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skzdarlings · 1 year

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06. sharing a bed series ; skz ; felix

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 6/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. bodyguard au. a dose of angst. open ending. past violence and parental abuse mentioned. ongoing perilous situation and forced proximity. not the healthiest dynamic lol. spanking, some rough play, hair-pulling, throat-grabbing, overstimulation, crying during sex, mention of past unprotected sex, a more dominant felix and a kinda bratty reader.

You kick open your bedroom door. As usual, no one is home except for you and Felix so you are free to scream and curse and stomp all you want.

“I can’t fucking believe you!” you shout among a flurry of other colourful words.

Felix enters behind you with his hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as ever.

Felix’s perpetual calmness is half the reason your father hired him. The other reason is that Felix was the best behaved boy in the world who grew into the most pristine, perfect man. Your father did not claw his way to the top of the industrial world by settling for anything less than the best. Lee Felix is the best. Your father trusts him with everything and anything, including wrangling his rambunctious daughter. Felix’s job is to guard and protect you – from others and from yourself. He is annoyingly good at it.

Felix is the prettiest, loveliest, sweetest man on the outside, particularly selected for his unassuming attributes. An obvious bodyguard figure draws unwanted attention. Felix, however, attended high school and college with you, posing as a fellow student and never looking out of place, always appearing gentle and ordinary and kind. Behind that, he is a lethally competent bodyguard. Your skinny, freckled, fair-haired watchdog can subdue any adversary.

Including the one tonight.

“I was just doing my job,” Felix says. He closes your bedroom door and locks it out of habit even though you are home alone. He is still completely uncaring to your crisis, as fucking usual, wandering around like he is a sensitive little lamb, smiling and content.

You throw yourself down on your bed with a dramatic heave.

“You broke his arm!” you cry.

Felix is standing at your desk, removing his work equipment. He is dressed like a civilian for the most part, denim pants with a windbreaker and a button-down over a t-shirt. He lays the jacket over the back of the chair and sighs, looking at his reflection in your vanity mirror. He runs a hand through his hair, still casual, feathering the dyed locks so they flutter back into place.

“I was just doing my job,” he repeats. He undoes the button-down and tosses it aside, then kicks his shoes under the desk.

Felix is all sharp lines and harsh angles, slender but athletic. His cheekbones are high, his angular face softened by his dark eyes and endearing freckles. That sweetness is juxtaposed by the gun harness strapped across his back.

You swallow. The harness hits the floor, then he grabs the back of the t-shirt and yanks it swiftly over his head. It joins the pile of discarded articles.

He sits on the desk chair with a distracted sigh, dutifully disassembling the gun for an inspection or cleaning or whatever nonsense Felix has decided is more important than your conversation.

“His arm,” you repeat. “You broke his arm. He was a completely innocent guy! I’m allowed to flirt with guys! Just because you’re my daddy’s good dog and he doesn’t let you get your dick wet, doesn’t mean I have to suffer too.”

Felix looks at you, his mouth a thin line with his unamused smile.

“Cute,” he says. He drops the smile and his distinctive deep voice drops another decibel when he says, “You can flirt. Just not with him.”

“His arm—”

Felix closes the gun and puts it on the desk.

“I think he was lucky I didn’t rip it off for grabbing you like that, don’t you think?” Felix says. He asks it so nicely too, tipping his head imploringly, like he really wants an answer. Not that he waits. Just as soon as the smile comes, it goes, replaced with a eye roll as he gets to his feet.

“Get ready for bed,” Felix says. “And, mmm, that’s not a request by the way. I’m phoning your dad to tell him we’re home safe.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just leaves the room while reaching into his back pocket for his phone. He closes the door behind himself, leaving you to fume by your lonesome.

Out of rebellious frustration, you do not budge an inch. You cross your arms and sit back on your bed, still dressed in your evening outfit. You can distantly hear Felix speaking in a formal voice and it makes you twitch with anticipation.

Felix being so professional is simultaneously his most annoying and most attractive quality. Annoying, because he really never falters on the clock. Attractive, because it wouldn’t be any fun pushing him to the boundaries of his rules if he wasn’t such a stickler in the first place.

When Felix returns, still wearing nothing more than his jeans, his expression immediately turns exasperated. He closes the door and puts his hands on his hips, staring down at you.

You stare straight ahead, arms and ankles crossed. You and Felix have shared a bed since the day he was hired, back when you were teenagers, as you were in the habit of sneaking out at night. You were not intimidated by the chubby-cheeked teenage boy, gleefully slipping past him while he slumbered – until suddenly you were being yanked back through the window. You learned the hard way that despite his appearance and disposition, he was an especially skilled martial artist.

As your father continues to accrue enemies in every market, you cannot live life on your own, not without endangering it. You still need Felix. You still share a bed. Everything you do, you do with Felix, whether you like it or not. Felix expresses little feeling on that front, a perpetual font of seeming sunshine when he isn’t breaking someone’s arm.

You know you are being mightily petulant by keeping him up, but you don’t care. If you can’t have what you want then neither can he. You can stay up all night, just staring and glaring at each other contemptuously. You are happy to let all that mutual disdain simmer through its achingly slow burn.

“Really?” Felix says. “Do we have to do this tonight?”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say.

“Right.” He laughs dryly but sits gingerly on his side of the bed. He smiles, his eyes crinkling sweetly with pleasure. His hair is getting longer again, sweeping his neck, and you watch as he delicately tucks some behind his ear. He leans on one arm, looking at you. “I’ll ask you nicely then, sweetheart.”

Ooh, that’s a low blow and he knows it. The word sweetheart always sounds so rich in his mouth, his accent softening the heart of it. Hopefully he misses the way you melt, but you doubt it.

His smile only deepens.

“Please, please get ready for bed,” he says. “It’s been a long day, yeah? And we’re both so tired. Come on. Let’s go. Just need some rest I think. Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

You do not move.

You hear him sigh, a melodic sound. He runs his hand through his hair again.

“All right,” he says, soulfully. “All right. Fine.”

You hear the sharper inflection in his tone but you react a moment too late. Your bed is big, big enough you could starfish without even brushing his side of the bed, so it takes you a second to scamper to the opposite side.

That second is too long. Felix reaches out and grabs you by the calf, dragging you across the bed.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, kicking at him to no avail. “I’ll phone my dad!”

He is completely undeterred by your dramatics, only sighing when he hauls you over his lap.

“Go ahead,” he says. “I’m allowed to use, uhhh, what’d he say… discretion… mm… to discipline you if I think I need to.” He puts his phone within your reach. It is not a genuine gesture of goodwill so much as it is taunting you because you both know your father would take his side. “Well?” he asks. “Do you want to phone him?”

“I hate you,” you say.

“I know,” he replies. “Sorry.”

He sounds like he means it, though it’s hard to believe him when he flicks up your dress and swings his open palm across your ass. His hand comes down four more times before he neatly fixes your skirt again.

“Bed time?” he asks brightly, like everything has been solved with no problem.

You crawl off his lap while grumbling irritably, doing your best to ignore the smarting on your behind when you turn over to glare at him. He is just smiling at you, that thin-lipped way he smiles with dry humour.

“I hate you,” you say again.

He waves his hand, gesturing the vaguest, blandest sentiment of meh with its wiggle.

“I’m just doing my job,” he says for the millionth time.

“Really?” you reply with as much sarcasm as he usually gives. He hears it, tilting his head like a curious cat, as if he has no idea why you could possibly be upset with him – though the stupid little upturn to his lips tells you that he knows exactly why.

You hate him. You really, really do hate him. You have never hated anyone the way you hate him and you want to shout it from the roof. But you can’t do that. You can only say it to his face in private, in whatever way you can.

You reach without warning, cupping the bulge between his legs and finding a lot more than a denim crinkle. His gaze darkens, his hand covering yours warningly, though he doesn’t lift it away.

You adopt a saccharine sweet tone when you speak.

“Do you tell my daddy that when you discipline me you get hard?” you ask, batting your eyelashes.

He moves your hand to his thigh instead, shaking his head.

“Stop being silly,” he says. “Go get ready for bed.”

Your eyes follow him as he stands. He doesn’t get far when you grab his belt loop and tug him back. Felix has fast reflexes and is incredibly coordinated, so you find it hard to believe you sincerely bested him, but he stumbles as if you did. He stands where you want him, where he’s close enough for you to kneel on the bed and press your face right against his bulge.

He says your name in a warning voice, his already deep voice dropping more.

“I wonder…” you say, nuzzling your nose against the ridge in the denim, where you can feel him hard and getting harder still. “When my daddy asks you what we do all day,” you say, flicking your eyes up to his, “do you tell him your dick spends more time in my mouth than in your pants?”

His nostrils flare with his next breath.

You smile, victorious.

“He still thinks you’re his perfect soldier, doesn’t he?” you ask. “You can do no wrong. Little does he know…”

“I do my job,” Felix says. “And I do a good job. Okay? That’s all that matters.”

You start to open your mouth, one hand climbing towards his fly. You stop with a gasp when he fists a chunk of your hair, tugging your head away from him. It sends a hot shock rippling through you, flooding you with the recollection of all the times he grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, the times he cupped your head and put himself in your mouth despite knowing better, the number of times he fucked between your pretty lips and forgot to be proper, cursing so much it was practically poetry.

This time he guides you away and you whimper miserably. He does not loosen his grip, his fingers threading closer to your scalp so it both hurts less and holds stronger. He knows better than to just let go. He knows you perfectly. You glare at him.

“Look at me,” he says, because your gaze dropped to his bulge again. “I said look at me.” He tugs your hair so you obey, giving him your most annoyed expression. “You’re listening, yeah?” he says. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You’re going to go to your closet. Get ready for bed. Sleep. You’re going to do that,” his voice turns frighteningly pleasant, “or I’m going to carry you over there and get you ready myself.”

“Like when we were leaving the club tonight?” you ask just as sweetly. “And you put me over your shoulder then, oops, something happened when we were in the limo, didn’t it?”

He lets go of you, exhaling tiredly in a high-pitched breath.

“Where did all your pretty rings go, Felix?” you ask, reaching for his bare hand, usually adorned with rings. “Did they fall on the floor in the limo when you decided you had to shove your hand up my skirt?”

Leaving the club, you were both wired. Felix was honestly justified in breaking that guy’s arm. You purposefully chose the creepiest, shadiest guy in the club to lead on, knowing Felix would appear two seconds later to rescue you. He always does. No one else ever pays you any personal attention and your life is too complicated for romance, so you thrive on the feeling of someone caring enough to always find you – even if it’s literally his job.

You also like getting mad at him for overreacting, but you like his overreactions. Him twisting and breaking that creep’s arm honestly turned you on. It also got Felix all worked up, a bit pissed because you were being irresponsible again but nonetheless heated. You thought for sure he’d take you home and go crazy and fuck you in the foyer. Instead he put up the limo divider and one-by-one removed his rings, giving you ample time to refuse before he covered your mouth tightly and slid his other hand up between your thighs.

Of course, despite bringing you to the edge several times, he never let you finish. Because he’s the worst.

And now you’re all worked up and he’s shirtless and being a stupid, pretty, two-faced bitch.

“I—” you start.

He rolls his eyes and says, “I know. I know. You hate me. Now go.”

You get up, stomping all the way to your walk-in closet. You can’t even slam the door because it’s a sliding one, but you make the biggest possible demonstration of closing it anyway.

You get ready for bed. You briefly consider dressing provocatively or even strolling out there naked, but in the end you decide to just dress in your ugly, comfy, over-sized t-shirt and march angrily back into the room.

Felix is gone when you return, probably off to double-check the house security one last time before joining you. You could try climbing out the window and down the terrace, just to be ridiculous, but he’ll catch up sooner than later and be even more annoying about it. So you get into bed and turn off the lights, laying down with a huff, blankets pulled up to your chin.

You get a bit dozy before Felix returns, the creaking door snapping you awake. You look over your shoulder and watch him finally shuck the jeans. He gets into bed in his boxers, removing his earrings once under the covers. He puts on the bedside table, then double-checks his gun is in the drawer, then and then only then does he lay down.

The big bed leaves an ocean of space between you. You roll over to face him. His eyes are closed but there’s no way he is already asleep.

“Felix,” you whisper, even though the big house is empty, “I’m cold.”

“There’s another blanket in the closet,” he says without opening his eyes.

You slide across the bed, close enough to reach out and put a hand on his chest. He opens his eyes and stares straight up.

“I need a cuddle,” you say. “Or I’ll have nightmares.”

“You’re not a child anymore,” he says.

That is maybe one thing you miss about the time before you and Felix started… this. When things were still innocent between you, he would often let you snuggle up with him. Now, he keep his distance. Now, he doesn’t hug or hold you.

So no one does.

“We’re still young,” you say, a dumb argument, but you’re tired and out of ideas.

“I was never as young as you,” he grumbles, more to himself than you. He seems to realize what he said and shakes his head. He pats your hand on his chest then rolls over, leaving his back to you.

You slowly return your hand to yourself, staring at the back of his head with an uncharacteristic prickling of tears.

Felix doesn’t talk about his life before this. You just know that it was somehow worse. Worse than being a watchdog. Worse than giving up years of his life to protect someone else. Worse than the times your father wanted to discipline you but learned that if he hit you directly you would just patch yourself up and move on, but if he hit Felix then you would break down and offer anything to make him stop.

You can see a couple faded scars from those times, faint lines that cross his back, remnants of old belt lashings. You touch one now, tracing your finger lightly from one end to the other. You watch a shiver roll down his spine. He doesn’t turn around.

Giving up, you roll away, back to your distant side of the bed. You close your eyes and will yourself to sleep, but it just makes you well up with tears. You sniffle, rubbing your nose messily on the back of your arm.

Fabric rustles. You suck in a breath when Felix slides up behind you, pulling you into the middle of the bed where he holds you snugly in his arms. You immediately roll to face him, throwing a leg over his hip and burying your face in his neck.

“Sweetheart,” he says, nothing else.

“I hate you,” you say, then press a kiss just under his jaw.

“I know.” He cups the back of your head as your kisses move down his neck. “I know.”

You make it to the middle of his chest before he turns you onto your back and gets up over you. He kisses you properly, thumbs wiping your tears as his mouth makes you forget about the reason you cried at all. All that matters is kissing him back, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him close as possible. His sounds of pleasure are so deep and rough and rumbling.

“Fuck me, please, please,” you say, pushing your fingers into his hair.

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You know we can’t do that,” he says.

“We’ve done it before,” you say, purposefully canting your hips to rub against him, reminding him you are still so hot and wet from his finger-fucking, that only stupid underwear keeps you apart. It has the desired effect, his brow furrowing as he holds himself still above you. You peck his lips and string your arms around his neck. “You know I’m on birth control now for that reason,” you say, a little sweetly, smiling up at him. “Remember?”

He drops his face in the crook of your neck and makes an even crazier sound, shaking his head.

“That was very, very irresponsible of us, you know,” he says.

“Mhm,” you say, sliding your hand down his body to his waistband. “It really was. But it felt good, didn’t it? Dangerous. Coming inside me like that.”

Felix is right; that incident was very irresponsible. You had already started your little cat-and-mouse game and ran out of condoms one night. Because the two of you only have sex with each other, when that happened, you usually just fooled around until he pulled out.

That time was… a lot. You were pressed so tightly together and you were being painfully quiet because you weren’t home alone. It was such a stupid time to mess around, but common sense leaves you when Felix is involved.

That feeling is mutual. Felix knew better too. If he got you pregnant… the fallout with your father would be catastrophic for both of you. Still, for that moment he was inside you, with your fingers laced together and pressed by your head, with your legs tight around him and his face in your neck, nothing else seemed to exist. You were two normal people who were allowed to do whatever they wanted with whoever they wanted. It was a breathless, momentary fantasy, holding him tight and telling him to come, shuddering at the noise he made as he did just that. You didn’t even panic after the fact. You let the moment linger for as long as it could, still pretending you were normal, still pretending it was fine.

You started birth control soon after, telling your father it was to regulate your period. He waved it off, not wanting to hear more.

Your father has truly never suspected a thing. He doesn’t see the people around him as people, just objects, so it makes sense that he sees nothing in Felix but a soldier. He doesn’t know anything about Felix. Doesn’t know the pattern of his freckles or how his eyes crinkle up when he smiles. Doesn’t know he has a sweet tooth and will dump a thing of sugar in nearly everything. Doesn’t know what he finds funny, doesn’t know what makes him sad, doesn’t know anything at all.

You drag your calf up the back of his leg.

“Felix,” you say.

He gives you no chance to say more. One second you are in limbo, the very next he has shoved down both his boxers and your underwear and is already pressing into you. Only nonsense leaves your lips after that, your eyes closing as he works your body like a familiar and well-loved instrument. He knows it as well as you do. As you do his. It’s easy to work him up, to get him as close as you.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, changing position so he’s kneeling. He puts one of your legs up against his chest, levelling you with an amused smile. “You’re trying to get me to finish first,” he says.

“What? Noooo…” Your giggle turns into a gasp. You can be as loud as you want but you bite your fist anyway, hiccupping with a choked back sob of pleasure when he finds an angle that makes you see stars.

“Yes, you are,” he says. “But you won’t win.”

“I will,” you say.

“Uh-uh,” he says. “Sure.”

He makes you come twice before he does. He even starts pushing you towards a third but you are so oversensitive that it makes tears fall. He cups your chin and looks at you, cursing.

“You’re so mean,” you say, smiling through your tears. “Getting off to me crying.”

“I’m—not—I just—”

“Liar,” you tease. “You totally are.”

He just giggles. Then he flips a switch and goes from cute to something else, grabbing your throat and fucking into your oversensitive pussy so good and hard that you cry out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he says. “Got you. Got you. I—”

You kiss him and he comes, sinking into you with dick and tongue and breath, filling you and surrounding you.

You hold him close, arms tight around him, his sweaty forehead pressed to yours. When he tries to lift away, you pull him back, making him laugh softly.

“Stay,” you say, and repay his torture by squeezing him inside you, knowing it will make him twitch and jerk with oversensitivity of his own.

“You never make it easy for me, do you,” he says with no animosity.

You shake your head and smile like you’re proud of that. He laughs then kisses you. The kiss is good and thorough and sweet, completely loving, affectionate. It gets your heart racing despite everything you just did. You rest your hands on his chest and gently push him back.

“I still hate you,” you say, because you have to say it, because the opposite would be too dangerous to ever say. You can’t even let that word enter your thoughts, certainly never let it leave your lips. If you held that word in your mouth for even a second, you would become addicted to it. So you glare at him with all passion you can muster and say, “I hate you so much.” You sniffle when he wipes your tears away. You turn your face. “I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone.”

“I know,” he says in a strained voice. He presses his forehead to your temple and exhales. “I know, sweetheart.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #felix x reader #skz x reader

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chopshajen · 5 months

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12-2.

Tuggoffelees (almost) smooching! I’ll never fully fall off this bandwagon.

That being said, why is my probably-aromantic ass trying to draw kissing. Probably because it’s very cute or whatever, I hope, I’m a bad judge of these things LOL

#I have to practice #I have to get good at drawing kissing LOL #it’s my duty #I drew this while out at a bar with my sister #she was busy socializing and I was sitting in the corner drawing by myself like a proper introvert #I needed it though time alone is critical to me and my social resources have been sorely taxed recently #so I was ok with going with her but that’s about it #anyways #Mr. Mistoffelees #Rum Tum Tugger #Cats the Musical #my art #Draw Anything At All Ongoing #also for the record Tugger’s hair continues to be feckin impossible #please either ignore or accept the fact that it’s extra 80s here

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hothammies · 1 month

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will byers, the resident sniper and medic - apoc au details under the cut!

---

will's role in the party:

a scouter - stays back to watch over the area during runs w/his rifle and is a backup supply runner if need be. just prefers to scout with dustin and mike

medic - normally takes care of the group regarding injuries and medicine. is very gentle :)

the angel on mike's shoulder -> knows how to placate mike the best if mike's being unreasonable or too harsh

most knowledgable about the infection and how it works -> helps with understanding the patterns of infected people, what attracts infection, etc.

party mediator - rarely ever fights with anyone (mostly with mike haha) and is usually the person people most often go to for a vent or a rant

skills + hobbies:

best with a rifle + second best with guns! -> he practices a lot with lucas but refuses to kill animals

cook of the group along with el (taught her how to cook): rest of the party can make edible food but don't know how to make it taste good

great knowledge of plants and medicine -> jonathan and joyce taught him all they know about it (they are healers)

draws in a sketchbook that mike stole from another group for him: filled with mundane sketches from life and treats it like a daily journal

likes to collect cds and cassettes that he finds around to play in the car (him and max discuss music the most) - fave bands include system of a down, gorillaz, the clash and the cure :) he's an alt rock fan!

quirks / fun facts:

him and lucas have an ongoing competition that started with their aim and is now based on literally anything -> they've been keeping score since they were nine (lucas is currently up by ten and the points are in the thousands)

will shuffles different music in the car and observes who in the party likes what so he can make his own little mental playlists for them!

him and dustin talk a lot about how the infection works. they have some very intense debates about it, especially when it comes to if the infected still have human consciousness or not (will thinks they do, dustin thinks they don't)

--- other notes: canon will, in a short summary, is a very sweet, sensitive, empathetic and capable boy who consistently puts others needs before his own :') of course, i wanted apoc will to share those attributes, with a big emphasis on his empathy, strength, and kindness. first - i wanted him to be a medic to show how he cares about other people and how he helps the people he loves as well. it's shown a lot in the show how much he cares for people and living beings (see: his actions with dart, el, mike, feeling bad for jonathan's hand after he had just woken up, etc.) and him being a healer is very in tune with this behavior. will as a healer is very special to me :') and him learning this skill from his mom and his brother strengthens the theme of family also!

second - him being good with a hunting rifle was to showcase his quiet strength and capability (i'd also like to add that his dexterity on his dnd sheet is extremely high) -> he's a non-confrontational survivor. his strength shines from afar and is put on the backlight, but no one in the party thinks will is weak for his empathy. mike and lucas, in particular, are actually quite jealous of the fact that will is still able to see so much good in humanity and life while being so strong. of course, his connection to the upside down in st is mirrored in this au as well, where he has an innate understanding of how the infection works because of experience, observation and other story spoilers...

looking at the current poll results, it seems im going to be drawing lucas and max next :D see you for that!

#imma be real honest and say that i only made will like gorillaz because i fucking love gorillaz #will byers #byler #stranger things #stranger things fanart #st apoc au #sammi's art

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xtra7s · 3 months

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Could you do an enemies to lovers smut for Renee rapp? I can't find anything like it for this woman, and it's been sitting in the back of my brain for WEEKS🤣

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧

Pairing: Renee Rapp x gn!reader

Sypnosis: Renee and Y/N, past broadway rivals, meet again at a party.

Content: Renee Rapp x gn!reader, fingering, cunnilingus, alcohol

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: sorry there isnt much enemy to lover action, im completely writer blocked and I hope you enjoy. Not proofread

masterlist

The room pulsed with energy, and at the center of it all, Renee Rapp held court. Her laughter rang out like a melody, drawing attention from all corners of the glamorous party. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared in the crowd, and the atmosphere shifted. Y/N, now 23, stood there, an unspoken challenge in their gaze.

"Well, well, if it isn't Y/N," Renee smirked, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Thought you'd be off somewhere trying to steal the spotlight again."

Y/N chuckled, unfazed by Renee's jab. "You know me, always craving the attention you seem to think you deserve."

The tension between them crackled like electricity, the memories of their past rivalry bubbling to the surface. They exchanged pleasantries with false smiles, each word laced with underlying competition.

"Still riding on that role you stole from me, Rapp?" Y/N quipped, a sly grin playing on their lips.

Renee leaned in, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, please. I didn't steal it; I earned it. Unlike some people who rely on sympathy and mediocre talent."

The banter continued, their words cutting deeper with each exchange. It was as if the years had melted away, and they were back on the Broadway stage, fighting for the same spotlight. The party became a battleground, and every smile, every gesture, was a carefully calculated move in their ongoing verbal duel.

The party raged on, the music pulsating through the crowded room. As the night wore on, the competitive banter between Renee Rapp and Y/N took an unexpected turn. Glasses clinked, inhibitions faded, and the tension transformed into a different kind of electricity.

"Admit it, Y/N," Renee slurred playfully, leaning in closer. "You always secretly admired my talent. It's okay; I get it."

Y/N's eyes sparkled with mischief as they responded, "Oh, please. I only admired how you managed to talk your way into roles you had no business getting."

Laughter erupted between them, a shared understanding weaving through the alcohol-induced haze. The lines between rivalry and attraction blurred as they engaged in a tipsy dance of words and glances.

Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, they found themselves in a quieter corner, away from the prying eyes of the party. The air was thick with laughter and a lingering tension that seemed to pull them closer.

"I'll have you know," Renee began, her tone low and teasing, "I could still outshine you on any stage, even in this state."

Y/N chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Challenge accepted, Rapp. But first, can we agree that we were both robbed of that role we fought over?"

Renee's eyes softened, and she nodded, a shared nostalgia washing over them. "Yeah, maybe we were both deserving. Broadway politics can be brutal."

As the night deepened, the flirtatious banter continued, their words becoming increasingly laced with innuendo. The competitive edge now carried a hint of something more, a mutual attraction that had been buried beneath years of rivalry.

"I have to admit," Y/N admitted, their gaze locking with Renee's, "you clean up well when you're not trying to sabotage my career."

Renee smirked, leaning in even closer. "Maybe I should sabotage something else instead."

The playful banter took a more seductive turn, and the air became charged with a different kind of energy. It was as if the years of rivalry had paved the way for a newfound connection – one that went beyond the stage and into the realm of shared secrets and stolen glances.

The raucous sounds of the party faded into a distant hum as Renee Rapp and Y/N slipped away, finding refuge in the dimly lit hallway leading to the bathroom. Y/N shot a mischievous smile at Renee, a glint of playfulness in their eyes.

"I need a moment to touch up my makeup," Y/N said, their voice low and suggestive.

Renee raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, I'm not one to let someone go to the bathroom alone, especially if they might be up to something."

Y/N chuckled, leading the way into the bathroom. The air was charged with anticipation, and the fluorescent lights flickered overhead as they entered the small space. Y/N turned to face the mirror, pretending to focus on their makeup, but their eyes locked with Renee's in the reflection.

"You know," Y/N teased, their voice a sultry whisper, "I never thought I'd find myself in a bathroom with you. The stuff of dreams, really."

Renee chuckled, closing the distance between them. "Dreams do come true, especially when you least expect them."

As Y/N applied lipstick, Renee couldn't resist the temptation. She gently turned Y/N around, their eyes locking with an intensity that sent shivers down both their spines. The playful banter had shifted into a charged moment of unspoken desire.

Renee, with a smirk that conveyed both confidence and mischief, pushed Y/N gently against the bathroom wall. Y/N's breath caught, their heartbeat echoing in the confined space. The flirtatious tension reached its peak as Renee leaned in, her lips dangerously close to Y/N's ear.

"You talk a big game, Y/N," Renee whispered, her warm breath sending shivers down Y/N's spine. "But I wonder if you can handle me."

Before Y/N could respond, Renee closed the remaining distance, capturing Y/N's lips in a passionate kiss. The bathroom seemed to fade away, and all that remained was the electric connection between them. Y/N responded eagerly, their hands finding their way to Renee's jaw, as Renee holds their waist.

The kiss was a blend of years of rivalry, newfound attraction, and the intoxication of the night. The world outside the bathroom ceased to exist as Renee and Y/N lost themselves in the heat of the moment.

As they finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, the playful banter had transformed into a silent understanding. The bathroom had become a secret haven for a connection that went beyond the stage, leaving both Renee and Y/N wondering what the encore of this unexpected night would bring.

The remnants of their passionate kiss lingered in the air as Renee and Y/N pulled away, their eyes locking in a shared moment of realization. A playful grin played on Renee's lips as she looked into Y/N's eyes.

"Feisty," Renee remarked, her voice low and teasing. "But I have a feeling the night is just getting started. How about we continue this at my place, hm?"

Y/N's heart raced at the suggestion, a mix of excitement and curiosity dancing in their eyes. "And why should I be inclined to go, Rapp?"

Renee leaned in, her breath warm against Y/N's ear. "My place isn't too far from here. It's quieter, and we can continue our little encore without any interruptions."

A sly smile tugged at Y/N's lips. "Should I be concerned?"

Renee chuckled, her fingers lightly tracing Y/N's jawline. "Only if you can't handle a little adventure. Besides, it's just a short cab ride away. What do you say?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the magnetic pull between them undeniable. "Lead the way, Rapp. Let's see what kind of encore you have in mind."

As they exited the bathroom, the party continued to buzz around them, oblivious to the clandestine connection that had formed. Renee intertwined her fingers with Y/N's, leading them through the crowd with an air of confidence. The night held the promise of something unpredictable, and neither of them could resist the allure of what awaited at Renee's house.

Outside, the city lights shimmered, casting a romantic glow on the streets. Renee hailed a cab, and as they slid into the backseat, the anticipation grew. The ride was filled with stolen glances and the lingering heat of their earlier encounter.

Arriving at Renee's apartment, the door closed behind them, sealing the promise of a night filled with passion and shared secrets. As they stepped into the dimly lit space, the chemistry between Renee and Y/N ignited once again, setting the stage for an encore that would be remembered long after the final curtain fell.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Renee couldn't resist the temptation any longer. She pressed Y/N against it, her hands sliding up their waist and pulling them closer. Y/N let out a gasp, their hands gripping onto Renee's shoulders as they looked up at her with hunger in their eyes.

Renee kissed down their neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin and earning a moan from Y/N's lips. She had always been fascinated by the way someone's reactions could change when she kissed different spots on their body.

"Bedroom" Renee murmured, pulling Y/N by her right hand to Renee's bedroom. Renee pushed Y/N gently onto her bed, their bodies sinking into the soft mattress. She climbed on top of them, her lips never leaving their skin as she kissed and nipped along their jawline, down their neck, and across their collarbone.

Y/N's hands roamed up Renee's back, pulling her closer as they let out soft moans. The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the occasional gasp as Renee's lips found new spots to explore.

Renee's hands slid under Y/N's shirt, her fingers trailing over their skin and eliciting shivers from Y/N's body. She leaned in to capture Y/N's lips in a deep kiss, their tongues dancing together in perfect rhythm.

As the kiss intensified, Renee's hand traveled lower until she reached the waistband of Y/N's pants. She paused for a moment, silently asking for permission before continuing. Y/N responded by arching into her touch and pulling her even closer.

Their clothes were soon discarded in a frenzy of passion, each touch sending sparks through their bodies. They explored each other with an urgency that couldn't be contained any longer.

With each passing moment, the intensity between Renee and Y/N only grew stronger. They were lost in each other, their bodies moving together in a perfect rhythm.

Renee's lips trailed down Y/N's chest, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along the way. She stopped to pay special attention to their breasts, kneading them roughly as she attached her lips to one of Y/N's nipples.

Y/N let out a gasp, their hands gripping onto Renee's hair as they arched into her touch. The sensation was overwhelming, causing them to moan loudly and lose themselves in the pleasure.

As Renee continued to lavish attention on Y/N's body, her hand traveled down between their legs. She ran a finger through Y/N's folds, teasing them with gentle strokes before delving deeper.

Y/N's hips bucked against her hand, their breath coming in short gasps as they became lost in pleasure. Renee slipped two fingers into them, increasing the pressure and speed until Y/N was writhing beneath her.

The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and heavy breathing as they moved together in perfect harmony. Renee knew exactly how to touch Y/N to drive them wild, and she took great pleasure in doing so.

Their eyes met for a moment before Y/N leaned down to capture Renee's lips in a passionate kiss. Their bodies moved together with a newfound urgency, both desperate for release.

Renee moved Y/N up the bed with no resistance from them. She trailed kisses and gentle bites down their body until she reached their thighs. Gently, she hiked their legs up onto her shoulders, exposing them completely to her.

Y/N let out a gasp as Renee's lips found a particularly sensitive spot on their inner thigh, sending shivers through their body. They could feel the heat building between their legs as Renee continued to leave a trail of kisses and bites along their thighs.

Without warning, Renee's tongue darted out and flicked over Y/N's clit, causing them to cry out in pleasure. She continued to work her tongue expertly on Y/N's most sensitive area, alternating between soft licks and hard sucking motions.

Y/N's hands gripped onto the sheets as waves of pleasure washed over them. They were completely at Renee's mercy, lost in the sensations coursing through their body.

As Renee continued to pleasure Y/N with her mouth, her hand slipped upwards to find its way inside of them once again. She worked her fingers in perfect rhythm with her tongue, driving Y/N closer and closer to the edge.

With one final thrust of her fingers and a flick of her tongue, Renee brought Y/N over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm. They cried out in ecstasy as they rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through their body.

Renee didn't stop there though. She continued to kiss and lick at Y/N's sensitive areas, prolonging their pleasure until they couldn't take it anymore.

Finally, when Y/N was spent and breathless from their release, Renee made her way back up their body to capture their lips in a deep kiss once again. Their bodies were still humming with energy as they kissed each other passionately.

Renee's body was still humming with pleasure from Y/N's expert touch, but she couldn't resist the invitation in their words. "Let me make you feel good, Renee," they murmured, their voice filled with desire.

With a lazy smile, Renee shifted over to give Y/N more space on the bed. She watched as they trailed a hand down her naked body, causing shivers to run down her spine.

Their lips found hers in a sloppy kiss as their hand continued its journey downwards. Renee gasped into their mouth as their fingers brushed against her sensitive skin.

Without hesitation, Y/N slipped their hand between Renee's legs, finding her wet and ready for them. They rubbed her clit gently before slipping a finger inside of her. Renee moaned into the kiss as pleasure shot through her body. They knew exactly how to touch her, and she could feel herself getting lost in the sensations.

Their kiss became more urgent as Y/N added another finger, thrusting them in and out of her with perfect rhythm. She could feel the heat building within her once again, and she knew it wouldn't be long before she reached the edge.

Y/N broke the kiss and looked into Renee's eyes with a mischievous grin. "Do you want me to make you cum baby?" they murmured against Y/N's lips.

Renee let out a pathetic yes, unable to form any sentences as pleasure consumed her body. Y/N leaned down to capture one of their nipples in their mouth, sucking on it gently while their fingers continued to work their magic between her legs.

It didn't take long before Renee was crying out in pleasure, waves of ecstasy washing over her body. She clung onto Y/N tightly as she rode out the intense orgasm that had been building within her.

As Renee came down from her high, she pulled Y/N up to her level and captured their lips in a passionate but lazy kiss. She could taste herself on their lips and it only added to the feeling of intimacy between them.

Renee reached over to grab a discarded blanket from the floor and pulled it over them, covering their naked bodies. She held Y/N close to her, enjoying the warmth and closeness.

"God, that was amazing," Y/N murmured against her lips, still catching their breath.

Renee smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of Y/N's face. "You were amazing," she whispered back.

They fell into a comfortable silence, content with just being in each other's arms. Renee couldn't remember the last time she had felt so relaxed.

Eventually, they drifted off into a peaceful sleep, their limbs intertwined and breathing in sync.

#renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #lgbtq #mean girls #regina george x reader #wlw #lesbian

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devildom-moss · 2 months

Text

Signs of Affection (kiss)

Part 2 of this request (Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon)

(Mammon x gn!MC) (Satan x gn!MC) (Asmodeus x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +4,100 (we aren't going to talk about the size difference between these shorts okay?)

Mammon

“Geez, that sucked. Two hours of silent studyin’ for an F? I got a different F for that guy: a big ‘fuck you,’” Mammon grumbled to himself with his hands folded behind his head as he walked out of his mandatory extra lessons – or rather, they could have been classified as lessons if he had actually learned anything. Instead, Mammon spent the first 5 minutes trying to read one paragraph four times and the next 3 minutes trying to read the following paragraph before he became acutely aware that the supervising professor for today was watching him. He was clearly disappointed and judgmental of Mammon’s ongoing failure to turn the page. For the rest of his lesson, Mammon alternated between daydreaming about you – twisting your image in his head into a variety of different scenarios from innocent dates to the most depraved acts – and counting how many times he could spot the first letter of your name on the page. At least with the latter, it looked like he was reading.

“Mammon! How was delinquent rehab?” you teased him from your spot on the bench outside of the class.

Mammon shrieked and jumped. “W-what the fuck are ya doin’ here?!”

“MAMMON!” The supervisor poked his head out of the door. “Stop yelling in the hall and go home before I decide to keep you for another hour.”

“Sorry, that was my fault, Professor Amy. I startled him.” You stood up and bowed slightly, hoping the astronomy – and somehow, simultaneously, art – professor would go easy on Mammon if you took the heat.

“Oh, it’s you.” You were right to hope; Amy’s tone instantly softened. “If you’re on your way home, please take this loudmouth with you.”

“Who ya callin’ a loudmouth, man?” Mammon growled. You cupped your hand over his mouth; better late than never.

“Yes, I’ll be on my way now. I was just waiting for Mammon to finish his lessons.”

“Does being an idiot pay off after all?” Amy mused aloud – mostly to annoy the muzzled Mammon. “Very well. Be safe on your way home.”

“Alright, thank you, sir.” You smiled at him and began to drag Mammon down the hall. You only uncovered his mouth once the professor had gone back inside, and you were safely out of earshot.

“’Thank you, sir,’” Mammon mocked you. “Fuck was all that? You ain’t fuckin’ that teacher now are ya?”

“No, you pervert. It’s called being polite. You’d probably get in less trouble if you tried it with a few of your professors.”

“What’cha doin’ bein’ all polite to him for, anyway? Guy’s not even a good teacher, and he clearly has a human kink. Just stay away from him.”

“I almost never talk to him outside of our classes.” You rolled your eyes at Mammon. His jealousy had been excessive recently. As a slight punishment, you decided to tease him. “And why do you know so much about human kinks that you can recognize it in someone else?”

“Shuddup. It ain’t like that!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t have a human kink or nothing,” Mammon yelled. His cheeks burned, and he blurted out, “it’s only you.”

“Sorry, what was that?” you teased, biting back your smile.

“I didn’t say shit. Forget it.” Mammon crossed his arms as he picked up his speed just enough to walk ahead of you, hoping to avoid showing you the blush that stained his face.

“Okay, Mammon.” You dropped it, allowing him a bit of his dignity.

You both walked in silence for a minute until, finally, Mammon slowed down and started to walk beside you again. His blush had calmed. He glanced to the side briefly, trying not to draw your attention, but you noticed and smiled at him. Why do ya always look so cute ‘n happy when you’re walkin’ home with me, huh? What gives? Mammon wondered. If something as simple as walking home could make you smile like that, you were going to start charming demons left and right, and Mammon had no intention of sharing any more of you than he had to. That’s why he was so annoyed by you being nice to that professor. Just thinking about the way that demon’s face softened around you was pissing him off.

Suddenly, Mammon remembered what you had said, and his cheeks reignited in a faint blush. Nervous and masking his shyness with aggression, Mammon asked, “Hey, were ya serious about that back there – about just waitin’ for me to get out?”

“Yeah, of course I was.”

“For real? Ya waited two whole hours?”

“For my favorite hole? Yeah.” You smirked.

“Shuddup!” Mammon’s face burned. “Now who’s bein’ a perv?!”

“At least we’re even.” You smiled sweetly, as if you hadn’t just said something so vulgar – on a public street, no less.

Mammon stopped in his tracks, confidence surging in him. You stopped and looked back, confused. He grinned. “Ya must really love the Great Mammon, huh?”

“Sure do,” you readily agreed.

“I knew it!” Mammon pronounced – as if the occasional doubt had never wandered into his head. While he still had the courage to act, Mammon grabbed the sides of your face and quickly placed a kiss on your cheek. He whispered in your ear, “Thanks for bein’ so sweet to me, MC.”

Before you could register what had just happened, Mammon took off running towards the House of Lamentation. He pulled out his phone, skillfully dodging random obstacles and other demons as he appeared to start typing something. Seconds later, your D.D.D. buzzed.

Mammon: First one home gets a real kiss from the loser. Deal?

You laughed and stared down the street, watching as Mammon increased the distance between you. There was no way you were going to catch up to him.

MC: Deal. 💛

Satan

Satan was utterly thrilled when he found out the library had finally received the book that he requested two months ago. He insisted upon checking it out immediately after class, and since you had studying to do anyway, you went along with him.

With his new book acquired, Satan joined you at the small table you had settled into and began to read. However, his attention’s lifespan was uncharacteristically short despite his initial excitement. Satan’s eyes wandered away from the page, drifting up to you. Each time he tried to refocus on the book, his gaze punished him for a failure to indulge himself by lingering on you.

Few things enticed Satan more than you – especially when you got that serious look on your face. He had tried to keep reading too many times to keep track of, and now he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from you again. So, he just sat there, watching you read over your notes, recopying the most relevant points on a fresh sheet of paper. You were being so diligent.

One of the awful things about demons is that the alarm bells that go off in your head when you think someone is watching you are stronger and scarier when that someone is a powerful demon – and the fear your innate human senses created under the predatory gaze of a demon like Satan, whose sin was a destructive and devastating wrath, was intense. It sent a shiver up your spine, and when you looked up to find Satan’s eyes locked on your face, you jumped in your seat slightly. He didn’t need to look so hungry.

“Please stop staring, Satan.” You looked away, trying to turn your attention back to your studies.

“You don't want me to stare at you?” Satan got out of his seat across the table and took the spot right next to you. He propped his chin up in his hand and stared at you up close, eyeing you up and down with a smug grin on his face. “I want to. What's the problem?"

“It’s a bit distracting to have your eyes on me.” That was at least mostly true. There was no need to mention he was also turning you on in public. “I’d rather you not just stare at me.”

“Is that all?” Satan laughed. “You don’t want me to just stare? Very well.”

Satan leaned in, slowly shutting his eyes, and kissed your cheek. His warm lips lingered on your skin and his hot breath tickled. You could feel another chill run up your spine when his eyes fluttered back open. Even when he pulled back, his mouth hovered just over your cheek.

Another set of eyes landed on you. From a few aisles away, another library regular was stunned in their spot, mortified to have witnessed the Avatar of Wrath kissing a human in the library – not that they hadn’t seen worse. They gave you an awkward wave before turning and walking in the opposite direction, abandoning the book they had been searching for.

“Satan,” you chided him.

“What?” Satan hummed, inching closer to your ear, and whispered, “Do you still want more?”

“Someone saw.” You felt a bit guilty about it, too. Their embarrassment matched yours; in fact, it may have been even worse. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to. And who cares if someone saw? What are they going to do about a kiss on the cheek? It’s fine.” Satan placed another kiss on your cheek before returning to whisper seductively in your ear, “Besides, we’ve done worse. Don’t act so shy and innocent now. Do you need a reminder of all the things we’ve done – or perhaps you’d prefer a physical demonstration?”

What did you do to deserve this? You were just trying to study.

Asmodeus

“You weren’t waiting too long for moi, were you?” Asmo rushed to the table that you had grabbed when you arrived. He had a grin on his lips, but that charming smile was a cover for the guilt and anxiety he felt about being fifteen minutes late for your date. He couldn’t figure out which pair of socks to wear to complement his boots and skirt – and in the end, he just ended up pulling on a pair of lace stockings. Usually, Asmo didn’t care if he was a little late, but the idea of leaving you all alone in a demon-infested night café didn’t sit well with him.

“I would have happily waited much longer – especially when you show up, looking this cute.” You smiled at him sweetly, and every inch of Asmo’s body burned.

“Ooh, you little charmer.” Asmo giggled. “Did you order yet?”

“Of course not; I wanted to wait for you.”

“Such an obedient human,” Asmo teased, leaning over the table and resting his chin on his hand. He stared at you affectionately.

“I’ve never been called that in my life.” You laughed, and that only made Asmo happier to have said it.

“Want me to go up and order? Just tell me what you want – other than me, of course.” Asmo got to his feet and waited patiently for you to relay your order. With a smile and a wink, Asmo booped your nose. “Excellent. Now make sure to enjoy the view.”

Before you could question him, Asmo spun around and walked toward the register. Each step was a deliberate effort to draw your attention to his legs and ass. Oh. That view. Asmo was a hopeless flirt, but he was awfully sweet, too. Besides, you couldn’t deny that it was a good view.

Unfortunately, as Asmo returned from placing the order, he was faced with the irritating realization that he was not the only view in the café. He caught a handful of demons leering at you – and one of them appeared to be approaching. Not on Asmo’s expensive, crystal watch. He hurried back to the table just in time to cut off the tall demon, placing his delicate hand over your shoulder possessively. With a haunting smile, Asmo stared them down. He announced – more to the other demon than to you, “I’m back, hun. Did you miss me?”

A shiver ran up the demon’s spine, and their eyes went wide. They weren’t about to square up with Asmodeus over a human – not after all the rumors they had heard about bloodlust being stronger in lust demons than those ruled by wrath. The demon awkwardly tried to escape by blurting out, “enjoy your date.”

The demon scurried away quickly, and you looked up at Asmo just in time for his menacing aura to dissipate. “That was weird, right?”

“Some people just can’t act right around cuties.” Asmo dismissed your worry with a lighthearted laugh.

“So, you get that a lot?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t mean me.” Asmo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You’re so cute it’s drawing attention.”

“I’m not as cute as you, though.” You smiled. “Now, sit down with me.”

“Actually, I was hoping we could snap a few pictures first. Do you mind?”

“Sure, I guess.” You shrugged and started to stand, but Asmo used his hand that was still resting on your shoulder to push you back down into your seat.

“No need to get up,” Asmo cooed. He took a step back and leaned over your chair so he could get right next to your face and drape his arms over you. “This position is perfect.”

Asmo snapped a few pictures. With each one, he seemed to get closer until his cheek was pressed to yours affectionately. He asked you to make a half heart with your hand and completed it with his own. Then, catching you off guard, Asmo kissed your cheek tenderly, waiting a few seconds before finally snapping a picture. He immediately pulled his phone back and stood up to discreetly examine the photo. The shit-eating grin on his face spoke for itself. He was all too pleased with it.

“What was that?” You scoffed. You probably should have anticipated that level of physical affection from Asmo, but sometimes, he still surprised you.

“Hmm? Isn’t it obvious?” Asmo looked down at you, innocently tilting his head. “I had to mark my territory.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. Sure, Asmo was always teasing you and flirting, but you hadn’t quite expected that answer. Asmo giggled and bent over, getting indecently close to your neck.

“I had to mark you,” he repeated in a low, seductive tone. “Would you rather I leave a hickey on your neck right now instead? I’d be happy to.”

“Just be a good boy and sit down.” You sighed. It wasn’t that embarrassing, but all you could do was imagine Lucifer’s voice scolding you for indulging Asmo too much in public.

“Ooh, I do want to be your good boy. Okay.” Asmo grinned, biting back the urge to call you one of a myriad of unacceptable titles, and returned to his seat across from you. He pulled his phone out and started messing with it. “See, I’m behaving.”

You laughed. Something told you that he was not, in fact, behaving. It only took a few minutes of mindless chatting while he continued tapping away at his phone – a habit you were so accustomed to that it usually didn’t strike you as rude – for your suspicion to be confirmed.

Your D.D.D. buzzed with an alert from Asmo’s Devilgram. He posted the picture of him kissing your cheek with a pink heart emoji covering your face – for the sake of your privacy. That was decent of him. You smiled softly, certain that Asmo was watching you. It already had over 6k likes by the time you scrolled down to read the caption: Ugh. My date is so cute that they’re attracting all sorts of attention. No one else deserves to see that cute face tonight but moi~ What do you think, everyone, should I mark them for myself?

Asmo was spared a playful lecture when his name was called at the counter. You got up to help him carry the drinks and food back to your table. The barista seemed to be staring at you, but when Asmo put his finger up to his lips, they got flustered and looked away, returning to their work. Covering your face in the picture served another purpose: Asmo was hiding the gloss mark he left on your cheek. You didn’t need to know about it yet.

Belphegor

Belphie was lucky that you had chosen to sit in the back of the lecture hall where he could comfortably lean up against your shoulder and fall asleep without immediate repercussions. At least he was polite enough to nap on the shoulder for your non-dominant hand so you could continue to take notes as you listened to the lecture. Occasionally, you glanced down at his sleeping face; he looked so sweet, peaceful, and adorable.

The clock ticked down the few remaining minutes of the lecture, which was your cue to begin the wake-up process. Although Belphegor seldom cared what his brothers or the professor thought about him using you as a pillow during class, you found that it was easier to just wake him up before the complaints came rolling in. You set your pen down, pet Belphie gently, and whispered his name so that only he would hear you. A soft moan left him, and he nuzzled into your arm before leisurely opening his eyes with a content smile.

“Good morning, MC.” Belphie whispered into your ear.

Reluctantly, Belphegor forced himself upright and away from the warmth of your body just in time for the lecture to be dismissed. The professor and other students gathered their things and collectively made their way towards the doors. You, however, waited on Belphegor to shake off his nap and get to his feet.

“C’mon, MC. Catch up,” Mammon shouted from the front of the class.

“Give us a second,” you replied at a lower volume.

“Man, you two are so slow. I ain’t waitin’ around forever.” Mammon groaned and made his way slowly towards the door.

“He would know slow,” Belphie muttered just loud enough for you to hear as he stood up.

“Belphie,” you chided him, but your tone went ignored.

“Hey, can I borrow your notes later? Maybe we could review together.” There was a soft, sweet neediness in Belphie’s voice.

“Didn’t you catch the lecture in your sleep like you usually do?” Sometimes Belphie’s ability to remember things that happened around him while he was asleep creeped you out. He was like an unassuming monitoring device if he wanted to be.

“Indulge me.” Belphie knocked his shoulder against yours playfully.

“I always do, don’t I?” You sighed. That was the unfortunate effect he had on you: you always found yourself spoiling him, even when he didn’t deserve it – or rather, especially when he didn’t.

You were just about to walk into the hall when Belphie grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the classroom before the others spotted you. He played with your hand, caressing you with his thumbs. His cheeks were stained light pink as his eyes flitted from your hand to your face.

“What’s the matter, Bel?”

Belphie closed the distance between you, springing forward to kiss your cheek. The sudden movement surprised you, but it wasn’t especially shocking; Belphegor had always been physically affectionate. He inched closer, causing his hot breath to ghost over your skin. His lips curved into a precious grin as he whispered in your ear: “Thank you for always spoiling me.”

The honey-sweet tone of Belphie’s voice was undercut by a sharp yell from the corner of the room. “I saw that.”

It was Solomon. He stopped shoving his books into his bag to glare at the back of Belphegor’s head. Unfortunately for Solomon, Belphie wasn’t bothered; he simply rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Cool shit, bro.” Belphie replied in a condescending tone and lifted his arm up in the air to flip Solomon off. You watched Solomon’s jaw drop slightly as he physically recoiled. Sometimes Solomon forgot how rude Belphegor could be. It was hard not to laugh, but you really shouldn’t encourage his bad behavior by laughing. “Come on, MC. Let’s go.”

Belphie grabbed your arm and dragged you into the hall. He was attached, and he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. In fact, he planned to stay glued to your side until his desire for your attention was fully satisfied.

Solomon

The warmth of Solomon’s hands as he caressed your cheek was nothing compared to the warmth of his praise and your own pride swelling in your chest. Solomon hummed, “You did such a good job.”

You had successfully used a heating spell on the first try, evidenced by the warmth in Solomon’s previously cold hands. It had been a while since you got a spell that Solomon taught you perfect right away – let alone one that required you to manipulate another person’s body (and you could worry about the ethical dilemma involved with that later). Neither of you had expected you to raise his body temperature at such an ideal rate and stop at the perfect temperature. Of course, Solomon trusted you not to hurt him, but he was impressed by your control. He wanted to test you further.

“Excellent. Let’s try something similar.” Solomon began to search his shelves for the right ingredients. He continued to talk as he scanned, “I want to see if you can cool down an external object with the same level of control. If you can do it, I’ll reward you.”

“Bring it on,” you accepted. Solomon offered you plenty of praise when you did well, but he so rarely gave you an actual reward for your work. It was exciting to imagine what you could earn. Maybe he would teach you a cool, secret spell or give you a magical item. But more motivating than a reward was the idea of making Solomon proud.

“That’s my apprentice – so eager,” he mused, grabbing a bottle of glowing red liquid.

“Oh, but no home cooking as a reward,” you added, sparing your future self from potential suffering.

Solomon whipped his head around with a pout before returning to his search. He found a beaker and brought everything to his desk. By then, the pout had reshaped itself into a smirk. “I didn’t have cooking in mind when I offered you a reward, so it looks like we have a deal.”

Solomon poured plain water and the glowing red liquid into the beaker. They failed to mix. You asked, “What do I have to do?”

It was simple – or at least that was what Solomon said. All you had to do was cool the contents of the container between 32 to 36 degrees below the freezing point of water. If the red substance dipped under 36 degrees below the freezing point of water, it would become unstable. If you failed, the ice and glass would break open. Solomon didn’t tell you anything about the red substance or what “unstable” meant for it. All you knew was that you had a four-degree margin of error.

“And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t put my favorite apprentice in danger for a game, would I?”

With that reassurance, you focused your magic into the beaker. As the water slowly solidified, the red liquid became concentrated at the center until it was encased in ice. You just had to keep lowering it until something felt right. You stopped and nodded. Solomon inspected the beaker.

“A beautiful job,” Solomon praised you.

“Really? What did I do though?”

“I’ll tell you once the ice melts,” Solomon waved off your curiosity. “For now, it’s time for your reward. Close your eyes.”

You did as he instructed and listened to him moving about the room. His presence got closer until you could feel his warmth. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, causing your eyes to shoot open and your face to burn. Solomon chuckled at your response.

“I could feel your cheeks getting warm. Did I embarrass you?”

“No. I was just surprised.”

“Really?” Solomon leaned in and kissed your cheek again. “I don’t know. Your face burns under my lips.”

“You’re a terrible teacher,” you retorted. That wasn’t what you were expecting, of course he flustered you.

“Oh? That can’t possibly be true. My adorable apprentice seems to be doing quite well,” Solomon laughed, all too pleased with his successful attempt to tease you. “You learn so quickly. Should we try something even harder? Think you can handle it?”

There was a seductive tint to his words, and you narrowed your eyes at Solomon. “Same shady reward system? Pass.”

“Nope,” Solomon leaned close, trying to entice you. How were you just now noticing how sweet he smelled? Was he wearing perfume or cologne today? You didn’t have time to linger on the thought. Solomon dropped his voice, and through a wicked smirk, he added, “even shadier. If you succeed, I’ll do whatever you ask for a full day.”

“And if I fail?” you asked cautiously.

“I get to punish you.”

(gift version - Beelzebub, Thirteen, Raphael, Mephistopheles)

A/N: These ones got really flirty. . . oh well. Uhm, leave me nice comments or something. I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting to say something. . .

#requests #gn!mc #mammon #satan #asmodeus #belphegor #solomon #obey me short fic #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #oh and enjoy a new OC. . .don't let me bring him back unless y'all have a teacher kink or something...

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studioghibelli · 3 months

Text

fade in to you- a joel miller x reader

summary: love can often times be unrequited... until it isn't.

warnings: tommys!girlfriend reader, kind of a jerk!tommy, pining!joel, soft!joel, 00's joel/era, implied age gap, some angsty angst, no smut this time y'all i'm in some sort of babygirl mood tonight or something idk.

notes: this is a short lil' somethin' for my sweet twizzy @ilovepedro <3 <3 <3

Cherry red lips stained the rim of the glass, the sides sweating beneath the heat of the summer moon. The lights on the back of the porch illuminated the grill, and the half busted radio in the corner crooned out whatever the radio was deciding to play that night. The canopy of stars twinkled down upon the bungalow, crickets nestled in the blades of grass in the backyard chirping and igniting the atmosphere aflame with the reminder that nature was all around.

Inside, a baseball game was flickering across the screen of the television, and people funneled in and out of the sliding glass door that whined and ached each time it was moved. Grabbing beers, swaying to the music, shouting at the game- anything they wanted to do, really.

Joel stood to man the grill, his broad shoulders stretching the seams of a heather gray shirt, tanned arms glimmering with sweat beneath them. The sleeves almost seemed too tight against his thick biceps, but that only made them more appealing.

As he flipped the burgers, steaming and sizzling against the grill top, Joel tried to remind himself not to look at those cherry red lips. He tried to urge himself to have enough resolve to not become intoxicated by your soft, plump, red mouth, that was just right there in the corner of his eye sight.

It was the least he could do, seeing as you were his brother's girlfriend.

When you walked in that night for the barbeque, he couldn't help but stare, couldn't help but take in your beauty. You wore a sundress the color of azaleas, accompanied by a floral scarf tied around your hair and those sticky, sweet looking lips.

Those lips that haunted him

Did they taste like cherries, too? Joel immediately shook that terrible thought away, it was gone almost as soon as it had entered.

And thus began his usual routine when you were around. The cold shoulder, the short responses, the purposefully-trying-to-avoid-you maneuvers that he had become quite masterful with. Despite this, there was still that tug deep in his belly, that draw towards you and your aura.

"Joel?" Your sweet voice filled his ears.

"Hmm?" He winced at how curt he sounded.

The sinking tone of your voice made him swallow thickly with guilt. "Do you... do you have anymore of that margarita mix?"

"Above the kitchen sink." Joel explained, his voice now a bit softer.

He couldn't turn around to look at you. Not when your hips swayed so femininely against your dress, not when your dewy skin glistened beneath the dusty golden light, not when those lips looked to tantalizing, so delicious.

Joel was so lost in thought, he burnt one of the burgers.

The night went on, smooth and happy, everyone chatting and talking amongst themselves. Joel had sat himself on a patio chair farthest from you, eating the burnt patty with furrowed brows. His eyes were glued to the ground, his mind once again, for the millionth time that June evening, wandering with thoughts of you.

The backdoor slid open with that familiar creak, and he heard Tommy exploding with excitement at the ongoing baseball game.

"Hi, baby." Your voice rang through Joel's ears. He looked up, watching Tommy give you a quick, uninterested kiss. His stomach churned.

Tommy went to the beer cooler, grabbing a fresh bottle of Modelo. At the same time, the radio cranked out an all too familiar song.

I want to hold the hands inside you

I want to take the breath that's true

I look to you, and I see nothing

You gasped, jumping to your feet with eyes wide, cheeks thick with your sticky sweet smile. "Oh, Tommy! This is my favorite song. Dance with me?"

He shook your hand away, turning to you with a scrunched up face. "You know I don't dance, woman. I got a baseball game to get back to." Joel felt his jaw clenching with annoyance, but before he could say anything, Tommy spoke once more. "You comin' in to watch it?" He asked his big brother.

Joel's eyes followed you. He traced over the fallen expression that had sunk into your cheeks, he watched the way your eyes fell with embarrassment, the way your lips pressed into one another.

"No." Was all Joel said, before he glued his eyes back to the ground. He knew Tommy was rolling his eyes, and before he knew it his brother was stomping back inside, leaving him alone with you.

An awkward silence hung in the air, before Joel stood up so quickly, it caused you to jump. "I, uh-" He was rubbing the back of his neck now, taking notice of the incredulous look that had grazed across your face. "I'll dance with ya."

Your smile, sunshine and flowers, ignited the dark air around. "Really?"

He nodded, holding a hand out for you. "It's now or never, darlin'. This is a short song."

An angelic laugh escaped your throat, and you took his hand, standing to your feet. You weren't an oblivious fool. You knew Joel was handsome, and you knew every woman in town was pining after him.

How could they not?

His umber curls, thick shoulders, curved nose- he was a work of art. Tommy was handsome, it ran in the family, but there was something about Joel that was so gripping, so hard to forget. You had noticed his eyes the first time you met him. Those chocolate eyes, so deep and mysterious. They had pulled you in the moment you saw them.

And when Joel had seen you for the first time, he experienced what could only be described as a religious experience. He felt the kind of emotions that one felt when looking upon Van Gogh's Starry Night, or Monet's Poppies. The kind of awe that struck your chest hard with a kick, the kind of awe that settled upon your soul with no hopes of ever letting out, the kind of awe that a man could never forget.

Each time he saw you, you only grew more beautiful. Perhaps that was just a symptom of him falling deeper in love.

"I didn't take you for the dancing type." You whispered as his hands found the curve of your waist, strong and sturdy as they wrapped tightly around you. When your hands moved to his shoulders, you felt a breath of air get stuck in his throat.

"I'm not." Joel's eyes looked down, peering in to your own. You cursed the butterflies which erupted within you.

"Then why are you now?"

There was a short moment of silence, the kind that made your skin crawl with anticipation. You had no clue where this quiet would lead.

"Because I can't stand seein' my brother treat you like that." Joel's voice was earnest, genuine, and you saw those hardened eyes cross over with a feeling you had never seen on him before. Softness. Gentleness. Love.

You live your life, you go in shadows

You'll come apart, and you'll go black

Some kind of night into your darkness

Colors your eyes with what's not there.

"Treat me like what?" You whispered, voice barely there against the backdrop of the radio.

"Like you ain't the most beautiful girl in the world." Joel's grip tightened around you, and he instinctively pulled you close. "Like he ain't the luckiest bastard I know, gettin' the chance to be with you. To kiss you, feel you."

With furrowed eyebrows, you closed your eyes tight, too scared, too unsure of what to say next. You had spent months trying to stop it, you had spent months trying to swallow that horrible, awful feeling that crept inside every time you saw Joel. Despite this, you knew. You had always known.

You were with the wrong brother, and you always had been.

The quick glances, the hidden smiles, the wandering eyes- Joel thought he hid it well, but he could never fool you.

Both of you knew you were in deep shit, both of you knew the water was rising, heating, but you were both helpless, unable to stop it.

And stop it, you had tried. Many, many, many times.

When Tommy was on top of you, moaning your name, feeling your skin, you couldn't help but think of Joel. When Tommy ignored you to watch his baseball games, you couldn't help but daydream about Joel, and how you knew he would dote upon you more than a stupid sport. When Tommy stayed out too late with his raucous friends and came home drunk, you wondered what Joel's arms would feel around you, behind you in bed as his mouth planted kisses on your shoulders, blanketed by the sweet cover of nighttime.

Finally, you spoke. "I don't think that I know what to say, Joel."

Joel took in a deep breath of air, and you felt his chest vibrating against you. "I know. I don't expect you to say anythin'. Just knew I had to tell you sometime."

You swayed together slowly, beneath the canopy of the summer sky, eyes fluttering shut with every movement of your bodies. Joel tensed when you pressed your cheek to his chest, your bodies molding together in harmony.

He liked this. He could get used to this.

Your chest rose and fell against his, your hands moved up and down his arms, caressed his shoulders, felt his body. You touched him like you loved him, you ignited something deep within him. Joel felt wanted, he felt loved, he felt appreciated.

Your tenderness reminded him that he was alive, that he was worthy. You had lit a flame deep within him, a new appreciation for the beauty of the world, a new outlook on life.

He would fight for you if it came down to it. Anything to keep that dazzling smile and those perfect eyes in his life.

Strange you never knew

Fade into you

I think it's strange you never knew

"Do you love me?" You asked abruptly, voice caught in the back of your throat. You don't know what came over you or why you felt the need to ask, but you couldn't help yourself. Your gut had always told you something was there resting between the both of you, and tonight you were going to find out.

Joel's fingers gently dug into your sides, and you felt the beating of his heart quicken against your cheek. You wondered what he was feeling, you wondered if he had ever felt this way before, if he was even feeling what you were. An inexplainable feeling that washed over you wordlessly, a feeling you were unable to express with words.

"Yes." His fingers crawled up your back, tangling into the ends of your hair. "More than I probably should."

You nodded against him, arms digging in to his shoulders tighter.

You craned your neck to look up at him, eyelashes fluttering against your rosy eyelids. Those cherry lips sparkled in front of him, and Joel wanted nothing more than to lean down and feel them, taste them, explore them.

Joel had never seen a more beautiful woman.

If there was one thing for sure he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, it was that he had never seen anything as beautiful as you in the entirety of his life. Not even the sunsets above the ocean or the wild flowers in the valley, not even the stars at the Grand Canyon or the clear water of a river compared. You were prettier than them all. Serene, celestial, ethereal- he had never known a face like yours, nor had he ever gazed upon a beauty quite like the one you owned.

His thumb slowly traced the height of your cheekbone, and your eyes darted to his adams apple that bobbed up and down with the breaths he was swallowing. No doubt nervous, you thought.

"I-"

"You don't have to say anything." His thumb moved down the length of your cheek until it was resting on your jaw. "It's okay. I know."

"Kiss me."

Joel's eyes darted to your mouth, and he let out a quiet sigh. "I wish I could."

"You can."

"I can't do that. Not to Tommy."

You smiled a sweet, ever so saddening smile, your soft hand creeping up to cup his cheek. The bristles of his patchy beard scratched against your palm, a feeling you wanted to get used to.

There were lots of things you wanted to get used to with Joel. His arms wrapping around you from behind in the kitchen, his arms around your waist as you slow danced to music, his beard pressing in to your skin as you held one another.

Maybe in another life.

"You're a good man, Joel Miller."

"I ain't." He mumbled, shaking his head. A dry laugh crept past his lips. "You don't know half the things I've thought, all the things that make me a shitty brother just for thinkin' 'em. All the things I'd do to you if you were mine."

"I can be yours." You whispered, lip catching between your teeth. "I can be."

"You can't. Ain't how this works. Believe me, darlin'.... you don't know how bad I want things to be different." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your throat hitched around itself, the feeling of his kiss on your skin igniting a volcano of yearning which erupted within your chest. All you could do was hold on to him tighter.

A stranger's light comes on slowly

A stranger's heart without a home

You put your hands into your head

And then smiles cover your heart

"That's all I'm gonna get from you then, Miller?" You asked with a smile, your fingers tracing out the outline of his jaw. His kiss still lingered on your forehead.

"For now." He responded, and you watched the ghost of a grin plant itself upon his lips. "Who knows, maybe the world will end and we'll get our chance."

And Joel, as he so often was, was right.

The world would end in three months time, and perhaps your own time together would soon follow. But until then, you both returned to the shadows, eyes colored with what wasn't there.

#joel miller x reader #studioghibelli #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fandom

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