my dick.”

The duck hybrid craned his neck to look at the other sleeping figure, unsurprised at the sight of the much heavier sleeper still passed out on the couch where he was working last night. The boy looked so calm, his face a shade of yellow and gold from the morning light. Quackity couldn’t help but smile at him. The peaceful scene would be adorable in any place, in any setting.

But he knew that the peace wouldn’t stay for long. Once the day began, there would be lots of work to do. All of the papers that he and his ally had not finished would be a problem to solve, that was for sure. It didn’t help that Tubbo tried to make each letter he answered thoughtful and carefully worded, making it even longer to answer a single thing. All in all, if he didn’t try to finish it or try to hide the extra stuff that hadn’t been finished, the silence and calm that pervaded the room wouldn’t be around long enough to give the goat a good night’s sleep.

Walking over to the side of the room that Tubbo resided in, he poked him slightly, reluctant to wake the resting boy. “..Tubbo? You there, buddy?” No response from him. His chest rose and fell in a calming pattern, like the tides just barely kissing the beach. “Tubbo? Schlatt might be mad if he thinks we fell asleep on the job…” The boy’s ears twitched slightly. His eyes slowly opened a crack, just barely.  A yawn, then, loud and almost violent compared to the gentle, restful sleep he seemed to have been in. “Hmm.” His half-open eyes came to rest on Quackity, a small smile gracing his face. “Hello there. Wha’ did I miss?”

The slur in his voice only accentuated the cuteness behind his words. “Nothing much, just need you to be away before the ‘big boss’ shows up.” The duck added a little roll of his eyes and some air quotes to spice up his words, wings fluttering up and out in a show of agitation. A sleepy giggle got rid of any regrowing hostility towards the irritating president. “Is our plan still the same? No hurting him, right?” A quack and a sigh. “Fine, no hurting him. I hope your little plan is just as good as my original one, you tiny goat.” He shuffled towards the coffee machine in the corner of the room, cursing lightly when he bumped into the blunted edge of the table as he did so. Tubbo began to stretch out himself, muscles cramped from being on the couch for so long. “When d’you think he’s comin’ in?” He shrugged, holding out two coffee cups in his hands. “Who knows. The man’s got a schedule that could make even XD weep.”

The room filled with the scent of fresh brew, making Tubbo wrinkle his nose in slight distaste. He never quite liked the scent of coffee, but he refused to tell Quackity that. Moving back towards the table in front of Tubbo, the elder of the two placed down the two mugs, now full of the dark, deep brown liquid. “Want creamer or sugar or something, little bud? Didn’t put any in, just in case I fucked up your morning joe. Couldn’t have that, could we?” “No, we couldn’t, big man. Would be a mighty shame.” Tubbo put it to his lips anyways, wincing at the acrid taste that cursed his sensitive taste buds. And the burning sensation. That too. He put it down quickly, hissing slightly. “Owie.” Quackity chuckled, a twinge of concern lacing his laugh. “You good, Tubbo? That was some scalding stuff you just chugged. Might want to blow on that first.” The sound of a door creaking open made them both tense slightly. ‘Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo!’ supplied his mind, rather unhelpfully. ‘Here comes the sun!’ He couldn’t even trust his brain to play the right song. Classic Quackers.

The man of the hour walked into the room, scuffed and scratched hooves raking on the floor and producing a nasty noise as he walked. Not even bothering to hand his coat up, the man tossed it onto the floor, the unironed, probably unwashed jacket making the soft sound of fabric crumpling onto the wood as he went. “What’s up, fuckers?” A loud slam made Tubbo flinch significantly more, prompting the duck to instinctively shield him with his wing. “Hello, Schlatt.” Tubbo looked at the man through his friend’s wings, half in awe of how fast his tone changed and half in fear. It was obvious that the two of them hadn’t finished the work they were told they were to do yesterday. He pinned his ears back, already whimpering in fear.

A shit eating grin grew on the ram’s face at the sight of the room. “So, it seems you two idiots haven’t finished the work I gave you yesterday.” He walked more into the room, towering over the two seated people with a look of condescension clearly saturated on his face. “Looks like you two need a punishment.” Quackity’s face hardened. Tubbo’s face contorted into an expression of fear. “Just a little punishment…”

Quackity really, really wanted to slam his face into the desk again. “He gave us MORE paperwork?!? And then he left his office? AGAIN? UGH!” The secretary whined a little as well. “I mean, at the very least, he could have told us just to finish a little bit less...he kind of, uh, showed us an entire mountain of work he had been failing to work on for, like, a month!” Quackity trilled loudly in agreement, startling him into dropping the wad of papers he had in his hand. “Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about! Stand up to the Schlass!” Tubbo couldn’t help the resulting snort. “The Schlass?” “Yeah! Schlatt and ass together equals Schlass!” The boy couldn’t help but stare at him.

“...Yeah, okay, not the best name ever. But!” Quackity perked up, eyes still grealming with mischief. “We can still enact our plan tonight!” The goat hybrid’s tail wiggled happily behind him, a small puff of forest brown and mocha with extra cream making a blur where his pants met his shirt. “Yess!” Quackity’s sorting got a little faster, energy restored by the reaction he got from the younger. “All we have to do is wait…”

When Schlatt said that he was into bondage, he did not mean this. Not in the slightest. Schlatt struggled in the ropes, eyes a mix of confused and sleepy. The afternoon light was still visible through the slits in his presidential bedroom, so he presumed he hadn’t been kidnapped or been knocked out for more than a day or two. “What the fuck is going on?” The sound of a familiar gait made him simultaneously relax and tense up. “Quackity? Get me out of this shit, you fucking weak excuse of a vice president!” The duck hybrid stepped into his range of vision, face fitted with a look of indifference and condescension, something he was familiar with seeing in the mirror every morning. “You know, you’ve been rude to us all week. Actually, all month. Maybe even the last few months?” Schlatt had the nerve to look sheepish. “You didn’t like it? Then why didn’t you tell me-”

Quackity cut him off with a loud huff. “Why didn’t I tell you? I wonder why, dipshit!” He threw his hands up in the air, his silhouette at the door looking more menacing than the real deal. “Really, Schlatt! For someone who struts his stuff every four seconds, you really don’t know when we need you or when you need to stop acting!” His ears pulled back a little in his anger. And, all of a sudden, his anger vanished into something else. “But, Tubbo told me to use my anger for something else. Tubbo..” He trailed off, eyes unfocusing for a moment. “He helped center me a little more. And, yes, you’re an asshole, but all it takes to make you realize the problems we have is just a little nudge. And look!” Black eyes bored into nervous rectangular. “This is more than just a nudge at this point.” The ram tensed while he processed. Within a few seconds, he calmed down, relaxing a bit more. “So you’re not gonna stab me. Great. Is that all?”

He got an eyebrow raise for the effort. “Oh, that’s not all, buster. Since I didn’t want you to get off scot free, I decided Tubbo and I would be able to mess with you while you’re still down for the count!” With that, he moved closer to the man, tasering his sides roughly to get a quick reaction out of him. The ram bucked and laughed, eyes widening from the sudden jolts of tickling lighting arcing down his spine. “AHAHA! DUhuckie?!?” The sound of hoofsteps rapidly approached the door, slowing only to reveal a small, fluffy bed of hair peeking out to the side of the rectangle of light. “Can I help now? Or do you still want to finish your epic monologue?” Quackity nodded. “Yeah, let’s wreck this cocky bastard’s shit. You know, just a little punishment.” If Schlatt’s fur could pale, it would have.

“No, no, no..Let’s t-talk this out, here..” He shook his head vehemently at the two devious pairs of eyes closing in on him. A pair of hands gently scratched at his ribs, working their way down. They carefully rubbed between the bones, trying to be soft and gentle. The president burst into soft laughter, squirming in his bonds. “Does that tickle, Mr. President? I sure hope so!” Prime, Tubbo’s voice was just so cute. Schlatt didn’t have the heart to be mad at the sweet thing tickling him so kindly. On the other hand...where was Quackity? As if he was summoned by the very thought, the vice president latched onto his hips, kneading them quickly and frenetically. The sudden change made him arch his back with a loud (and rather girly) shriek. A small patch of red bloomed under his fur.

“Was that a shriek? Damn, Ram! Didn’t know you could go falsetto!” Tubbo seemed more impressed than teasy, little stars glimmering in his eyes and a small ‘o’ on his face. The tickling started up again, this time with both of them going a little slower so the ram didn’t just deflate from the sudden sensations. Schlatt decided that this was infinitely worse. The light, almost nonexistent sensations were near unbearable to him. “Cuhuhuhut ihihit ohohut!” The smaller herbivore was quick to answer him. “Cut what out? If you want, I can go faster-”

“Nope! This is a punishment, not a chill session!...Is that what you kids call one of these?” The goat shook his head no.

“Well, fuck. I need a return on that stupid book.” The banter that was occuring was making his ears burn.

“Juhuhust shuhuh-hut thehe fuhuhuck uhuhup!” Quackity didn’t like that. Another round to his hips made him cackle and buck. “You really should shut your mouth for once, Rammy. Maybe you wouldn't have gotten yourself into so much trouble with us in the first place.” He trilled quietly into his ear, breath ghosting on it just enough for it to tickle. Tubbo giggled again, tail wagging with the knowledge (read:interrogation benefits) from one of his cabinet members fresh in his head. “Hey Quackity? According to the nice deer man, Mr. President here has ticklish hooves! He also, uh, can’t stand the light stuff.”

The ram’s eyes bugged out, hot blood rushing to his face. “W-where- what? How? You fucker, who did you bribe-” “No bribes! Just some really, really good convincing~” Quackity purred, feathers ruffling with a sense of pride and a hint of mischief. “Really, really good…” Schlatt shook his head, muttering little ‘no’s under his breath. “Dohohon’t yohohou fuhuhucking dahahare.” Flicking his ears back to ignore the little coos that came from the duck, he focused on Tubbo, eyes pleading for help silently. Tubbo pinned his ears in empathy, but he didn’t move to help him. Instead, the boy pulled out a small, pitch black feather, healthy sheen obvious in the doorway’s light. Positioning himself at the struggling president’s hooves, he made a thumb’s up gesture, avoiding the slightly heated glare of the elder herbivore.

“Sorry, sir. I have to help the one who’s in charge right now.” Feathers puffed up even more, making the duck hybrid look more fluffy and pettable by the second (not that the ram would pet him after this shit. No way). “That’s right, bitch. I’m in charge right now. And I say that we get revenge on this little shit right here.” Quackity took the man’s other ankle into his clutches, placing his finger directly on the squishy, sensitive part of his hoof. It trembled underneath his touch, a small whimper escaping the ram at the extra warmth of anticipation flooded his system.

“Dohon’t fuhucking tehease….”

“Or what, big guy? Kill me? Fire me? You don’t have the balls.”

The finger slowly wiggled its way down his hoof, the owner delighting in the giggles and squirming that it caused. “And, besides, you like this, don’tcha?” He glanced at the man’s tail, the little puff wiggling where it was on the pillows. “I can see your tail, Rammy.” Schlatt turned away from them, trying in vain to shield his red face from view. “S-shuhuhut thehehe fuhuhuck uhuhup!” Tubbo decided to join in on the fun, dragging the feather over the outer parts of his hooves. The resulting flinch and squeal was worth it.

Quackity took it slow, circling the smooth pad on the inside of the hoof and using his nails ever so slightly. It was absolute torture, but Schlatt lived for that type of stuff. His tail thumped violently against the bed as they teased him, giving away his feelings to the duo wrecking him.

“Aww, is Rammy liking this? That’s so cute…~”

“Quackity, his face is so pink! It’s cute!”

Ah, well. There goes his dignity. Another finger traced on his hoof, making his giggles hike up in pitch and volume. The ticklish feeling suffused throughout his whole body, arcing like electricity at his extremities. Nails scratched at his hoof, this time a little faster and aiming to make it as ticklish as physically possible. The feather on his other hoof began to swipe within the more sensitive inner areas. “AHA! IHAhaHA’M SAHAreheHEHEE! PleHEHeaSE!” “are you though?~” He nodded his head frantically through his laughter, tears pricking at his eyes. “MEHEHERCY!” Tubbo and Quackity exchanged a glance. “Think he’s had enough, Tubbo?” “Yeah, I think he has.” He relaxed his shoulders a little in relief. “For now.” Nevermind.

The tickling slowed down, rubbing away the sparking feeling left behind. His giggles subsided slowly as they cooed at him. Schlatt’s tail, however, never stopped wagging, beating the mattress in a steady beat. Quackity untied the knots slowly, smiling at the panting ram. “Had fun, Schlatt?” A glare, then. “Just get me down from here, vice.” “Yes, sir.” And if the deer cabinet member found himself in a sticky situation a very miffed president set up for him, no-one was the wiser. Except for his right-hand men, of course. Who would he be without them?

#Lee!schlatt #ler!quackity #ler!tubbo #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #my writing #tickle fic #i need to find the link for this tmrw morning #sfw tickling

[pa-panda-heroes]

blue hour.

demon!au!dabi x reader nsfw; find the sequel here

Inspired (sorta) by this post. This was initially a 400 followers celebration fic but took so long I got to 500, plus it’s Halloween!! 🎃🎃🎃

i listened to Mothica’s song Blue Hour while i wrote this and honestly fell in love with it. hence the name! please go give her a listen!

Minors, go away. This content is not for you.

Warnings: brief description of kidnapping, tiny mentions of religion (nonspecified tho!) and human sacrifice, injury + blood mention, foul language, brief cremation, Dabi being horny (hehe), Dabi absolutely 100% not using magic on you nope, thigh fucking, orgasm denial, biting, dirty talk, degradation?, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification if you squint?

Words: 14k+

Summary: Kidnapped and held as an offering to an ominous demon, you thought your death was near. Soon enough you find your captor dead and the demon you were offered to becomes your savior. Dabi clearly has plans for you, but what are they? Or was everything just a dream?

Your heartbeat thrummed within your ears, sweat sweltering and becoming a thick layer on your skin all over, making the fabric of your clothes cling to it ever-so-uncomfortably. It felt like you were being smothered from head to toe in fabric. The cooled blood that began just above your temple and trickled all the way down your face and neck had dried by now, acting as a crusty reminder of the reason behind the throbbing in your head. Trees swayed in the chilly winds that passed, making the cool air even colder - yet here you were, sweating like there was no tomorrow. You were bound by the wrists and ankles to a musty wooden pole in a forest you’d never seen before, the sky dark yet bright for the blue moon. The stars looked so free, so beautiful, so serene tonight. Yet you didn’t feel it.

Your breathing was quick, panicked, and hurried to the extent that you’d take in more oxygen by breathing less. Your poor, puffy lip was numb from having been chewed on so much, to the point where you couldn’t remember whether you were a chronic lip biter or not; but you sure were, now. That is, until he gagged you by tying an old handkerchief around your face. You struggled against your scratchy, dry restraints so much, they began to dig into your skin and bleed, sending a trail of blood down your arms and a jolt of burning, throbbing, stinging pain through your nerves.

You were far from alone.  

The only other human body you knew of was the one who put you in the position you currently find yourself in after a night of dancing, booze, and sweat. The inebriation from the alcohol made you an easy target, you guessed. God damn it all.

The night began with your celebrating a friend’s birthday at a club, drinking, dancing, and making merry. You had regretted agreeing to go at first after having a long, agonizingly tiring day at work, which gave you the burning desire to wrap up after a bath and lay in bed until the next day when you’d have to get up again. But as the night progressed, you were glad you tagged along; after all, it was an unexpectedly nice release after a bad day.  

Now you were regretting it again.

If only you hadn’t gone to the club.  

If only hadn’t agreed even if begrudgingly to go.

If only you hadn’t left your apartment.  

You made the mistake of trying to find a bathroom on your own and ended up in an alleyway. The last thing you saw was a filthy dumpster before it all went black, and upon waking you found yourself bound in this horrifying forest.

Around you was a circular dirt clearing bordered with a solid line and filled with various marks made upon it, ones that you’d never seen before. They looked to be of a lost, long-dead language - the language your masked captor was evidently speaking as he sat on his knees with his hands in the air before a makeshift altar of a sort. There was some distance between him and the altar, probably about two meters, that being the same distance he sat from you as you watched in horror.  

He was going to kill you, but not before torturing you - or other things. For some hideous purposes that looked a lot to do with a demon or something. All because you were a virgin that just so happened to cross his path.

You tried making noises, tried screaming, but it made no difference. He wouldn’t stop his hideous chanting and no one could hear you anyway. The thick forest swallowed your every scream and the gag held back your every cry. More tears run down your cheeks at your predicament, your struggling against your binds only digging into and stinging your skin as piping hot blood continued to trail down your tender wrists and ankles. It felt like frostbite was setting in. Was it actually, or was it your nerves? 

A pillar of black smoke began to rise from the ground in front of your masked captor, who then bowed with his forehead to the ground. Your own heart was beating in your ears so quickly you thought it would explode any minute. If only it would - you wouldn’t have to endure this any longer. 

“What... the hell do you want?” you hear a voice boom, distorted in such a way that made it sound like it echoed a thousand times. “Filthy human.” 

“Your favor, my lord. I offer you this virgin.”

You try screaming again, your throat beginning to feel scratchy and dry. It almost felt like it was bleeding. Could it be bleeding? Your mind was almost a haze, now. 

You can see a form emerge from the ground where the black smoke stands, and you’re stunned and scared into total silence as you see the silhouette of two large wings and a pointed tail. Other than that, the silhouette appears mostly human. But it’s not.

“My favor, eh?” you hear the voice again. The silhouette swings his arm and with it vanishes the smoke, and the reality that this... thing isn’t human finally settles in your heart. His hair is black and spiky, there are pieces of what look to be burnt flesh under his minty eyes and the lower half of his face, bound to the unblemished skin by silvery staples that seemed to spit steam. Three dotted piercings adorned his nose, and plenty more his ears. His wings reminded you of a bird’s with feathers and all, and they were a flat charcoal in colour, albeit they seemed a little worse for wear and severely burnt. The demon’s horns poked out from each side of his forehead and curled around like that of a ram’s. He wore a dark, simple cloak.  

You almost wondered if he had goat hooves for feet.

He looks down on the human who summoned him, literally and figuratively, it seemed. His eyes narrow viciously at the man, before jolting to you - and you, honest to all that exists, feel what you can only think of as a bolt of lightning course through every nerve - no, cell - of your body before it feels like your heart stops beating. You can feel the blood coursing in your veins, and it’s ice-cold, all of this forcing you to tense every muscle you’re able. He looks away and you’re instantly back to normal, slouching in your restraints.  

“Is this asshole bothering you, little one?” the voice of what’s clearly a demon rings.

“I-I beg your pardon, m’lord Dabi?” 

“Shut your trap, moron.” Clusters of the brightest, bluest flames you’d ever seen erupt above each of the demon’s eyes and he leans downward to grab the man by his neck, before easily lifting him in the air as the human choked. “Y’know, back in the day, sacrifices in some cultures were an honor. It was seen as a gift, a way to serve ancient -  nonexistent, mind you -  gods. People vied to become a sacrificial lamb. I’m ancient, too, you know that.”

The human man stammers and stutters, trying to say something coherent but failing out of fear.  

Dabi lets the man rest his feet on the ground as he jerks your captor to look at you, and you want to just shrink into yourself. “What the fuck is that, huh? Do you see the fear in her eyes? The bruises covering her body? The blood seeping down her arms as she fights against that rope? Does that look like a willing sacrifice to you? Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think she is willing at all.”

You blink. What? How? Why?

“You piss me off.”

Dabi throws the masked man to the ground away from him, then raising his palm into the air and summoning flames to filter out of the ground. They swallow him hole, and whilst he’s screaming in agony and burning alive, the demon turns on his heel and saunters your way. “Well, this is quite a mess, eh, dear?” His eyebrows are pointed upward, almost as if the gentle tone behind his words is sincere, yet almost as if there is deviance behind them.

You can’t help but gulp at the look in his eyes. Smile and arch his brows as he might, he was still clearly a demon unfitting of your trust. Right? He was going to hurt you. Surely.

His hands reach up for your face and you shut your eyes tight and turn away.

Much to your surprise, fingers work away at the handkerchief splitting open your poor, stretched, and saliva-coated lips, and you nearly gasp at the relief of pressure on them, the ache in your cheeks quite apparent and downright agonizing. Not only that, but the corners of your mouth were rubbed raw, and you weren’t sure if there was saliva mixing with more saliva, or blood mixing with saliva at the site. Dabi drags a finger from the corner of your mouth up to your cheek to wipe away the tears staining your skin, and you have no strength to fight the shiver that runs up your spine as your eyes fall half-lidded.

“Fuck me, you’re lookin’ a bit worse for wear, little one,” you hear him coo. “Easy, babe. You’re alright. That ugly, scary man’s all gone.” He seems to chuckle at the irony, before a toothy smirk splits his lips. His teeth are sharp, certainly enough to puncture skin without much effort, and you shiver again.

You’re quickly relieved of your bounds, but with the little strength you have left, you’re not able to stand on your own and collapse into his chest, spent and sore. He’s warm. It’s... nice. Fuzzy. Cloudy. Soft. Where are you, again? What’s going on? Why is everything spinning?

Everything fades to black.

:·•·:

You groan and turn over in your bed, pulling the fluffy covers up closer to your head as your body ached. You were warm and settled in, nothing could make you leave the comforts of your bed, yet you knew you needed to. To explain the achy joints, you tried reminiscing the night before. You remembered that night. Parts of it, anyway. When you tried to remember the feeling of being bound or the blood trickling down your wrists, nothing came up. When you tried remembering the chanting of your captor - nothing. It seemed that any parts which could be deemed... unsavory were gone from your memory. You brought your wrists up and felt around them and-

Also gone were any wounds.

It was odd. You could remember it all happening, but at the same time, you couldn’t. Must’ve been some whacked out dream induced by the alcohol.

You had no want to, but you sat up in bed and reached over to your nightstand to switch he clock around so you could see it. It read about half an hour after midday, and you sighed. How long were you asleep? You picked up your phone from the nightstand and switched it on, your heart leaping into your throat at the amount of notifications. Texts, emails, calls, there were dozens upon dozens of them.

“How long was I asleep?!” you shriek.

“Enough to nearly get evicted.”

Your head jolts up so quickly you hear your neck crack, and you see the demon leaning against the wall in front of your bed. You can’t help but gasp and scoot away, your back banging against the headboard of your bed. It wasn’t a dream.

He waves his hand lazily. “But don’t worry, I got it covered. Congrats, you have free rent for life, now.” His wings, horns, and tail are all gone, and he almost looks human, save for the staples and scars. You guess he can’t change his appearance much. Perhaps he doesn’t want to.

The teeth showing off from his smirk look just as sharp as before, however.

Your eyes are drawn to the huggies piercing the cartilage of his ears. They’re as shiny and plentiful as you remember. Your heart rate spikes, and you begin to breathe heavily.

“That soreness is probably from you bein’ out so long, sweets,” he comments, arms crossed in front of his chest, his right ankle also crossed over his left. His voice is smooth and a clear attempt at comforting you - yet there’s something behind it.

“Th-thank you. For saving me, and... the rent... I guess.” You hoped he would leave if you thanked him. Why else would he stick around?

He only shrugs, though. “Sorry, little one, but you’re not special. That sacrifice wasn’t done right in the first place.”

‘Ouch!’

Ah, you remembered that, now. But you couldn’t remember his name.

“What’s your name?” you ask hesitantly. He’s obviously not going to kill you by now. Why would he stick around?

“Dabi.”

“That’s it?” You tilt your head. You were surprised at how... nonchalant you were beginning to feel about this. The longer he stood there, the more it felt normal.

“That’s it, dollface.”

:·•��:

He ended up not having goat hooves for feet.

You knew there was a catch to being saved by that demonic bastard.

Aside from the fact that he wouldn’t leave you alone, keeping a demon cooped up in your apartment wasn’t easy. It especially wasn’t easy when said demon was constantly on your heels, pressed right up against your back. Personal space was not in his vocabulary. Dabi was constantly up to something, and he loved to harass or scare your neighbors with his devilish form; it was just too easy. “What else have I got to do while you’re gone all day?” he’d say. “Gotta entertain myself, somehow, doll.”

Apparently, it had been a long time since someone had summoned him at all, let alone with an offering of some kind. He hadn’t seen the mortal realm in hundreds of years, and because you were offered to him, he decided to stick around you. You only agreed to it as long as he never left your apartment.

Well, technically. He wasn’t actually giving you a choice, he was going to stick around anyway. Dabi so loved giving innocent mortals the impression that they were in control when they never truly were. The demon practically got off on the idea of giving a helpless little thing like you a false sense of security.

Having him essentially stuck to your hip, you couldn’t let him cause any trouble with the human world, be it harmless pranks or downright murder; hence why you left a line of salt in front of every opening to your place one day, to keep him home. He was a curious demon, a sketchy one.

And a bit of a horny one, at that.

If the groping or peeking in on your showers wasn’t enough of a clue, the fact that he did everything else in his power to seduce you certainly was.

Demons don’t sleep. They’re immortal, they don’t need to. Yet, as you lay snuggled up in your bed at night, he always snuck in with you to poke and prod at you, the exchange usually ending with you kicking him out of bed - sometimes literally. Other times, he’d randomly lean into your ear and say the filthiest things you’d ever heard - and then some, obviously - to get a rise out of you, giving him the opportunity to tease you about unconsciously clenching your thighs, whether it was for friction or out of denial.

You were starting to think he was a damn incubus.

But no, he denied that. He looked almost insulted when you made the insinuation before explaining that incubi and succubi are one and the same, changing back and forth between male and female. First as a succubus, the demon collects... “seed,” and then transforms into an incubus to “plant” it. He could change his physical appearance if he so wished, but he never had much want or need to, save for hiding away or using his devilish form; nor could he procreate, he was so proud to tell you.

It seemed the fact that you were a virgin only spurred him on to seduce you. With Dabi being the vile and damned being that he is, you thought he wouldn’t give a damn (ha) if you consented or not at first. The thought was honestly horrifying. Yet not once had he forced you or went too far. It was “poor taste,” he once said, there being no fun in it. You wondered if his rule of consenting sacrifices played a part in his discipline.

And of course, Dabi would go on about how badly he, a demon, an unsavory being to say the least, wanted to be the one to take your virginity and “defile” you, “the pure, innocent treat that you are.”

Defile? Really?

And treat?

‘Pick better wording next time you sex-starved, pointy-tail-having, staple-wearing, horned son of a bitch,’ you thought sarcastically, shoving dishes into their proper places after having dried them. He’d left you alone for most of the day, talking to you and treating you like he was a normal human being. ‘Then, maybe I’d consider letting you get your dick wet.’

Would you, though?

Nah...

Right.

One of the plates was a little wet still, and managed to slip out of your hand and shatter on the counter in front of you. You yelped when a shard cut into your palm after you’d instinctively reached to catch the plate, failing miserably. “Dammit,” you mutter, holding your left hand up to inspect the cut. From the looks of it, no stitches were needed, but it still stung like hell.

You should’ve known better than to think he cooled his jets for the day, because in an instant he’s standing next to your left side and reaching for your wrist.

“It’s fine, just a tiny cut,” you mutter, quirking a brow as he seemingly glares at the wound. “I think I’ve got a first-aid kit somewhere... Have to keep it clean, at least.”

“Nah, don’t need it,” he mutters, before pulling your hand toward his mouth. His tongue slithers out from between his lips and drags along the cut in your palm, the wet appendage searing against your skin.

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation, and yet another soars when you see the hungry, predatory look in his eyes, which are fixed on your wound. You can’t help the gulp that sounds from your tight throat, or the yelp that fights out of your lips when his whole mouth latches onto the fatty part of your thumb where the cut is. Your knees begin to feel weak and your eyes fall half-lidded.

Dabi sucks on the flesh there, licking the wound occasionally as well. His eyes then flicker to yours, and they burn into you like no other ever has. You feel the heat of a blush trail up your neck and to your cheeks and ears, your heart thrumming in your chest and lips slowly falling open just a tad as he licks away at the opening in your skin.

“Ah-“

The demon pulls away with a pop from one final suck of your flesh, whilst a trail of his saliva - do demons have saliva?! - hung between your hand and his mouth. “See? Take a look.” He pushes your hand towards your view, and amidst the clear wetness on your skin, you see no wound at all.

Your mind flips back to the wounds you should have had from that night.

“Back then... did you... y’know...”

“Naah. There’s spells and the like for bigger stuff like that,” he explains nonchalantly with a shrug. He almost seems proud of himself with his next line. “Tiny paper cuts like this can be taken care of with good ol’ fashioned demon spit. It’s nice, huh?”

You deadpan at him. “No, it’s totally gross.”

Dabi chuckles at you, waving a hand as if to wave you off. “Admit it. Your virgin ass enjoyed it.” His words are crass, but you know he’s only teasing and they’re not meant to insult.

Yet it still riles you up.

That heat crawls up your neck again, and you huff at him. “Shut up!” you gripe, then turning away from him to at least try to clean up the dish shards. There was nothing wrong with being a virgin! A lot of people wait for the right person, or they just aren’t ready. People have their reasons, and there’s no shame in it! Just like there’s no shame in being the opposite. As long as it’s healthy, that’s all that matters!

“Jerk! You seem to forget whose apartment you’re squatting in!” you grumble, scooting the pieces of the plate you broke together - ever so gently - with a washcloth from the sink. “I could kick you out, y’know.” You forgot for a short moment that he managed to achieve free rent for life for you, but you told yourself it wouldn’t matter anyway. It was still your apartment, after all.

“Really, now?” The demon scoffs, then leaning against the counter and crossing his arms - clearly at you. “How would you go about that, little mouse?” His tone is unconvinced and sultry, the look on his face painted with doubt.

You avoided eye contact with him and perused the kitchen for a plastic bag before marching back to the mess of plate shards and trying to sweep them off the counter and into the bag. “I’d exorcise you,” you mutter. Finding a priest in this area would prove difficult, but you could manage to find one willing to travel. You could do it if needed.

Dabi only laughs you off, though. The sound is smooth and velvety, yet you’re left to describe it as littered with smoke and ecstasy. “C’mon, doll! That wouldn’t work,” he says finally. “Besides, we both know you don’t wanna do that. You like havin’ my sorry ass around too much, eh?”

“Ha! You’re right about you being a sorry ass,” you sass with a huff before tossing the bag into the waste-bin.

Oddly enough, while you’d never tell Dabi this and end up stroking his already massive ego, you felt safer with him around. It was hard to pinpoint why. Nothing had happened for him to be called to protect you; however, you lived in a less than savory part of town, which wasn’t entirely unbearable, but shit still happens. And you’ve already been abducted once, leading to your acquaintance with this horny (I’m more ways than one) asshole. Maybe it was because you knew part of what he can do, all that aside. Push comes to shove, he’d protect you, right?

That was a nice thought to have, if a bit naive, you thought.

He was a demon, not a guardian angel of some sort. He had no obligations to you.

Yet here he was, still living with you over a month after that awful night.

Your thoughts are completely swept away when you’re pushed by the hips against the counter with your back to it, your hands instinctively bracing the edge on each side of your hips for support. The demon’s face is immediately in front of yours, his breath easily filling your nostrils with an ashen smell. You see those horns of his again and have to fight the urge to reach up and grab one, maybe even give it a tug. He’d probably cremate you for it.

Could he hear your thoughts? Previous instances somewhat insinuated that he could, but he never admitted to it - or denied it.

Dabi was right. You don’t want to get rid of him. Especially not when he’s looking at you like that. There is an intensity in those half-lidded, fiery eyes of his that has never before been directed at you by anyone, and it leaves you wishing you could read his thoughts. Are his eyes merely looking at your own, or are they bearing into your soul, calculating and appraising it?

What you can tell is that it’s full of impatience and want. Greed. Lust. And so much of it all.

You tilt your chin down a bit and look up at him with a gulp quietly. You can’t think of anything to say, and tension builds within your chest as you search; you feel as if that silence ought to be filled, yet here you are, at a loss for words as you stare at your own reflection in his glossy eyes. On the other hand, he seems totally content letting you lie in it, letting you squirm for him as he smirks.

And so you look away, bringing your hands to your chest and holding them there bashfully. The sleeves of your sweater are soft and warm and plush - just how Dabi would describe you right now.

This maneuver of yours not being what he wanted, Dabi scowls a bit and grabs your chin to essentially force you to look at him, his thumb ghosting over the softness of your lower lip. He tilts his head at you almost curiously, perhaps evaluating your reaction as it’s been so long since he has seen or felt the mortal world. Those eyes narrow at you, though not out of ire. Dabi’s thumb pokes at the crevice between your lips, and the rest of his fingers on your jaw tug downward.

Confused, you comply anyway and part your lips for him, only for his thumb to invade your mouth and press hard on your tongue, coaxing you to gag and instinctively grasp both hands on his wrist. You attempt to pull it away, to relieve the pressure in your mouth, but he doesn’t want that.

Hell, in reality, neither do you. You just don’t feel like gagging and clouding your vision with tears.

Aw, you poor dear.

With a contemplative hum he pulls his appendage out of your mouth and holds it not far from your mouth, as if planning another venture into your wet cavern. You can’t help but stare at the string of saliva still connecting your lips and his hand as it glistens in the low lighting of your kitchenette.

“Open back up for me,” he huskily demands, but it’s not cruel and dictating, so you comply, entranced as if under a spell. But you know you’re not. This time, it’s his forefinger and middle finger that roam between your teeth, and as if he had told you to do so telepathically, you close your lips around them. With an innocent, doll-eyed look, you suck his fingers and lick at them with your tongue, earning yourself hushed praises and a searing trail of touches up your ribcage and back down. You continue to lick away, occasionally wrapping your tongue around his digits or cradling them as you suck on them, coating them in your saliva as some of it trails out one of the corners of your mouth. They feel cold, as if there was a lack of circulation, and it only spurs you on to warm them with the toasty cavern of your mouth and soft plushness of your tongue.

You’re sure you’re less than apt at this, but the praise and touch you’re receiving helps you feel less... off.

Dabi leans in for your ear, his hot breath against your cartilage sending a chill down your spine before his wet tongue laps at it, and you jump in your skin at the burning, completely unknown sensation. It’s so hot it almost stings, but it’s not painful; tingly, maybe. In the process you lean away to your left a bit, at which he seems to pause. But then you lean back as if to tell him to go on, and you can nearly hear the simper he gives just before he latches onto your ear, licking and nibbling away as you tremble and whimper around his fingers. The heat at your core throbs in tandem with your racing heartbeat, creating a melody of your arousal that you hoped only you could witness.

But you knew better than to doubt the senses of a demon.

“You’re doin’ good, doll,” he breathes into your ear, aggravating the sound of blood flushing through your ears and the thump of your heartbeat. “Such a good girl for me...”

The digits in your mouth get a little adventurous and explore your wet cavern a bit, but they’re quick to push down on your tongue again and you gag around them. Tears start to pool within your eyelids and your whimper is stuck in your throat.

The demon then unceremoniously pulls his fingers from your mouth to reach down at the hem of your sweater and yank it up over the swell of your chest, leaving your torso and bra-covered breasts bare. Dabi seems to drink up the sight of you as if it were a sweet wine he hadn’t indulged in for centuries. Both his hands then trail ghostly fingers - really, they felt like spiders - up your belly and to your sternum. You shiver and a mewl fights out of your throat unexpectedly, your back arching unintentionally toward him as you clutch onto his forearms. Dabi lets out a hot breath, just thereafter his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your bra as he grinds his pelvis against yours, the outline of his hardened cock clear as day against you. You don’t even try to fight back the moan it elicits as your head droops back at the stimulation.

Why bother, right?

The inhuman entity before you takes the opportunity to use your open mouth, his own latching into yours and tongue exploring your mouth in a battle for dominance you have absolutely no hope to win as he makes a mushy mess of you. You accidentally lacerate your tongue on the sharp point of one of Dabi’s teeth and flinch a bit, the sting on your tongue nearly coaxing you to pull away while the taste of iron floods your mouths. That tase you could certainly live without only encourages him, as Dabi growls and grips the base of your neck to hold your head in place as he quite metaphorically devours your tongue with his own, before his teeth latch onto your lower lip and you squeak in surprise as he pulls away.

“Aw, what’s’a matter, little mouse?” Dabi taunts, left palm dropping to rub against your clothed sex.

“Ah, Dabi-!” You jolt at the sudden stimulation on your clit and breathe in hard. Even if there are a couple layers keeping his bare hand from touching you, if feels damn good to have someone else touch you like this. Ripples of warmth flood through you and you feel your body temperature rocketing. Your own breath feels as though it’s on fire as it leaves your heavily salivated mouth and bloody lips in rabid succession, alongside your increasingly rapid heartbeat. Your grip on his firm arms tightens and you resist the urge to grind against him as he continues his ministrations. “Fuck...”  Your lips throbbed, yet you weren’t sure if it was from the tiny wounds he created or your blood pressure spiking.

“Hm?” The demon hums, inquisitive and high in pitch - yet maybe condescending. “‘Fuck,’ huh?” His grip on the back of your neck relaxes only slightly before his tongue pokes out of his mouth and drags along your lower lip, lapping away at the blood pooling there and drawing a slight whine from you. “What about it? You sayin’ you want me to fuck you, doll? Tell me.”

Blood rushes to your face like there was a race and your eyes wander from his bashfully, instead choosing to look at the horns cutting through his spiky black hair. He’s right, you do, you have to admit it. But admitting it out loud was embarrassing! With a gulp you elect to simply nod, but his brows furrow and he’s clearly unimpressed considering the animalistic growl that claws out of his throat.

“Hey, I’ve been locked away from you humans for so long, y’know,” he breathes, his voice dark and low. “I’m a bit behind on gestures. You have to tell me.” This time, you can tell by the almost playful tone of his voice that he’s really lying and just trying to make you admit it aloud. Dabi’s palm leaves you before moving up to the waistband of your jeans while his other hand snakes up your neck and latches onto a fistful of your hair. “C’mon, say it. Where’s all that spunk from earlier? You’re all bark and no bite, little one.”

“Y-yes, Dabi. I... I want you to fuck me.” You finally meet his eyes again, and the hunger in them from before hasn’t faded at all; it’s only deepened. What else has changed was the hunger and arousal in your own eyes.

That smirk appears again and Dabi leans into your ear. “You want me to fuck you,” he parrots, “do you? You want my demon cock to take your virginity and fill you up? You want me to fuck you against this counter until your voice gives out? You’re a slut after all, little one. Beg like one, then.”

Your thighs clench together and you gulp. This was... not how you fantasized your first time to carry out. “Demon cock” was not something you’d ever thought you would hear someone say.

But who cares? Not you.

“Yes, please. Please!” You tug at his jacket in an attempt to coax him toward you, your knuckles turning white from your grip. “Please, fuck me with your demon cock...” Your this time voice is less loud and demanding, albeit it’s more desperate and pleading. “Please.” Your voice breaks this time.

Nor was it something you thought you would ever say.

A groan rumbles from Dabi’s chest. “Good little human. Keep it up, yeah?”

You squeak as he roughly yanks your sweater over your head before working to unbutton your jeans, his lips and teeth savoring your neck all the while. Your head cranes back again, a mute gasp leaving you at the sensation of his searing tongue on your recently sweat-slicked neck as his fingers work to remove your bra before they move onto yanking your panties down. At least, you thought he yanked them down, but a quick glance to the floor revealed he ripped them off, rendering them unusable.

“I liked those!” you whine, still panting.

“Tough luck. I didn’t.” It’s not like you need to wear panties around him anyway. He’d burn every pair you owned to mere ashes if it meant getting you to waltz around your apartment with no panties. They just got in the way.

“Daabi! Why would you-

“Oh god!”

You jump and thrust against Dabi’s hand when his fingers run through the slick of your soaked cunt, your breathing ragged, while he gathers the slick abundant there and edges toward your clit. His tactic coaxes ripples of pleasure that lull a low moan out of you.

“Ha,” he scoffs in your ear, “no gods have anything to do with it, babydoll.”

Dabi’s fingers finally work their way to your clit and circle around it a few times before rubbing in a steady rhythm around it. You moan at the combination of the bliss he gives you and the pet name, and your legs instinctively open wider for him as you mewl.

“I’m really not sure you are a virgin, doll,” he starts with a chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ soaked, you know that? Like a slut begging for my dick.”

“D-Dabi!” You flinch at the sinful words he’s spitting at you, embarrassed.

The demon’s digits leave your clit and trail back through your folds, and the wet, lewd sounds that result almost surprise you more than the fact that you want to fuck a demon. You buck your hips in hopes of encouraging his fingers back to your clit, albeit his other hand distracts you with a flick to your nipple, before it rubs circles over the sensitive nub as the rest of his hand palms at your tit.

“Ah, feels so good,” you find yourself muttering.

In response his ear seems to twitch. “Speak up.” His lips are sucking and nipping at your neck, either ignoring or enjoying the layer of sweat built up on your skin as the heat coming from his body begins to overwhelm you. Not that you mind either way. He’s definitely leaving a mark here and there as he works around your neck. Not that you mind either way.

“Your fingers... ah, feel so good!” Your head cranes backward, your hands dropping to the counter against your ass for support as your legs begin to feel weak. The shockwaves of pleasure his hands send through your nerves leaves you feeling weak and mushy.

“Good. Now hold still.”

You give a confused look, eyebrows pointed upward before you feel the tip of his digit poke at your weeping hole, eliciting a loud gasp from you when his finger plunges into your pussy with no reserve. You hiss at the sudden intrusion, you walls stretching pleasurably yet painfully as he slowly moves his finger around, letting you adjust. His other hand merely plays with your breast.

Biting your lip, you lean forward and plant your sweaty, flushed forehead on his shoulder. “Hey, it kinda hurts,” you whine.

“Just relax, doll.” Dabi’s voice isn’t as crass as it was before, nor is it entirely soothing. You figure he just doesn’t have it in him to coddle you, being a demon and all that.

You whimper as Dabi ever so slowly thrusts his finger in and out, the mixture of pleasure and pain not at all what you’d expected. When his finger hits a spongy spot, you jolt and moan for him, and he takes the opportunity to take over your mouth again in a wet, hurried kiss with a groan. Dabi swallows any and all sounds that you make, and in the process you feel the hand on your tit move downward to your hip before it swings around and wraps under your thigh to lift your knee up to his hip level. The muscles of your legs tensing and the choked moan in your throat tell him the pain is starting to very slowly fade away. At the realization, he carefully dips another finger into you and you moan, higher in pitch, into his mouth before he pulls away to stare at the sight of his fingers fucking into you for only a short moment. Dabi is then quick to shove his tongue back into your salivating mouth.

The lithe digits within your wet walls pick up pace gradually, giving you time to adjust and not barreling into you. By now there is still a barely-there stretch, and all the pain has essentially faded as the assault on your nerves takes place and you near an orgasm. Your eyes lull shut and your head cranes back, your hips almost thrusting involuntarily on his fingers as his pace keeps increasing and pushing you over the edge.

“I’m- ah, I think I’m...”

Dabi hums as if requesting you repeat yourself or perhaps simply acknowledging your sputtering, but you’re too busy moaning louder and and thrusting into the palm of his hand, to do so, as the coil between your legs tightens. His fingers graze over that same spot as before and you cry out for him, for which his fingers increase their pace even more rapidly and slam into that spot over and over and over again as he groans at the lewd, wet squelching resulting.

“Shit! I’m gonna cum, Dabi, I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it. Cum for me, babydoll.” His voice is much more authoritative and huskier, and as per Dabi’s demand you cry out almost loud enough for your neighbors to hear as your orgasm slams into you like a tsunami of pleasure crashing into your nerves. Your soft, hot walls convulse around his fingers in your release as he uses them to fuck you through your first orgasm of the night, with your hips still thrusting toward him uncontrollably as you go through your high and begin to climb down, panting.

Your head feels light in the best way possible and your legs are weak, so you whine lowly as he pulls his fingers from your heat with a pleased sigh. The second your legs give out, he catches you by the ribs before grabbing your trembling hips and lifting you onto the counter, with you latching onto him and holding tight all the while, your forehead on his shoulder and arms around his neck while your legs wrap around his hips.

Dabi drags the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, sending a jolt of calming, electric waves up your spinal cord as he repeatedly kisses your hair and ear on the side accessible to him.

“Atta girl,” he mutters into your hair.

Do you... thank him? He’s giving you a compliment, after all, right? Do you nod? Do you hum? You have the energy to do all three, but what response does he expect of you?

“I didn’t... do anything,” you mutter quietly, chest rising and falling in quick succession.

“Technically. Doesn’t matter because you will, soon.” He leans into your ear like he’s so fond of doing, his lips grazing your earlobe. “We’re not done, doll.”

Your legs twitch around him unconsciously, eliciting a deep, amused chuckle from the demon.

You see pointed pearly whites bear at you before he lifts you off the countertop and plops you down in front of him. Dabi’s hand squeezes your ass cheek, said hand then spinning you around to put your back to his chest. Searing breath on the back of your ear makes it twitch. “You’re wet and all, doll, but I’m not sure you’re wet enough,” he taunts, his hands splaying out on your abdomen and gently roaming around, fingers spread wide as they adore your body.

“For what?” Dabi’s chest against your back prevents you from turning around and giving him a confused look.

“My cock. What else?” he jabs.

Your curt reply is totally cut off and forgotten when you feel a wet tongue singe the side of your neck toward the back, and you gasp shakily.

“What to do, what to do...?” you hear Dabi whisper into your now-pebbled skin, his hands ghosting down toward your thighs.

“Oh.”

Remaining silent yourself, you could feel the damn lightbulb light up in the bastard’s horned head, but you didn’t know what exactly would entail.

Before you can ask what the hell he was on about, his fingers drove between your glistening  folds and prod around, as if measuring the lewd slick settling there. They quickly pull away after a quick hum from Dabi.

“Be a good little human and bend over, yeah?”

Without a word or thought against it you comply, bending over your countertop and leaning on your elbows a little. You gulp at the thought of your leaking cunt bearing for Dabi. You weren’t sure what he could see from this position, but you were a little embarrassed, nonetheless. With a gulp you shift your weight back and forth on your feet nervously.

Hands rub and palm at your ass cheeks as thumbs rub deeply into your flesh in a symphony of soothing touch. You sigh blissfully and spread your legs for the demon without realizing, but it’s over all too quickly when he instead moves your legs back together. You crane your neck to look at him. “Wha...?”

Wasn’t he going to fuck you from behind?

Suddenly the weeping tip of his cock slips between your thighs, gliding against your dripping cunt and through your folds. There’s no piercing despite his many others, though perhaps that was why he asked you to take him to a parlor not long ago.

Dabi’s cock manages to grace your clit and your body unwillingly jolts a little, still having been sensitive from your previous orgasm. A soft gasp leaves your swollen lips and you hear Dabi growl behind you while he pulls back from your ass end only to jut forward again. Legs beginning to tire out, you unconsciously spread them, only for his hands to push them together roughly.

“Don’t fuckin’ spread ‘em,” he hissed, hips holding still. The fingers on your thighs push deep with force sure to leave bruises while you hiss quietly at the stinging pain they bring to your nerves. But that sensation is quick to fade into something warm and euphoric yet electric and sensitive, causing your head to spin even though he’s not fucking your desperate pussy. He pistons his hips into your ass, and you mewl.

“That’s your last warning, fuck!” he grunts.

You nod vigorously, content with letting him fuck your thighs so long as he keeps grazing your puffy clit like this. His pace quickens and soon enough you hear loud skin slapping against skin, his hips jutting into your ass and balls pattering against the crevice between the soft flesh of your thighs. The quick pace and silkiness of his cock against your clit is euphoric, leaving you to wonder if it would be better than this if he were inside of you. Are you drooling? Your head droops lazily as you revel in pleasure.

The wetness and heat between your legs has increased several-fold, but it’s apparently not enough for Dabi. Your poor body rocks against the counter and your eyes are clenched shut, head fixated on the sensation of his cock grinding against your cunt and between your soft, drenched thighs. You weren’t sure if it was the position or your nerves going haywire, but your legs ached with a dreadful burn.

“D-Daaabi,” you whine pitifully, “my legs... aah, hurt...!”

A hand jumps to your navel and brings you back toward him to allow room for his fingers slithering to your cunt. Before they graze over your clit, they stop. “Cum for me, then,” you hear him command, voice deep and breathy and sending a chill up your spine. “Maybe when you’re done, I’ll take you to the bed and fuck you into the mattress. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, doll?”

“Yes, b-but,” you suck in a breath when his hand envelops your tit, “‘maybe?’” You parrot the word desperately, your head going blank as you near orgasm.

“Mhm.” You can hear the smirk in it, and the sound of the hum rumbling in his chest is oddly euphoric for you to hear.

You hated having him behind you like this. All you wanted in the moment was to latch onto him and relish in his heat no matter how intense it would be for a mortal like you. You wanted to touch him, to be able to see him, and he was depriving you of it all - very likely on purpose.

Your moans and squeals get higher in pitch and Dabi evidently picks up on your cues, thrusting against your cunt faster and faster until your entire body tenses.

You cry out his name ever so quietly, yet before you can climax he pulls away and leaves you panting and weeping, a whine escaping your throat. “But you told me...!”

“Changed my mind.”

“You’re a jerk!” you half-gripe and half-whine, standing up to glare at him. “I was so... so close, you know! You better make it up to me!” You huff and puff from the intensity of almost cumming.

“You’re awful feisty when I’m not touching you,” he remarks cockily.

You’re going to regret saying what you said. At least, that’s what the look in his eyes tells you when he spins you around. It’s dark and already you shrink in front of him. The next thing you know, Dabi’s pushing you against the counter and mumbling something into you ear, that something being an incantation that sends a trickle of electricity though every nerve of your body. Suddenly you’re cumming hard as heavy waves of pleasure wrack your cunt clenching around nothing rapidly as whatever the demon used on you pushes you through your orgasm, your toes curling and lips shrieking, head falling back so fast it almost slammed into the cabinet if he hadn’t caught it. You don’t register that you had wrapped your arms around his waist until his hands grasp them as if holding you there.

“How’s that for makin’ it up to you, eh?”

With his voice pulling a moan out of you, your poor brain goes foggy and full and it spins within your skull as you pant away, your body feeling heavy. Dabi grabs hold of you and lifts you onto the countertop when it seems like your legs are going to give out. “Hey,” he mutters into your sweaty neck, “don’t tire out on me. I wanna fill that pussy up with my cum ‘til it’s dripping out.”

You feel heat rush from your heaving chest up your neck to your cheeks. “Stop... that! You pervert.”

Dabi chuckles at you. You weren’t prudish, you were inexperienced. “What? Stop what, hm?”

“Talking like... that.”

He only hums, though, and he’s not to comply with your request. “Ya know, if you weren’t a virgin, I’d take your ass, too. Or put you on your knees and shove my cock down your throat until you’re chokin’ on it. Fuck, you’d sound like an angel.” Dabi chuckles at his ironic comparison, seemingly proud of himself for it.

You shrink in front of him and shiver, the room feeling so cold. You glance at your bedroom door and he notices promptly.

“I’ll carry you, for a price.”

Your eyes flicker back to him and the simper he flashes you would’ve had you weak in the knees had you been standing.

“Like what, my soul?” It’s a slightly genuine, slightly snarky question.

“Your mouth.” Dabi waves a hand at your widened eyes. “Not tonight. Maybe next time. You won’t know up from down and I don’t feel like playing teacher more than I already am.”

The demon doesn’t wait for your snarky remark before he picks you up and lugs you to your bed. You let out a noise when he literally drops you onto the mattress, your form bouncing atop it before he pins you to the bed roughly, so quickly you get dizzy. He dips his hips between your legs and spreads them wide while his mouth delves into the crook of your sweat-coated neck to let him begin suckling and leaving stinging marks with sweet, little kisses peppered in between.

It seems he’s suddenly gone soft on you, but it won’t last, even if you don’t know it.

Your back arches against him, ready to finally feel his torrid body against yours so that you can relish in his warmth despite the fact that your body was soaked in sweat; you wanted so much more, you needed it. Your next moan is dealt without a care who can hear, and thereafter with you wrap your arms around his neck tightly. Dabi grabs your hips and squeezes the plump flesh before his hands roam down your thighs to your knees as he hikes your legs around his hips, with you far too eager not to comply.

“Dabi,” you breathe, and he hums with one of his hands still on your hip as the other supports his weight by your shoulder. “Kiss me. Please.” Your voice is desperate and needy, and you’re starting to think this is more than lust pushing you on.

Had he used another demonic spell on you?

When Dabi complies, his hips grind against you to allow his hardened cock to nudge the folds of your glistening pussy.

This time around, with his tongue prodding in your mouth at a slower, more passionate pace, you catch on and realize he has a tongue piercing. Your walls clench at the thought of what it would feel like licking stripes up and down your soaked cunt, wondering whether it would be cool to the touch or searing hot due to his body temperature.

Searing hot would be the answer, though you don’t know that as of now.

The demon grinds against you as he devours your mouth with his own, his weeping cock sliding through your your wet folds. On the other hand you’re careful not to cut your tongue on his teeth again, albeit he wouldn’t complain if you did; if anything he’d encourage it. Your hands splay on his hot back, and you wonder that if leaving them on his searing skin for too long will burn you. If it gave you the opportunity to roam your fingers over his muscles and caress the staples, goddamn would it be worth the burns. With a sigh into his mouth your hands move from his back to grab onto those horns you’d thought about, your grip gentle yet exploring as you try to focus on feeling the rough texture of them.

Dabi pulls away from you to pepper open-mouthed kisses among your jawline, growling all the while. “What’re you doing?” he brusquely asks between the wet gestures, and you croon. His voice was so rough and gravelly while the gestures were soft and... sweet. You almost dare to say it was heavenly.

“Just feelin’ ‘em, babydoll.”

You throw his pet name back at him purposefully, and the mockery elicits a dark chuckle from him. Ever so slowly, you were beginning to learn how to be more brazen. You were getting comfortable with him on this intimate level. You’d already been comfortable in some way with him living forcibly in your apartment for over a month, but not on this level, not like this.

The stapled hand on your leg disappears before it reappears in your hair and gives a pull - not a yank - to tilt your head back and further expose your neck. You expect him to ravage it with his mouth like earlier, but he stopped to admire his apparent handiwork. You can’t see the marks he’s left, albeit he’s apparently satisfied as he smirks.

“What’re you doing?” you mimic him playfully.

“Thinkin’ about how I want you, of course.” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

In response, you huff at him.

“Let’s see,” he begins, moving closer to you, his breath fanning the lower half of your face as his eyes bore into your soul, “chest up against the wall, or on your hands and knees... hell, maybe just your knees...” He moves down so that his breath reaches just under your jaw, his eyes still staring intensely up at you while his hand slithers to your tit, rolling the hardened bud under his finger and you mewl. “...could always put you in a mating press and fuck you like a bitch in heat... I might even let you get on top, if you’re a good girl. Decisions, decisions, eh?”

“What,” you huff, “you mean, with all that whoring and harassing you did, you never thought this through?” You mirror his smirk with your own quirked brow while you rub the horns on his head, thoroughly enjoying their soft yet rippled texture.

“Oho, that’s the problem, doll. I’ve thought about it too much.” Dabi’s teeth put on a show for you to see from his widening smirk. Next thing you know, his fingers are pinching and tugging your nipple roughly for the first time and you keen under him from the shock before his wet mouth matches onto your other tit, tongue lulling over the bud. You mewl and flick your head back, chest heaving in your panting as you feel him suction onto your plump skin and suck away with a sopping, hot mouth, his low sigh into your skin blissful.

Your hands drop to his shoulders as a result of the distraction his mouth brings. Demonic saliva coats your tit and glistens in what little silvery moonlight filters through your blinds, all while you feel the pull of your leg over his right shoulder and prodding at your weeping heat with the tip of his cock.

“Ya know what?” he murmurs into your skin, “I wanna see these lovely tits of yours bounce.” With his other hand he guides the tip in and gives a moan at how warm and slick the entrance of your cunt is around him. And tight as hell, too. Of all the summons he could’ve answered, he answered the one that, unbeknownst to Dabi, lead to you, just on a whim. And fuck, if it wasn’t worth it.

You whine and writhe underneath him, needy as can be, as your entrance clenches around the head of his cock.

“Use your words, babydoll.”

You groan at him. “Just please hurry up and fuck me!”

“Your wish is my command...” Dabi’s voice is full of tease and mockery, which makes you want to bite his tongue.

Without any warning he sheaths his cock all the way into you as a groan escapes his throat, and you jolt at the sensation of suddenly being so goddamned full, your lustful gasp resonating off the walls of your bedroom. That one hard pump of his hips sends a wave up pleasure through your nervous system and the stretch of your tight walls leaves you wanting more. He’s much longer and thicker than his fingers, and you can’t help your cunt clenching around him like it does. The subconscious movement has Dabi groaning and panting out as you clench on his cock, and he still can’t help but relish in how fucking worth the wait you are.

That stretch of your cunt is back again, sweet and sinful as before. His cock brushes against all the right places, filling you up perfectly and having you drool for more.

Dabi holds still at least, though you can tell it won’t be for long.

“So goddamned tight,” he spits through his teeth against your neck, fighting the demanding of every cell in his body to fuck you like a rabid animal. Dabi’s hot breath fans over your neck, his teeth clenching as a result of your tightness around him.

His hips slowly start pushing and pulling to gently thrust his throbbing cock in and out of you, slowly letting you adjust before he can pick a normal pace.

...is what you thought he would do.

But nay, he begins with slow and agonizingly yet blissfully hard thrusts into your wet core, his grunts being drowned out by your wails and mewls as he slams into your sopping cunt. The lewd sounds of wet skin slapping slowly against skin and hot squelching mixes into it all, creating a melody of sin only you and Dabi share, that only the two of you can hear.

You were definitely going to hell, by now. But hey, good dick seemed worth the eternal damnation. Right?

With one particularly hard thrust, Dabi bites into the crook between your neck and shoulder, unexpectedly not breaking the skin, eliciting a cry from your parched throat and your eyes shut tight. The teeth latching onto your skin feel less sharp and more human, as he’s morphed them not to tear into your flesh and draw blood. He’d never hear the end of it for getting blood on your sheets, he knew that. Besides, if he wasn’t careful it would kill you.

He doesn’t want that happening again. Ugh. That was a godsforsaken mess - literally.

With every pounce of his hips, your tits bounce on your chest like he set out to do and he was sure to take in the sight of it all very well, having waited over a month for it. The smarting pang you felt earlier when his fingers fucked you is completely gone by now, leaving you to writhe and thrust your own hips from the overwhelming fucking of your senses.

“Dabi, Dabi!” you sob, your thoughts blending together until nothing but the demon inside of you remains in your consciousness. Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, drawing a thick, black liquid in the deep crescents, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Words, babydoll,” he breathes out, emphasizing the first word with a thrust. “C’mon, you know better.” He groans above you.

A yelp and another, higher in pitch slap of skin resonates within the room amidst the wet, sloppy ones and his grunts, but it doesn’t register that he’s slapped the underside of the thigh perched on his shoulder until you feel the pulsating sting that scatters through your leg. The yelp was apparently yours.

“Faster!” Your voice is devoured by a whiny tone and squeals that fight out of you, but it’s drowned out by the rhythm of his hips against yours.

Another slap hits your senses, and you cry out, tears flooding your eyelids. All you need is a little push.

“So fuckin’ demanding... Where are your manners, little mouse?” His lips are on your ear again, almost as if threateningly. “I’d be a little more... ngh...  polite if I were you.” The covers bunch and roll under your body when it’s slid back against them from the hardest thrust he’s graced you with yet, the process bringing a shriek out of you and shock as a result of his hitting that special spot after angling his hips just right and causing your poor head to spin. With Dabi then yanking you back to where you were with the hand on your thigh above the reddening cloud of flesh, you croon underneath him as he stops fucking your dripping wet heat altogether. You’re left to stare into his fiery blue eyes directly while hot breaths flood out of you in rapid succession. His nose almost touched yours, and the look in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Hate to break it to ya, but you’re at my mercy, doll. If I don’t want you to cum, you won’t.”

“Nonono, I’m sorry! Please! Please! I’m sorry!”

A cross between a hum and growl leaves his throat, and you shrink underneath him.

“‘Please,’ what?”

“Go faster, please!”

Dabi’s teeth are on your neck again when he picks up his thrusting into you, increasing in speed and fucking your sopping pussy like you had requested. With his hands on your hips, the demon mutters praises and moans into your neck and you sputter incoherent gibberish when you’re not gasping for air and squealing and bawling out from his almost inhuman, blissful pace. The leg wrapped around his waist clenches as hard as you’re physically able as he slams into you, and while your senses are being ravaged and brutalized, you hear faintly those wet squelching noises and the sounds of metal and wood creaking. You weren’t sure if the thrumming in your eardrums was your heartbeat or your headboard hitting the wall, but the thought of the latter rolled your eyes into the back of your head. Dabi angles his hips just right and smacks his cock into that oh-so-special spot within your soft cunt, and the jolt of pleasure and utter bliss that results brings you back to reality momentarily - yet still somehow throwing you out of your mind.

“Right there! Dabi! Oh, fuck!” You sob with a slur, your hands grasping and clawing at his back desperately. Incoherent garbling follows thereafter, and Dabi doesn’t even try to decipher it even if it is silk against his ears.

The fingers gripping onto your hips are so tightly embedded into your skin, Dabi’s sure they will leave round little bruises in their wake and he relishes in the idea, but the sting they bring you feels so damned good, you welcome it, too. The tension that builds within your cunt keeps building and building, your hot walls clenching around Dabi as you near carnal release. You’re close, so fucking close to the height of true bliss, your moans getting higher and higher in pitch as your back lifts off the mattress without you willing it. You feel that familiar tingle before-

It stops.

You sob at the utter emptiness and lack of release, your head spinning.

The ancient bastard denied you of your orgasm.

Chest heaving up and down in your panting, your wordless whine and protest at the emptiness you can feel is seemingly ignored by Dabi. The lack of warmth at your pulsating core is almost... cold. So cold.

“Wh-why...?” you whine.

The demon lets out a breathy groan. You can feel him dip his lips to your collarbone and smirk. “Just ‘cause.”

Quickly the demon sits back on his haunches and your arms droop off his shoulders. Dabi blinks at you with his hand holding your ankle to his shoulder, all the while staring you down with an intensity that has you feeling small, like an ant before an elephant. You’re so vulnerable and naked under his unwavering gaze, it’s nearly frightening. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. It’s soft but it’s predatory. He drinks in the sight of you leisurely.

You know damn good and well blood is rushing to your face, your hot breaths leaving you in weak puffs.

“Aren’t you precious?” you hear him remark with a toothy smirk. “Just for me. Right?”

You nod.

Demonically slitted eyes narrow at you darkly. “Say it, then,” he demands.

“Just...” you pant, “for you.”

Dabi’s hand pulls your ankle off him and puts your foot flat against the bedding next to his knee as he looks down at you. The moonlight striking the vibrant color of Dabi’s eyes is breathtaking, if your breath could be knocked out of your lungs further. It almost forced you to liken the sight with tinted ice, with icy waters off Iceland or perhaps glacier-dwelling seas of the Antarctic. And yet, you knew better.

The sight before Dabi was more than he’d expected, albeit just as sinful. Seeing you splashed out in bed, sweating and panting and dripping in your own essence just for him drove him wild. You were so adamant against fucking him, about retaining your innocence and saving it for the “right” person, in the beginning. And yet now, you let him do as he pleases and he didn’t doubt it would be the first time. He knew better.

“Get on your hands and knees, love.”

That was a first. “Love?” You like it more than the several others. It was smoky and gravelly and breathy all once.

Without your knowing your eyes soften and you grin the tiniest grin at the demon, knowing he won’t return the favor and be as gentle and sweet with you. He’s quick to quirk a brow at you, but you turn on your side to maneuver your body around and comply with Dabi’s command. Your breath has evened out by now, as you prop yourself on your elbows with your ass pointing out to Dabi, weeping cunt ready to be filled. It was embarrassing being on display like this again. You glance back at him with curious eyes, only to be met with silence and what felt like a dark presence. He’d gone cold on you.

You feel a hot hand on the nape of your neck and swear on whatever god you used to believe that your skin sizzled for a bit, while another lands on your left hip as his cock presses up against your folds and slithers through between your legs a couple times, gathering the slick of your essence - as if it needed to! - before he delves into your pussy once again. You croon in front of him, and the moan that comes out of Dabi has you clenching around his cock for the countless time. He mutters something untranslatable to you and pushes down on your nape, easing you face-first into the mattress. Your bedding was so soft and warm from your own body heat. Maybe it was leakage from the demon’s body temperature, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was a mix of both, intermingling like perfectly-cut pieces of a puzzle.

With a sharp moan, Dabi bottoms out in you, your mewls being swallowed by the bedding pressing against your cheek. You sigh into plush warmth, but the soft and gooeyness you feel is quickly torn away by a harsh snap of Dabi’s hips. Your gasp is cut through by a squeak from your throat, only urging him further as you already feel that coil tightening and readying to snap. You feel him shift a little against you, and you try to glance at him as much as you can before he begins thrusting into you again. That hard but slow pace makes its appearance for a short while, and hot damn is it heavenly. You moan and whine completely unabashedly. The walls of your apartment were thin and cheap, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

It was just an effect he had on you.

So what if your neighbors knew your were getting railed by a demonic being from ages past?

He certainly wanted them to know.

Dabi’s pace picks up again and you already feel the ripples of pleasure soaring through your body from your clenching cunt, your grip on the fabric underneath you tightening as you fight back the urge to bite into it. Even the lewd slaps of his hips against your ass are louder and quicker, and fuck aren’t they wetter. Dabi himself seems proud of this.

Your breathing quickens and your lungs almost burn like the hand on the back of your neck, your keening and sobbing getting higher in pitch and filled with rushed air. His thrusts only seem to get deeper and harder, if it were possible, and your eyes close shut tightly as your body trembles. Dabi adjusts his hips and continuously hits that oh-so-sweet spot that makes your head cloud over totally, his head falling back at the way your pussy hugs him tight.

“Dabi!” you sob. “Don’t stop, please!” Your wording is heavily slurred and slightly hushed from the impact of his fucking your nerves and your cheek being pushed into the bed, but you manage, nonetheless. You can’t fight back the drool that droops out the corner of your mouth.

The demon chuckles. Dabi could hear you say his name like that for a thousand years straight and it wouldn’t be enough. “S’pose you’ve been a good girl, babydoll. Go on, I’ll let you cum.”

The hand on your neck moves to your shoulder and soon enough, your chest and face are removed from the sheets, albeit you’re still on all fours as he fucks into you. Thereafter you feel the piping heat of his chest against your back, a crude reminder of the seven layers of arson Dabi’s capable. His hand holds you still while he continues to wrack your body with thrusts into your wet heat. You feel his fingers rub and circle your clit after a torrid hand snakes around your ribs and down your navel, and the pace of Dabi’s fingers is almost in beautiful tandem with his fucking as he hits that special spot over and over and over again. You can feel your essence flowing down the insides of your thighs like you thought wasn’t even possible, pussy dripping onto your bedding.

Ah, fuck.

With a lustful shriek, your spongy walls convulse around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, your vision going white as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your body rocks back and forth, legs twitching and torso shuddering. It takes almost everything Dabi has not to cum then and there, his hiss and loud growl being evidence of that. You just feel so good, why wouldn’t he want to cum now? But no, that would be a treat for you later.

Your clutch on the bedding underneath is as tight as you’re fully capable, and your knuckles turn white while you revel in your own personal bliss, courtesy of whatever the hell Dabi is. The intensity of it all has your head spinning and body pulsating. Poor body beginning to come down from the fierce high, you wondered if Dabi would stop and let you bliss out - but nay; he continues to fuck you like an animal and abuse your clit while you cry it all out. You were drenched in sweat, your cheeks flooded with tears you didn’t know were there until now.

“Too much, too much,” you squeak quietly, so quiet you’re not even sure he could hear you. But maybe it was incoherent. Maybe you were babbling and drooling like a fucked out hole at this point. Was it getting overwhelming? Yes. Did it feel ungodly good? Fuck yes.

“You’re so fuckin’... wet, though,” he pants, before slowing down slightly. “I think you’re playing innocent. You like this, ah, don’t you?” Dabi groans as you continue to flutter, sensitively, around him. “You want me to fuck you stupid, to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, right?”

Dabi chuckles at your lack of response and continues to ram into your soaking heat with your cries and squeaks only urging him further. An attempt to glance at Dabi is mostly thwarted by the pace he’s taken on, or maybe it’s because everything’s spinning - or is it the tears flooding from your eyelids - you manage to meet his icy, slitted eyes once, which prompts him to poke kisses at your nape and behind your ear. You feel that familiar warmth in your entire pelvis, you cunt clenching down on his cock as the waves of pleasure intensify.

“Dabi, I- nnn, it’s too mu-much,” you whine. “Please.”

“Nah, you’re okay, babydoll,” he drawls cockily, voice gravelly and breathy enough to make you cum on command. “I think you’ve got a few more for me, don’t you? C’mon.” He makes a point to hit your g-spot harder than before after he’s done talking, and goddamn does it take the air out of your lungs. You choke on your own spit when you feel that piping hot hand patted against your asscheek repeatedly.

Your shriek and wet slopping fills the room as you cum yet again, albeit this time the pressure on your nerves feels different - smoother, warmer - and the tingle in your belly is intense as your scream feels like it claws at your throat until it bleeds. Your thighs are drenched in your juices, cunt twitching and clenching in the aftermath of your mind-splitting pleasure. You mumble and whimper as he finally slows down and gives you a sliver of mercy, both of his hands now holding you up by your hips when your torso slowly droops down like it was before. Dabi chuckles behind you quietly as he comes to a halt.

“You good, doll?”

He’s definitely not sincere.

Your eyes squeeze shut and you heave and pant, the fabric in your fingers wrinkling in their grasp.

“Oi, you can’t quit on me now,” he demands. “I haven’t cum yet and I gotta make you squirt again.”

Trying to get a whole, solid word out was a struggle as a result of your heavy breathing and the overstimulation. Your head was fuzzy and the room was spinning like a damn typhoon, and for a split moment you thought you’d fallen unconscious. What spills out is garbled nonsense.

The demon hums that inquisitive hum again, urging you to speak.

You lift your cheek off the bed slightly, as you’re able. “Will...”

You’re not sure why, but the thought of Dabi skipping off after taking your virginity so unceremoniously rang into your thoughts, giving you a sense of loneliness and anxiety. Why, though? Why now?

“Huh?” He leans in so close, his horn bobs off the side of your head when he arches over you to put an ear to your lips. “Try again, love. Go on.” He sounds quite intrigued, probably the most you’ve heard him.

“Will you... hah, leave... me?”

The grin against your neck is dark.

“Whaddya mean, little mouse?”

His voice was downright excited. You were worth the wait. How long had it been since he’d had a human so obedient, so innocent yet so easily corrupted? You were his, now - whether you liked it or not was irrelevant. But he knew you would. Dabi had grown on you far more than you’d ever admit, he knew that for a fact. You were clearly enjoying yourself now, anyway. And it didn’t take magic to do all of this, save for one here and there to coax you to enjoy yourself and to bring out subconscious feelings. Like right now. You felt these things, he just amplified them to an unbearable extent. Whoops. You poor thing.

“Don’t go.”

Eyes half-lidded and droopy, you turn your head to look back at the demon, only to be met with sharp teeth shown off in a naughty grin. You blink once and you could’ve sworn you saw an image of a black, smoky aura surrounding him.

“If you can handle me, dear.”

You nod against the bed slowly before trying to push your ass against him with what little stability you have. Even if his cock was still buried in you, without any movement you felt empty and... alone.

“I thought it was too much?” he quips, hand rubbing at your reddened ass cheek in a way you have to describe as soothing. It felt so silky and mellow. Yet you knew he was far from that. “Well? I thought you were bitchin’ out on me like the virgin you are.”

“In... insi... inside,” you sputter shyly, mental clarity not quite returning, albeit you manage enough to think of that at least. You want him to cum inside, to know what it feels like to be stuffed full of his cum, to feel his cock twitching inside after his release. “C-um.”

You never would’ve thought about that before you met him. Why would you feel this way?

“Aw, what is it?” The hum that results from his scarred throat is dark. “You want me to cum inside right now? I’m not sure you’ve earned that yet.” His voice is bastardly and maybe even a little teasing, and he sighs almost happily at your squirming. “Asking me to cum inside like that the first time you get fucked - such a whore. Have I fucked you stupid already, doll? Shame, I thought you’d hold out better than that.” Dabi clicked his tongue and shook his head, though you can’t see. “Broken so early. Guess there’s no point in me stickin’ around after all, huh?”

A noise sounds from the back of your throat in protest and nearly unbeknownst to you, drool slithers out the corner of your mouth. Dabi seems to ignore your noises as his hands adjust your hips, giving you enough friction to elicit a whine from your lips. You can’t register this at the moment, but Dabi was a victim to his own whims and could be a mix of soft and downright mean in the bedroom, and there’s no telling which will arise. Sometimes he’ll want skin against skin, tongue lashing against yours, fiery pleasure; sometimes he wants to insult you and lash his hand across your ass cheek, leaving bruises or drawing blood wherever he can.

“I was gonna make you convince me,” he breathes, slowly thrusting. “But considering you’re still conscious, I think that’s enough.” Dabi chuckles behind you. Well, you were only conscious as per his meddling. He was the one keeping your consciousness pulled to the surface, preventing you from letting go of reality and passing out. “You’re most welcome to cry and beg, though, babydoll.”

Hell, that list was half-checked off. Tears stained your cheeks and blurred your vision already, and the more he fucked into you, the more they fluttered out. Your lungs burned at this point, a searing heat cutting through your chest. Anything you try to say comes out incoherently, a sputtered and garbled mess, when it’s not a pitiful sob.

You push your hips back against him in an attempt to fuck yourself on his cock while Dabi fucks your puffy cunt, drawing a condescending chuckle from him. The jolt of overstimulation beckoned you to crawl away and relieve yourself of him, but the need to have him thrusting and cumming inside you overcame it. His release and what it would feel like to have his cum mixing with your juices and dripping out of you was all you could think about, as if entranced in a spell that bound your consciousness to that one thing. The rest of your thoughts were jumbled and incoherent even to you, the drool trickling out your mouth and the rolling of your eyes into the back of your head representative of that.

As Dabi watched your pussy envelop him, he couldn’t help but envision his name carved into your asscheeks with a sharpened claw of his. Ah, the squeals and squeaks that crawl out of you would be divine in the most sinful way possible, and the threads of blood that would trickle down your skin would taste head-spinningly beautiful. Maybe next time. Dabi’s jaw clenched at the throb of his cock within your sputtering, velvety walls, the tightness in his abdomen building. Just one more...

“Fuck, little one...!”

As the demon drags sharp claws up your thigh and asscheek, it leaves red ribbons in its wake and the squeeze of your cunt and pitiful squeal tells him well that you’re enjoying it far more than you ever thought you would.

“Such a good fucking human... good fuckin’ hole,” he grunts, voice strained. His hand plants on the middle of your back and pushes hard, bowing your poor back as his other hand keeps your hips up, his cock ramming into you at a faster pace. Dabi lets out a loud groan when he sees the blissed out, tear-stained, drool-covered face of yours before his thrusting loses rhythm and he suddenly feels your pussy flutter around him hard in orgasm again, soaking him in your slick again. Finally he allows himself to find the release you’d internally begged for, fucking into you at a less than rhythmic pace as his own mind begins to become overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Ah, shit. Fuck, fuck, motherfucking-!”

Dabi soon finds his teeth embedded into your flesh and gripping it hard enough to leave a bruise or even cut into the skin as his hips move entirely on their own against you. With a strained moan he cums, thick, warm ropes of cum painting your fluttering, sensitive, and overstimulated walls as you literally cry and sob underneath him, his hips still involuntarily thrusting into you as your cunt milks him for all he’s worth.

“Fucking hell,” he bites out, body relaxing against yours as he comes down from the high, yet he doesn’t pull out. “I missed this.” His voice is breathy and littered with pants against your neck. Dabi leaves a few wet kisses to it before leaning back and slowly pulling out with a groan, leaving you empty and dripping before him. He watches as his cum begins to trickle out but is quick to gather it with his fingers and push it roughly back into your pulsating cunt.

“Atta fuckin’ girl.”

Your poor head spins and you don’t know up from down, so Dabi ushers you to lay down and before he knows it, you’re passed out asleep. Eh, he’ll consider aftercare next time maybe. With a yawn that’s more out of sudden boredom than it is exhaustion, Dabi lays down next to you and props his head up with his hand, leaning against his elbow as he watches you sleep peacefully, a complete contrast to a few mere minutes ago. With a smirk he wipes the tears off your cheeks. Those cheeks...

“I oughta answer sacrifices more often.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi x reader smut #dabi #mha #bnha #blue hour. #*throws candy* happy halloween have some mediocre smut!

[faeri-meadow]

Forevermore

Requested by Duckie anon: recently had a cool idea for a fic and I'm giving it to you for whenever you feel up to writing again! Song fic for a Wilbur x reader, the song? Nancy Mulligan by Ed Sheeran, I've been listening to it for like a week cause good serotonin and it's kinda fitting for Wilbur

TW: *sigh* there is some angst, Schlatt being an ass, some curse words and a single injury (caused by said goat man)

Notes: Fundy is in this, just later on! Fundy’s mother is still Sally, the reader is the step parent!

The air was full of laughter and music as a band played, a large crowd of people dance around two figures, one wearing a fitting white (suit/dress) and the other a neatly tailored black suit. Though the atmosphere seemed to be one no creature could ignore, the two in the center were purely focused on each other, dancing cheerfully and laughing when the other stumbles slightly. The one in the dark suit was humming along to the song while staring at his now (wife/ husband/ s/o), “And we got married wearing borrowed clothes-“ the other giggled and continued “We got eight children now growing old-“ as they continued together “Five sons and three daughters.” The two continued to sing and dance until the song was finished and went to rest for a moment while the crowd that once circled them spread out. “You look absolutely glowing tonight my love.” The shorter of the two let out a giggle, “And you utterly dashing Wilbur.” Wilbur’s face brightened as he leaned down, kissing his lover, “Always the sweet talker hmm, Y/N?” Y/N’s dazed look from the surprise kiss left their face immediately, “Me? Says the man who started with ‘You look absolutely glowing my love’.” They mimicked Wilbur’s voice in an exaggerated way, and only got to glance at his face before he started attacking her sides, tickling her vigorously, “Ah! Wilbur Minecraft, cut it out- ha there are people staring!” They tried to duck away but instead were met with arms wrapped around their waste, “Oh? You’re worried about them seeing me tickle you, Y/N Minecraft?” Y/N let out a huff and pulled out of their husbands grasp, “C’mon Wil, we must entertain them, it is our wedding after all.”

Two figures stood in a child’s room, one sitting next to a sleepy fox hybrid while the other stood at the door frame. The one on the bed was humming a familiar tune as they patted down the hybrids hair, “She and I were on the run, Don’t care about religion, I’m gonna marry the woman I love down by the Wexford border.” They stopped when they heard small snores and leaned over to place a kiss on the child’s head, “Sleep well Fundy.” When standing up, a small murmur left the boy, “Goodnight (mama/dada/baba), I love you.” Fundy once again drifted off as Y/N stood there, tears welling in their eyes as they glanced over to Wilbur, who was just smiling softly at the boy in the bed. They wiped the tears and headed over to the door, wrapping their arms around his waist, “You remember the song?” They looked up to meet his brown eyes with a nod, “How could I forget the happiest day of my life?”

“The first declaration, as PRESIDENT of L’Manberg is to REVOKE the citizenship of Wilbur Soot, and Tommyinnit.” The man standing on the stage talking into the mic continued to yell as more men loaded cross bows, pointing them at the now banished. “Tommy, Tommy we need to go.” They turned around and fled, but not before Wilbur glanced behind him to see his lover. They had tears streaming down their face as they held Fundy’s hand tightly.

“Fundy, how could you?” Said boy refused to look up at his adoptive parent as a ram hybrid approach from behind, “Face it doll, you’ve lost everything. Your husband, your home, even your child! You don’t have many options here.” They glared at the man before them, cigarette dangling from his fingers as he smirked, “Fuck you Schlatt.” His smirk dropped as he roughly pressed the still burning end of the cigarette into their arm, though they refused to give in, only letting out a small wimper, “We’ll see how tough you are soon enough Y/N.”

The man in the cold room hummed a familiar tune as he paced back and forth, only to stop and stare at the button on the wall adjacent to him. A tear escaped his eye as he sang the final line, “She took my name and then we were one, down by the Wexford border.”

Everything was dark, and cold. He could feel the pain that lingered around where he was stabbed. Tears filled his vision as the silence filled his ears, allowing his mind to be so much louder. That is until he heard shuffling behind him, and a certain tune.

“Y/N?”

“Hello, my love.”

A/N: SORRRYYYY, I am really sick right now, but I started this like two weeks ago and just forgot about it… I was telling myself, don’t do angst, you’ve done too much angst, but of course, I did fracken angst… I love you Duckieee!!

#request #dsmp #c!wilbur x reader #c!wilbur #wilbur x reader #wilbur

[generallypo]

[   Constellation ’Director of the False Last Act’ is looking at you.   ]

------

dark academia!hsy, yeeee! the white coat is fantastic, but unlike kdj and yjh, she doesn’t really switch up the color scheme. no, her bum-aesthetic purple hoodie does not count. i think she’s super hot. i yell about how much i love her under the cut.

------

yo han sooyoung is actually amazing, incredible, powerful, witty, drop-dead sexy... what makes her so irresistible? let me explain

1) yeah, kdj takes the kdj company to end of the scenarios, but please. how many times does he have to kill himself to get there? not to mention his intentional (and unintentional) kill count? 

sure, he does the job, but damn is he kind of inefficient about it. say what you like about hsy’s methods or personality, but the 1863rd round far surpasses the 1864th in terms of the lives preserved while still managing to take the team to the end.

without the benefit of cheat-like knowledge, skills, and resurrections, hsy almost single-handedly orchestrates the events of the 1863rd round to a satisfying finale. kmw, problematic as he is, survives and becomes an admittedly better person, yjh finds a timeline where he can rest in peace, and the rest of the cast have their eyes set on the hopeful end of all scenarios. all this, while only being HALF of a person (hsy originally split off into two after misusing her avatar ability). do her actions lead to the happiest ending? no. but it’s the one that sacrifices the least and saves the most. for the greater good, in other words. 

hsy may be an intrinsically selfish person, but unlike kdj, she has the ability to grasp the entire picture and avoid tunnel-visioning into a crappier, more convoluted and self-sacrificial solution. ironically, it ends up saving more lives. perks of being a talented writer, i guess. 

and the 1864th hsy emerges as a leader in her own right as well. the epilogue arc shows her assuming roughly the same role as her 1863rd self in kdj’s absence: yjh breaks off from the main group (AND BECOMES A TERRORIST AKFDJDSLKSL HAHAHA) to assume a similarly antagonistic role to the remaining members of kdj company. as a result, she’s the most powerful lawful incarnation remaining, and once more the incarnations circle around her for direction.

2) independent, confident, competent (hot and kinda shameless about it). this woman has the most delightfully unrepentant attitude towards life -- how to defeat the man with the strongest defensive ability without dealing a single blow? summon a horde of your naked dancing clones to terrify his innocent sensibilities, and then cackle at his helplessness. the fact that her sponsor is literally the chuuni-est cringefest in the entire galaxy and she gives no fucks about him is just additional comedic gold. her undisguised disgust for what should otherwise be a highly respected/feared entity is a clear indicator of her supremely dominant position over everyone else, and i admire her consistent irreverence of everyone and everything.

hsy is the only character who can consistently bully kdj, brush off his deflections, and bully him again. 1863rd round hsy gives kdj about 50 migraines in the span of 5 minutes of conversation before confirming her superior wit. jhw comes close, but unfortunately, she actually respects the rat bastard. i wish i could mention yjh, but let’s be real: he -- and just about every existing version of him -- has been whipped for the guy for at least 250+ chapters now. 

hsy, on the other hand, has no regard for anything except herself... man, i respect that so much. what a queen. 

and i won’t lie! i didn’t like her in the first fifty or so chapters. plagiarism? homicide? kind-of-in-general-just-being-an-obstacle-to-kdj’s-plans? yeah, i almost fell into the trap of disliking her purely because she didn’t cave immediately in the grand scheme of kdj’s plotting -- thereby denying me the power rush that came with seeing kdj bulldoze his way through the puny attempts of small fry characters. she’s neither a friend nor a despicable foe, but rather someone who acts independently and in her own self-interest, WITH the ability to thwart major players if need be. aka, the one who frustrated kdj’s plans -- and me -- the most. 

going by my previous isekai/power-fantasy trope experience, i figured she’d get pegged into the sexy-but-sassy harem candidate, or get killed off if that didn’t work out. in hindsight, i’m just pretty fucking dumb, but honestly, i can accept that with gratitude -- 

-- because in fact. the whole ‘she-gets-in-my-way-so-she-either-goes-into-the-harem-or-dies’ trope in light novels/webnovels and the like, is, frankly, misogynistic and boring as hell. i had some admittedly low expectations for ORV, which consequently blasted my ass to the moon and left me there sobbing for 42 years as i mourned my stupidity and paid my respects to its incredible ending and character development. hsy is a particular delight, especially in her meta awareness of these tropes -- blatantly stating she isn’t obligated to kdj for saving her life and declaring the damsel-in-distress cliche as ridiculous, for example. 

and it really is, because suspension bridge effect aside, you’re not gonna want to bang a total shady stranger in the middle of the apocalypse. it’s the little statements of self-awareness, self-worth, and frankness that build up hsy’s charm. as ORV progresses, these little windows of her personality bloom as her presence takes stage center -- and then BAM! you really get to know how strong she is, how hugely capable of love she is, how subtly but wonderfully she expresses it, how she leads and protects those close to her, and how damn good she is at it. hsy is amazing. we stan an iconic queen -- no, black flameS EMPRESS. *kneeling*.

3) writes an entire EPIC, just to keep one lonely, broken fifteen-year-old alive. like. at that point in ORV, i knew. i knew. hsy is the fucking GOAT. seeing her spend the rest of her life on WOS, making sure it reaches completion because it’s the only thing that will sustain kdj until the advent of the scenarios... that hits too hard. inadvertently, it also damns the rest of the world to the terror and tragedy that the star stream brings.. but that’s the call she makes in order to save kdj’s life. 

obviously, there’s no precise beginning to the timelines -- ORV is so neatly crafted in its cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader -- but i’d have to argue that hsy holds the greatest power in the trinity. creating the existence known as ‘yoo joonghyuk’ and granting life-changing hope to an otherwise forgotten boy.. is pretty powerful. yjh, for the most part, is a slave to the scenarios (until he breaks free in the 1863rd and 1864th rounds, in particular), while kdj (unwittingly) admits it himself: he’s truly the most powerless god in existence. i forget exactly where he mentions it, but it’s in response to lgy’s reverent commentary that, with all his knowledge and presumed confidence, kdj seems like the protagonist of story or a god to him. kdj’s inner monologue, of course, is appropriately self-deprecating and scarily accurate.

in a lot of ways, WOS -- and ORV itself, really -- is a love letter to readers. it’s a two-way connection, writer and reader, between someone who creates with all their passions and someone who consumes and responds with equally sincere feelings. Ways Of Survival -- the story of a man who defied death and grief and great powers far beyond his being -- is a fictional guide to surviving in a ruined world. but to a battered, bullied, and ostracized boy, it’s not just escapism, or wish fulfilment anymore. WOS is the map to navigating the hell of his reality. there’s a certain power in the right words being spoken -- or in this case, written -- at the right time, even if it’s only for the temporary burst of endorphins upon reading an especially delightful chapter. even if it’s forgotten the next day, you’ve managed to connect. you’ve touched another person’s heart. you made them think about questions they’ve never considered before; maybe, you made them smile. 

what can i say but the honest truth? ORV, without a shadow of doubt, has most certainly reached me. i’m a goner for this story and its excellent characters -- long, long gone. something has changed, something that wasn’t there the previous day. 

the mark has been made on the reader -- small as it is, it’s irrevocable. behold, in all of its little magnificence: the power of a writer, and their story.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #orv #han sooyoung #dark acadamia aesthetic #fanart #long ass emotional screeching #wow these are the nights i wish i had someone to yell about orv with #otherwise i stay up at ass-o-clock uncontrollably writing and groaning and writing #anyways hsy is best girl and sexy as fuck

[dcbicki]

holding my breath for you (crowd my grave)

A Rick/Harley fix-it fic • Chapter 1/?

To say he’s surprised to see Harley Quinn standing in the doorway of his shabby, middle-of-nowhere motel, in shredded jean shorts and heart-rimmed sunglasses, would be a serious fucking understatement. And it’s not because it’s one o’clock in the morning and the sun went down hours ago.

“How the hell did you find me?”

She shrugs, picking at a long thread on her jacket, “I know people.”

Rating: T/M • Characters: Harley Quinn, Rick Flag, and mentions of others • Read on AO3 or below the cut

“I think I just walked in on someone screwin’ a goat.”

To say he’s surprised to see Harley Quinn standing in the doorway of his shabby, middle-of-nowhere motel, in shredded jean shorts and heart-rimmed sunglasses, would be a serious fucking understatement. And it’s definitely not because it’s one o’clock in the goddamn morning and the sun went down hours ago.

“How the hell did you find me?”

The blonde shrugs, picking at a long thread on her jacket. “I know people.”

“Better people than mine, apparently,” Rick rasps, and he runs a hand through damp hair. Thankfully he’d managed to trade in the towel for sweatpants before she’d started pounding on the door. “So much for flying under Waller’s radar.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Harley says, and the sunglasses slide down the bridge of her nose when she dips her head to shoot him a devilish look, single brow raising, “I promise she don’t know I’m here.” Suddenly there’s a hand in his face and she’s wiggling her right pinkie finger as if that'll prove anything.

She taps one foot against the carpeted floor then, toe of her boot crossing the threshold, and Rick has decided she reminds him of a vampire; one covered in sparkles and tattoos with a pink, fluffy duffle-bag dangling from her fingertips, but a bloodsucker all the same. “Ya gonna invite a girl in or what?”

“You plan on telling me what you’re doin’ here first?” he asks, but then he’s moving out of the way so she can duck under his arm and enter. Harley breezes past him, tossing her bag somewhere across the room, and she plops herself down into the old, worn leather seat by the television. There’s some Spanish soap opera playing to itself on the screen.

“Mi casa es su casa… and all that.” Flag grumbles, pulling the door to a close behind her—but not before shooting a quick look out over her shoulder towards the parking lot. He locks it, then turns and presses his back up against it, hands on his hips.

“You can stop looking so constipated, Flag, I told ‘ya. I’m off the grid myself these days.” She taps the side of her neck twice. “The old dragon lady ain’t coming for either of us.”

“Right.” A nod, then, “Dubois told me about that.” The deal. The squad forcing Waller to meet them halfway and offer freedom in exchange for silence.

(He hadn’t exactly been shocked to find out Dubois was still in possession of the drive. It was a smart move; not the best one, or the right one, and it was a far cry from the one Rick had fucking died trying to pull, but not everybody lived by a code of honor. He couldn’t blame the rest of the team for following suit.)

“Milton knew?! He knew where you were this whole time and didn’t tell me? That mother fucka!” She grits her teeth, nails strumming atop the television cabinet.

(He doesn’t ask about Milton. It’d probably be a long, convoluted story and he’s not exactly in the mood for one of Harley Quinn and her gift of gab. Not that he has much of a choice right now...)

“Now you wanna tell me what you’re doin’ here?”

Ignoring him, Harley takes in her surroundings, chewed-end of her plastic sunglasses between her teeth as she eyes the dingy room. It’s cramped for sure, dull magnolia paint is chipping off the walls, and there’s a queen-sized bed with crumpled up grey sheets and three flat pillows, a sign of recent use. Odd number, Harley notes. Would four kill them?

The little washroom is beside the dresser, and there’s a towel hanging from the bathroom doorknob, wet footprints still clear on the tiled floor. It’s only then that she looks up and realizes he’s shirtless. Oh.

“This place got food? I could so do with a burrito right about now.”

(A place this rundown probably doesn’t even have a cleaning crew, much less any other kind of service. Although, there was half a pack of mints beside the sink when Rick first rented the room so does that count?)

(He’s not ashamed to say he finished them off.)

“I got whiskey and half an eggroll, that do ‘ya?” Rick quips, and there’s a smirk starting on his lips.

He’s still waiting for an explanation as to why the hell she’s here, how the hell she’s here, and what the fuck she thinks she’s doing by checking up on him in the first place. He’s supposed to be laying low—supposed to be dead—and she’s supposed to be free. Or at least as free as someone like her can get, which probably isn’t very free at all.

But there’s something off about her whole demeanor, something decidedly un-Harley, and the man can’t help but feel like he’s just waiting for something. Whether it’s one of Waller’s goons bursting through the door, or Harley herself finishing the job or, hell, Harley breaking down (and God, he hopes it’s not that), he’s not sure. He’s not great with emotions. And she’s without a doubt the most expressive person he’s ever had the (dis)pleasure of knowing.

“Hi, Harley. You know, I’m doing pretty good after havin’ my heart practically ripped apart by a fuckin’ toilet seat. How ‘bout you?” She lowers her voice as if to match the bass in his own and goddamnit he finds it charming.

(He doesn’t have the heart to correct her.)

“You know, a little heads-up that you weren’t DOA might’ve been nice, Colonel.”

“Wasn’t exactly high on my priority list,” he informs her, voice dipping as he nods, slow. “Staying alive kinda won that round. You know, ‘cause of the shit jammed in my chest.”

“They said it came out the other side, ‘ya know. My guys. Wanted to see for myself.” She stands up then and walks to him until she’s about four inches away from his face, taking in the long gash above when his heart lies. “I’m thinkin’ they lied though because that don’t look too deep to me.”

“Yep. Not much to see.” He shrugs, heavy as though there’s weight on his shoulders, casting a glance down at his chest when she raises a hand. She doesn’t touch him; just lets her fingers dance in the air above the skin. “Sorry to disappoint, Doc.”

The scar runs right down the middle of his chest. From left collarbone to navel; a rushed surgery in a (probably, totally) sketchy makeshift hospital. It’s not a good look. But she’s seen worse. “It’s healin’ just fine. I’m getting plenty of fluids and I’m takin’ my meds. Think you can be on your way now you’ve done your check-up.”

“I thought you died.”

“False alarm.”

“You died,” Harley repeats, and there’s an edge to her voice Rick doesn’t recognize. She moves from one foot onto the other, swaying back and forth on her heels, eyes unmoving from off of his chest. “And I didn’t even get a goodbye out of it.”

“Was I…” he pauses, considers the look on her face for a moment. “Apologies.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“The fuck you want me to do? Go back in time and tell him to wait so you can make it about you first?”

“Just think it’s kinda rude for one of my friends to go off and die and leave me alone like that.”

“Tad dramatic, don’t you think?” Rick asks before remembering who he’s dealing with. Harley Quinn is theatrical and melodramatic and showy. Of course, she’d turn this into a whole fucking thing. “You’re a grown ass woman with a criminal record and probably a couple dozen bounties on your head, I think you can handle getting on a plane without a handler.”

She stops swaying. But the look on her face is ice cold and calculating and if he didn’t know her any better, he might be slightly terrified. So this is the infamous killer queen, huh? She wouldn’t hurt him. Maybe once upon a time, a few years back, but not now. Not after… “You’re supposed to be the leader.”

“You had Dubois.”

“But not you. And I know Milton’s a fine leader an’ all, but he’s not exactly a great conversationalist. Or much of a hugger.”

“I ain’t either.”

“But you humour me. ‘Ya put the effort in, Flag.” The blonde pokes his chest, manicured and pale fingernail against his sternum, skin hot to the touch. “And no one else is gonna do that for me, so yeah, I’m kinda mad that you went and got your heart broken into little tiny pieces and didn’t think to let me know you weren’t buried under a fuckload of concrete. Not very friendly of you.”

“And since when are we friends?”

There’s a silence then, and now he’s reconsidering not showing any signs of fear. He’s in no position to fight her. Harley is… Well, one kick and it’d be lights out for Flag.

(Since Waller forced her to take swimming lessons with a mean, ‘It’s a basic life skill, Ms. Quinn. No one else is going to have your back out there'  and he made sure he was her assigned instructor. Even brought her a cute two-tone bathing suit that wasn’t Belle Reve-approved and all. Since everyone in Gotham decided they wanted Harley Quinn six feet under and he let her crash on his couch that one time—those three times—and he made her bacon and eggs in the morning. And he didn’t even get mad when she got ketchup all over his carpet. Since she got drunk that second time and kissed him out of loneliness and he never held it against her.)

“Whatever,” she backs away from him with a huff, but her eyes are still dark; a sure sign that she’s not happy. “I’m starving.”

“There’s a place around the corner.”

“Aces,” she grins, then picks up a discarded shirt from the foot of the bed and tosses it to him.

    There’s no mention of her getting her own room. It goes unspoken: she’ll be staying here with him.

“Not sayin’ this is better than sex, but it’s definitely better than a lot of the sex I’ve had lately.”

“Good for you,” Rick retorts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glances around the restaurant. There’s only one other patron in there aside from them, and the chef is off somewhere in the back. He glances down at his watch, then fists the napkin in his other hand.

“Am I keeping you up?” Harley jests, curling her legs up beneath her on the stool. It squeaks under her weight, one of the metal legs unevenly balanced on the patterned tiles. “Got plans I’m disruptin’?” She clicks her tongue, a devilish grin in full swing.

“Nope. Just rest ‘n recuperation, right, Doc? That your diagnosis?”

“Prognosis,” she corrects him, then drops the rest of her tinfoil-wrapped burrito onto the little round table, a thin layer of grime coating the surface. “And yes,” Harley says with a light nod,  putting on her best matter-of-factly voice. She feigns pushing glasses up her nose, head tipping back to look down at him for a change. He’s leaning against the table with his forearms crossed, tanned skin pressing against the greasy tabletop as his sharp chin rests on a curved wrist. “Sleep and that bottle of bourbon my little eye spied hiding under ‘ya bed will do the trick just fine, Colonel,” she says cheerily.

He nods, only half-listening. “Can’t wait.”

“You could smile every once in a while, ‘ya know. I came all the way to Ti-fuckin’-juana to make sure you weren’t rotting away and letting yourself go in some ol’ shitshack. Would a little appreciation for the thought go amiss?”

“I didn’t ask you to,” the man tells her, leaning back in his chair. He clasps both hands in his lap. “Matter of fact, I’m still wondering why you did. What’s the deal, you get bored running from the feds for a change? Didn’t think you tired so easily.”

“What if I just missed you, huh? ‘Ya consider that possibility, soldier?” She pushes her hands out, her chair scraping back against the floor again. Harley picks up the rest of her food, casting him a dark look. “You’re no fun.”

“Never have been, Harley, that shouldn’t be news.” He follows after her, rushing to keep the door from swinging back in his face when she exits the restaurant in what he can only assume is anger. Or maybe she’s just messing with him; truthfully, it’s hard to tell sometimes. “You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, you know.”

“I am a delight,” she says, whipping around to face him, palm flat against her chest. The many rings on her fingers tap against her necklaces, and she stares up at him with furrowed brows. “Everybody loves me.”

“Pretty sure that’s not true, either.”

“OK, well not everybody hates me, how’s about that?” The scowl on her face turns into a smile then, teeth-baring and wicked. Her eyes are blown wide like saucers, and the crimson lipstick on her mouth suddenly becomes the only thing Rick can focus on that isn’t… Doesn’t...  Deranged, he thinks.

Harley Quinn is an absolute basket case and he must be out of his fucking mind for finding her so damn… what? Fascinating? It’s as close as he can get to thinking of a word to describe her that isn’t derogatory. She’s a character and a half, a whole clown car full of crazy jam-packed into one tatted and made-up doll of a woman, but God help him if he doesn’t kind of want to--

“That’s more like it.” She’s probably hard to love, but she’s not easy to hate.

Rick smiles back, finally, then reaches out a hand—tentatively. She’s still her and he’s never a hundred percent certain she won’t slit his throat with a Hello Kitty keyring or something—and wiggles long fingers. “Wanna get drunk and watch god awful late-night television?” He leans down; not too close, not close enough for her to grab, and adds, “Friend?”

Whatever that thing was he’d been waiting for, that unidentifiable something he’d felt looming over them since she showed up in his doorway an hour ago, looking somehow both tired and elated, finally revealed itself; in the form of tears in Harley’s eyes and a shaky hand accepting his.

She nodded and excitedly said ‘yes!’ and then he realized all she’d been after was a friend; the comfort of knowing that there was someone in the world who wasn’t out to get her, who had nothing to gain by being good to her.

And she’d almost lost that. Lost him.

(So when she hogs two of the three pillows on his bed and helps herself to one of his shirts—his favorite, actually. An old wife-beater with torn sleeves and a faded wildcat on the front—Rick doesn’t say a thing. Just lets her curl up in a ball beside him, red tips brushing against his bare shoulder, and rest.)

#the suicide squad #harley quinn #rick flag #harley x flag #quinnflag #rickquinn #tss fanfic #notifications #ship: harley x rick #film: the suicide squad

[bellafarallones2]

explicit, vincent/apollo, 5904 words, contains omegaverse and fairly mild daddy kink

thank you @thiswasinevitableid for letting me borrow your man!

Apollo had mastered the art of brooding with a glazed-on smile, and it was an art he was practicing now, sitting next to his brother Indrid on a chaise lounge along the wall of the ballroom.

Indrid was leaning against the end of the lounge, licking icing off his fingers. And Apollo was staring at the Duke of Capra.

His name was Vincent. He was an older alpha, with honey-brown hair with a few streaks of gray. He was short by alpha standards, of a height with Apollo. Apollo should have considered him a less-than-ideal mate, as he was past his prime and didn’t ooze the kind of virility some young alphas did.

“Do you think it’d be possible to be married to someone without them finding out?” said Apollo quietly.

Indrid put his head in his hands. “Apollo, just tell him the truth. Vincent’s definitely interested in betas if the looks he gives Duck are anything to go by.”

“There is no way he’s interested in Duck, he’s a commoner, you’re just saying that to make me make a fool of myself.”

Indrid shook his head. Indrid was an omega, a real one, and their father had hired Duck to guard him during his heats, assuming that Duck, being a beta, wouldn’t pose a danger to the virginity he was hired to protect. The expense of a full-time bodyguard was just one more privilege Indrid got as an omega. (Their house was hardly staffed as it was, with only a cook, a maid, and a butler.) And then of course Indrid had gone and seduced him.

“Can you tell Duck to tell Vincent to ask me to dance?”

“Just ask Vincent to dance yourself.”

“I don’t want him to think I’m a hussy like you.” Realizing he’d caught Vincent’s eye, Apollo sat up suddenly straighter. Shit, he was coming over. Apollo adjusted- his clothes and thought about asking Indrid if his hair looked alright, but there wasn’t time, and he hardly trusted Indrid’s taste anyway.

“Hello, Apollo. Indrid.” Vincent inclined his head politely in Apollo’s direction. “May I have this dance?”

Alright, Apollo. This is your moment. Stay calm. “I suppose so.” He allowed Vincent to help him to his feet, finding the alpha’s hand was large and warm in his. Vincent’s other hand rested on Apollo’s waist, and he led him through the waltz, their bodies moving easily as one.

“You know,” said Vincent quietly, as though he was commenting on the weather, “when I was young the law was that only alphas could inherit a dukedom.”

“Lucky you’re an alpha, then.”

Vincent smiled. “Lucky my parents were willing to say I was an alpha.”

Apollo was silent. Vincent squeezed his hand. “Argh,” he said, under his breath. All this time he’d spent stressing about it, and the whole time Vincent was also… “You’re a beta?”

Vincent nodded. “And I passed your room once when the door was open and noticed certain perfume bottles on the dresser...”

“Fuck,” Apollo cursed under his breath. “The company said they were discreetly packaged!”

Vincent shrugged. “They are if you don’t know what you’re looking at.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Vincent could blackmail him now, how had he ever thought he liked the guy- “I’ll do anything, I’ll -”

“Apollo. I’m not going to tell anyone. Gracious, I just told you I’d been misrepresenting myself as well.”

“But nobody would care if you said you were a beta, everyone already respects you. I don’t have that.”

“You underestimate the strength of your reputation,” said Vincent gently.

Apollo looked away, studying the twisted horns on the goat-head pin on Vincent’s lapel.

“Anyway,” Vincent continued. “I thought you should know that before… well, I’d like to court you, if that’s alright.”

Apollo’s breath froze in his chest. That was everything he’d hoped for, better than he’d hoped for. He’d heard young alphas saying formal courtship was a waste of time, considering you didn’t even know if the omega would put out at the end of it, but of course Vincent’s old-fashioned aristocratic alpha manners would prevail.

Oh, right. He needed to say something. Apollo took a deep breath, making sure his voice would come out steady. “Yes, you may. If you’d like.”

“You like being treated like an omega,” said Vincent. It was only half a question.

“Of course not,” Apollo hissed. “Omegas are weak.”

Vincent looked amused. “So I shouldn’t take you places and spoil you?”

“Well,” said Apollo. “I wouldn’t say that.”

For a moment they just danced, before Vincent spoke again. “I quite like Park Street Palace, downtown, but it’s not as fun going alone.”

Oh, shit. Apollo had heard of that place. Expensive, seven courses with views of the city. The kind of place they’d be seen together. “I… suppose I could accompany you sometime? I’d need time to figure out what to wear.”

Vincent squeezed his hand. “You’d look stunning in anything.”

--

Vincent’s carriage arrived at the Cold house the next evening at five o’clock sharp, and Vincent offered his hand to Apollo and helped him up the step and inside.

It occurred to Apollo as he settled himself on the velvet-covered seat that he and Vincent had never been alone together. They’d only ever spoken at dinner parties and balls. But now the curtains on the windows were pulled closed for privacy, and neither the coachman nor anyone they passed in the street would be able to see what happened inside. They could do anything back here.

He’d heard horror stories of omegas being taken advantage of - one of the reasons he hated being a beta so much was how everyone treated Indrid like he was something precious to be cosseted and guarded at all costs. Vincent could reach over and grab Apollo’s hair and force his head downwards and use him. Judging by Vincent’s face, however, that kind of fear had never occurred to him. How much of the difference between alpha and omega was taught?

Apollo pushed that thought down and arranged his face into a smile.

Of course Vincent did nothing untowards. He made pleasant conversation, complimenting Apollo’s outfit and asking how Indrid and Duck were doing, and soon enough they had reached their destination.

“Vincent!” said the maître d' as soon as they entered the restaurant. “So good to see you again. And who is your lovely companion?”

“This is Apollo,” said Vincent.

“My father is the Earl of Cold,” Apollo said somewhat stiffly as the maître d' bent to kiss his hand. It wasn’t much of a title, but it was something.

“Of course, of course. I assume you’d like your usual table by the window?” He was speaking to Vincent, but Vincent looked questioningly at Apollo.

“Alright with you?”

“Yes, fine,” said Apollo.

The restaurant was fairly crowded, mostly aristocratic couples, but there was one large group of twelve or more occupying several tables pushed together in the center of the room. Apollo and Vincent had hardly been seated when one of these people came over, an omega who was everything Apollo was not. The cut of their blouse showed off their soft chest and narrow waist, and their high heels clicked softly on the floor. To Apollo’s horror, they came up right behind Vincent and put their arms around his neck, their hands on his pecs. “How’s my favorite alpha doing?” they teased. Oh, God, they had a French accent.

“Don’t let the alpha you’re with hear you saying that, Antoine,” said Vincent mildly. “I am well, though, thank you. Especially since Apollo has allowed me to court him.”

“Ooooh!” said Antoine, now looking up at Apollo with some interest. “The famous Apollo. I’ve been telling Vince for weeks to just make a move already.”

Vincent sighed and lifted Antoine’s hands off him. “What are you doing here, Antoine?”

“The entire troupe is here to convince the Duke of Lares that he likes theater enough to give us money.”

“Such is the glamorous life of an artist.”

Antoine sighed. “Such it is.” They patted Vincent’s shoulder again and returned to their own table.

“Who was that?” said Apollo as soon as they were reasonably sure the omega was out of earshot.

“One of the actors for the Shakespeare Theater of Silvain. You’ll think it’s silly of me, but I enjoy the theater, and paid for their new building.”

“That’s not silly,” said Apollo. Certainly not nearly as silly as his own secret hobby, which Vincent would hopefully never, ever find out about.

Vincent smiled. “If you’re feeling jealous, I suppose you must really like me,” he teased.

The arrival of the waiter saved Apollo from having to respond.

--

“Apollo.”

He stopped short. The patch of hallway outside his father’s office was always the most treacherous. “Yes, father?”

“Come in here.”

Apollo turned and entered the office. They’d rarely been allowed in as children, too many things they might break.

“Sit down.”

Apollo sat. He’d been told he looked like his father. Their noses were the same, perhaps. Aristocratic. And the eyes, dark brown. And maybe the waves of their hair, fine, and sure, when Indrid and Apollo were little their father had dressed them to match himself.

Not once they’d presented, though. Because the Earl was an alpha.

“The duke would be an appropriate mate for you,” Apollo’s father said.

Apollo looked down at his knees. He was glad his father thought so. Vincent had been officially courting him for almost a year, now. They’d been to the theater together, and Apollo had found he enjoyed watching Vincent’s obvious happiness just as much as he enjoyed watching the play. Standing under the streetlights outside Vincent had asked if he might kiss him, and with Vincent’s lips on his Apollo had had to fight the urge to cling to him and never let go.

His father’s voice yanked Apollo out of the memory. “There won’t be any problems, will there? When he finds out?”

It took Apollo a moment to remember what he was referring to. Being a beta was such a non-issue with Vincent - when it was just the two of them, they could almost pretend that the whole world was like them. “There won’t be any problems,” he said quickly. “He knows.” He didn’t tell his father that Vincent was a beta, too. He didn’t want to risk his father thinking that Vincent was a less-than-suitable mate.

The earl furrowed his brows. “You haven’t put out already, have you?”

“Of course not.” More like Vincent was too much of a gentleman to give him the opportunity.

“Because alphas won’t buy a cow if they can get the milk for free. And you want to be bought, don’t you, Apollo?”

“Yes. Father.”

“Your brother has already… foregone that route. I must say, passing you off as an omega was an even wiser decision than I’d hoped.” He sighed. Apollo knew what his father’s hopes had been for Indrid, the real omega, the one he could have found a very advantageous marriage for if Indrid’s own personality had not intervened. But now there was a mating bite on Indrid’s neck and nobody could deny it. “If he asks permission to marry you, I will say yes.”

Vincent probably would ask permission, Apollo realized. He didn’t talk about his father with Vincent much, but Vincent was old-fashioned that way. “Thank you.”

The earl studied his son for one more moment, as though he was a piece of art he was considering buying at auction. Then he looked away. “You may go.”

--

The library in Vincent’s estate had a large fireplace with a marble mantle. The wrought-iron screen was artfully shaped to look like a trellis climbing with roses. Apollo, leaning against Vincent’s side on the plush couch in front of the fireplace with Vincent’s arm around him and a blanket over both of them, was staring into the fire. Brooding.

He didn’t bother pasting on a smile. Vincent could tell when his smiles were fake. He was thinking about that first carriage ride, the way he’d thought about Vincent fucking his mouth. Now he wished he would. Because as often as their bodies touched, Vincent hadn’t done anything more than a few chaste kisses.

Sex was something Apollo both wanted and feared. Every way he had imagined his first time had gone badly. Partners throwing him out upon discovering he wasn’t really an omega (he’d looked up the laws, misrepresenting secondary sex was grounds for divorce), or he couldn’t satisfy them because he wasn’t an omega, or an alpha’s cock would be too big inside him. But Vincent wasn’t an alpha. And Vincent’s body had been creeping into his dreams and masturbatory fantasies like a tree splitting rock as it grew.

The question burst out of Apollo all at once. “Are you going to wait until we’re married to fuck me?”

Vincent looked over, surprised. “Have you been thinking about it?”

“Fucking? Yes, that’s why I brought it up.”

“Well, I mean, yes, but… me specifically.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Oh.” Vincent looked back into the fire. He was sitting very still. That was the thing about Vincent, not a lot of nervous energy. Wherever he was sitting, he settled, like a snowdrift, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed like the few swirling particles carried along by the wind over top. “Well, the institution of marriage in itself doesn’t necessarily capture the commitment and passion of a relationship, and considering the way I feel about you, Apollo - no. If you would like to go to bed together, I am open to the idea.”

Apollo pushed his ass back against Vincent. “Like now?”

“Impatient thing,” Vincent teased, and turned Apollo’s head gently. “May I kiss you?”

“Uh-huh,” said Apollo, and kissed him. “I haven’t even seen your bedroom,” he said when he finally pulled away.

“Would you like to change that?”

“Yes please.”

Vincent stood up, but instead of tugging Apollo towards the door he headed for the fireplace. Oh, right. They should probably put out the fire. “What specifically would you like to do?” Vincent asked as he used the fireplace poker to spread out the logs.

“I want you to fuck me.” Apollo, almost vibrating with anticipation, thought frantically back to his fantasies and any parts of them that were non-embarrassing enough to share. “I want you to kiss me, and treat me like I’m actually your omega even though I’m not.”

“We can do that.” With the fire out, the only source of light in the room was the full moon coming in through the windows, which caught the silver in Vincent’s hair and made him look even more like something out of a dream than usual.

“What do you want?” said Apollo.

“I want to make you feel good,” said Vincent as he scooped up ash with the little metal shovel and used it to smother the flames. “I want you to let me see you feel good.”

“Oh,” said Apollo.

Vincent held out a hand. “Come to bed?”

Apollo took his hand and kissed him again, as briefly as he could bear because he didn’t want to wait any longer to get on with it. Vincent led him through the dark, cavernous corridors of his estate to a room near the top of the house, with big bay windows looking out on the back garden. There was a huge four-poster bed, and an oriental rug on the floor, but Apollo had no attention for decor.

“We can stop at any time,” Vincent said. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Yes.” Vincent’s lack of pushiness gave Apollo a horrible thought. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. I want you very badly, Apollo.”

“Then have me.”

Vincent kissed him hard, and Apollo leaned into it, as Vincent pressed him almost to the bed. “May I undress you?” Vincent asked when he finally pulled away.

“Yes,” said Apollo.

Vincent sunk to his knees. “I enjoy being intimate with betas more than with alphas or omegas anyway,” he said as he unlaced Apollo’s boots.

“Really? But we’re not special.”

“I beg to differ.” He slid one boot off, then the other, and set them to the side. “Alphas and omegas are so driven by pheromones and heats and ruts to have sex, which can be fun, but also can be exhausting.” He rolled off Apollo’s fine stockings and kissed the bone of his ankle. “Betas get to have sex just because we want to.” Reaching up he undid the fastening on Apollo’s pants, pulled them down, and helped him to step out of them, bracing himself against Vincent’s shoulder.

Apollo closed his eyes, fighting embarrassment. There was nothing for it. Vincent would either find him wanting, or he wouldn’t.

His eyes were still closed when Vincent got to his feet and turned Apollo around to undo the row of delicate buttons down his back. Expensive omega clothes were like that, not designed to be undone by their wearer. Omegas were for consumption, and required care by servants and guards. Vincent kissed the base of Apollo’s neck, and then down his spine as his shirt parted.

This wasn’t what Apollo was expecting. Apollo had been expecting Vincent to rip his clothes off and get inside him as soon as possible, not to treat every stitch of his outfit as something precious. Treat him as something precious.

“You always dress so well,” Vincent murmured as he pulled the shirt up. Apollo raised his arms, and for a moment as the fabric went over his head he was in a filmy version of heaven. “And yet somehow you look even better wearing nothing at all.”

Apollo almost said alpha, because that was what omegas in porn said, but he managed to hold himself back. What came out instead was daddy.

Fuck.

Well, he’d had a good run of it, and Vincent would probably be polite enough not to tell anyone the specifics, so Apollo could salvage his reputation and take the lesson never, ever to let his guard down around anyone else in the same way -

“Yes, baby?”

Vincent wasn’t running away. He wasn’t even laughing. Apollo whimpered, suddenly exhausted standing there completely bare, and put his arms around Vincent’s shoulders. “Please fuck me?”

What he really wanted was Vincent to carry him to bed, but he couldn’t ask, in case Vincent couldn’t lift him. Vincent didn’t have the strength an actual alpha would, and discovering he was too fat to be lifted would maybe be the worst thing that had ever happened in Apollo’s entire life.

For now he distracted himself pushing the jacket off Vincent’s shoulders, taking a moment to palm him before he undid the buckle of his belt, warmed by his body, and pulled it as it slithered out of his belt loops. Vincent undid his own shirt buttons as Apollo pulled his pants down, and Vincent sat back on the bed, beckoning Apollo into his lap.

“Look at you,” Vincent murmured, almost reverently.

Apollo flushed. In his mind, there was nothing particularly sexy about the way he looked unclothed. His genitals, certainly, were nothing special. He didn’t have a wet cunt and dainty prick like an omega would, or an alpha’s thick cock with a knot at the base. His penis was a little under six inches long, in a patch of curly pubic hair, and there was a set of testicles and an unremarkable asshole beneath it.

Vincent’s setup was the same, though maybe the hair grew a little thicker between his legs, a little further down the insides of his thighs and up the curve of his stomach than Apollo’s did. You’d never guess it from looking at him in a suit, but his skin seemed slacker, somehow, than Apollo’s did, not pulled tight over lean muscle, pleasingly soft where Apollo touched it.

Vincent tipped backwards until his head was on the pillow, pulling Apollo down with him, and proceeded to kiss him senseless. For a moment Apollo was self-conscious, they weren’t actually doing anything, but then his cock was rubbing against Vincent’s lower belly and he felt too good to think. Apollo started reaching down to try to jerk Vincent off, but got distracted along the way when Vincent rubbed gently over his nipple.

“You want me to fuck you, sweet boy?” said Vincent, his hands creeping downwards to squeeze Apollo’s ass, when Apollo was breathing hard and jerking his hips in stuttery little motions.

“Yes,” Apollo panted, scrambling up. He knew he’d need more prep than a real omega would and so he should get on it. “That’s the only way I’ve ever imagined this. Being an omega.”

“Alright.” Vincent kissed his cheek and reached into the bedside table for a bottle of lube. Apollo was surprised to see it was half-empty: did Vincent use it to fuck himself? Or fuck other people? Apollo thought of Antoine, but pushed the image from his mind.

“I can prep myself,” Apollo offered.

Vincent looked up at him. “Will you let me do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you,” said Vincent, leaning down for another kiss before he settled between Apollo’s legs. He dribbled some lube on his fingers and teased Apollo’s hole, until Apollo was relaxed and took two fingers without strain. “Good boy, opening up for me so well. Let daddy take care of you.”

Apollo cried out, and then a moment later cried out louder when Vincent’s fingertips brushed a spot inside him that made him keen. He fisted his hands in the blankets to keep from touching himself. He thought he could never enjoy penetration the way an omega would, his body wasn’t meant for it, but what more than this could there be?

Oh, right. There could be Vincent’s cock. “Please fuck me,” he begged. “Want you inside me.”

“Alright,” said Vincent, a little breathless. “How about you ride me?” His voice turned low and teasing. “I work so hard to care for you, after all, it’s only fair you do a little of the work.”

“Yes yes yes,” said Apollo, and pushed Vincent back down against the pillows. Lube was dripping all down his thighs, and he straddled Vincent’s lap and took Vincent’s cock in his hand and guided it inside him.

That had been another of Apollo’s fears. That an alpha’s cock would never be anything but painful inside him. But Vincent fit perfectly, and as Apollo looked down at him and started to move, he realized that the thought of fucking anyone else was like the thought of eating dirt: why try, when there was a world of delicious food already out there?

Vincent gasped when Apollo squeezed around his cock and started riding him properly, bouncing in his lap. Apollo was genuinely proud of himself when he managed to get Vincent to come inside him, loving Vincent’s gorgeously choked moans.

Vincent jerked him off, still inside of him, murmuring good boy, sweet boy, pretty boy, until Apollo came all over both of them. Vincent pulled out, and Apollo knew in a few minutes he’d need to clean himself up, but that could wait.

“You said ‘until we’re married,’ earlier,” said Vincent softly. His voice was the only thing in the darkness, his voice and a warm cocoon of soft sheets and his arms around Apollo’s body.

“Fuck,” said Apollo. He’d been thinking of it as inevitable after the conversation with his father. The way Vincent had courted him seemed to be leading there. But then again, Vincent had never married, maybe he didn’t do that kind of thing.

“Do you want to get married?” said Vincent.

Apollo squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Yes,” he admitted.

“I don’t have a ring yet,” said Vincent. “But I’d like to, too. I’d like to marry you.”

This was how Vincent did things, Apollo realized. He knew the dramatic gestures, and he would carry them out. But he talked to him first. He told Apollo the truth about his type at the ball before officially asking if he could court him. You might call it patience, or caution.

“I love you,” said Apollo.

“I love you, too.”

--

A few days later Vincent paid a visit to the Earl.

Even after everything, he’d been a little surprised to hear Apollo talk about marriage. He’d always known Apollo’s reputation for being an ice king, that he had a cruel streak a mile wide. But what Vincent took the most pleasure in was being able to get past that facade, to be the one (the only one) who could coax Apollo into forgetting the rules he’d set for himself and just having a good time.

While they made small talk, he looked around the Earl’s office. The man himself looked very much like Apollo, even moreso in the painting hanging on the wall. There was a high window and a row of colorful glass sculptures on the sill, throwing light across the room.

“Well, I always appreciate a visit from a man such as yourself,” said the earl finally, a smile playing around his lips. “But I suspect you have a particular reason for being here.”

“Yes.” Vincent paused. “I’d like to ask for your son Apollo’s hand in marriage.”

The earl leaned back in his chair, looking very satisfied with himself. “Assuming you’re prepared to offer an appropriate dowry, I don’t see any problem with it.”

“Of course.”

“You know he’s not really an omega, of course, but I’ve trained him pretty well to act like one, so he shouldn’t give you any problems. He knows how to treat an alpha.”

He didn’t know Vincent wasn’t an alpha himself. The cologne he wore, which he could barely smell himself but apparently was rather strong to alphas and omegas, took care of that. And maybe more importantly his title. Only alphas were as rich and important as Vincent was.

“That said, you shouldn’t hesitate to use a firm hand with him if necessary.”

“Of course.” Vincent had mastered the art of being angry with a glazed-on smile, and it was an art he was practicing now.

“What kind of wedding were you thinking about?”

“I’ll have to discuss it with Apollo.” No way was he letting Apollo get cut out of his own wedding. “And as for a dowry…”

--

There was a bird’s nest in the tree outside Apollo’s window, and he was watching it with binoculars when he heard Vincent’s voice downstairs. He hurriedly hid the binoculars in the back of his sock drawer and rushed to the top of the stairs, where he found Indrid already standing.

Vincent’s voice was coming through the open door of his father’s office.

“Did you know Vincent was going to ask to marry you?” Indrid whispered.

“Of course I did. We already agreed.”

Indrid nodded, expression softening somewhat.

“No, of course, we must have a drink to celebrate before we break the good news,” came the earl’s voice from downstairs, and the office door shut again.

“You’ll live with him, I imagine,” said Indrid carefully.

“...yes?”

“Because his house is a lot nicer than this place.”

Apollo snorted. “Vincent does not live in a house. Vincent lives on an estate.”

“Right, right.”

“Why do you care? Are you going to miss me?”

“So you’d have no reason to want to keep this place.”

Oh. All at once Apollo saw what Indrid was thinking of. Apollo was the older son, after all, and Indrid could easily be disinherited entirely for taking a mate against his father’s wishes. But Indrid’s mate didn’t come with an estate and a fortune. He was asking Apollo for the house.

Apollo had half a mind to say that Indrid should have thought of that before he mated his bodyguard: he’d been lucky enough to be born a real omega, how could he be so stupid as to not take advantage of it?

But then Apollo looked around the narrow hallway they were standing in, and thought better of it. When they were younger they’d chased each other down these halls; Apollo had knocked out one of Indrid’s baby teeth tackling him against that bronze amphora. Dust motes floated in a ray of sunlight.

He didn’t like this house. He spent as much time away from it as possible. He couldn’t imagine not tensing up as he walked past the doorway to his father’s office. And the master bedroom was far too small for his taste, anyway, and the tile in the bathrooms was all hideous. Not to mention the location, in a row of other fancy houses with street noise outside instead of birdsong.

And if Vincent heard Apollo had told Indrid he wasn’t allowed to keep their family house, he’d be disappointed, and invite Indrid and Duck to stay indefinitely at his place, which Apollo absolutely would not tolerate.

Apollo sighed. “It’s yours.”

He was so shocked when Indrid hugged him that he almost fell over. “Congratulations on your, ah, your engagement,” said Indrid into Apollo’s shoulder.

He didn’t shove his brother away, though, and even gingerly hugged back.

--

Vincent was reading defense memos when the door to his borrowed office cracked open. He was at the palace, for a day of meetings with the king and an evening of entertainment. “Vincennnt,” Apollo whined, slipping inside and closing the door behind him. “Someone else tried to proposition me, please fuck me and remind me who I belong to.” He crossed the room, leaning on Vincent’s desk. “I want everyone to be able to smell you on me.”

“Sweetheart, quite literally anyone could walk in right now.”

“So?”

Vincent looked at his fiance. Apollo actually looked upset, and Vincent didn’t doubt his story.

Vincent knew how their relationship looked. An alpha past his prime, looks nothing to write home about, and an omega who married him just for his money and titles. He liked the looks he got with Apollo on his arm. Apollo, the inspiration of fear and lust in equal measure in the general public, who everyone liked to look at but only Vincent was allowed to touch.

Vincent set down his pen and pushed his chair back from the desk. Apollo’s face lit up. “You’re very hard to resist.”

Apollo straddled Vincent’s lap and rolled his lips. “And also very hard.”

“But since you interrupted my work I get to choose the position.”

Apollo went pliant as Vincent manhandled him, bent him over the desk and yanked his pants down to just above his knees. Apollo whined, straining to open his legs further. Vincent dug through his briefcase for a tube of lotion, squeezed a bit on his fingers, and slicked up the inside of Apollo’s thighs. With his clean hand he undid his own fly and ground himself against Apollo’s slick skin.

“I don’t have time to open you up properly,” he murmured, before managing to thrust between Apollo’s thighs. “Now close your legs, sweetheart.”

Apollo obeyed, but not without complaint. “I’m so empty,” he whined, as Vincent watched his hole flex. His fingernails were scrabbling against the surface of the desk, trying to fuck his hips back against Vincent, but he couldn’t get purchase.

“Sweetheart, if you aren’t grateful I won’t let you cum.”

“Nooo, please, I need it-” Apollo was already very hard. One of the blessings and curses of youth, he got hard easily, could hardly manage to sit on Vincent’s lap without trying to grind on him. When not permitted to cum he got very bratty very fast.

Vincent clenched his teeth and fucked him faster, pulling back and stroking himself to cum all over Apollo’s ass and thighs. “Then say thank you.”

“Thankyouthankyou for fucking me, you feel so fucking good, daddy please let me cum-”

Still keeping him pinned to the desk, Vincent reached around to stroke Apollo’s dick.

“Are any of these papers important?” Apollo gasped. “Because I’m about to cum on them.”

“Hm, good point.” Vincent flipped Apollo over again and sank to his knees. “This will be much neater,” he said, before Apollo let out a strangled cry as Vincent took him into his mouth.

Apollo was always overexcitable, and Vincent didn’t have to do anything fancy to wreck him like this. He had to hold Apollo’s hips back against the desk so he didn’t fuck him too hard. When Apollo had calmed down a little, Vincent hollowed his cheeks to suck properly, and Apollo came almost instantly. Vincent swallowed around him, and stayed there for a moment, resting his cheek on Apollo’s thigh. Apollo’s breaths slowly evened out. Vincent grabbed a tissue, gently parted Apollo’s thighs, and wiped away the cum and lotion. He kissed the skin and then pulled Apollo’s pants and underwear back up. “There. Much tidier than letting you cum all over my papers.”

Apollo whined a little, and tugged Vincent up for a kiss. Vincent took a drink from the glass of water on the desk and sat down in his chair again. Apollo curled himself up in his lap. Vincent pressed his nose to Apollo’s hair - he could smell his shampoo, one that Vincent had bought him. Oh, that reminded him.

“What do you want for your birthday?”

“Don’t tell me you actually need gift ideas.”

“Oh, I have a few, but I want to know what you want, sweetheart.”

Apollo averted his eyes. Vincent just petted him, knowing how Apollo couldn’t stand silence. “I saw an ad for a collar,” he said softly. “In one of your magazines.”

“Oh?” Vincent was fairly certain he knew what Apollo was talking about. He’d paused over the ad himself, but hadn’t known whether Apollo would like being collared or not.

“But it’s expensive. Because it’s fur-lined, and real leather, and customizable with real gold letters so - I’ll think of something else.”

“Really?” Vincent teased. “Now you’re bashful about spending Daddy’s money?” He tilted Apollo’s head up for a leisurely kiss. “You can ask for whatever you want, baby, I know you always show your appreciation properly.”

“Hngh,” said Apollo. He was squirming a little, and Vincent realized looking down that Apollo was hard again.

“You want more, baby?”

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t -”

“Shhh.” Vincent kissed Apollo’s cheek. “I can’t spoil you if you don't tell me what you need, and I do like spoiling you.”

“Fuck, when you talk like that I, I -” Apollo fumbled with the button on his pants. “Can I touch myself? Please?”

“No,” said Vincent, tugging Apollo’s hand away by the wrist and kissing him soundly. “Let me take care of you.”

Apollo made a tiny needy noise as Vincent took him in hand, speaking between kisses to his face and neck while he slowly jerked him off. “My baby boy deserves all the pleasure he can handle.”

“Daddy please,” said Apollo, clinging to him.

“Please what, baby? You know I can never deny you anything.”

“Please make me cum.” Apollo took a deep breath. “And put me in a collar with your name on it and spoil me and use me and make me yours.”

“Oh, Apollo,” said Vincent, voice full of love as his hand sped up to help Apollo towards orgasm. He didn’t say anything more, not until Apollo had come again and was lying boneless in his arms, but from the way Vincent kissed him, Apollo heard him loud and clear.

#vincent/apollo #omegaverse #vinlo

[xxbyimm]

Lovers - Fíli x reader

Check out my Masterlist!

HAPPY BELATED FÍLI FRIDAY MY LOVES!! I’ve been walking around with this smutty idea for months... I do hope y’all enjoy. xoxo

Lovers - Fíli x reader

Summary: Fíli makes love to you. 

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ fic. If you are not 18, I prefer you not read this. Be warned.

Taglist: @soradragon​ @pistachiozombie​ @legolaslovely​ @tomisbaeholland​ @saviorsong​ @swoopswishsward​ @fizzyxcustard​ @deepestfirefun​ @ruthoakenshield​ @mariannetora​ Furthermore: @sage-willow-raven​ and @daydreamer-in-training​ were ready for some naughty Fíli, so I’m giving you lovelies a tag! If you don’t wish to be tagged anymore, please let me know! Or if you’re not on the list and want to be tagged: check out my lists and I’d like to hear which list you want in on!

The small garret was covered in darkness. The last candles already burned out hours ago, leaving the vague trace of burned wax hanging in the air. Outside the silence reigned, though if you listened closely you could hear distant moans coming from the guestrooms on the floor below. The icy frost had crept through the cracks of the window frame into the small space of the attic, but below the coverlet it was pleasingly warm.

Something smooth moved against his groin, stirring the golden lion in his sleep. He heaved a drowsy sigh, his peaceful dreams turning into something more wicked. Scenes of a young prince playing with his peers gradually morphed into a matured version of him, this time fooling around with you. His body tingled as it remembered the events that had taken place last night.

Especially the way you had felt fucking fantastic around him.

Fíli, the prince of Durin’s folk, awoke. Though he couldn’t have slept more than a few hours, he felt well rested. He groaned softly when you moved in your sleep, pressing your perfectly round bum against him once more. Mahal! He now was definitely awake. You on the other hand, were clearly not aware of your own actions. Your breathing still sounded heavy and your thoughts seemed far, far away.

It didn’t matter though. Dawn must be nearing and he reckoned it wouldn’t take long for the sun to creep into the room to wake you and your pretty physique up from your slumber. And if it didn’t, he’d find a way. By now he knew your curves like the back of his own hand and there were plenty of pleasant options that would have you wake up in an instant.

Fíli smirked, his thoughts shifting to last night. It had begun as it usually did. He had entered the tavern and retreated to his usual spot in the back. From there, he had admired the excellent view as he watched you work. Because your father always kept a watchful eye you didn’t dare to give your favorite patron more attention than the other customers, but when the old goat wasn’t looking lustful glances were thrown across the place. On some occasions you even dared to stop for some polite, small talk when you served the golden prince his ale.

Over the past few months, the more Fíli had watched you and your father interact the lesser he thought of the man. While you were as sweet and innocent as an angel, your father was the complete opposite. He was a harsh guy, a cunning and vile kind who cared more for coin than his own flesh and blood. Once, the prince had heard him complain about how his wife had left him with a worthless daughter who no one wanted, instead of a real heir. The guy didn’t deserve you or the hard work you put yourself through every day, but you wouldn’t hear of it.

So because Fíli couldn’t steal you away from this awful place, he tried to settle with the pleasant knowledge that the bastard was oblivious of the fact that the two of you were far much more acquainted than you were letting on.

For the last few months, Fíli had developed the habit of climbing to the roof after the tavern had closed for the night and slipping through your slightly opened window. You were always there waiting, welcoming the prince in your bed. He had lost count of the times he had made love to you on that old mattress that creaked with every move the two of you made, but he had not forgotten that one moment when you had told him you loved him. At the time he was so taken aback by the sincerity of it that he had murmured something incomprehensive in return, but he had wrecked his brain to find a way to make it up to you ever since.

Truth was, he loved you as much as you loved him, maybe even more. He adored your pretty features, the way you laughed. Though others underestimated you because of your sweet demeanor and small height, Fíli knew that you could be quick as a whip and as sharp as one of his favorite knives. You had a beautiful, bright mind and he could listen for hours to you voicing your thoughts out loud. You were everything he had ever wanted in a woman, but the one chance he had of telling you that, he ruined beyond measure.

‘Fíli…’ you mumbled in your sleep. The prince smiled softly and placed a kiss behind your ear. ‘I’m sorry.’ He confided in you. ‘I don’t mean to be such a… jerk. You just took me by surprise, that’s all…’ You muttered something under your breath, but it was far too soft for Fíli to understand. Nonetheless, the prince perched himself up on his elbow to have better look. Your H/C locks were draped over the pillow, tickling the prince’s arm. Your lips were slightly pouted and the expression on your face was one of utter bliss. The prince could watch you for hours… Had he ever seen someone this beautiful?

Fíli could not resist it. He slowly slid down below the covers, placing delicate kisses down your spine as he went. You sighed, but did not move and the prince smiled against your S/C toned skin. He then continued on his journey south, caressing your lovely ass before he gently nudged you on your back. Your legs parted on their own and the golden lion settled in between them, momentarily admiring his excellent view. His eyes traveled over your core towards your abdomen, the swelling of your breasts and finally your face. You were everything all at once: innocent and endearing, but also a bit wicked and intoxicating as fuck. And you were all his…

The prince bowed down, barely pausing before he lazily dragged his tongue over you. ‘Oh!’ you breathed and Fíli grinned. Then, you quickly succumbed to your silent slumber again. No matter, he hadn’t expected you to wake up just like that, nor did he want you to. There was still plenty of time…

A soft kiss landed on your inner thigh and another one followed closer to your center. With his thumbs, the prince caressed the smooth skin of your thighs before pushing them further apart. You murmured something incomprehensible in return and Fíli glanced up at your sweet face.

Still asleep.

His breath fanned over your core and the golden lion licked his lips. Then he moved down, pressing a light kiss on your core before flicking his tongue over your clitoris with light, teasing strokes.

You reacted with a louder moan now. Fíli groaned against your core and shuffled between your legs to make room for his growing desire. He then moved slightly down, kissing your folds and drawing his mustache braids over you on purpose. It earned him a sharp hiss.

You probably would be embarrassed if he’d ever tell, but your scent was so… You were intoxicating till the point Fíli didn’t know if he could contain himself. If it was his choice to make, the prince would stay between your thighs forever.

Gently, Fíli parted your folds. His tongue dragged all over you in long, slow laps before he stopped at your sensitive nub and sucked on it. With a loud cry, you shot up.

The prince looked up, his blue eyes roaming freely over your body. A sharp jolt went through his abdomen as he watched you in all of your delicious glory. Your voluptuous breasts were begging to be touched, just like the already hardened nipples needed to be enclosed by the warmth of his mouth and the delicate curves of your neck deserved his undivided attention.

Though your body seemed ready for another round of sweet lovemaking, your mind was a bit hazy. Your breath was coming short pants and your eyes still seemed a little far away. ‘Fíli?’ you panted, your fingers reaching out to caress his long, golden manes. ‘What are you…’ ‘Y/N.’ he replied huskily and he couldn’t help grinning foolishly when he saw a blush creeping up your cheeks. ‘Oh, Fíli!’ you stuttered, throwing your head backwards as he still continued teasing you. Your fingers raked through his hair. ‘OH!’

The prince growled against you in return. His tongue stroked your clit in short, intense laps now. Your body started to arch up against him, silently begging for more. His fingers delved into the delicious curves of your thighs. ‘I- I- Ah!’ you breathed. ‘Fíli…’

He knew what you wanted and you wouldn’t have to ask twice. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t antagonize you just a bit more, though. So with the tip of his tongue, he continued dancing around your sensitive nub. It had you writhing above him. ‘Are you sure, love?’ he then purred. ‘Y-Yes.’ You gulped. ‘Please.’

Fíli kissed you one last time before trailing his way upwards. You eased yourself on the creaking mattress again and watched your lover through your lashes. The prince took his sweet time, leaving fond kisses on your stomach and giving both of your nipples a long, hard suck before claiming your mouth.

His lips were hungrily taking in all of you, your passionate moans and sighs spurring him further on. Your hands traveled over the prince’s flat abdomen, following the dark line of hairs towards his groin. Your fingers closed around his shaft and you started pumping up and down his length, earning a strangled groan.

But you were an impatient lass and Fíli chuckled darkly when you moved your hips against him before guiding him towards your entrance. How could he not oblige to your demands? He sank down into you with ease, watching you biting your bottom lip. A rosy color rose on your cheeks. ‘Fí-Fíli…’ you mumbled feverishly, your legs wrapping around him. ‘Love.’ He breathed. ‘I-’

Whatever he had wanted to say got lost as you surged forward and captured him a demanding kiss. The prince started to grind his hips against yours. The bed creaked loudly in rhythm with your joined moves, but neither of you seemed to notice, nor to care. ‘Oh, fuck.’ You moaned, your hips rising to meet his with every thrust. ‘Yes!’

Fíli picked up the pace, pounding harder into you. You were moaning out loud now, fingernails clinging into his back and your legs holding him like a vice. ‘Ah!’ he cried out when he felt your teeth sinking in the skin of his neck. ‘You little vixen!’ A giggle escaped you. ‘Doesn’t that please you, my prince?’ He growled. ‘Very.’ ‘Good.’ You purred, your eyes burning with pure want. ‘I want them to know you’re mine.’ Fíli rose from your embrace and guided your legs over his shoulder. He placed a kiss on your ankle and you mewled.

The two of you were so caught up into each other, that you didn’t notice someone bustling about on the floor below yours. ‘Y/N?!’ your father suddenly called up the stairs. ‘Is that you?’

‘Fuck!’ You hissed. Your eyes widened and you shoved your lover aside before jumping from the bed. A little fazed from the sudden interruption, Fíli sat unmoved. He watched you scrambling your clothes together and hastily putting them on. ‘Quick!’ you urged your prince when you saw he was merely gazing at you. ‘Get your clothes!’

‘Y/N?’ your father asked, a little louder now. The stairs creaked as the man ascended the steps towards the attic.

Fíli jumped up and caught his tunic that you threw his way, followed by his breeches. The prince shoved his feet in his boots and grabbed his coat. He was just about to steal a goodbye kiss, when the door opened.

‘Father!’ you cried out, blushing heavily. ‘This isn’t what it looks like, I-’ The old man’s face was riddled with anger and he eyed the dwarven prince with malice. ‘I knew something was going on, you filthy wench!’ He boomed and you quickly lowered your head. ‘At least you have the audacity to feel ashamed.’

His fist landed on your cheek. The impact of the force so heavy that you lost your balance and jerked backwards, but luckily Fíli reacted just in time to catch you. The prince pushed you behind him before giving your father a terrifying glare. ‘Stand behind me.’ He growled. ‘I will not let this coward manhandle you another time!’ ‘But I-’ you protested, tears streaming down your face. ‘Please don’t hurt him, I-’

Both males ignored your pleas. ‘So you’re the one who is defiling my daughter, dwarf.’ The old goat spat. ‘How long will it take before her belly is heavy from your filthy spawn?’

Your hand sought Fíli’s, but the prince pushed it away and clenched his hands into fists. Though your dad was a tall, broad guy, the golden lion didn’t feel threatened. Years of training by uncle Thorin and Dwalin had taught him well. He could take him.

Fíli’s chest was heaving mechanically as he kept his eyes on the prize. His body tensed, ready to act when called for. Blood roared in his ears.

‘Well?’ your father demanded. ‘Dad, I am-’ you began, but you swallowed the rest of your sentence when your father sent you a deadly glare. ‘If you turn out to be pregnant, I will kill the filthy half breed with my bare hands.’ He vowed, spitting on the ground.

That was it. Fíli surged forward. The first blow landed on the innkeeper’s temple, the second one on his jaw. Your father howled and stumbled backwards. Next, Fíli’s fist punched into his opponent’s chest and belly. After receiving another blow to the chest, your father fell on the floor. Anger pulsed through his blood and the prince moved forward to-

‘Fíli!’ you screeched, gripping the prince by his shoulder. ‘Please, stop!’ He clenched his jaw. Though there this was not nearly enough hurt for all the bad things your father had put you through, the prince knew it was not worth it. Thus, he took a step back. ‘Y/N.’ he rasped. ‘Let’s go.’ You shook your head violently and rushed to your father’s side. ‘I can’t. Father, are you okay?’ Your father watched you with an expression of pure hatred displayed on his face. ‘You are no daughter of mine.’ He hissed as he slapped your hands away. ‘But…’ you began. ‘OUT!’ The innkeeper screamed at you. ‘GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK!’

After rushing down the flights of stairs, through the empty tavern and into the streets of the town, you both ran until you were out of breath. Fíli then grabbed your hand and pulled you into a small alley.

‘Y/N…’ he grinned. ‘What?!’ you huffed, looking absolutely ridiculous with one boot still in your hand and your dress hanging around your shoulders. ‘Y/N.’ he repeated, taking your in his arms and pressing you against the wall. ‘Tell me you’ll marry me.’ Your breath hitched. ‘Fíli?’ ‘How about it?’ ‘You can’t be serious.’ You murmured, avoiding his gaze. ‘Look at the state that I’m in!’ ‘I’m as sure as the ground I’m standing on, lass.’ He assured you, an huge smile adorning his face. ‘Please be my wife.’ ‘Fíli!’ you cried out. ‘Don’t mess with me! I’m in huge trouble, my father-’

His mouth covered yours, kissing you desperately. Your protests slowly changed into throaty moans and a soft thud informed the prince that your boot had escaped your grip. ‘You’re not going to return to that piece of filth.’ he growled against your lips. ‘He doesn’t deserve a soul as pure as yours.’ ‘He’s my dad!’ you managed to protest. ‘What is he going to do without me?!’ ‘I bet he soon will find out.’ The prince chuckled darkly. ‘He never has appreciated you like he should have.’ ‘But the tavern… The patrons… How can I abandon them? What will become of me?’

He had argued with you many times about this, your answer had always been the same. And now even the fact that your dad had sent you away, wasn’t enough to make you realize you were better off without him. It drove Fíli mad.

‘What do I need to do to knock some sense into you?’ the golden lion exasperated, his hands clawing into the seams of your dress. ‘Fuck your brains out? Will that bring you to reason?’ He was met with silence as you merely bit your lip and lowered your head to avoid his penetrating gaze.

The move was enough to snap the golden lion out of his anger. Mahal, losing his temper against the woman he loved, no- wanted to spend his life with, was unacceptable. Fíli wasn’t your dad and he had no intention of becoming anything like that. Disgusted with himself, he let go of your dress and stepped back.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said quietly. ‘I don’t mean to be the second male to disrespect you like that tonight. You don’t deserve that.’ ‘Fíli…’ ‘I know how much you love the tavern and it’s my fault you lost it tonight.’ The prince went on. ‘I will try to reason with that idio- I mean, your father.’ ‘That won’t be necessary.’ You replied, making Fíli look up. There was a mingling of emotions in your eyes, but a firm determination was the dominant one. ‘I am not going back.’ You told him. ‘Y/N.’ he rasped. ‘Are you serious?’ ‘If you promise to fuck me senseless whenever I do change my mind.’

He blinked and stared at you, completely dumbfounded. You smirked and the prince grinned. ‘I promise.’ He purred. ‘Shall we start already? Just to be sure?’

A small nod was enough. His blue eyes burned through yours as he pinned you against the wall and gripped your dress once more before rucking it up to your thighs. ‘People might…’ you began, but you faltered as his fingers delved in your delicate folds. Your eyes fell shut as he rubbed two fingers around your still very sensitive nub. ‘See us?’ He rasped, his hot breath fanning your face. ‘Love, I don’t care. Let them.’ ‘Fíli-’ you whined, eyes falling shut. ‘Yes…’

His hands fumbled with the laces of his trousers before he slid into you again. As he quickened his pace, his fingers grazed over your core and stroked you in all the right places. A sultry moan escaped your lips and Fíli purred in return.

You were a sight to behold. Messy hair, the quickly clad on dress hanging loosely around your shoulders and showing the swelling of your breasts. Your head was resting against the wall behind you, eyes fallen shut and your mouth slightly opened.

It was all too much. Your earlier lovemaking combined with the adrenaline of confronting your father had worked the prince up and he felt himself losing his steady rhythm. Your walls were clenching around him and Fíli growled desperately. His fingers dragged over your clit again and again, making you cry out in agony. ‘Y/N.’ the prince murmured over and over again, sounding much like a litany.

Time slowed. You shattered before him, dragging your lover with you over the edge. The world around you dissolved as Fíli’s pleasure cracked. With a strangled moan, he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You slumped against the wall and the prince nuzzled his face in your neck, softly caressing the sensitive skin. ‘I should have said this sooner.’ He whispered against you. ‘Y/N. I love you.’ You froze. ‘What did you say?’ The golden lion looked up at your gorgeous face and smiled. ‘You heard me. I said that I love you.’ ‘I thought that you…’ you murmured faintly. ‘That I was just a…’ ‘I was a coward.’ Fíli told you. ‘And your honesty took me by surprise.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘No.’ he growled, tearing away from your embrace just to cup your cheeks with his hands. ‘It is me who should apologize, as I did not give you the love you deserve. I am sorry, Y/N.’ You lowered your gaze and blushed. ‘You’re forgiven.’ Fíli grinned. ‘That is….’ You continued, with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. ‘If you can promise you’ll be on your best behavior as my husband.’ A chuckle escaped him and he moved forward. Lips brushed over one another. ‘That, I can promise…’

Thank you so much for reading my humble story. Feedback is always welcome.  Did you like my work? Spread the love and reblog! :) And here’s my Masterlist.

#fili #fili x reader #fili x you #fili fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #our golden lion #fili smut #fili saturday

[the-siren-and-the-sailor]

@kissthe-gogoat it's all done my dude, hell yeah

Stars glimmered outside the spacecraft's window, and the glow of Saturn's rings provided the room (and by extension, the woman in it), with just enough light.

Daphne stood in front of the extensive mirror, turning from side to side. The celestial glow glittered across her outfit; a tangerine dress with festoons that exaggerated her statuesque high heels.

Behind her, she could see that a figure in the Fleet Admiral's uniform had slipped inside the walk-in closet.

"What an outfit, mouse. How much did this one cost?" her husband chastised her, but Daphne smiled up at him (yes, up, even in those heels) innocently.

"Um... does it really matter, kitten?" she said sweetly. He didn't look impressed. "Alright fine. It was about, I think, three hundred Woolongs?"

Cain sighed and tapped his foot. "And where were you planning to wear this... extravagant outfit, during work?"

Defenses up. If Cain was going to be like this, so was she. "I was only going to go visit a friend! Super quick, you won't even notice I'm gone. Really!"

Cain stepped closer to her, trying to find some sign or clue of her true intent. Oh, Cain. He could be so damn stingy about responsibility and organization. In his eyes, this was justified; when it's 2178 and you've started a city on a spaceship that you must maintain, being somewhat steely can be a necessary evil.

In Daphne's eyes, Cain was, well...

"Oh, you can be such a jackass sometimes! Fine, I was going to see Teresa, and probably Abel, too. We were going to go giggle at paintings of you two in The Library and tell stories of all the stupid shit you two have done. Happy?"

The words streamed out of her and she was left with only the option to close her mouth and look at her toes. Cain huffed and lifted her chin to kiss her. She melted into it for just a moment before he pulled away.

"Just promise me you'll be safe. Abel and I are... trying. But-"

"Of course, doll," she held his cheek in reassurance. The mischief returned to her eyes once more, however. "So, is this you telling me I can go?"

Cain pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled through his nose. "I suppose, but-"

"Yes! Oh, thank you, darling, thank you! Bye!" She quickly scurried out the door, but tripped on her shoes after only a few steps.

"Darling, perhaps you should change. The docents will not appreciate the loud clicking heels much, anyway."

Daphne sighed, glowered at Cain, and defeatedly began to change. He chuckled, "That's what I thought."

"Oh go away, you!" she said in half-mock irritation, pushed him out the door, and shut it.

"Just tell Enoch I say hello..." Cain called through the door.

“Go away!”

~*~

Teresa’s ears twitched at the sound of a knock on the door. "I've got it," Abel grumbled from the living room as he got up.

He was already not pleased to have been moved from his comfortable spot on the couch, but the sight when he opened the door did little to lighten his mood.

Daphne had been smiling, but it faltered slightly at the sight of the man towering over her. Her expression and demeanor changed to that of someone who was both exasperated and a little nervous, all while trying to remain positive.

Abel, however, simply wanted to go back inside. "Oh, it's you," was all he said.

"Obviously. I'm here to see Teresa, are they here?" Daphne was impatiently looking past him and into the house.

He stepped, almost defensively, to block her view. "What would you want with them?"

"We were only going to go out on a little day trip. Leave the poor girl alone."

"Why don't you leave me alone, wench."

"Abel, what's wrong?" the voice sounded from behind him, this one much softer and kinder. Abel turned and there stood Teresa, watching the display curiously. Realization clicked onto their face when they saw Daphne, however.

"Oh, Daphne! Hi, sorry! I'll go get my stuff really quick!" they said before dashing off to another room.

This left Daphne and Abel in a very tense silence. They eyed each other, not saying a word.

Should she…? No, oh, it would be so rude. Hmm… but she couldn’t resist.

"Well at least your English has gotten better," Daphne muttered. Abel looked as though he could've killed her, and Daphne squeaked as she put her hands up defensively. Thankfully, Teresa came around the corner once more, now wearing shoes and carrying a purse.

Daphne sighed, relieved to be out of this awkward situation. "Alright! All ready?"

Teresa nodded. "Yep! See you later, Abel," they said, standing on the tips of her hooves to kiss his cheek. With this, Abel and Daphne shot each other one last look, and the two headed out the door.

~*~

"So how does this work, again?" Teresa was referring to how to get to the Library.

"Well, we use these things called 'Ways.' They're like, hmm. They can be almost anything, usually involving a door. If you do some specific steps, it'll let you in. It's sort of like apparating, I guess," Daphne fumbled her way through the explanation. Teresa still looked rather confused.

"Okay... So what steps do we follow?"

"Well, there's a door in the lower levels of the ship, and you use a certain key while dripping moon water on it. Uh, I think."

"Huh, okay. And, how do you make moon water? Um, out here, I mean?"

"Oh, I have no fucking clue. I just left a water bottle with a friend on Enceladus for a while."

"Oh, okay. Will that work?"

"Guess we'll find out!"

~*~

Somehow, someway, the Way opened for them. Why? Who knows, who cares.

Daphne and Teresa now stood is the grand halls of the Library. Teresa had quickly taken to looking around, asking questions about anything and everything.

"Girl, slow down! I don't know everything!" Daphne yelped, smiling.

"Sorry, sorry, I- Oh! Wow, how old do you think this book is?"

"Oh gosh, I dunno. Few hundred years? At least?"

Teresa's eyes widened as they began to open the book. Daphne laughed and gently pulled it away. "Weren't you the one who wanted to come here to learn more about Abel?"

"Weren't you just going to tell me about stupid stuff they used... to..." Teresa trailed off, their attention now on a painting behind Daphne.

"What'cha looking at now?" Daphne said, turning around. She quickly understood.

There, painted between two shelves, was a mural. It showed a grand city, sprawled across valleys and mountains. The city was surrounded by smaller icons, of sorts. Several the Teresa recognized, others not so much.

In the top corners were two women, one with light skin and black hair, the other with the opposite. Between them was a glowing man wearing an iron crown inlaid with what looked to be a star.

Their attention had mostly been drawn to the two figures below the black-haired woman. The first, a man with piercing blue eyes and a clockwork coronet in his hair. Another was a man with a strong face and winding rose thorns resting just above his ears.

"Cain and Abel. Right?" Teresa chirped. "Oh, look! Here at the bottom, it's them as kids! Wow, can you believe Abel was shorter than Cain at one point?"

Getting used to the sight, Daphne responded, "Oh yeah. I'm pretty sure he's something like, what, five years younger than Cain? And I think Seth is three years behind Abel."

"Wait, how do you know that? Or did Cain tell you?"

Daphne nodded, and Teresa's face lit up. "Wow, that's so cool! Can I..." she hesitated. "Oh, I mean, I don't want to pry."

"They’re our husbands aren’t they? Ask whatever you want," Daphne gave Teresa a daring smile.

And it was off to the races! Teresa asked about anything and everything they could think of. All the while, they searched out more paintings of the pair. Teresa’s favorite seemed to be the one that depicted the two with matching ear piercings. They were more than a bit tickled to find that they had gotten them behind their mother’s back.

Several others were more serious. Depictions of Cain’s banishment, Abel’s confinement, and Seth’s disappearance. Others showed them in more victorious circumstances; Cain and Daphne, as royalty, with their boys; Abel standing atop a golden throne having just defeated the people that kept him captive for so long.

And then they found one that have she pause. Teresa looked closer at it. It was a beautiful forest scenery, and depicted a tall man dancing with a smaller, goat-like person.

“Daphne, this painting of Abel… who’s that with him?”

Daphne smiled. “Who do you think it is?”

“Well, uh… maybe, uh, one of my siblings?” they said slowly.

“Do you really believe that?”

“…I guess I don’t. Huh…” they continued to gaze at it for a time.

After a few moments of this, Daphne quietly smiled to herself again. “Welcome to the hall of fame, kiddo.”

“Yeah…” Teresa had now moved to lightly touch the painting.

“Hmm. Hang on a sec, Goat. You stay here, I’ll be right back.”

~*~

Abel still looked ready to bite Daphne’s head off when she returned Teresa to him. However, she made her getaway as Abel was distracted by Teresa’s dreamy expression.

“What’s this?”

He followed her to their bedroom, where they had set a large and heavy book down on the table.

“It’s a story book. Look,” they flipped to a few hundred pages in.

It was a tale entitled ‘The Bard and the Barbarian.’ Teresa pulled it into their lap and patted the spot on the bed next to them. Abel took the hint and laid down next the them.

With this Teresa smoothed the page, drew in a breath, and began to read.

~*~

A/N: Yes that is a Cowboy Bebop reference in the very beginning :D And yes I am going to continue to call their city's currency Woolongs :D

Not sure if this is really my best work, but it was fun to write!

#writing #my writing #kissthe-gogoat #for a friend #i need to get a writing tag wth #i write shit and then i can’t ever find it again 😤 #📝 written in the history books 📜

[batfam-rewrites]

Batfam During Quarantine: Avatar

Dick: Okay, lets try to keep the craziness to a minimum. Harper and Cullen are quarantining for two weeks so lets not do anything to make them jealous.

Duke: *Duke and Tim walk into the room* Omg, We just finished watching Avatar The Last Airbender for like the fifth time right now! I LOVE THIS SHOW SO MUCH!!! WHY DID THEY EVER TAKE IT OFF OF NETFLIX!!!

Dick: Guys, come on. I literally just said to keep the craziness to a minimum.

Tim: They have Netflix set up on their tv. They should be fine.

Damian: What is Avatar The Last Airbender

Everyone: *gasp*

Selina: Some....

Jason: Sh ta ta ta ta. *presses his finger to Selina’s lips* Don’t speak, I know just what you’re sayin’, so please stop explainin’.

Selina: Really Jason? How long have you been waiting to use that one?

Jason: *breaks into a dance* All night long, all night.

Stephanie: What is going on with you Jason? 

Tim: I know right? You don’t ever listen to Lionel Richie, let alone pop music.

Jason: It’s his fault! *points at Dick* Him and his stupid playlist!

Dick: “Don’t Speak” isn’t on my playlist though.

Jason: I ummmm...... radio.

Dick: *gasp* You listen to No Doubt!

Jason: No! Maybe!

Dick: O-M-G!

Jason: They’re a guilty pleasure! Now don’t mention it again.

Cassandra: Guys!!! What is The Last Airbender?

Duke: *starts to explain but Dick holds him back*

Jason: *to Damian and Cassandra* You poor depraved children.

Damian: I’m not a child.

Jason: Hahaha, your cute. Avatar The Last Airbender is the beautiful brain child of Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. It is a fantastic series that can not be summarized by anyone or even a movie. Anyone who tries instantly robs the person of the magic of the original series and ruins the exper.....

Damian: You know what, screw it. This isn’t worth it.

Dick: NOOOO! Come on Dami, we can watch it all together, just the nine of us.

Duke: Yeah, come on Damian.

Stephanie: It’s a really great series Dami.

Cassandra: I mean I’m interested.

Tim: *turns his head towards Cassandra* We already knew you were on board. *turns his head back to Damian*

Damian: Fine, I’ll give your stupid show a chance.

Everyone: Yaaayyyyy!!!! *they all start to head down stairs when Dick gets an alert on his phone*

Dick: Actually, this is going to need to wait. Cass and Tim, come with me. I’ll alert Babs and Kate.

Jason: Why, what’s up?

Dick: There’s been a murder at Blackgate.

Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl, Red Robin, Orphan, and Commissioner Gordon

Jim: Batman and, wow there are a lot of you!

Batman: We want to try and get this over with as soon as possible.  

Jim: Very well. Victim is Julian Gregory Day, better known as Calendar Man. The body was found at 10:15. He left his cell at 10 to meet with the D.A. to talk about getting a reduced sentence. Both of the prison guards who were escorting Julian Day were knocked out during the attack. All of the camera’s were out, too.

Batwoman: The marks on his neck suggest that he was strangled and can’t quite tell but there’s something under his fingernails. He couldn’t have saw this coming but he definitely tried to put up a fight.

Batman: Okay, Batgirl and Orphan, lets have you head to the morgue with the diener and see if they could find out what’s under his finger nails. Batwoman, question Hugo Strange. Go through the audio files and see what you can find. Red Robin, you and I will see what any of the inmates in the cell block know. Jim, order your men to check the other camera monitors for anything suspicious.

Jim: I’m not one of your......

Batman: *glares at Jim Gordon*

Jim: I could figure out your identity any time I want. 

Batman: *smirks* Is that a promise?

Jim: It’s a door I’m willing to keep closed unless you cross the line.

Batwoman

Something she didn’t mention at the crime scene was that there was traces of reddish brown hair, so that points fingers at James Gordon Jr, Clock King, Edward Nigma, and Roxanne Sutton. Kate has her suspicions, but as of right now everyone is a suspect.

Hugo Strange: Hello Batwoman. How may I assist you?

Batwoman: I need to know about a few of your patients.

Hugo Strange: You know I can not tell you much I am.....

Batwoman: I am familiar with the confidentiality agreement. I need to know about Julian Day.

Hugo Strange: Poor guy. It’s a shame what happened to him. His most recent audio files are all yours. You’ll find the information you need in there.

Batwoman walked out of the room and began listening to the files in the secret Batcave in Blackgate.

Batgirl and Orphan

Batgirl: *walks into the door* Ugh, what is that smell?

Orphan: Rotting goat sex.

Batgirl: *burst out laughing* What?

Orphan: Rotting goat sex. 

Batgirl: What made you say that?

Orphan: Red Hood told me that’s the name of the yellow squares you put on sandwiches. The ones that go bad over time and smell like this room.

Batgirl: Okay, don’t listen to Red Hood anymore. It’s called cheese Orphan.

Orphan: Cheese. Okay. Got it.

Batgirl: So, how are you enjoying quarantine in the mansion.

Orphan: It’s not bad. Been sparring a lot. 

Batgirl: Who exactly? You’re not hurting my boyfriend right?

Orphan: Nope, but I kicked Helena’s butt a few times.

Batgirl: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY!!!

Coroner: *walks out* Hey, so the.... Sorry, am I interrupting something.

Batgirl: No. Tell us about the body.

Coroner: Okay so prior to his death it seems the victim was drugged with a depressant. Obviously slowing his reactions. Underneath his fingernails are threads from the string that was used strangle him and some dead skin cells.

Batgirl: There’s not a lot of options for strings except for shoelaces, and unless someone has a very old shoelace, that means the string had to have come from outside the prison.

Coroner: Correct, the threads are definitely not made from the same material as the shoelaces.

Orphan: Anything else.

Coroner: Yes, there was some short white hairs found on his body which is odd, but probably from facial hair or eyebrows.

Batgirl: Thanks! Let us know when you have an idea who those skin cells belong to. *both Barbara and Cassandra start walking away* Tell Red Robin what we found out.

Orphan: But we’re supposed to report to Batman.

Batgirl: Fuck Batman.

Selina, Bruce, Lucius, and Alfred

At Wayne Tower

Bruce: *starring at his computer screen* If I buy this company, then I can buy a donut, and the cosmic donut will make me live forever, plus more profits, because three coffees plus one donut equals one Tim. *Lucius Fox knocks on the door* Do you want to build a snowman?!

Lucius: Mister Wayne, we need to talk.

Bruce: What is it Lucius?

Alfred: You’re overworking yourself.

Bruce: *looks up from his computer* Dad, I mean Alfred, Selina, what are you doing here?

Selina: No simple way to say it but this is an intervention.

Bruce: I don’t need an intervention.

Selina: Bruce, it’s been a bit over two months since quarantine began. You’re company is doing just fine. Don’t you think you deserve a break?

Bruce: With a little less help from Red Tim, I need to work as much as possible to get the cosmic coffee back on track. The hacker a few weeks back did a bit of damage.

Alfred: Master Bruce, even the Batman needs a break from time to time. Isn’t that the real reason you have Master Dick running around in the Batsuit instead of you?

Bruce: No! *Bruce takes a moment to think it all over* Partially.

Lucius: You are putting to much pressure on yourself. You keep on talking nonsense and are obviously sleep deprived.

Bruce: No! I’ve haven’t put enough pressure on myself since I became Batman. Once Batman came into the picture I didn’t focus on the company any longer. And I’m not sleep deprived, I’ve slept 4 hours last night! I’m getting more than enough sleep.

Lucius: You had more of an impact on the company then you think. If it weren’t for you acting as a real CEO, we wouldn’t be doing a going green initiative, there wouldn’t be a yearly fund going out to local orphanages, you created a functioning way for employees to work from home while increasing productivity. I can go on for hours about the positive things you have done as Bruce Wayne.

Selina: You have done so much. Come home, sleep. Enjoy time with you’re family.

Bruce: I can’t do that, I can do more. I can help other companies, too.

Alfred: I remember one time, it was when you turned 5, your father was supposed to be at the hospital. However, the day before he had worked all day to make his patients feel better, so he could spend the next day with you. He wouldn’t have missed your birthday even if it would cause the end of the world. Master Thomas knew the importance of taking time off to spend time with his family. It is time that you do the same.

Bruce begins to tear up. He reflects on how often his father worked day and night, but regardless how often he worked, he always had time for him and his mother. He knew his father loved him with all his heart. Then he thought of Alfred. He wasn’t really his father but Bruce always saw him as one after his parents died. Alfred loves him as much as he loves his own family. 

Bruce: *rolls his chair back and walks over to hug Alfred* Thank you Alfred.

Alfred: Anytime sir.

Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl, Red Robin, and Orphan

*In the Blackgate Batcave*

Batman: What did we find?

Orphan: The threads under Julian’s finger nails came from a string outside of the prison meaning that it could be one of the employees who’ve killed him. Skin cells under his nails are being scanned now, and white hairs were found on his body. Also cheese is not called goat sex.

Red Robin: WHAT! *Dick and Tim start laughing hysterically* 

Batman: Why would you think that!

Batgirl: Jason told her. That’s beside the point though.

Red Robin: *whispers to Dick* What did you do?

Batman: *whispers to Tim* I don’t know.

Batgirl: Stop whispering, we can all see you!

Batman: Got it. Kate what did you find?

Batwoman: Day was in an extreme state of paranoia before he died. Talks about how he was going to tell the D.A. about corruption in Blackgate.

Batman: Interesting, did he say anyone’s name?

Batwoman: It’s not clear, but I would assume so.

Batman: That makes sense. When Red Robin and I interviewed his cellmate, Drury Walker, he said he was starting to suspect something was going to happen. He had suspicions that James Jr. was going to kill him.

Batwoman: If I had to assume, I would say the same. I noticed a large sum of reddish brown hair at the scene where the body was found.

Batgirl: There was white hair found on the body though. With Day being strangled the killer would be close enough to possibly have a few hairs fall onto his body.

Batman: Do you have a sample?

Batgirl: Obviously.

Batman: Okay, I’ll program the computer to scan it. I know it’s not ideal but we’ll find out in twelve hours. Tim, Cass, and Kate, go update Commissioner Gordon. Babs, do you mind if we talk for a moment.

Batgirl: Sure, if you feel like doing so now.

Batman: *takes off the cowl and mask* What’s wrong? 

Batgirl: How could you not tell me Helena was staying at the mansion!

Batman: I didn’t want you to overreact.

Batgirl: How could I not! One of your ex girlfriends is sleeping under the same roof you are!

Batman: Look, this conversation is a bit more complicated than I anticipated so we’ll talk more about it later.

Batgirl: You know what, do yourself one better and just don’t talk to me at all. *Barbara places her mask back on as she storms out*

Red Robin: *sneaks out from behind a door* I swear I totally wasn’t eavesdropping, but that sounded like it could have gone better.

Batman: Yeah, it could have. *Dick than walks out pulling the cowl over his head and placing his mask back on*

Batman and Batwoman

Batman: *knocks on the door*

Hugo Strange: Hello Batman, Batwoman! How may I assist you?

Batman: We have some more questions to ask you.

Hugo Strange: Please, come inside!

Batman: How has James Jr. been doing in his sessions?

Hugo Strange: He has been doing very well! Obviously he had to spend a small period in solitary for killing his cellmates but he is getting better. If he is a prime suspect you may look into his files.

Batwoman: When did you two last meet?

Hugo Strange: Yesterday.

Batman: When did you two conspire the death of Julian Day?

Hugo Strange: I’m sorry, what are you talking about?

Batwoman: *grabs Hugo Strange by the shirt and lifts him* DON’T PLAY GAMES WITH US STRANGE! ANSWER THE QUESTION!

Hugo Strange: I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about!

Batman: We saw that you transferred Day to Gordon’s cell! He has killed every cellmate he’s had! You were sentencing him to death!

Batwoman starts to shake Hugo Strange violently until a gun shot is heard from across the room. 

Batgirl, Red Robin, and Orphan

James Jr.: Hey Batgirl! I see you’re walking again, isn’t that such a neat surprise.

Red Robin: Shut up, James!

Batgirl: James, we want to know what happened?

James Jr.: ..........

Batgirl: Answer my question asshat!

James Jr.: Whoa little sis... I want to stay I was told to shut up!

Batgirl: Do you realize what’s happening?

James Jr.: I’m being interrogated.

Batgirl: You’re going to be transferred to Arkham. If you confess your time there could be reduced! 

James Jr.: Fine... I confess...... I cut open your teddy bear and filled it with razor blades when we were kids.

Batgirl flips the table and pins James to the wall, punching him in the head multiple times. Orphan then runs in, trying to help Red Robin to get Batgirl to stop punching James Jr.

Batgirl: Rot in fucking Arkham for all I care! You should have been sent there to begin with!

Batgirl, Red Robin, and Orphan begin to walk out the door before James Jr. lying on the floor yells.

James Jr.: WAIT! It wasn’t me, I promise!

Batgirl: Doubtful.

James Jr.: Red Robin, come on. I know you’re going to give me a chance. Hear me out.

Red Robin: Batgirl, let’s give him.....

Batgirl: NO! HE HAD HIS CHANCE! HE DECIDED TO WASTE IT!

Orphan: Batgirl. Please.

Batgirl: *stops in the hallway* Fine.

A few minutes later Red Robin is in the interrogation room with James Jr. with Orphan.

Red Robin: James Jr. Did you kill Julian Day?

James Jr.: No.

Off in the distance they all hear the gunshot from Hugo Strange’s office.

James Jr.: And there’s my proof.

Batman, Batwoman, Batgirl, Red Robin, and Orphan

Red lines flow down Hugo Strange’s face as blood pours from the hole in his forehead. Batman and Batwoman turn around to see who fired the shot, and are shocked to see Eduardo Flamingo. Batwoman drops the dead body of Hugo Strange as Flamingo fires three shots at both Batman and Batwoman. Both are unfazed by this and punch him in the face, causing him to fall back on the floor.

Batman: *picks up Flamingo* Who hired you?

Eduardo Flamingo: *cough* You just watched him die.

The GCPD arrives to the room and arrest Flamingo.

Commissioner Gordon: Freeze! You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.

He had confessed to everything. The murders, the contract Hugo Strange offered him to kill Day. No details was left out. By the time they all left the prison it was 12:30 in the morning.

Batman: Batgirl, let’s talk. 

Batgirl: I don’t want to talk.

Batman: Babs, if you won’t talk, then listen, please? *tears start to fill his eyes and make their way down his mask*

Batgirl: If anything, you listen to me *tears streak down her mask as well* I don’t know where I stand in this situation, and right now I really don’t care! For the time being don’t talk to me. *she takes out her grappling hook and leaves the four other members just standing there*

Batwoman: I’m not going to get too involved in this, but you know if you need to talk Dick, let me know.

Batman: Thank you.

The two hug and then go their separate ways.

Dick and Barbara

When they got home, Dick reached for his phone and started to text Barbara. He tried to explain how he never knew Helena was going to show up. How she showed up out of nowhere. How she is his everything, his world, and he doesn’t blame her for being skeptical but he still loves her. 

Barbara doesn’t want to read a word of Dick’s excuses. This has happened before when Dick was dating Koriand’r and Zatanna. Even before they were in a relationship, she knew he at one point was seeing multiple girls at a time. She doesn’t know if he is really sleeping with Helena behind her back, but she knows that she can’t trust Dick for the time being.

After his shower he walked to his room where he saw Helena laying on his bed in her costume. She then tosses his Nightwing costume at him.

Helena: Hey Dick, how about you throw that on and we do a bit of role play.

Dick: Cool, I’m into that. I’ll be Nightwing, the guy who loves Batgirl so much, and you’ll be Huntress, who sleeps on the first floor. You’re going to leave my room and I’ll lock my door for the rest of the night.

Helena: Rough night, lover?

Dick: I told you to stop calling me that.

Helena: I know, but I love it.

Dick: Helena, please just leave.

Dick just lied on his bed staring at his phone, wishing that Barbara would text him back. Fifteen minutes later he hears a knock at his door.

Bruce: Hey Dick! Are you okay?

Dick: What is this? Am I dreaming?

Bruce: No. I heard what happened. Just know if you ever want to talk about it, you can come to me. 

Dick: Thanks Bruce!

Bruce: Want to watch Avatar as a family? Damian told me how you talked him into watching it. I think it’s a fun idea!

Dick: *smirks* Sure!

They both walk downstairs to the media room as they see everyone down there already. He noticed Helena was sitting at the far end of the room so Dick considered sitting by Tim and Stephanie who seemed to have been chatting it up, but decided against it and sat near Damian. 

Dick: *leans over towards Damian*

Damian: Don’t you even think about it Grayson!

Dick: *wraps his arms around Damian* Come on, you know you love my hugs!

Damian: I will cut off your arms in your sleep,

Dick: You’re so adorable when you think you’re threatening.

The episode begins to play and everyone fell silent. As the second one ended everyone looked at Cassandra and Damian to get their reaction.

Cassandra: That was awesome!!! Let’s watch one more!

Damian: It is surprisingly entertaining. A little silly but intriguing.

Jason: WE KNEW YOU WOULD LIKE IT SUCKER!

Tim: One of the greatest shows ever!

#batfam #Alfred Pennyworth #bruce wayne #batman #Selina Kyle #catwoman #lucius fox #dick grayson #nightwing #barbara gordon #batgirl #jason todd #red hood #helena bertinelli #Huntress #Tim Drake #Red Robin #Stephanie Brown #spoiler #cassandra cain #orphan #harper row #blue bird #duke thomas #signal #Damian Wayne #robin #jim gorden #kate kane #Batwoman