Depending on your sim's mood, the sleep pose could change from arm under pillow (Happy, Embarrassed, Sad, Shy, Silly, Bored, Depressed) to arms stretched out (Passionate, Dazed, Furious, Flirty, Angry) They can do the same sleep pose if their moods are similar.
DO NOT use this if your sim uses those beds where the blanket doesn't cover your sim. You will be horrified.
Sleeping Animation by Zlostudio: Sleeping Pack
Arm Under Pillow Pose by @herecirmsims: Sleeping Ugly Pose Pack
✨Pillow Talk Override ✨
I really liked this kiss animation by Igor_Santos_Adonai, so cozy after a steamy night. And also Cuddles On The Couch By d'Violet, cute and comforting after giving up the goods.
*Its not perfect but I tried my best with overriding this*😭 (Vid shows both animations)
🚨Take out any other pillow talk mod mod you have if you wish to see theses animations🚨
⤷ a/n: happy pride! i have no excuse this was very self indulgent.. wrote with my clit not my head 🙂↕️ saw a biiiiiig lack of olly x reader and didn't like it so here's my contribution!
── .✦ MDNI
nsfw below the cut
You swore Olruggio hadn't come up from between your legs for hours.
His tongue pressed flat against your soaked seam, running up and down your slick folds before going to tease your already puffy clit.
"Olly—" you'd whined, fingers digging into his scalp and tugging hard. He didn't even stop, not caring that the girls could possibly hear you two, not caring that his door had been left just a crack open.
"Hush, lassie. Let me have my treat." He grunted against your thighs, his mouth attached to your pussy like it was stitched to it. "Taste so sweet…"
You whimpered, feeling his wet muscle curl into your drooling cunt, more and more slick gushing out of your tight orifice as he licked and sucked and ate at you like a starved man.
"Olly, stop— the girls—"
"I said hush, didn't I?" He growled, reaching up to press two of his thick, calloused fingers into your mouth, coating them in your spit. He barely gave you another moment's warning before he was pulling his fingers out of your mouth and pressing them past your sopping wet entrance.
You cried out, slamming a palm over your mouth to stifle your noises. If any of the girls saw you two, Qifrey would never let you live it down.
"Easy, sugar.." You heard Olruggio's thick, yorkshire drawl command out, his free hand splaying out on your hip to keep you from bucking wildly. "So wet already. All f'me?"
You nod frantically, your hands flying to claw the sheets. "You— Yes, yes, all for you—"
"Atta girl." He praised, his low baritone making your walls squeeze around his digits. "Aye, someone really liked that, eh?"
Your cheeks burned flaming hot, but you didn't have time to feel embarrassed — not when his fingers were pressing juuuuust right into your sweet spot and his tongue was lapping at your sensitive button.
Olruggio only chuckled at your silence. "Witch got yer tongue?"
You glared at him, though rather half-heartedly. "You haven't had enough? It's almost past midnight."
You see his shoulders rise and fall quickly in a simple shrug, before his head lowers once more and you're being brought back to the throes of pleasure. His fingers seem to know your insides like a map, pinpointing every last sensitive spot and bullying each one just to see tears pool in those pretty eyes of yours, to watch the quiver of your lower lip as you whimper and mumble his name into your own palm.
"Yer getting tighter and wetter, sugar. Are ya close?" Olruggio smirks, his tongue dragging little zigzags back and forth over your poor clit. You jerk uncontrollably, a whine tearing itself from deep in your throat as your eyes flutter.
"Gosh, I could stay here f'hours. Taste ya like breakfast, lunch, and dinner." He groans, doubling his efforts as he dives back in. His fingers are quicker, the thick pads jamming upwards over and over into your sweet spot, the same spot making you whimper and sob and twitch against the sheets. Nothing you couldn't hit yourself, but Olruggio's hands were just so much thicker and longer than yours…
A mean flick of his tongue against your swollen clit brings you back down to reality. "Y'gonna cum, honey? Poor girl and her sweet pussy can't handle a bit o' teasin', can ye?"
You whined yet again, shaking your head. "You're just— you're just mean!"
"Me? Mean?" Olruggio gasped playfully, one hand rubbing soothing circles into your hipbone. The other still moved inside you, reaching and pressing as deep as it could physically go. "I dunno what ye talkin' about. She clearly wants it."
She..? You wonder, and then it hits you — he's talking about your pussy. Making out with her like his life depended on it. You couldn't pull him off even if you tried.
Olruggio sees the way realization clicks in your head, and he cooes mockingly. "What, yer pussy wanted it. She's talkin' t'me sooo sweetly, jus' like this."
He curls his fingers up again, and an embarrassing amount of slick gushes out. His thumb moves to your clit, rubbing insistent circles into the bud, making your body jerk and squirm. You can feel the hot coil of pressure building in your gut, and you fist the sheets harder. "Please, Olly—"
"Please what, princess?" He grunts, not letting up for even a second. Just torturing you through it.
You whimper again, one hand latching onto his dark hair. "Please let me cum, Olly."
"Eh?" He smirks, feigning deaf. "Wha' wazzat?"
You growl, biting your lip. "Please.. Please let me cum."
Olruggio's grin widens, and he leans back in. "Not so hard, was it? Are ya goin' t'be good?"
In the blink of an eye, his tongue licks and laps at your juices, nose bumping into your clit with every hot press of his tongue on your pussy. His fingers speed up, hitting your sweet spot with terrifying accuracy — over and over and over.
A cry spills past your lips, and your back bows off the sheets in an almost perfect geometric arc. "Please— I'll be so good. I'll be really good—"
"Mm, atta girl." He murmured, pressing a soft little kiss right over your pussy lips, before his palm is adding pressure on your abdomen and that tight, hot coil is unraveling like string—
You're squirting before you know it. Hot streams of liquid bursting from your poor, sensitive cunt and making a mess over the sheets and Olruggio's face. He doesn't let up, his tongue licking up every bit of your juice he can get. He groans as he pulls his fingers out of you, pressing them past your kiss-swollen lips. "Clean."
You obey with a moan, tongue swirling around his digits coated with your salty-sweet cream, tasting your release and spit.
He doesn't let you get a breather as he shucks his belt and pants off, large hands already wrapping around your thighs and hauling your pelvis in line with his hips.
"Need t'be inside her.. fuck." He hissed, fisting his erection as he guides the tip to your quivering hole.
Just as he's about to feed the tip in, the door creaks open and shut. The soft click of the door locking rings out in the sudden silence.
And standing in the doorway, arms folded, single azure eye glaring murderously, is Qifrey.
HIIII THIS IS A NEW EIGITAL PIECE I JUST FINISHED!!!!
I was heavily inspired by Alexander cabanel(I heilive thats his name) specifically his piece of the fall of lucifer so uhhh here is my interpretation with sort of like a symbolic thing of before the fall
UGhhhhhh im so inlove with these two!!!!! Like the doomed yaoi? ONG WAITER GIVE ME MORE! I wanna be apart of their doomed yaoi I wanna be smushed inbetween the two, I will be making digital art of them soon hopefully!
qifrey watching reader fuck olruggio and he’s still getting off from it, just can’t help the burning jealousy that simmers higher with every noise olruggio makes 🤤🤤
OMG PLS DO THIS OR JUST ANYONE DO THIS IT WOULD BE PEAK.
Like Qifrey standing there cheering Olly and reader on like how a crazed hatsune miku fan would be at one her concerts but the songs are the sounds coming from reader and Olly
Hiiiiiii I just found your account and I think your writing is awesome! And I saw that you are one of the few writers who write for barbs and Solomon and I have a massive crush on both of them so I’m wondering if you do write smut/nsfw or possible even something that’s just suggestive can you possibly write MC having a threesome with Solomon and Barbs who are absoulutely obsessed with Mc and constantly just fight in like the middle of the threesome bc they loathe eachother in the canon, I would be willing to do a trade for this fix and give you a piece of art if you can write this? If not that’s perfectly ok I just thought it would be a nice idea for a fic, ENJOY UR DAY/NIGHT KEEEP WRITING DIVA
a/n: omg i love u and this idea!! art trade or not (lucifer is my fav cough cough) i had fun writing this and i hope u like it :3 !!
cw: smut, afab!gn!reader, fingering, solomon and barbatos bickering
The first clue that this was a mistake showed itself when Solomon and Barbatos sat on opposite ends of your bed like it was a warzone. Though, you knew neither of them were here for talking.
“Remind me,” Solomon said, one elbow resting on his knee, a smirk firmly planted on his face, “whose idea was it to have us both here at once?”
“Yours,” Barbatos answered smoothly, “Because you lack self-control, sorcerer. Over your desires, and over them,"
His eyes slid to you, that calm politeness turning molten at the edges, “And you thought you could prove otherwise.”
Solomon’s eyes sparkled as he straightened up, “Oh, I certainly intend to prove something tonight.”
You were perched between them, the soft Devildom sheets bunching around your legs, all too aware of how close they were to you - and the distance they kept from each other.
You cleared your throat, "I'm right here, you know.”
Solomon’s eyes snapped to you immediately - possessive and bright, "Sorry, sweetheart. I'm afraid I can only think about you.”
Barbatos’s voice dropped a half-step. “Likewise. I merely prefer to do it in silence, rather than announce it like some people.”
Solomon hummed, preparing to fire back. Before he could, you pressed your palms to their chests at once - one hand on each of them - to stop the gathering tension. It didn’t work.
Both of them froze, then breathed in deep. You felt it - Solomon’s heartbeat, erratic and eager beneath your fingers. Barbatos’ steady and deep, but accelerating - like he’d decided something and was already acting on it.
“You’re playing with fire,” Solomon murmured, his hand gliding up to cover yours, trapping it against him.
“Well... then we should ensure they are not burned,” Barbatos replied, also covering your hand with his own gloved one, thumb pressing slowly against your knuckles.
The air between them crackled. Literally, in Solomon’s case. You saw (and felt) a little spark dance across his fingers where they covered yours.
Barbatos’s eyes narrowed, "Do not cast anything in my presence that you have not tested thoroughly.”
“I have tested it,” Solomon said lightly, “Just not on you.”
You twisted your hand into Solomon’s shirt and yanked, dragging him closer. “No spells.”
His attention cut to you so fast it was dizzying, "For you,” he whispered, voice suddenly softer, “I’ll behave.”
The lie was obvious. But, the way he looked at you as he leaned in made it very hard to care.
His mouth met yours - the kiss immediately hungry - like he wanted to consume every sound you might make, every breath you took as he explored your mouth. His hand cupped the back of your neck, angling you just the way he wanted, as his thumb slid under your jaw. There was a low, satisfied noise in his chest when you parted your lips for him.
You barely registered the mattress dipping behind you until gloved fingers brushed the side of your throat.
Barbatos’s touch was the polar opposite of Solomon’s - measured, unhurried, and pointed. He tilted your head with two fingers, baring more of your throat to him, and you felt his breath first - cool from tea, then warm against your pulse. His lips pressed just below your ear - a slow, lingering kiss that made your spine arch.
Solomon broke the kiss with a hiss when you involuntarily leaned back toward Barbatos.
“Hey,” Solomon murmured - thumb dragging over your lower lip - trying to reclaim your attention, “Eyes on me, love.”
You tried, you really did. But Barbatos' mouth was following a deliberate path down your neck, each kiss slightly firmer than the last, the faint graze of teeth just enough to make your fingers curl in the sheets.
“They’re not property for you to command, Solomon,” Barbatos spoke quietly against your skin. His voice vibrated against your throat, going straight to your core, “They may look wherever they wish.”
“They’re the one who called us both here,” Solomon shot back, “Clearly, they wanted to be commanded.”
“Or cherished,” Barbatos countered, "Which is not the same as possession.”
Solomon ended the bickering by claiming your mouth again - but slower this time, savoring the way you shivered against him. His hand slid under the hem of your clothes, warm and exploratory, the calluses of his fingers catching teasingly on your skin. Every touch felt like he was staking a claim. His fingers inched between Barbatos' chest and your back, eventually finding your bra. He hesitated just long enough for you to give him the okay before taking it - and your shirt - off in one go.
Solomon leaned back, taking in the view that was your body, as Barbatos let his mouth find your neck again. Two hands - one belonging to each of them - slid up your torso until they found your tits. Solomon's mouth was back on yours, tongues clashing together while Barbatos sucked small hickeys into your skin.
Barbatos shifted behind you, drawing you back against him so your body was perfectly bracketed between the two of them. You felt the solid weight of him pressed to your back, the way his arm wrapped around your middle, holding you in place with an unyielding force that said he had no intention of letting go.
“You’re trembling,” Barbatos murmured next to your ear, his lips brushing your earlobe, "Is Solomon frightening you, or is it anticipation?”
“I’m encouraged to hear you think I’m capable of that much,” Solomon replied without lifting his mouth fully from yours, the words ghosting against your lips. His hand worked at your nipple harshly, in stark contrast to Barbatos' gentle touches, "But, no. This is anticipation. Isn’t it?”
Your answer came out as a whimper rather than words, their hand free hands moving now, exploring the rest of you.
“Oh, right there,” Solomon purred when he firmly pressed his fingers to your clothed core. “You like that, don’t you?”
Barbatos’s hold on you tightened by a fraction as you gasped, "Careful,” he admonished - though you weren’t sure which of you he meant, "If you overwhelm them too quickly, this will be… shorter than any of us wish.”
“Jealous I got there first?” Solomon murmured against your mouth.
Barbatos’s voice cooled, "Jealousy is a human weakness, not a demonic one. I am… competitive.”
“Over them,” Solomon pressed on, slowly tugging down your pants. His smile against your lips was wicked, "Admit it.”
Barbatos’s reply didn’t come immediately. Instead, his gloves slipped away with small, decisive movements, before his cool fingers traced a path up and down your sides.
When he finally spoke, his tone had dropped, "Very well,” he conceded, voice a whisper against your pulse, "Over them, I am… greedy.”
Solomon stilled, just for a heartbeat. Then, his laugh was soft and dangerous, "Now that, I believe."
The air thickened as they made eye contact, your body still caught between them, their breathing rougher now - for reasons that had nothing to do with exertion.
You twisted slightly, forcing them both to refocus on you, “If either of you start a fight, I’m choosing the one who doesn’t.”
Incredible - how fast they fell silent.
Then, as if some unspoken truce passed between them, their grips on you changed. Barbatos' fingers gripped into your hips, while Solomon shoved his hand in your underwear to toy with your clit.
They started to compete in the only way you would tolerate; how well they could pull you apart.
Solomon kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to, murmurings of your name and half-formed praise tangled between the clashes of lips and teeth. Every noise you made seemed to fuel him, his fingers growing bolder, more insistent - moving down to poke at your entrance.
Barbatos countered with steady patience. Where Solomon rushed, he lingered. When Solomon provoked a sharp cry, Barbatos followed with a slow, burning touch that left you trembling. He praised you too - but in low, focused comments that made you feel like the center of a ritual, not just a moment.
“Breathe,” Barbatos reminded you softly when your head tipped back against his shoulder, Solomon's fingers relentless inside you, "You’re doing wonderfully.”
“Look at you,” Solomon whispered, pulling back just enough to take you in - eyes dark and hungry. His free found your tits again, “You’re so beautiful like this. For us.”
The room blurred into a rush of heat and hands and mouths, the two of them bracketing you completely - Solomon’s magic humming faintly in the air, reined in but restless, Barbatos’s demonic power controlled just under his skin. You felt them both everywhere - Solomon’s reckless adoration, and Barbatos’s meticulous worship.
At some point, you weren’t sure whose hands were where, only that every place they touched you burned in the best way. They moved you as if by mutual agreement, shifting you between them, beside them, under them, the mattress dipping and creaking with every change in position.
You caught fragments of their voices above you, around you;
“You’re holding them too tightly.”
“They’re clinging to me; I’m simply accommodating them.”
“Flatter yourself less. They’re shaking.”
“…Because of us.”
Your name, over and over, from both of them through it all. A litany. A plea.
By the time you were trembling on the edge, their rivalry had condensed into something razor-focused - not on each other, but on dragging you over that line.
Solomon pressed his forehead to yours, eyes blown wide, breath unsteady. “Let go,” he urged, voice rough with his own restraint, "It’s okay. We got you.”
Barbatos’s lips brushed your temple, his words a low command that felt like a spell all its own, "Yes. Fall. I will catch you.”
You did.
The world dissolved into white heat and fragments - their hands, their voices, the solid weight of them around you. You were dimly aware of both of them holding you through it, Solomon whispering praise in your ear, Barbatos grounding you with slow, steady strokes down your back, their bodies tense with their own barely-controlled desire.
When you finally came back to yourself, you were sprawled between them, breathing hard, skin damp with sweat. The room smelled like magic and tea and something darker underneath.
Solomon lay on his back beside you, one arm flung over his eyes, the other wrapped firmly around your waist as if daring Barbatos to try and move you. His chest rose and fell under your head.
Barbatos was propped on one elbow on your other side, his hair slightly mussed—an almost impossible sight. His gloves were nowhere to be seen, tossed somewhere with your shirt earlier. His eyes, when you turned your head to look at him, were softer than you’d ever seen them.
“Comfortable?” he asked, voice low.
You managed a nod, your throat too dry to answer properly.
Solomon dropped his arm to look at you, then at Barbatos. “Don’t get smug,” he said, though the usual sharpness was dulled by exhaustion and something warmer, “They’re here with me too.”
Barbatos’s gaze flicked pointedly to where Solomon’s fingers dug into your waist, “I am aware,” he almost spat, "I was here as well.”
You exhaled a weak laugh, “You’re seriously starting up again now?”
Both of them immediately focused on you instead of each other.
“No,” Solomon said hastily, "No. Truce. Temporary truce.”
“For tonight,” Barbatos agreed, inclining his head. His hand brushed a strand of damp hair from your forehead with exquisite care, "Their comfort takes precedence over my displeasure with you, sorcerer.”
“Generous of you,” Solomon muttered, but his arm around you tightened, pulling you a little closer.
You shifted, wriggling until you were properly wedged between them, your head pillowed on Solomon's shoulder, one leg tangled with Barbatos'. Both of them adjusted around you automatically - Barbatos tucking the blanket higher, Solomon muttering a small warming charm that made the air around the three of you pleasantly cozy.
“You know,” you murmured, eyes drifting shut, “if this is how you fight, I might let you argue more often.”
There was a pause.
Then, overlapped;
“I do not require encouragement.”
“Oh, I can absolutely work with that.”
You groaned softly, “I meant as long as it ends like this.”
Another beat of quiet. You felt, rather than saw, the look that passed between them over your head.
“It will,” Barbatos said at last, his hand resting lightly over your heart, "I will see to that.”
Solomon’s lips brushed the crown of your head in a fleeting kiss, "Count on it,” he murmured.
You were asleep before either of them could start another round.
Ive been listening to Hamilton on repeat lately, specifically satisfied(my fav ngl) and I got this amazing idea for a fanfic of obey me!
So Lucifer is Angelica and Mammon is Elizabeth and Mc is Alexanda(singing roles specifically/ basic idea of how it should go)
So Mc gets summoned to the Devildom basically everything goes with obey me lore but the reason he got Mammon to be Mc's care taker for the exchange program is because he was orginally supposed to be their care taker but then he saw MC in person and fell instantly and suddenly he felt like Lillith in that moment and he couldn't handle it so he passed them(you) off to Mammon so he doesn't have to thing about the fact that he basically fell for you instantly, so obviously thats why I used the song satisfied as the base for this idea, obviously some of the wording would need to be changed to fit obey me lore so like instead of Lucifer calling MC penniless like how Angelica does Alexanda, he says something along the lines of 'and MC is human but that doesn't mean I want them any less' and obviously some other lines would be changed aswell for the sake of sticking to the og obey me lore, and then basically as the lore goes Mammon falls for MC like a week in and Lucifer instantly regrets making Mammon their care taker bc he wanted them but because of his pride he could not be with a human and then he realizes even if he did sacrifice his pride to be with MC he couldnt do that to Mammon.
That pretty much sums up my idea but I dont have too much writing skill to pull off a fic like this and im sorry if this idea is a little messy, it is 2am here rn so if it is thats why, if any writer decides to write this in their interpretation I WOULD BE SOOOOO HAPPPY, and I'd love to read anyones work if anyone decides to base a fic they write off of my idea!
smut | jason puts you to sleep | masterlist | 3k event!
it’s been a whole hour of this relentlessness.
laughter melting into a panting mess, then a symphony moans like a sinful blessing to contribute to.
jason had been rutting into you, feeding every glorious inch inside and ensuring his spend was secured there as it belonged. all the while, you’ve been maneuvered from your side to stomach and your back, over and over again. gasping and grasping at him when he shushes you with a kiss. you’d came for the nth time, clenching around him and dragging him over with you. feeling the warmth erupt and fill deep, while he’s got the happiest look on his face, laughing softly and moaning at the same time.
jason looks like he’s on top of the world, and that keeps you pliant despite how exhausted you were feeling. sliding right back inside like he’s been molded in place. he drags his hips back and watches you shudder and eyes flutter.
“you look so precious princess.” he coos, “full of me, fuck. you’ve never looked more mine.”
all you can do is murmur his name, as he pushes right back home and the words die in your mouth. exhaustion tugging beautifully on your aching muscles while you melt further into the mattress.
“god, just look at you,” he leans down to your quivering lips, “kiss me, hmm?”
you obliged, tilting your head back enough for him to lean even closer and press his lips to yours.
it’s like you’d started to float over your own body, his strong arms coming to wrap around your waist while he plunges deep and slow. eyes rolling to the back of your skull while he’s panting into your mouth. you part to take a breathless gasp and he continues trailing his lips down the side of your face, “it’s too much jay.”
chanting the same word, “i know baby but you can give me another, yeah?” like a feral and impossibly insatiable giant, he delivers another sharp thrust.
you gasp loudly but it comes out more like a strangled moan, head turning to the side. as his movements pick up again, your eyes shut in bliss, mouth parted slightly just to let out a sharp gasp in tandem with his thrusts. something possesses him to let his tongue lol right out and drag up the side of your face, groaning lowly until he stills to kiss your temple. his hands at your waist rub circles on the plush skin. when your eyes meet, just barely, you can see him biting his lip down at you, a small smile on his lips.
“you okay?” he ask with impossible softness.
returning the smile, you lazily blink and pull him even closer, “yes.”
he nods quickly, making sudden movements to pull out when you tightly grip on him, “no, wait stay.”
searching your eyes, he waits to make any other movements. a gentle hand coming up to brush over your brow in a delicate, loving manner. “you sure? you seem exhausted.”
you just smile up at him, a soft layer of sweat on both of you still, “this is the good kind of exhaustion, don’t you dare stop.”
the smile on his face creeps up on him and he leans down further to capture your lips with his. locking tight as he laughs into your mouth and moves his hips in circles to have your breath hitch against his, taking the sound and swallowing it down.
“good,” he murmurs against your lips as his devastating thrusts remain deep and slow. “don’t want to stop.”
you gasp softly into his mouth as he continues, rolling his hips against yours. kissing your cervix at every push.
wet, warm, and loved is all you could feel right now. your head sinks back into the pillow as he follows after you, pressing his face into the cross of your neck and continuing his relentless movements. he buries his nose into your hair and whispers about how beautiful you are.
it builds all over again and the tightening climax becomes too much to hold back. jason know it too, he can feel you clenching around him, turning him into a sputtering mess. thrusts turning sloppily and uneven as he makes a small whimpering sound by your ear when he’s close.
reaching down to push you over that peak by rubbing calculated circles. mouth parting as he gasps with you, pulling back just enough to watch your face contort and a cry slip past your lips. you cling to his arms and let the mattress swallow you whole, the pleasure and fatigue mixed beautifully. leaning his weight over you again to groan gorgeously by your ear, the high crashes over you and tenses around him. nails trailing to his back and digging in over previous scratches, earning around delicious hiss from his lips. he follows closely behind, small whimpers escaping him as he fills you deep for the nth time. shallow thrusts pushing his spend back and forth when he presses sloppy kisses up the side of your neck.
“hah shit—baby,” he pants, continuing to shift his hips into slower just to prolong the feeling.
moving up to suck by the gentle in his tender movements. you let out a soft exhale and melt into the warmth of him while he finally stills and pulls out with an obscene, slick sound. both of you softly groan at the change in sensation, before humming at the peppering kisses he trails over your jaw.
“you did so good baby,” jason says between kisses, “you’re always so perfect for me ma.”
all you can do is hum and tilt your head for him, a smile tugging at your lips. he pulls back watching you, laughing at the look on your face before pressing his perfect lips to yours. tongue lolling inside of yours just to swipe against yours and coax another soft gasp.
“you look wrecked,” he admits proudly, shit eating grin on his face.
“s’your fault,” murmuring vaguely at him with a hoarse voice from how loud you’d been. no bite behind your words really.
“and i proudly take credit for that.”
he presses his face to yours, rubbing his cheek against yours like a fond cat. humming at the feeling of his skin pressed to yours again, your heavy eyelids win and bask in that familiar sensation of comfort. hands running up through your hair, he places a gentle kiss by your ear before rubbing his nose into the crook of your neck.
“should we get batburger—”
by the time he’s pulled away to look at you, you’re already asleep. snoring softly with the cutest little smile on exhausted face, an oxymoron in the sweetest and filthiest way.
“guess you really were tired ma,” jason chuckles softly before settling on your side and pulling you into his chest.
leaning back on the pillow while you shuffle sleepily into his arms and he tightens his hold. though you couldn’t hear him and were drooling on his bare chest as he watched in adoration, jason speaks lowly by your ear, “sleep tight baby.”
jason todd x childhoodfriend!reader. wc: 1.7k. angst. for my 2 week challenge, enjoy!
You were swinging your legs, dangling, off the side of a rooftop. It was nearly sundown and the sun was bathing the city in a golden glow. Sitting here, on your apartment complex building, you decided part of your heart would always live in Gotham. Even if you lived somewhere far away.
“Sorry,” you heard from behind you, breathless. “I got held up.”
You turned around and there he was, Jason Todd. Without meaning to you smiled, and patted the spot next to you underneath the railing, a lot more excited than before.
He ran up to you. There was a new bruise on his leg, one that hadn’t been there this morning in school, but you ignored it. You didn’t want to fight, not today. It felt wrong, somehow.
“Look,” you pointed to the Ferris wheel further away, “they are finally finished!”
“Huh,” he said as he sat down next to you, folding his arms over the lowest bar of the railing, mirroring your position. “I wonder how long it’s going to take for them to take it down after the first attack.”
“Hmm, two days.” You thought about the Christmas market last winter and corrected yourself, “three.”
“I bet it’s two then.”
“You’re such an ass,” you said, but you took his hand and you shook on it.
“So,” he drawled out, nervously hitting the building with the heels of his scuffed up shoes, clearly mustering up the courage for something. “I wanted to give you something.”
“What?”
“I have a gift,” he said, burying one hand in the pocket of his shorts, “a belated birthday present of sorts.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” you reminded him, because you both lived in the same complex. You knew how it was and if you were honest, just having him there had been gift enough.
“It’s kind of stupid, and I made it, so it’s also ugly.”
You took in the way he blushed, clearly embarrassed. The way his eyes wouldn’t meet yours, how the sun made his hair light up in hundreds, thousands different shades of the same colour. He was a miracle to you, a kindness in a place that made you feel like you deserved none.
“I’m going to love it anyway,” you reassured him because you knew that to be true. If he had made it himself it would be impossible not to.
“Close your eyes.”
Obediently you shut them, suddenly aware of the height you were sitting at. But it was Jason next to you, and you trusted him. Gently he pried your hands from the cold metal and folded them together, before softly placing something in it. It was light, cold and a little spikey.
“Can I open them?”
“Yes.”
You looked down at your hands. It was a ring, probably a bit too big for your fingers right now, but you would grow into it. The spikey parts were not ends, but rather wire that was braided together, clumsily, and you could see the way it sometimes bent into other directions, but it was the best thing you had ever gotten. Maybe, just maybe, because it was from him.
“I-” you started, not knowing how to finish the sentence. He made that, for you. He must have sat there, for a while, trying to make it as neat as possible.
“You hate it, don’t you? You don’t have to keep it, it was stupid anyway-”
Before he could take it back, you closed your hand into a fist around it, and took his outstretched one in your right. “I love it. Thank you.”
When he still looked at you in disbelief, you added, “Really, I do. It’s from you, how could I not love it?”
For a second, he tried to figure out if you were lying to him, the way he always did when it came to compliments. Then he intertwined his fingers with yours. “It’s meant to be a promise. One day, when we are out of here, I’m going to ask you something.”
You laughed. “Really?”
“Really. For now it’s just a promise, but I mean it. We are going to stay together forever.”
Your heart glowed, the same way the sun did. Somehow, Jason always knew how to take every part of you and make it brighter. You stretched out your pinky, slipping the ring onto your thumb.
“Promise?”
You knew, even at that moment, at eight years old, that you would remember this face, this moment for the rest of your life. “Promise.”
~*~
It was raining. Of course it was, this was Gotham, and seasons didn’t seem to matter here. Not when it came to this. You were older now, but the view was still mostly the same.
“Happy birthday,” you heard from behind you, and a sad smile spread across your face. He didn’t forget about it afterall, even if he was an hour too late.
“You’re late,” you chided, but turned around to him. He was taller now as well, but not as tall as some of the other boys in your class. Maybe next year. Or maybe he just wouldn’t grow up to be tall.
He made no sound as he walked over to you, footsteps lighter despite his increased weight.
“I can’t stay long,” he said, regret already colouring his voice.
“I know,” you answered, because that’s how it usually was nowadays. Patrol took up all of his free time and the rest was spent in his new school or in his new mansion. It was hard not to feel jealous about it sometimes, but this was Jason, which made it a lot easier again. He made everything a lot easier.
Jason leaned against the railing, but instead of facing the view he faced you.
“How does it feel, you grandmother?”
“Shut up, you’re turning sixteen in a few months as well you know?” You turned around to face him properly.
“Let me enjoy this,” he said, grinning, his mask still obscuring half his face. There was a quiet beep-beep that cut through the air, reminding you that this was just borrowed time.
“I gotta go now,” he pulled out a small bag from one of his hidden pockets. “I’m sorry, there is a lot going on, but I’ll be back on Sunday to make up for it, okay?”
“‘Course,” you replied, swallowing down the thickness in your voice.
“This is for you.”
When he remained standing, despite his alarm, when you didn’t open it immediately, you ached. For a version of the two of you that lived happily together, or maybe fought a lot, but at least they did it together.
You pulled it open and dropped what was inside on the open palm of your left hand. It was a ring. There was no stone attached, and the sliver was clearly self polished, but it was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He knocked the breath out of your lungs.
“It’s still not much,” he admitted, taking off his mask and looking down on it. “And you deserve more than I can give you. So I’m not going to ask you, because we are still young and that’s apparently stupid, but this is my promise to you. I’ll be there, I’ll wait forever, I don’t care, as long as I have you in my life.”
Tears welled up in your eyes, because he was still the same boy he had been when he was eight, not asking you for anything, but offering everything he had in return. “Good, because if we are both eighteen and you aren’t I’m going to hunt you down and hold you to it.”
“Good,” he pulled your head against his, his forehead leaning against yours, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You slipped on the ring, which fit a lot better than expected, and took his head in yours.
For a second, the two of you just breathed together, and you suppressed a shudder, your fingers turning icy in the rain.
“I need to go now,” he whispered, not wanting to break this moment.
“I know.” Both of you lingered until you forced yourself to take your hands from his jaw.
“Go and save some lives, Miracle Boy.”
That made him grin, open and honest, something that you hadn’t seen in a while. “Such a stupid name.”
Not to me, you wanted to reply, “chop, chop, I’m sure the big bat is already waiting for you.”
You only watched as he stuck his mask back on and jumped off the roof, basking in the moment for just a second longer before you returned back inside. Not freezing anymore, the warmth of his presence lingering even in his absence.
~*~
Sunday never came. Only a message apologising, saying that something came up, that it was important.
You had been angry at him, had never replied, wanting him to feel it.
Standing here now, in front of his grave, you wished that you had been a bigger person.
Today of all days Gotham remained dry. You could cry at the irony, but you knew that Jason had always liked the sun, a clear sky. You would not rob him of it.
With shaking hands you unclasped your necklace. His ring was on it, because it hadn’t truly fit and you hadn't wanted to lose it.
The ring glinted in the last rays of the setting sun. It was reminiscent of the first day he had made you that promise and you hated all of it. The Joker, the world, Batman. Him.
When you placed it on his gravestone, you started to cry. “I hate you. I hate you, God, I hate you, I-”
Your tears were salty as you broke down in front of a still slab of stone. “I love you.”
With still shaky hands and an even unsteadier voice, you whispered, “I love you and I hate you for it, for making me believe that we could have had a future together. For making me dream, hope, I hate you. I will never forgive you. You promised, Jason, you promised.”
The ferris wheel had taken two days to be deconstructed.
You, you knew, would never recover.
“You promised.”
~*~
Six months later Jason dug himself out alive. His fingers were raw, blood mixed with dirt and there was nothing on his mind except for his one purpose.
He did not notice the ring carefully placed on the stone, still there, because you always made sure of it.
What was a promise if neither believed in it anymore? A memory, maybe, or a thought. It was not, however, a tether.
I'm so fucking sick of you homos invading all of the good spaces us girls have. The Shall We Dat games are meant for WOMEN not faggots. Stick with yourr own shit
Okay, first. It's "Shall We Date" with an 'e' and your is spelled with one 'r'. Hope that helps.
Second, I don't like being told what I can and can't do, so guess what I just added to my Masterlist Hub?
You don't want me in these spaces? I'll just invite myself in and make myself comfortable. As a man with free will, I can do whatever the fuck I want. Guess I know what fandoms I'm making fics for for a while. Thanks for inspiring me, Pookie Bear. 💘💝💖💗💓💞💕
Also wtf is this lady saying like fuck off honestly let me be a little gay boy and play dating sims and read gay fan fictions about said dating sim chatacters
