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subskz · 2 days

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multitasking - s.cb

content: sub changbin, dom reader, pegging, lots of teasing, slight dumbification, binnie cries a little, male squirting, praise, handjob, female reader

word count: 4.5k

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Just like that, okay?”

Changbin’s breath came out in shudders, so noisy that you wondered if he could even hear you over them. Judging by his scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows coming together to form an adorable look of concentration, you doubted it. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

“Binnie,” you sang. “Are you listening to me?”

Just to make sure you had his full attention, you brought the steady roll of your hips to a halt, keeping your strap buried inside him, but denying him the friction that had wiped all coherent thoughts from his brain. His body rocked for a few seconds more even after you’d stopped, operating purely off muscle memory. Then, it turned into squirming, hips twisting helplessly in the sheets to try and regain the buildup of pleasure he’d suddenly lost. You watched him wiggle around, half-amused, half-endeared as he finally blinked his hazy eyes open to process what was going on.

“Mm?” he mumbled; drowsy, like he’d been stirred from a dream. “S-sorry? I didn’t…”

His gaze fully refocused to find you smiling down at him. On your end, you could’ve sworn his pupils dilated just a little bit more, painting his irises black and glazing them over. They looked so innocent, you’d never guess what he was really pleading for.

“I said,” you began playfully, running your palms up his twitching thighs just to tease him. They felt especially thick under your touch with all the tension they were holding, you couldn’t resist digging your nails into his flesh, hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents behind. The tight clench of his muscles was almost as satisfying as the sweet little gasp he let out. “Are you listening to me?”

Changbin swallowed down the saliva that had begun pooling in his mouth, sucking in a deep breath to find his voice again. “O-oh, yeah.” He shifted on the mattress to inch himself closer to you, as if your strap didn’t already have him filled to the near brim. “Yeah, listening. Sorry.”

“What number are we on, baby?”

He paused, doll-like lips curving deep into a pout. It was almost cute enough for you to let him off easy—almost.

“I…I don’t—” he chuckled nervously, eyes flickering to the side. “F-four?” You shook your head. “Five?”

You could tell he was growing restless, even when he was doing his best to behave himself. His dick twitched against his stomach, crying out for you to just forget about the count and start thrusting into him again. All the blood in his system must’ve pooled hot in his abdomen by now, you couldn’t even blame him for not being able to think straight.

“S-sorry, I really can’t remember,” he stuttered, embarrassed. “Again?”

It was the second or third time Changbin had lost track by now, and he once again found himself cursing the second he’d ever let his pride rope him into this tortuous little game you’d proposed. He’d never been one to back down from a challenge, even if it was a challenge that you both knew full well he’d fail miserably at. That, combined with his insatiable need to impress you clouding his better judgment, had him playing right into your hands.

“I can multitask!” he’d protested. “Do you know how much work it takes to be this cute and sexy at the same time?”

“So much work,” you’d agreed solemnly, trying not to crack a smile over the defensive squeak in his voice. “Then this should be no problem for you, right?”

From the moment you’d first bottomed out inside him, Changbin had gotten the sense that he’d already lost.

“I’m trying to help you, baby,” you pouted down at him. His eyes fluttered shut as you dragged your index finger along his plump, wet lips, mesmerized with the cute popping sound they made every time you prodded at them. “If you’re too dumb to count by yourself, just repeat after me.”

“N-no, Binnie’s smart,” he insisted, muffled by your finger. His legs squeezed around your waist like they had a mind of their own, trying to rub against each other and generate some friction. “Not dumb. I can do it, lemme do it.”

“Yeah? Let’s try and make it past three this time.” You gave his cheek an affectionate pat. A shiver ran through his body as your hands glided down to his hips, gripping his soft flesh to stabilize yourself before inching out of him bit by bit.

Immediately, Changbin’s attempt at counting was cut off by his own whine, stretching out for every second the silicone dragged along his walls. Then, you heard it, shaky and breathless as you pushed back inside him.

“O-one.”

His stomach rose sharply under your palms as you pulled out a second time. Before you’d even snapped your hips forward again, he gasped out a “two”, all too eagerly. You giggled, waiting a few extra seconds just to test his patience

“Two,” he repeated with a tinge of desperation. He looked lost, like he was genuinely wondering if he’d already managed to mess up the order somehow.

You felt a tinge of pity; he really was trying his hardest for you. So, you followed through, deciding to take it slow this time so he actually stood a chance in counting your thrusts. His foggy brain was grateful for it, but his body, not so much.

“Th-three—ah. Three. Faster, please?” he barely got the words out in time before he felt that delicious stretch again, coaxing an especially high moan. “F-four.”

You could practically taste the hunger rolling off his skin in warm waves. Every needy noise that grew louder his throat, every jerk of his hips begged you for more, even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with it. His teeth sank into his bottom lip when you pushed back inside of him without missing a beat—faster, just like he’d asked for, and as deep as your position would allow. You dragged your hands up and down his stomach in unison with the slide of your strap; such a simple touch, but enough to disrupt his concentration all over again.

“Fi—” he began. His voice failed him, cracking pitifully as you grabbed his bouncing chest at the very same instant you brushed against his sweet spot, digging your fingers hard into the plush skin. “F…f-fi…fuck.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back against the pillows as his resolve fully crumbled. The sensation of your palms pressing against his nipples was already dizzying enough, but once you took the hardened buds between your fingers and pinched, he was a complete goner. He made no effort to keep counting even when you didn’t stop rocking your hips, instead letting his mouth hang open uselessly, spilling out another long, shameless moan that made goosebumps rise on your skin. Just a few strokes in, and he was already so far gone.

You let him get away with it for a bit longer, taking the time to admire his dark, messy curls sprawled out against the white pillowcase, even fluffier than usual from all his tossing and turning. Everything about him was so soft. His pecs spilled out between your fingers as you pawed at them, his full cheeks were flushed red and his lips were swollen into a cute, puffy ring after how much he’d nibbled on them. It took all your willpower to not give in to the irresistible sight and keep pounding into him until his head really was too empty to think anymore.

“So pretty, Binnie. Wanna keep you like this forever,” you murmured. You could feel his heartbeat pick up over the praise, pulsing faster under your palms. Then, all at once, you forced your hips to stop and snapped him out of his daze yet again. “But a pretty boy like you still needs to listen.”

“M-mmph,” he mewled. His body chased after your touch, protesting the loss before he even fully realized what was going on. “N-no. Sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t stop, please?”

“I only stop when you stop.” Your hum was deceptively sympathetic as you watched him fist the sheets in frustration, biceps bulging and chest heaving. His throat bobbed as you closed his slack jaw and tilted his chin up, brushing your thumb delicately over his tiny scar to urge him to look at you. “What’s got you so distracted, hm? What’s on my baby’s mind?”

He forced his eyes open again, so dark that you could see yourself reflected in them clear as day. They gave you your answer before he even said it.

“You,” he breathed. It was a reply he’d normally be proud of, but with the way you were staring him down from above, he couldn’t stop a sheepish giggle from rising in his throat, lips twitching at their corners and cheeks bunching up.

“Me?” you echoed. “Or this?”

You slid your strap back inside him in one sharp thrust, angling it so that the tip rolled against the roof of his walls and hit his prostate perfectly. He cried out as if on command, high-pitched and sweet. “Ah! Yes, r-right there.”

Even your own rules were becoming less convincing of a reason to deny him when you knew those were the kinds of sounds you’d be missing out on. But you were on a mission, today; teaching Changbin how to multitask, or, toying with his body until he couldn’t take it anymore—whichever came first.

“There’s my answer.” You feigned disappointment, flattening your palm against his stomach and pressing down right around where you guessed the head of your strap had reached inside him. “All you care about is being filled up, huh, baby?”

“N-no, no.” His hand pawed around blindly in the sheets for a moment before he found you, grabbing on to your wrist and pushing your hand harder against the soft pudge of his tummy. You weren’t sure if he’d done it just to gain some kind of stimulation, or because he was just aching to be as close to you as physically possible, but to his credit, he forced himself not to lose his train of thought even as the sensation had his eyes rolling back.

“Binnie’s a good boy. ‘M only like this ‘cause of you. I need you, please.”

He was right; he was such a good boy. He could forget how to count, forget how to close his mouth, forget how to listen, but he’d never ever forget how to say please. That was something you didn’t have to teach him. Still, you didn’t give him what he wanted just yet, instead tracing gentle patterns on his skin, just above where his cock was leaking out tiny drops of precum. It took a few moments for him to connect the dots, but finally, he rasped out the word you were looking for.

“Four…n-no, wait, it was five,” he stammered. “Please, don’t stop, please?”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Grabbing hold of his thighs, you used all your strength to pull your bodies closer together, lifting his legs and settling them around your waist for easier access. A cute, flustered giggle escaped him as he scooted down the mattress, melting into a sigh of pleasure when you were able to nestle your strap even deeper inside him than before.

His fingers sank into the sheets, gripping them so tight that you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing. “S-six,” he gritted out. “M-mm, feels so good. More, please, more.”

The sound of skin on skin began to fill the room as you finally picked up your pace like Changbin had been begging for. You made every stroke count; deep and heavy, pulling out until just the head of your strap was left teasing his entrance, then sliding all the way back inside until your hips smacked against the back of his thighs. The new position immediately took a toll on him, you could tell by the growing lapse in his counting. Every time you left his walls fluttering around nothing, it took a few seconds before he remembered to call out the next number, just so he could feel the relief of you burying the toy inside him again.

“Nine,” he gasped. The building pressure in his core drained his concentration little by little, making for an adorable show of reactions for you the more his self-control slipped. Every pretty sound he made rang out in the thick, hot air around you, unrestrained and heavenly. Your gaze fell from his blissed out face to where his dick laid half-hard against his stomach, bouncing from the impact of your movements. It gave you an idea.

Changbin choked on his next number as you brought your hand to his head, scooping up the tiny beads of precum and curling your fingers around it. You felt him swell in your grip almost instantly, and when you began to pump his cock along with your thrusts, he fully throbbed in your hands with a fresh wave of heat.

“El-elev—ngh,” he slurred out, barely intelligible. “Three…four. No, t-ten.”

“Four? Ten?” you mimicked. “That’s not right, baby. Try again.”

You swirled your thumb around his leaking tip, effectively fizzling out the last of his thoughts. It was hopeless; the strokes of your hand were mixing up with the pump of your strap, muddling his everything together until he couldn’t distinguish between the pleasure. “Six…n-no, ah. Good, so good. I c-can’t—”

“You usually listen so well, Binnie,” you frowned. “What happened to my good boy?”

Changbin bit down on his bottom lip, so hard that you worried his cute little fang might dig deep enough to split the plush skin. You timed your thrusts seamlessly with the rhythm of your hand, sinking down on his cock as you pulled out of him, and gliding back up his length as you bottomed out again.

“Y-your hand,” he whimpered. “It’s confusing me, I can’t…feels too good.”

“Should I stop touching you, then?”

You released him from your grip, letting his dick fall against his stomach to twitch over the loss. His hips surged up in protest, a soft whine spilling out of him and growing even louder when you pulled your strap out of him in one fluid motion, leaving his walls clenching wildly for you.

“No, no,” he groaned, locking his ankles around your waist to try and bring you closer. “Please, ‘m so close. Please.”

Taking the silicone into your hand, you lined it up with his entrance, pressing the tip just hard enough against him to add an exhilarating pressure. His reaction didn’t disappoint; a full-body shudder, rippling through his muscular thighs, making his chest jump and his biceps tighten.

“You want it, baby?” you asked sweetly, circling the head of the toy around his rim.

“Yes, yes, please.” The way he rolled his body was nothing short of sinful, you almost gave in right there. His tiny grunts of frustration only grew the more your strap prodded at his hole, teasing the sensitive nerve-endings without giving him the satisfaction of slipping back inside. “Please, b-been so good. Give it to me, please.”

“I know, baby.” You inched the toy away before he could get any real stimulation out of it, brushing its slick tip against his inner thighs in a playful taunt. “Just tell me where we left off, and I’ll fuck you like a good boy.”

Changbin shot you a look of pure helplessness, eyebrows scrunching in dismay as it dawned on him what you wanted.

“I-I…I don’t remember,” he mumbled, not even trying to muster up a guess before he surrendered. “I got it all mixed up, I can’t—”

“I thought Binnie was smart?”

He squeaked in protest as you pulled your strap completely away with a click of your tongue. “I am! I a-am. Again, please? I’ll try again.”

It wouldn’t make a difference, he knew that as well as you did. But he said it anyway, as a last resort—anything to feel you stretching him out again, anything to hear you whisper honeyed praises into his ear as he fell apart for you.

“You’re hopeless, baby,” you murmured, brushing back his fluffy bangs to reveal his eyes. They were wide as moons, full of desperation and welling up with tears at their corners.

“Please.” The droplets spilled over before he could blink them away. You softened as they trickled down his flushed cheeks, darkening his eyelashes and glazing over his pupils.

“You’re crying?” Gently, you cupped his face to soothe him. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin as you wiped away his stray tears, only for new ones to take their place again. “You want it that bad, angel?”

The wet gleam in his eyes spoke for itself, but still, he managed a tiny nod.

“You look so pretty like this,” you marveled, rubbing the pad of your thumb under his eye to scoop up another bead trailing down his face.

Despite himself, Changbin perked up over your words. “Pretty?” he sniffled.

“Mm.” A mix of lube and tears smeared his skin as you tilted his chin up, looking him straight in his eyes to admire the fresh droplets gathering at their edges. They caught the light like rhinestones, a visual captivating enough for you to give him anything his heart desired in that moment. “Beautiful boy. My pretty little crybaby.”

Changbin’s nose scrunched up, a shy, downturned smile tugging at his lips. He knew there was a condescending hint to your words, but when they were spoken so sweetly, when you called him pretty in that voice—when you called him yours in that voice—he could do nothing but melt.

“Seriously. Don’t you like me too much?” He pawed your hand away in embarrassment, but you didn’t miss how his face lit up, visibly yearning for more compliments, for your approval.

You let out a fond hum. Just like that, you’d found the key to keeping him motivated. He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as you took hold of your strap, realigning it with his entrance.

“Let’s try again.” You tapped the head of the toy against his rim, just to bask in the way it made him wriggle in the sheets. “Show me how good you are, baby.”

He nodded again, still timid, but revitalized by your encouragement. His lips puckered into a cute little rosebud for you, and with a soft giggle, you took the hint, leaning down to press them against yours. The wet trails on his cheeks cooled your skin as you kissed him, slowly, dragging your lips past the corner of his mouth to kiss away away his tears, too. His shaky sigh fanned out around you, warm and feather-light as you sank back into him, all the way to the hilt of your strap.

“One.”

You rested one hand on the mattress, bringing the other back to his dripping cock. It was still fully hard even after being neglected so long, jerking gratefully in your palm as you began to stroke it again.

“Two. Th—mm—three.”

“That’s my boy,” you praised. “I know you can do it for me.”

You matched the rock of your hips with the glide of your hand, just as you’d been doing before. It immediately took effect on Changbin, slurring his speech and making his face scrunch up. But he kept trying for you.

“Four…ah, please.”

“Good boy. Keep it up, okay?” You rolled your strap against his sweet spot, teasing it repeatedly with the curved silicone tip before pulling out again.

“Five. F-five, again, please.”

You indulged him. “Doing so well for me, Binnie,” you crooned, swiping your thumb over his swollen head and making his hips buck. “My smart boy. My good boy.”

“Mm, mm. Binnie’s smart. Your s-smart boy,” he agreed. He was so simple; spurred on by your doting, even as that familiar, hot coil in his abdomen started nipping at the edges of his mind again. “Your g’boy…ngh. So good.”

More tears trickled from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut, trying to get ahold of his thoughts long enough to get out the next number. You were being so patient with him, so kind to him, he had to do his best for you.

“Six,” he whimpered. A new wave of droplets spilled over, this time, because the pleasure was growing too strong to bear. You picked up your pace as you drank in the addictive sight; his clenching stomach, tear-stained face, his bulging muscles grasping at the sheets. He deserved it when he took it all so well and looked so good doing it.

“Seven, eight—close! I c-can’t—!”

“Almost there, baby. Just a little more,” you encouraged him. “You’re so perfect like this. Don’t you wanna show me how pretty you look when you cum for me?”

His dick stiffened in your hand, both over your words and the way you wrapped your palm around its sticky tip. The squelching noise that each roll of your hand created started to mess with his head again, distracting him from his count.

“Eight…e-eight—ah, please. Please, please, please. ‘M gonna—”

“C’mon Binnie, you’re so close. Don’t give up now.”

“Ten, n-no, nine? Nine—?”

He clenched his jaw, hips surging up and walls tightening around your strap like he was afraid you might pull out at any moment. It was useless. No matter how desperately he tried to concentrate, the pressure in his stomach consumed everything else, emptying his mind a little more each time you filled him up. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry. It’s so good, t-too good.”

“I know, baby,” you purred, sensing that he’d reached his limit. “It’s okay, let it all out for me.”

Changbin’s words melted into moans again as you thrust into him with more force, giving him no chance to brace himself for each dizzying stroke, let alone keep track of them anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how tortuously long the buildup to his climax had been, but the sensation creeping up on him felt more intense than usual, like a dam of water waiting to break. Everything felt amplified—the drag of the silicone along his ridges, the sensitivity of his nerve-endings at every point of contact, the dancing of your fingers around his cock—it was all dialed up to a hundred.

You thumbed at his leaking slit, unprepared for just how powerful of a reaction it’d elicit from him. He stiffened beneath you as a jolt of pleasure shot straight to his core, breaking the dam loose all at once.

Changbin’s broken sob sent a shiver down your spine. He arched his back off the mattress as his orgasm racked his body, spurting his release against the pad of your thumb. You stopped rocking your hips to admire him, completely taken by the sight unfolding before you. His cock pulsed in your hand with every wave of pleasure that passed through him, spraying out more cum than you’d ever seen before. It was noticeably different from the sticky white ropes you were used to—watery and messy. The streams splattered against his contracting stomach, glazing his skin with a translucent layer of fluid and coating your hand in the process.

He was panting by the time the last few drops of his release spilled from his aching head. Even as it dribbled down his hips and sank into the sheets underneath him, he didn’t quite understand what had happened, far too preoccupied with the tiny aftershocks rippling through his body.

Your fingers uncurled from his dick, letting it fall limply against his ruined stomach. He flinched as you ran your hand over his soft, soaked flesh, still hypersensitive after the climax that had shaken him more intensely than either of you bargained for.

“Look at that, baby,” you marveled, holding up your dripping fingers for him to see. “Your dick’s crying, too.”

Changbin’s eyes fluttered open, shiny with residual teardrops. They widened when he registered why his skin felt so wet, why the bed beneath him felt so sticky and warm, and why his muscles felt deliciously sore, like when he stretched them after a good workout. His cheeks flushed beet red, legs squeezing around your waist in a pointless attempt to cover himself.

“Oh my God. I c-can’t believe—” His face was hot with shame as he buried it into his palms, muffling a noise that sounded something between a giggle and a miserable wail. “I didn’t mean to. W-wait, don’t look, please.”

His babbling trailed off when you stroked his stomach, a gentle touch that masked how fast your heart was still racing over the effect you’d had on his body. You wanted to make it happen again.

“That was intense,” you murmured. “Are you okay, Binnie?”

He couldn’t find the courage in him to reply, too mortified to face you after making such a wreck of himself, too dazed to string a proper sentence together. All he could manage was peeking out shyly between his fingers.

You rested your hands over his to tug them away from his eyes and get a look at him. A soft objection rumbled in his throat, but he let you, anyway, mustering all his self-control to not shove his face in the pillows and hide away from your stare.

“M okay,” he reassured you quietly.

“Felt good?”

“Good,” he mumbled. “Too good. Wh-what did you do?”

“Ask yourself that, baby,” you drawled. Changbin shivered as you gave his hips a squeeze, an embarrassing mewl slipping past his lips when he clenched around your strap reflexively and realized it was still nestled deep inside him. “Look at the pretty little mess you made for me.”

Changbin let out another low whine. He gave up on maintaining eye contact, turning his head to squish his heated cheeks against the pillow. “Binnie’s shy.”

“You’re so cute.” You ran your fingers through his messy curls to ease his mind, relieved when you felt some of his tension relieve under your touch. “Do you have any idea how hot that was?”

Your words seemed to snap him back to his senses, clearing the fog in his head and reminding him of how he’d even reached this point in the first place. He made a tiny grunt of effort as he scrambled to prop himself up on his unsteady elbows, eyes widening with guilt. When he spoke, his voice was shot, edged with a delicious rasp after how much he’d strained it.

“I…” he giggled nervously. “I-I lost count again.”

You puffed out a light laugh of your own. Even you had completely forgotten about keeping track of your thrusts after watching Changbin fall apart so beautifully for you. Your little experiment may not have worked out, but you were far more interested in the outcome, anyway.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep practicing, yeah? Until we find out how many it takes for you to cum for me like that again.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!changbin #changbin smut #skz x reader #changbin x reader #dom!reader #seo changbin smut

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suteflower · 1 day

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4TO3 EP13 - PoloOversize for cu

another top I love for kids (let's ignore that this blouse gave me nightmares because of the texture and I complained about it for a while)

infos:

TOP FOR CU 2048x textures 3.7k polycounts 7 presets - only 2 fully recolorable - have 2 types of recolor Custom Thumbnail disable for random all lods

DOWNLOAD

simfileshare l simblr.cc

ALL CREDITS GO FOR EA , I JUST CONVERTED FOR SIMS 3.

any problems please let me know.if you like my work and want to give me extra support, here is my Ko-Fi.

@wanderingsimsfinds @pis3update @eternalccfinds @simfluencer-network @sisilou @xto3conversionsfinds @gifappels-stuff @kpccfinds

#ts3 #ts3cc #the sims 3 #sims3 #s3cc #4to3 conversion #ts4 to ts3 #s4tos3 #4to3 #4t3 #my conversion

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stxneflxwers · 2 days

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well-rested.

⋯⁂ summary. he's a little bit needy first thing in the morning, and he finally feels safe enough to entrust you with it.

⋯⁂ a/n. short and sweet, barely edited, etc. brain is on some bullshit fr (again.) + i wanted to include ratio for this, but then the aventurine one got pretty lengthy (heh) for how tired i am. so i'm just gonna save the ratio one for later, lol.

⋯⁂ characters. aventurine. afab reader (neutral prns).

⋯⁂ cw. sleepy eepy sex. soft sex. spooning. morning sex. implied first time. lowercase.

aventurine.

you both love to spoon – regardless it's you or him as the big spoon (usually it's him being the big spoon since he refuses to admit he loves being the small one and how safe it makes him feel to have you embrace him.) but sometimes, you swear you can feel his morning wood poke against you – but it's not like he ever really brings it up to you, he's said himself that he prefers taking care of his "little problems" by himself.

this morning was different, though – you woke up to him all whimpering and needy, his soft bare hands languidly groping at various parts of your body. who knows what was going on in his head at the time – perhaps he finally feels secure enough to indulge himself, maybe he was merely vulnerable and truly desperate for relief. you can never tell what's going through his head, anyway.

you were thrown off by the sudden amount of sexual intimacy he begged for, but that didn't stop you from taking care of him (for the first time who knows how long).

after bringing him to the edge with just your hand alone – all while his hands roamed and squeezed at your softness – you guide his still hard shaft between your legs. you shift one leg so he has more access to where you both ache for him to be.

he's nervous, though. exceedingly so. his hands tremble over your skin, his grip loosening like he was ready to get up and run away into the restroom. but, you stopped him before he could even think about it twice – grabbing his hands with your own, leaving gentle squeezes that bring some reassurance to his weary heart.

with that said – when you began rubbing your wet slit up and down his length, he groaned weakly and wasted no more time in taking you then and there. he entered you a little too eagerly, but you're lucky you were so wet for him that it hardly even hurt.

when he's fully sheathed inside your hot, welcoming walls, he pants and holds you closer than before. he moans softly when you grind against him little bits at a time. the next thing that comes from you is sweet reassurances and praises – and that's all he needs to start thrusting. he's a bit slow and sloppy, but you both enjoy it much more than anticipated.

he holds off on cumming inside you – regardless of any requests and offers you give him – he's already so satisfied with what you allowed him.

...and also because he promptly fell asleep after a while.

#🌠— my works #🔞— smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #💕— aventurine #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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m-ayo-o · 2 days

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series ; foxtrot ★⋆. ࿐࿔ episode 2 ; double trouble

[episode 1 : popcorn]

-> 21+ Megumi wants to show you exactly what you mean to him

[reader is in an unsatisfying relationship with Toji, and Megumi- who is around reader's age/a little older- thinks he can help]

-> cw: cheating, justification of cheating, toji hate nsfw: fingering, oral

In the morning you know you're in double trouble, since Toji is suspicious of where you were last night, there's a fucking bite mark on your ear that you're desperately concealing with your hair, and Megumi is only increasing his flirtatious advances.

He's going to get you killed. You have no doubt about it.

He starts using that voice on your more; the deep, seductive one from the other night. He gets nice and close, stepping up behind you when you're busy, in another world, doing some chores or reading, and he makes you jump every time.

Satisfied that you're on edge, he takes this cruel game further and starts touching you.

After he found out that you were ticklish you knew the end was near.

Toji was going to find you squealing with laughter, kicking your feet with his son pinning you to the kitchen counter with his hips.

And once he got a taste for touching you, it's all he could think about.

Staring at you in those skimpy tops no longer satisfies him.

Seeing your tits bounce, their perky outline, and those stiff nipples poking through the material just isn't enough anymore. The sight of you is leaving him horny and desperate, while he imagines what you'd sound like if he gave those nipples a good, hard suck.

He wonders how sensitive they are, what you'd taste like... until his dick springs up and he's got his first problem.

The second is you. Knocking at his door.

Toji doesn't knock.

And your knuckles make such a dainty tapping sound on the wood, like a little bird.

"Uh huh?"

He answers, cock strapped in his waistband.

"Dinner?"

"Mhm" he clears his throat and fidgets. He can see down your top from this angle. Oh god, he's getting harder.

"I'll be down in a bit."

He huffs and closes the door, sinking back onto his mattress to take care of another [name] induced boner. He swears it's like a sickness.

Maybe he's no better than his father after all.

However, their similarities are fewer than he realises.

And he has a certain trait Toji is lacking; patience.

Megumi is cunning. He watches. He observes.

Then, when he knows everything will work in his favour, he acts.

He won't get caught.

He knows Toji's habits; the late night gambling, the time he spends on his shitty car in the garage, the hours spent drinking in some rundown bar.

What a waste of time.

Especially when he could be with you instead; the glimmering light in both of their lives which Toji doesn't seem to realise, let alone appreciate.

But Megumi does.

And he wants to show you just how much he appreciates you.

So, this evening, when his father is likely to step a few metres out of the house and into the attached garage, he plans on doing just that.

He waits for him to finish undressing you with his eyes. He watches him place a firm smack on your ass when he leans over you at the fridge, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek and grabbing a few cans of beer.

He barely looks at your face. It's all about your body, as if you're some kind of glorified sex toy.

Megumi makes a little ugh noise at the vulgar display, dipping his gaze back down to the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table.

"What's up with you, urchin?"

Toji steps up to his fully grown son and ruffles his hair before ambling towards the back door that leads to the garage, as expected.

"Get your hands off me."

How disgusting.

At least he's predictable.

Moments after he's gone you're flitting about the kitchen, making yourself a hot drink, with Megumi still sitting there, eyes following you.

He likes watching you. You seem unaware. And so trusting.

Maybe too trusting of his father, at least, and his intentions with you.

"Why do you let him touch you like that?"

You're stunned, letting out an incredulous laugh.

"Like what?"

But realistically, you know what he means.

It's the slapping, the grabbing, the nonchalance of it all... you know his dad doesn't respect you.

There's a long pause, while Megumi watches you mull it all over.

"Do you want me to touch you instead?"

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you hear that deep tone again.

Standing up from the kitchen table, he slowly approaches you where you lean against the counter.

You think of the exchange you shared with him in the bathroom and how a few gentle yet deliberate touches ignited your senses.

He's getting close to you again, like that night, and his neck hangs down as his stoic gaze fixes on you.

And you realise now, with his son staring deeply into your eyes and his body close to yours, that Toji not only shows you a distinct lack of respect... but also intimacy.

You didn't know how badly you needed it until now.

Until Megumi started looking at you like this.

"You know I'll do it better."

Your eyes dip down over the buttons of his shirt. It's not as if Toji doesn't leave you feeling fulfilled.

But there's nothing else to it.

It's just mindless fucking and it's making you tired.

"Tell me."

His lips move but you can barely hear him, like you're underwater, drowning in his soul that you can see through his dark eyes.

"I, I–"

You shouldn't want him.

You can't have him.

Your lips tremble and he can see the worry in your face; he can read the guilty thoughts in your mind.

"It's not wrong for you to want this."

His fingers graze your hip.

You nod, listening to whatever excuse he has.

Whatever he'll say to make it all okay.

"To want me."

His thumb draws circles just under the hem of your top and your body starts to light up.

"He's not good enough..."

His head tilts microscopically towards the garage, his senses still fine tuned on you.

He wants to tell you more. He wants to tell you just how far out of his father's league you really are. He wants to tell you to ditch him and that he could give you so much more.

Instead he keeps his mouth shut, eyes open, focused on your heart, beating in your chest, your lips, your eyes... it's almost as if your body is sparkling for him, your iridescence pulling him closer.

His palm flattens against your waist, under your shirt, making you shiver.

"I want to show you... how you should be treated."

You nod slowly and he starts pushing up your top, his firm hand gliding over your skin.

He lets out a near inaudible hum, feeling your satin smooth body. All the while, he keeps his eyes on you, begging for permission to push higher.

And you ignore that deep ache in the pit of your stomach that's telling you Toji is only metres away, he'll catch you, along with the general message of you're going to hell for this.

But with Megumi's hands on your body you're in heaven.

So you let him continue, getting closer to what he wants, until he inhales sharply.

"No bra..." he whispers over your lips and marvels at the warmth of your skin.

He knew you were perfect, but actually feeling your body like this is almost too much for him.

He starts massaging your breast slowly and some pretty noises spill out of your mouth.

But you're quick to bite your lip when you hear the radio crackling from the garage, which serves as an unnerving reminder of just how close Toji is.

Completely disregarding that fact, along with both of your safety, Megumi's left hand slips up your top to join the right as he switches from gentle massaging to rubbing your nipples.

His thumbs glide over the two perky peaks of your breasts, with your eyes still locked in a deep, wanting stare, and he feels them harden. He nearly starts moaning when you lift your top up, feeling a sudden surge of blood through his guts, going south, and he can't help but pinch your little nipples harder.

He releases a soft sigh and arches down over your smaller frame, almost like he's bowing, and he presses a long, hot kiss to your neck. He uses his tongue and sucks gently, making heat pool between your legs.

His fingers have made your nipples so hard now and you're about to fall apart from that alone, with your hands clinging onto the fabric of his shirt. You can only breathe in little hushed gasps and each time he changes his technique from pinching to massaging to teasing you with his fingertips, you let out a small moan. Hearing this, he smiles against your neck and keeps tugging at you eagerly.

He's been with enough women by now to know that orgasm is possible through nipple simulation alone... You'd be surprised at the amount of girls that could achieve it.

But tonight he wants to take as much as he can.

Before his father walks in through that door he wants to claim you for himself.

So one hand leaves your chest to find the front of your thin, lycra-like shorts.

His middle finger skims over the front seams and he hums with a devious smirk on his lips. He's looking at you now, to watch your pretty face react to his touch.

"No panties?"

You shake your head slowly, eyes dipping down to avoid his gaze.

Those are just the house rules... Toji says no underwear, so that's how it is.

The younger Fushiguro seems to approve, since he bites back another devilish smile and locates your clit quickly, precisely, through your clothes and starts circling you there, keeping up his nipple pinching with his spare hand.

And it's now, with his hands expertly touching the most sensitive parts of your body, that he asks-

"Can I kiss you?"

In this moment, it really sinks in that you're doing something bad.

But your pretty lashes flutter and you nod your head, because sometimes good people do bad things.

He leans down over your body, everything about him making you feel so small, until his lips touch yours.

He's gentle and passionate, and he makes you feel adored.

From one kiss.

He pulls away and looks you in the eyes.

"Do you still want me to do this?"

Your whole body flushes from how quickly you nod.

"Mm," he eyes you up and down, "good. 'Cause I don't know how much more of this I can take..."

Your head tilts, lip tucked between your teeth.

"The flirting," he sighs heavily through his nose, eyes glazing over with heat and... aggression, "the staring."

You feel his fingertips push your shorts down slowly.

"The touching."

Your body trembles at the sound of his voice, and his long, dexterous fingers find what he wants the most.

His knee nudges your thigh open a fraction more and he spreads you with those fingers, sinking down, through the slick mess he made.

"You know what we do to each other."

"Mhm-" you nod again, holding your breath.

You know that he's had his eyes on every inch of your clothed body, clenching his jaw closed so he doesn't drool like a fucking dog, getting so pent up from the way you bend over the dining room table to serve his father breakfast that he has to rush off to the bathroom with the biggest erection between his legs. And on your way upstairs you've heard him moaning through that bathroom door, and you've paused on the hallway outside, lingering, listening to the distinct slap, slap, slap of him touching himself. And you wait there, squeezing your thighs together and praying that Toji doesn't walk up the stairs, until you hear his son moan for you.

"Y-yeah~" you know what you do to him, alright.

And he knows he can get you wet by looking at you.

He only has to lower his eyelids a fraction, giving you that powerful, dark stare that makes you weak, and you know what he's thinking about.

He can get you dripping with the sound of his voice and now he's got his hands down there it's all stacking up to be exactly how he imagined.

"You're so fucking wet," he breathes over your lips, starting to move his middle finger slowly. He takes pleasure in the way your eyelids flutter, especially when he runs his finger through your puffy, wet centre.

Your body shudders with his right hand buried in your shorts and his left holding your waist. His grip gets tighter when you start to squirm, almost like he's afraid you're going to run away.

But you can't and you won't because you're just as desperate as him, now tilting your head back up to his, lips drawing closer. He smirks and indulges you in another head spinning kiss.

And that's when things start to get a bit hazy.

Your breath intermingles and you can almost feel the arousal radiating off each other with every touch, and his finger starts to dig a bit deeper inside you, fingering you to the rhythm of your hot, breathy kissing until he's knuckle deep.

Your lips disconnect momentarily and you look between your bodies, seeing how he's got you pinned and defenceless, clothes pushed aside for his ministrations. And his clothes are on. His shirt pulls tight over his heaving chest and you notice his well fitting pants are looking... tighter than usual.

But you find his fingers under your chin, tilting your face back up to his. He doesn't want you to focus on that right now.

"Look at me."

He starts moving his finger a little faster while he drinks up all of your body.

And you realise now, in this heated and passionate affair, that father and son may have a commonality when it comes to love.

They're greedy.

And Megumi is willing to risk his neck to take all he can get from you.

He savours every hushed whimper you release each time he slides his finger in and out.

And he gives you a hot smirk, with his knee pressing your legs wider, his body overwhelming yours completely, and you feel a second finger pushing inside.

"One more.." his spare hand snakes up your body, over your shoulders, finding the back of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"You can fit one more, right?"

You're going to puncture your lip in a moment if he doesn't let up, with the way you're having to bite it closed.

"Mhm~" you nod quickly and he sinks in.

"Good girl."

He starts fingering you rougher now, making your thighs shake around his knee which is basically propping you up. And he watches you struggle like this for a moment until he gets fed up and drags a chair over, shoving it under your butt.

"Sit."

He commands and strips off your shorts fully.

If Toji walks in now you are well and truly fucked.

You can only watch in silent anticipation as the man before you gets on his knees.

He can feel your body start to tremble with excitement as he places kisses up the inside of your thighs. Your hands instinctively find his inky, messy hair and he gives you a look of seduction that makes your spine arch stupidly.

He watches you squirm for a moment longer, holding onto your legs, watching your pussy leak all over the chair.

And he realises how touched starved you are.

"He really doesn't do it right, hm?"

You shake your head slowly.

He gets closer, breathing over you until he can't take it and just has to taste you, and you moan in unison. Your hand flies to your mouth, his moans muffled by your pussy, and right now, you're so glad the radio is on next door or Toji would be hearing every last breath.

You try to quiet yourselves down, your excitement and pleasure turning into hot, shaky breathing. But you can't help the occasional sound that slips out. When he kisses you there, right on your clit, it feels like he's meant to be here.

And he goes slow, kissing building up into gentle licking, until he's making out with your pussy and your hands are pulling on his hair. That only makes him get rougher, more worked up, until his tongue is relentlessly circling you, and you're taking each other higher until your thighs are squeezing him and he knows that you're about to get off.

And he stops.

Going back to slow, needy kissing. You give him a shocked look, like you're scandalised.

He smirks and builds you up again.

But you can hear Toji banging around next door, fiddling with his car, and you're petrified he's going to come in at any moment. You hear him stepping around the garage, getting closer to the door, then heading back, almost like he's pacing around in there.

Realising you're distracted, Megumi sucks on your clit and nearly makes you yelp. He grabs you harder and slides his fingers between your legs, pressing at your pussy while flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue.

He slides two fingers in, making you gasp, the combination of fingering and licking getting your body shuddering instantly.

And he lets you have it.

He lets you cum all over him.

He hums and watches you ride his fingers, and after all his dirty, filthy thoughts, imagining how you sound, how you look, when you're cumming, he gets to witness you.

And you're so much more beautiful than he imagined.

He wants to see you do it over and over again.

But one will have to do for now.

And he gets a long one. Thanks to his edging, you're going for what feels like a full minute, squeezing his fingers and holding your jaw closed so tight.

And he's so impressed that you're not moaning his name.

"You did so well..."

But he's desperate to hear you, sooner rather than later, so he slides his fingers out, cleans you up and puts your clothes back in place.

The next words that leave his mouth are in the form of instructions.

He tells you exactly what to do.

The best option for avoiding any suspicion.

He'll tidy up the kitchen.

You'll go for a shower.

Once he's done, he's going out to the gym.

He'll cover your tracks.

Toji will step out into the front garden, smoke, and head to bed.

It's neat. It's tidy. And it'll work.

For now.

But you know, between now and your inevitable second encounter, you're going to have to tread very carefully.

megumi

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #18+ content #female reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #tw: cheating

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bigtreefest · 2 days

Text

Sick of It

Pairing: Boyfriend! Steve Rogers x Girlfriend! Reader one-shot

Summary: Steve looks good in everything and you’re sick of it. That, among other things.

Word count: 1,784

Content/warnings: Crying, comfort, angry feelings, kissing, mentions of body image issues, swears, snacks, non-sexual semi-nudity

A/N: I wrote this a couple weeks ago while I was feeling like absolute crap. I was so stressed and just wanted someone to hold. I know too many people relate. I think Steve would’ve been such a sweetie for this kind of moment.

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

“I’m so fucking done.”

You slammed the door to the pantry as Steve looked over his shoulder at you from his spot on the couch.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” His words trailed down to you as stomped down the hall and slammed the door to his room.

Steve sighed and tossed the blanket off his lap, softly padding after you down the corridor. He leaned against the doorframe before lightly knocking with the knuckle of his pointer finger.

“Hey, you alright?” He faintly heard the sliding of his dresser drawers, frantically paired with the sound of clanging hangers in his closet.

Steve opened the door slowly to be met with the sight of you half naked, hoodie stretched over your one arm and head, only accompanied on your body by your socks and underwear.

You grumbled and sighed before pulling the hoodie fully down over your body, looking in the mirror before ripping it off and throwing it at him. Steve didn’t flinch, catching the beige hoodie he had been given in a stylist’s attempt to take him on as a client.

Steve had many pieces of clothing like that: obscure fashion pieces gifted to him because of his celebrity status. To a normal person, they were impractical and weird. Odd shapes for an odd body. They’d only look good on someone as hot as him, broad shoulders, skinny waist, and all. Any time you’d try to put on a piece of the clothing, you felt like it hugged your curves in all the wrong ways.

You sighed, but it was deep and guttural, bordering on a scream. The way every piece of clothing, which looks so trendy and stylish on Steve, draped over your hips in a weird way, drove you nuts. The colors didn’t look as good, the shape was meant for someone else.

You flopped down on the bed, still only in your underwear, as Steve grabbed a hanger, placing the hoodie on it and hanging it back in the closet.

He walked over to you, slotting his legs in between yours which swung off the bed. He leaned forward over you until his arms framed your head, one hand on each side, careful to miss your hair that was sprawled out over the comforter.

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by a sea of blue. You wanted to melt instantly at the care and concern that Steve’s eyes held, before you remembered why you were so upset.

You rolled on your side with a groan, hiding your face in the plush covers before Steve did his best to brush the hair out of your way.

He continued to softly rub his thumb against your temple. “Jellybean, you wanna tell me what’s going on? What’s got you so upset?”

You sighed before speaking into the blanket covering your mouth. Even Steve’s super soldier hearing couldn’t decipher the muffled sounds.

“Can you try again for me? I didn’t quite catch that.”

You turned slightly and threw your hands over your face in exasperation before peeking through your fingers at the face full of love and kindness that was always waiting on the other side.

“I’m sick of it.” It came out still muffled by your palm, but understandable this time. Steve nodded in an attempt to understand.

“Sick of what, honey? Anything I can fix? Or at least help with?” He helped you up, sitting next to you on the mattress. He attempted to pull you into his lap before your stopped him, pushing his arms off of you.

“No! Stop it, you’re the problem.”

Steve was taken aback. He would never do anything to hurt you, not even accidentally, so he had no idea where this was coming from. He cautiously continued.

“I’m really sorry, bean. What did I do?”

You shook your head before it fell into your hands, tears threatening to dampen the heels of your palms while you sniffled,sucking your emotions back in. You took a deep breath before looking up at him with red eyes.

“You know what? Actually, nothing. I’m overreacting. Forget about it. Maybe I should just go.”

You stood up and began to gather your clothes from the floor when Steve stood to stop you, holding your hands against his chest.

“Wait, Jellybean, come on. If-“

You threw down your hands, releasing them from his grip as you continued to look down at your feet.

“Quit calling me that!! That’s the problem!! I’m not a jellybean!”

His head cocked to the side in confusion. “Honey, what do you mean? I thought you liked that nickname…”

You shook your head as Steve crouched down in an attempt to meet your gaze. “No, because a jellybean would fit in your clothes and look good. And I don’t at all right now.”

Steve cautiously moved a hand to your cheek, finally able to look into your eyes. “Hey, what happened? Did someone say something to you? Did I? If I did anything to make you feel like that, I’m so sorry. You’re so perfect in every single way, what’s making you feel differently?”

His other hand went to your other cheek and you grabbed his wrists, looking down again, kicking your feet. Your next words came out as a whisper. “Everything sucks. I’m exhausted, and my eyes keep twitching because of it. I couldn’t focus to save my life today. I thought coming over here would make me feel better, and I looked in your pantry to see if you had any of the good snacks and of course you don’t because you’re Mr. Healthy! None of your clothes fit or look good on me! I mean, why do your even own half this stuff!? So many pairs of fake glasses, your eyesight’s perfect-no. Better than perfect! You make stuff that’s not even fashionable or practical look good and I’m sick of it!” You were practically yelling now, your words growing in volume the more you kept going.

Steve simply nodded, letting you vent as much as you needed to and taking it all in. He knew he didn’t have good snacks, he had asked if you wanted him to pick up your favorites when grocery shopping last week and you said ‘no, that’s not necessary. I probably shouldn’t tempt myself anyways. I’m trying to be healthier.’ He should’ve gone with his gut. He wouldn’t blame that on you, though.

He knew his clothes were ridiculous, too, but he kept them around because he thought you liked them. And he loved the way they looked on you.

He also knew the game you liked to play of ‘is it a fit or are they just hot,’ looking at the ridiculous clothes designer brands would release and judging whether or not they were high fashion, or just on a person with a nice body. He had just never thought he would be the subject of it, or that it would bring you down this much.

Steve knew you hadn’t been sleeping well for the past month, too, but hadn’t said anything. He could feel the way you tossed and turned at 3am, before you finally fell asleep again an hour later, only to be woken up shortly after by the alarm clock.

You looked up again after Steve had been quiet for too long. You let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I think I’m just taking this all out on you because you’re here. Everything but you is wrong today, and I’m taking it out on the one thing that’s here.”

You shook your head, profusely apologizing before Steve pulled you in close against his chest. He kissed the top of your head as he rubbed your back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Thank you for talking to me. I’m not the enemy here. I’m your teammate. Thank you for letting me in.”

“It just isn’t fair.” You spoke into his chest before looking up into his eyes again.

“Even when you’re concerned you’re still hot, too.” You rolled your eyes before throwing your forehead back in between his firm pecs.

“Steven. Fix it.” Came out mumbled in his shirt.

Steve laughed and nodded before kissing the top of your head again. “I think I have just the thing. Hold on.”

He meant that literally. Steve stood up fully and you wrapped your legs around him, clinging like a koala, as he walked back over to the closet. The fact that he did it so effortlessly made you feel a little better about yourself, but a super soldier could probably do that with anyone.

He browsed the rack and shelves before he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is. They let me keep these after I had to pose as part of a construction crew for a mission. Regular people clothes. None of that high fashion bullshit.”

You laughed against his neck before he set you down on the bed. He kissed the tip of your nose before sliding a dark gray sweatshirt over your head and sinking down to his knees to pull the light gray sweatpants up your legs. They fit just how your wanted and you beamed at him.

“Better?” You nodded.

“Perfect. Thank you, Stevie.”

He gave you a wink. “Of course, jellybean. I think these fit you just right, but maybe your outfit’s missing something. I might still have the reflective vest around here somewhere, or maybe you need a good pair of fake glasses to top it off?”

You giggled and pushed his shoulder. “Absolutely not. I think the only thing that could make this better is if you had real snacks in the pantry.”

Just then, the both of you heard a knock on the door. You perked up and looked over Steve’s shoulder before raising an eyebrow at him. Steve looked back at you sheepishly.

“I think your prayers have been answered. I texted Buck and asked him to pick up your favorites the second I heard you huffing while searching through the cabinets.”

You smiled before wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you. You’re perfect, even if it’s a little infuriating how much so.”

Steve laughed and wrapped his arms around you again, carrying you towards the front door to retrieve the package. “Perfection means nothing if I can’t use it to make your life better. I love you, Jellybean.”

You smiled as he set you down on the couch and handed you a bag of snacks before cuddling close and pulling the soft throw blanket back over the two of you. You placed your hand gently on his cheek. “I love you more, Stevie.”

Bonus A/N: What’s your favorite snack/candy? I’m currently rocking with those nerds gummy clusters. So good.

General Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen

#steve rogers #Steve rogers fanfiction #Steve rogers fluff #Steve rogers comfort #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #marvel #marvel fanfiction #captain America #captain america fanfiction #boyfriend Steve #boyfriend Steve rogers #boyfriend! Steve rogers x girlfriend! reader #boyfriend Steve x girlfriend reader #chris evans #bucky barnes

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archangeldyke-all · 2 days

Note

Picking Sevika up from a wisdom teeth removal. I'm imagining her being all goofy and confused (because she's absolutely blasted), but every couple conversations or so, she reminds herself that she's a serious person.

Like :) then >:(

PLEASE THIS IS CUTE

men and minors dni

singed can do a lot. genetically mutate living creatures? sure. resurrect the dead with the power of shimmer? no problem. construct a fully functioning, shimmer fueled, sword wielding, prosthetic arm? you gotcha.

but a simple wisdom tooth removal?

apparently that's too much for singed. so you have to drag sevika up to piltover.

as if she wasn't already in enough pain from her teeth coming in-- the only place your wife could go to get some relief is her least favorite place in the world.

she's a grumpy, pissy mess on your way up.

"i'll just fuckin' pull 'em out myself." she whines as you buy tickets to the elevator out of the lanes.

"god, babe, just grab a brick and smash it against my head, okay?" she mumbles as she buries her head into your shoulder on the tram ride into town.

"next person who looks at us like that's gettin' my foot up their ass." she growls when several wealthy piltover citizens scatter as the two of you walk down the sidewalk. you chuckle.

you give her a kiss when her name is called, and she groans before she follows the nurse into the back office.

you spend the next two hours flipping through magazines and thinking about your wife. you hope this is the extent of her dental issues-- or that singed teaches himself dentistry. piltover makes you antsy. you know it's ten times worse for sev.

but then, two hours later, the nurse calls you back to be there as sevika wakes up. "she did really good." she says. "we were in and out in no time."

"oh, good." you sigh, relieved. "is she gonna be in much pain?"

"not when she wakes up." the nurse chuckles. "we got her on the good stuff right now. but, in a few hours it'll wear off and she'll start having pain. we're gonna give you some pills to take home, give her one every twelve hours for a week to help with the pain." she says. you nod.

"thank you so much." you say as she opens a small curtian. she nods, hands you the little bottle of pills, and then waves as she walks away. sevika's on a reclined dental chair, knocked out and snoring, drooling on the head rest. you burst into giggles as you approach her, gently reaching out and starting to stroke your fingers through her hair. "sevikaaa..." you sing.

her face scrunches up. "mmmbaby?" she mumbles around the wads of cotton in her cheeks. you chuckle, then duck down and kiss her forehead.

"goodmorning, sunshine." you whisper. she huffs.

"my teeth all gone?" she asks. you giggle.

"yep."

she finally blinks her eyes open to look at you. "hey, pretty." she says, smiling. you grin.

"hey, beautiful. ready to get home?" you ask. sevika nods, nuzzling against your palm as you stroke her face.

"'m so fuckin' high ri' now." she giggles as she struggles to get out of her chair. you laugh as you help her stand.

"you're so cute." you laugh, wrapping an arm around her waist as you start to guide her out of the room. her cheeks--stuffed with cotton-- bulge as she grins at you. you can't help yourself from darting forward and pressing a kiss to both.

she's pretty steady on her feet, but she keeps giggling as she walks, trying to press kisses against your head. with her entire jaw and mouth numb, though, she can't tell that she's kissing you-- and she keeps huffing in frustration as she smacks her lips all over your head.

"sev!" you laugh as the two of you stumble out of the dentists' office. the bright light of piltover hits you-- and you both scrunch your faces up in the light. sevika's goofy mood leaves in a flash when she remembers where she is.

"fuckin' topsiders." she grumbles as the two of you walk toward the tram. you giggle.

"what happened to my happy high sevy?" you ask, wiping up a bit of drool on her chin.

"pil'over. shitheads." she explains. you chuckle.

"we'll be home soon." you promise her. she studies you, a smile slowly growing on her lips as she does.

"we gonna fuck?" she asks, waggling her eyebrows. you burst into laughter, and sevika's smile only grows.

"absolutely not!" you laugh. she gasps.

"why not?" she whines. you giggle.

"you can't even feel your mouth right now!" you say. she furrows her brow, then reaches up to poke at her jaw, her eyes widening when she realizes you're right. you chuckle and continue. "and you just got outta surgery-- don't you want a nap?" you ask. sevika pouts.

"i want you." she whines, nuzzling her nose against your neck. you snort. a few strangers walk by, giving you judgmental looks as sevika's hands wander up and down your body and her nose rubs against your pulse. you're just happy she's not grumpy-- and she hasn't tried to strip you yet.

"you'll have me baby. i'll hold you all night, make you milkshakes for dinner, play with your hair..."

"but no sex?" she pouts. you laugh.

you're saved by the bell-- literally. the tram rings it's little bell, and you tug sevika into the cart, pushing her into a free seat and standing in front of her, holding the bar. the tram starts its way down the streets of piltover, and sevika's back to glaring at the people and buildings all around her.

she's hilarious, trying to act tough while she's simultaneously drooling down her chin, a wad of cotton slowly sliding out of her cheek. you snort, wiping up her chin again. "you're a mess." you say fondly.

an old woman sitting a few seats down smiles sweetly at you and sevika. you smile back. sevika takes your momentary distraction to her advantage, reaching out and tugging your wrist so you stumble and fall into her lap. you squeal. sevika hums happily as you squirm to get comfortable in her legs, hooking her chin over your shoulder.

the old woman's grinning now. she's the only one-- the rest of the passengers seem mortified. you just muffle your laugh into the side of sevika's head. "you're a mess." you whisper. she hums.

"tired."

the tram drops the two of you off a few minutes later, and as you ride back down to piltover, sevika gets progressively sleepier.

it starts with a hand around your waist, then it's both. then, it's her head resting against your shoulder, then it's her hanging off of you as you trudge through the streets.

you catch a few familiar eyes on your way home. a couple of regulars at the last drop gawk at the sight of a giggly, sleepy sevika clinging to you. some of them open their mouths to ask or say something-- you just glare at them to get them to shut up.

at one point, sevika must catch some of the looks. she doesn't stand up from her slumped over posture against you, but she does growl out a slurred "fuck're y' lookin' at?!"

you laugh as the man who had been staring quickly turns around and runs in the opposite direction.

"be nice, sev." you whisper. she huffs.

"they're starin'."

"maybe 'cause they're shocked to know you're a cuddlebug." you say. sevika huffs again.

"shuddup." she mumbles against your neck.

the second you get home she collapses against the bed. you try to get some work done around the house, you want to get some water and painkillers by the bed, get sevika in her jammies. but before you can walk away, she reaches out and grabs your wrist, then pulls you ontop of her on the bed. you giggle against her.

"sevika--"

"'y said you'd hold me." she whines. you just huff, kick your shoes off, and curl up on top of her. she hums, and tries her best to kiss you with her numb mouth. you giggle against her slobbery, bloody, cotton-filled mouth, and then fall asleep on top of her.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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scuderiamint · 6 hours

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all of our problem can be resolved with 3 simple steps if Newey is actually joining ferrari:

1. fia gives one of red bulls seats to ferrari so the team can run 3 drivers (red bull is self imploding anyways as a team so why not)

2. have max verstappen join that third ferrari seat

3. profit

negative outcomes: none

positive outcomes:

max gets to leave before rbr self implodes and still gets a fast car to defend wdc properly

charles leclerc gets to drive a newey car and potential go for a wdc

i wont want to kms after potentially seeing max go through a repeat of lewis' 2021 to 2022 seasons :)

and many others

#max verstappen #the line up of max verstappen. charles leclerc and lewis hamilton would go so hard literally anywhere #my ideal le mans team ngl #also this would solve all of MY problems so #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #txt #im also fully aware newey isnt the only one behind the rbr cars so before anyone says anything about that I KNOW #ferrari #charles leclerc

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nocturnesmoon · 2 days

Text

Your guard dog

Tags: mild dark content(?), gender-neutral reader, random little story of the day that I'll probably never turn into a fledged out fic cuz I have too many projects, but it's on the list-

Simon has always been an honest man.

It's something he prides himself in. He may be tall, dark, terrifying to most around him, but he would rather have something horrible happen to him, than outright lie on purpose, especially to you.

When you first met, it went how it usually goes for people that are unfortunate enough to be in his presence. You were polite, as much as anyone else, not too interested in the big off-putting soldier that lurks in the back of the room.

Simon had never thought that you would stick around, nor did he expect that your tipping point would be an innocent birthday gift. You had been so enamoured by the fact he had actually listened to the things you said, and observed your actions, enough to give you probably the most accurate gift you've received in a long time.

One thing led to another, and years later the two of you find yourselves in a committed relationship.

There are a lot of things you can say about Simon. A common denominator is that he really has never knowingly lied to you. A feat you find impressive, gathered from earlier partners. He has his secrets, things in his past that he wishes to keep buried still, but he never lies to you.

Whenever you ask, he answers.

It's how it's always been.

The fact doesn't change when he then does things in secret. If you ask where he's been, he'll answer you honestly, if you ask what he's been doing he answers honestly, whether you like the answer or not.

He's always been good to you that way. If he ever catches a whiff of jealousy from you, he waits for you to come to him. You'll ask about his doings, he'll answer you accordingly, calmly, and quench whatever feelings pile up in your head. He knows he never has to stress about it, because all his actions are in servitude to you.

Whenever he goes on deployment, he knows how you miss him, how you wish you could be there with him, though it'd be dangerous for you. So he brings you things back, things of his loyalty, things that you would want and cherish, (Ignoring the fact that you'd cherish practically anything he gives you.)

When he's home he's even more devoted to you. Follows you around like a pup in need of attention, a pup that transforms into a fierce guard dog the moment you leave the house. Even if he tells you that his job is dangerous, you never fully get why he's so protective of you, like someone was going to take you away when he looks the other way. In many ways you don't mind it, it pays off having a big threatening soldier at your back to keep creeps away.

As nice as it is to have him though, he's not always there, and despite how you trust him, you don't like the dark look in his eyes whenever you tell him about an encounter you had with some creepy person trying to hit on you.

Once when you were idly cuddling on the couch, one rainy Saturday, you had playfully asked if he would ever kill for you. You hadn't expected a serious answer, maybe you had even expected him to scold you for asking such a question, given his job and having to deal with death in his life in that way. You hadn't expected for him to say yes so determinedly, a little too sure of it.

It's not the first time you've noticed odd behaviour from him. His overprotective nature can get a bit overbearing at times, he doesn't want you near any remotely dangerous object, occasionally he'll even get pissy about you using kitchen knives. God forbid you do accidentally hurt yourself on some object he told you not to use, with a grumpy attitude he'll patch you up, scolding you mildly, and the next time you go to use the same object it's mysteriously vanished or out of reach for you.

He has his own little policy for you as well, any and all problems you face, you come to him with. You found it nice, finally having such a tentative partner that listened so carefully. You hadn't expected that he was going to make most of your problems disappear on top of that. It was simple things at first. The coffee machine broke, he removes it and gifts you a new one. There's a thing at work you find frustrating, well the task is soon gone mysteriously. Even with himself, he does a thing that's your pet peeve, he changes it, makes the problem disappear.

It starts out small, and then it gets a bit weirder. You have an argument with a family member? The next time you see them they apologize profusely, and the matter is dropped, though they seem rattled. You think your neighbour is rude? Well look at that, they're moving out very, very soon.

You don't truly start to question it, before you notice the co-worker you complained about, disappeared without notice.

You try to hint at it to Simon, to subtly ask him if he had a finger in it. His answer is what terrifies you more, "careful what you ask of me, darling." You should be careful what questions you ask him what you tell him, because Simon is an honest man. You ask, he answers.

It makes you revaluate what you let him know, you start keeping minor problems to yourself, things or people that annoy you are reserved for your mind. He notices of course, he understands his darling is nervous of his actions, but he needs you to understand what he is doing, he is doing for you.

He starts figuring out your problems behind your back. You don't even need to tell him anymore, he will always know. There isn't anywhere you could go where he wouldn't reach you, where he wouldn't keep you safe and protected. You're his, just as he's yours.

Your true breaking point comes when the police shows up at your work place. They question you about the co-worker that had left work, not long after having an argument with you. You learn that this person hasn't been seen by anyone for several months.

You stomp home, knowing Simon is the only person that could've had anything to do with it. Your questions are met by a dark chuckle, he isn't even taking his own actions serious, not the way you're framing them. You plead with him to stop, to keep his work and your life completely separate.

His answer leaves you with nothing, "I can't promise you that darling, I'm doing this for you. You're mine."

Your only choice is to adapt, you don't ask the questions because you won't like the answers.

And when he goes out late at night without a word, coming back in the morning with blood on his hands, you wash it off gently, and bite your tongue.

Reminder that requests are open if you've got an idea you want written.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, love ya<3

#noctmoon fics #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost x you

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zahri-melitor · 2 days

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“It was only six feet,” muttered Dick.

“What did you just say?”

Dick sighed and rubbed his face. “I know you woke up in a grave and it was very traumatic for you, but you’re acting like this is the only time it had ever happened to anyone. You just had to dig straight up. Do you hear me complaining about it?”

"I'm sorry, did my ongoing trauma from being beaten to death and then waking up in a confined box make you feel uncomfortable, Dick?"

"You just keep going on about it like you're the only person who has ever experienced this. It sucks. No question. But getting out for you was basically on easy mode."

"It tore my fingernails off. I almost SUFFOCATED."

"That is part of being in a coffin, yes Jason."

“What are you talking about?” Tim walked into the room, towelling his hair dry from his shower.

“Being buried alive.”

“Digging myself out of my own grave.” Jason and Dick answered simultaneously.

“Well which is it?”

Jason glared at Dick. “Digging myself out. Dick here thinks that I’m blowing things out of proportion by being slightly upset about that building partly collapsing on me tonight.”

“Well, that is a conversation I can’t contribute to, so I’ll leave you both to it and go to bed.” Tim dropped the towel in a laundry basket and started to walk away.

“Tim,” Dick reached out to catch his arm. "What do you mean, which one?"

Tim shrugged a shoulder. "Well the only insights I have about being buried alive are 'sit tight and wait for rescue and slow your heartrate so you're not using so much oxygen' so I don't really think I need to be here. Good night."

"When have you ever needed that? And if you did, you didn't try to dig yourself out?" Jason said skeptically. "That's your view? Stay in one spot and wait for help? Because trying that in Ethopia worked so well for me."

"I was under a concrete slab. There wasn't much that I could do."

Dick tugged Tim around to face him more fully. "And when was this exactly? I don't remember that case report."

"It was during AzBats; that's why you haven't read it. And I was fine. Steph eventually got me out."

They stared at each other. Dick looked away first. "I wish you'd had more support back then."

Tim smiled, one side of his face quirking up. "You had your own problems."

"Wait a minute. Back up. When was this?" Jason interrupted.

Dick looked back at Tim. Tim rolled his eyes up slightly. "When Tim here was a little baby Robin. Thirteen or so."

"Excuse you, I had had my fourteenth birthday by then. I had my licence."

"Oh I'm sorry, when he was fourteen years old. And far more grown up."

"That's right."

"You were buried alive under concrete?" Jason sounded incredulous.

"It happened. Why, did you think you were the only one? Dick once tunneled out of a grave sideways and almost fell off a cliff into the sea."

"I didn't think you knew about that time," Dick said, his voice soft.

Tim grinned. "You left some notes in your own computer system about it."

"Stalker."

"You like me that way."

"You've both also been buried alive?" Jason threw his hands in the air.

"Mmhmmm." Tim yawned and stretched, walking towards the stairs.

"As I was saying, it can get a bit tiring listening to you go on about it," Dick added, following him.

"I DIED!"

"Yes and you never ever let any of us forget it." Dick slung an arm over Tim's shoulder, then turned his head back to look at Jason. "Want some hot chocolate before bed?"

#fic snippets #Robin 3-5 and Nightwing 127-128 exist folks

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envysparkler · 10 hours

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When Jason died, he’d still been a runt. A black dog that could barely reach Bruce’s knees, more fur than shadows, eyes that had not yet started turning red. He easily fit into the lap of whoever was holding him, wriggled into nooks in the Manor that Batman would never be able to follow, had an unerring ability to stumble upon dead bodies.

Jason had felt his own death before he ever laid eyes on the bomb. It was a horrible thing, knowing you were going to die but not knowing how or when. Knowing that Batman would be too late. Knowing that this was the end.

A Grim’s power was always stronger closer to death. To someone else’s death. To their own.

The Joker left, not because he was done playing games, but because something in those blue eyes had begun turning red and there was a flicker of fear amidst that carefully calculated crazy. The Joker left before Jason Todd started leaking shadows.

The bomb went off. A baby Grim died.

But you couldn’t kill something that belonged to Death.

Jason woke up. Jason came back. Jason opened eyes of liquid green fire, and fully transformed, he stood higher than most men, a terrifying amalgam of shadows and fear. A giant canine, solid black and reeking of Death.

Because that was the thing about Grims. Their full powers only kicked in after death.

~#~

Tim shuddered as he walked towards the control room, fighting the subconscious chill. The thermostats all registered the temperature as a balmy seventy-four degrees, but he’d been shivering for the last ten minutes and he was determined to find the source of the problem.

It was dark, the sky outside so cloudy it looked like night, and even the lights seemed dimmer than they usually were. Just perception, Tim tried to convince himself, darting glances over his shoulder at an empty hallway, but it didn’t quite stick.

The darkness closed over him like molasses, sticky, slow and inextricable.

~#~

Tim woke in a rush, like someone had jolted him, and struggled blindly up in the instinctive reaction to an alarm, before his mind woke all the way up and helpfully pointed out that he was restrained.

Before Tim could register anything more than an increased heartbeat, the binds tightened, and a low voice said smoothly into his ear, “Calm down. Deep breaths.”

Calm down? Calm down? Tim felt like he’d gone five rounds with Crane, and he was being restrained, and the room was too dark to make out any significant details, and—

Something slid through his hair, pressure on the right side of a massage. “Shh,” the voice instructed. “Your heart rate is too high. Robin, slow down.”

Tim instantly untensed, the reaction ingrained after years of hearing the same words in Batman’s growl. The voice was on the edge of familiar, and it was enough to bypass his climbing anxiety and drop him into a lull.

Had he been hit with fear toxin? He didn’t remember—and then Tim went very, very still when his mind pulled up what he did remember.

“Robin?” the low voice asked.

Tim started, voice scratchy, “There was a—” A dog? A wolf? What could he even use to describe such a monster? “A creature.” Tim swallowed, and opened his mouth again, to try and detail specifics, but they were nowhere to be found.

Red eyes. Tall, taller than him, filling the entire corridor, black and shadowy and Tim had been unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think—

“Robin, calm down!” the voice cursed right into his ear and Tim felt himself being pulled up. The restraints across his chest was a pair of arms, one hand pressed flat above his heart, the other stroking through his hair. His legs were pinned by a boot-clad leg clamped around his knees, and Tim became aware that he was half-reclined in someone’s lap.

“The creature’s gone,” the voice said. “He’s gone and not coming back, stop panicking.” The voice sounded on the verge of panic itself. “Just—just breathe, goddammit.”

Tim obediently breathed. In and out, slipping into the breathing pattern Bruce had taught him—a breathing pattern mirrored by the man holding him, and things gradually began to break through Tim’s spiral.

Details. Facts. Conjecture.

Detail—the voice sounded very, very familiar. Hoarser than he remembered, but familiar.

Fact—Tim was still in Titans Tower, still in one of the most fortified bases on the planet. There was no one else visible. They appeared to be alone.

Conjecture—Tim let out a slow breath and kept his limbs relaxed, waiting for his captor to release his breath before Tim twisted as fast he could. He wasn’t aiming to break their grip, just to see—

Green eyes in a surprised expression. A random white lock of hair. A familiar, set, stubborn jaw.

“Jason?” Tim felt like he was drowning again.

#my snippets #tt au #jason is a grim #he's very good at being scary #unfortunately this has consequences

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thevoidstaredback · 1 day

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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Preparations, Danny soon realized, were very much useless. He'd spend a while just watching the vigilante, recording his habits and schedule, following him around and taking note of the little details. Call him a stalker, but he was just trying to make sure Nightwing didn't end up in an early grave.

Not like him.

Any and all preparations Danny had made could not ever fully gear him up for actually talking to the only vigilante he'd ever met. Sure, he knew the guy from afar, but actually speaking to him? Looking him in the eye? Having the other look back at him and actually respond? The closest he'd ever gotten to letting the guy know he was there was when he left food out for him and made sure he had water, sometimes coffee, within reach at all times.

Now that Danny was here, standing in front of the door to Nightwing's - Richard Grayson, he'd learned on day three - apartment, he was frozen. Was he actually about to do this? Could he really risk it? What if Nightwing flipped out?

No. He couldn't think like that. Nightwing's a vigilante, a detective, and an officer of the law. He won't attack willy nilly. Besides, it was too late to turn back now. Danny knew way too much about Nightwing's life to back off now.

Not allowing himself to hesitate any longer, he reached up and pressed the doorbell. He didn't hear the sound, but shuffling from inside alerted him that the man he'd come to see was now moving towards him.

'I hope this goes well,' Danny thought. Then, the door opened. "Good, at least you're taking care of yourself and actually eating proper foods. Now, I'm here to discuss your extracurriculars and how to time manage them properly without running yourself into the ground." He didn't mean to enter the apartment uninvited, but he didn't want to risk Nightwing closing the door on him or something. "I've brought my own board with an ideal itinerary that I expect you to follow." He turned to look at the man. "Any questions?"

Nightwing rook a second to process the words. Then, he said, "Yeah, just one: Who the fuck are you, kid?"

Well, he was in this deep, might as well dig himself a deeper grave. "I would say I'm your new legal guardian, but you're older than me and I can't exactly adopt a fully grown adult." Right? Yeah. Danny sat down stiffly, his bag on the floor and leaning against his leg. He pulled out the binder he'd cleared out and dedicated to helping the older vigilante and put it on the table. "I could say that you're my new legal guardian, but we run into a similar problem." Kind of. Being dead is a legal barrier, so adoption's off the table. Transferred custody on the other hand? Well, he's got that taken care of. Though, he had to wonder, "Could you adopt me?" No, he couldn't think of a way that would work. "No matter."

Nightwing, still standing by the open door, shook his head a bit as if to clear his mind. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

Introductions? Yikes. "I'm Danny! Nice to meet you!" He had no idea how he's not completely bombed this yet, but he wasn't going to complain.

Nightwing didn't move from the door, let alone shake his hand. Danny put it back on his lap. "Likewise, I guess."

"What, no name?" Was that pushing it?

"I'm optimistic, not an idiot." Yeah, he'd towed the line a bit.

Shrugging to try and rid himself of the nervous butterflies in his stomach, Danny opened the binder to the front page. It was mostly so he'd have something to do with his hands, but it proved to be a decent distraction for Nightwing, too. Though, he pushed down a blush when he saw the glittery blue writing. It was the only other pen he had on him and he'd stolen it from Jazz.

The distraction didn't last. "How did you find this place?" Nightwing asked, the door still wide open.

"Doesn't matter." He didn't think the vigilante would take kindly to being stalked followed around the subject of a kid's curiosity.

Nightwing very much did not seem to believe him. "Why do you think I have a day job and a night job?"

Did he- Oh. The man was probably holding out some kind of hope that Danny wasn't saying what he was saying. Oops. Should he apologise? "I'm a realist, not an idiot."

Throwing the words back at him was probably not the best decision. Then, again, Danny hadn't made a whole lot of good decisions since he'd stepped foot in Bludhaven. At least here, there was a chance he could get away with it, relatively scot free. Imagine if he were in Gotham? With how violent Batman got recently? No thank you. He'd rather take his chances with his parents.

Danny did his best to not clear his throat as he flipped to the next page. "First thing's first. Why do you do what you do? Why go out at night to fight crime when, I assume, that's what your day job is for? Why hurt yourself to help other people?"

Those were all questions he'd had to ask himself before the portal destabilized. Why did he do what he does? Why risk himself to help the people who'd never thank him for his help? Why put his life on hold to do the job of adults?

He'd thought he'd had solid answers for them back then, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Regardless, this was a good place as any to start helping Nightwing.

If he could help just this one person, he'd be satisfied.

Part 3

Tag List: @flame-343

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manicpixiefelix · 13 hours

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first step is submission.

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

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

Praise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The second step is acceptance.

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

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

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

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn't take long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

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

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

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good dog."

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

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

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

But he does, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that Oliver actually minds.

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

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

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

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

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

"Ollie, what are you -"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer #okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me

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