something something when jack agrees to share you with robby, he doesn’t realize just how much of a jealous, possessive monster he’ll become over his sweet, obedient babygirl. him and robby used to swing all th time back in the day. but when it comes to you…jack can’t cope. any time robby moves as if he’s even *thinking* about spanking you or slapping you or pulling your hair, jack growls out, “careful.” he can’t even take his cock out and enjoy himself like a good little cuck because he’s too obsessed with making sure you’re being treated how you deserve. he demands that robby keep making you cum before he’s ever allowed to. eventually he rolls his eyes and shoves robby away from you with a harsh “watch a learn” before he fucks you into oblivion, making you cum so fast and hard you see stars and not letting up until you’ve had three, four, how many now? you’re totally brainless when he fills you with him cum and then passes you back to robby, much happier with the arrangement when he can hear the sloppy wet sound of his cum being used as lube. once it’s all over, he holds you so tightly all night and can’t stop apologizing because, no, he doesn’t care how good of a time you had, you belong to him, and, hey, it was worth a try, at least, but it turns out jack just can’t handle sharing what’s his.
i'll be your gift (give you something good to celebrate)
macklin celebrini/will smith. fratprez!wsh and firstlady!mack. 5k of stupidity and PURE FILTH!!!!!
Leno’s shirts are waiting for them on Will’s bed with little sticky notes labeling whose is whose. When Mack unfolds his, it’s green with sparkly letters and aggressively cropped. The words Yes Paddy? stare back at him.
“Is he insane?” Mack asks, tossing his backpack onto the bed.
OR: Mack's pretty good at giving gifts, actually.
tortured by the idea of teasing robby with a short little dress as he sits on the couch, those big hands running down his face while he tries to decide where to touch you first
maybe you just went shopping and you're modeling your new outfits for him or maybe you just got back from a girls' night out, a little tipsy and a lot giggly, absent-mindedly twisting your hips as you fill him in on all of the gossip he missed. and robby's listening to you — he really is, he swears, those big brown eyes shining behind his glasses, chuckling at the way you always exaggerate a little when you've been drinking, every little moment turning into a dramatic tale — but he keeps catching a glimpse of the tops of your thighs under that swishy skirt.
it's distracting, you have to know it's distracting him, these tantalizing glimpses of soft skin, of his favorite place in the world, the place he'd happily spend all of his time if given the chance. but he's really trying to pay attention.
but then you stop talking to take a sip from the bottle of beer that robby had been nursing all evening while he read a book on the couch and you bend to place it on the coffee table and he can see just the tiniest hint of black lace and suddenly he can't remember a single thing you've said. all of his thoughts are focused soley on youyouyou, your thighs, your curves, that heavenly place between your legs that he's obsessed with, addicted to, thinks about coming home to during his long shifts and now he's noticed that you've noticed that he's not listening.
"robby?" you ask with a laugh, waiting for those big brown eyes to travel slowly upupup your body to meet yours. (and he looks wrecked, somehow, you haven't even said anything, you haven't even touched him yet and still.) "were you listening to me?"
he nods quickly, one big hand rubbing the back of his neck, but his face is turning red and in an instant you can read his mind. your grin is sly, predatory almost, as you take a step closer to him, your legs on either side of one of his thighs, his knee gently bouncing with anticipation.
"i never asked if you liked my dress," you tease, hands smoothing down your waist and hips until your fingertips almost reach the hem of your skirt.
"y-yeah," he croaks out, torn between trying to pretend he has a modicum of self control left and simply sliding to his knees on the carpet in front of you. "you look beautiful. you're always beautiful."
you let out a soft hum, and robby will never admit that the way you sound almost patronizing in that moment has his head spinning. "it's really pretty, right?" you say, toying with the hem, watching the way his eyes are locked on the tiniest movements you make.
you start edging the skirt up your legs, slowly, so slowly, and robby's throat is dry, his jaw dropping slightly as more and more of your perfect thighs are revealed to him. you let out a little laugh as you tease the skirt higher, higher and then — it's like a groan is punched out of him as he sees that tiny hint of lace again.
"fuuuuuuuck, baby," he says lowly. you're not even sure if he's aware that he said it, he's so entranced by you.
"you wanna see something else i bought that's pretty?" you say, voice low and seductive, as you finally bunch the skirt up around your hips, and the lace and mesh of your strappy, tiny underwear is on full display. robby shakes his head, almost in disbelief that you — bright, sexy, funny, smart, wonderful you — are with him.
and then just as his hand reaches out to touch you, the calloused fingertips just brushing against your soft skin, you drop the skirt back down, hiding it all away from him again.
robby looks up at you like you're a goddess, an angel, a glass of ice cold water on a hot day, a free weekend on his schedule with no work, no patients, no gloria breathing down his neck. desperate. worshipful. awestruck.
you lean down close, your lips just brushing his as you whisper "they have a matching bra, too," and plant one long kiss on him.
christ. you're gonna be the death of him. (what a way to go, he thinks.)
must be hard being arthur. you have this guy follow you around day and night and he sees right through you. every second of every day he just knows when something's up. and you don't always want to be so transparent so you deny and deny, but he sees it anyways.
A/n: This fic was born because @thebellearchives said “but what if he’s shady BECAUSE he’s touch starved teehee” and I went “But what if I write it- what then?” And then proceeded to black out. This one is dedicated to the shady Solomon truthers. He just loves you so much, and you just need to see it. Big thanks to @jeschalynn (@/another-lost-mc ) and her cat, Baldwin, for beta reading for me and letting me riff ideas for the plot , you the realest.
Words: 8.5k (I don’t know what happened)
CW: fem body reader (neutral pronouns but AFAB body described) Shady!Solomon, but also Needy touch-starved!Solomon, semi dark content, light stalking, manipulation, dubcon (slipped aphrodisiacs), emotional sex, oral (f receiving), hand jobs, hand fucking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, shady shenanigans ahead, consensual but not safe or sane.
MINORS DNI
If you asked anyone in the Devildom about the sorcerer Solomon, they would tell you to be wary. Some would say he was a bit odd, while others said he was down right insane. Whispers would fill the hallways as the platinum haired sorcerer walked down the corridors with a perpetual smile that never quite reached the corner of his eyes. Outside of RAD he was a scarce sight, always locked away in his room within Purgatory hall pouring over old texts and alchemy books with nothing but the light of the moon and sparse candle table side.
Solomon was old, ancient by human standards. No one really knew how old he truly was, not even himself. When you lived as long as he did everything became a distant memory, a thick fog only his dreams would give pieces to. He knows he’s lived long enough to see his family and ancestors wither away, lovers lost, and empires fall. He remembers a dull ache that would sit deep in his chest and carry with him through the three realms, always a weary wanderer throughout the times, with only broken cities and dead emperors welcoming back from his travels.
He’s not sure when he began to busy himself with studies, but it’s not a measly task to become the strongest sorcerer in the realm. Time was inconsequential when it was an abundant resource. Hours would shift into days, days to years, years to centuries, millennia blending together until the lines were muddled and worn. “Humans are short lived,” Barbatos mentioned over tea while a young prince inquired about him eons ago, recently ascended to the throne. “Humans aren’t made to live that long. You begin to wonder what exactly it does to the mind, the very soul.”
And he was right, oftentimes Solomon found himself hunched over his study reworking a spell for the nth time over, the evidence of his disheveled state betrayed by his nails dirtied with ink and herbs and deep shades of bruise lingering under his eyes. Only when his vision was bleary, raw, and unable to focus on the alchemy circles before him would he finally allow himself a rest at the edge of his bed, reluctantly dragging his feet to the small bedroom that collected more dust than dreams. Immortality is a fickle thing, the fabled pinnacle of human desire to break the shackles of flesh. Solomon would scoff at the thought, being a testament to it. What a lonely existence it was, staying awake until his eyes couldn’t hold was the tonic to quell an anxious mind, preventing the pit that would sit heavy in his chest if left unattended too for too long. He would remember Barbatos and the fountain, that fateful day that irreparably changed his life.
And then there was you.
When you arrived at the Devildom, Solomon was interested in the new human exchange student because you were an ordinary human. Not a sorcerer, or even an occultist who dabbled too far. It was strange, how someone of your likeness could end up in a place like the Devildom. The relationship between the three realms was shaky at best, with many demons who would take a chance at your shiny soul the second you rounded the corner. The thought sent a jolt through his chest and pooled like thick oil down his ribs to collect at the base of his stomach, it stayed with him throughout the day; gnawing and biting at his ears between classes and paperwork. It was annoying, he thought. A nuisance getting in the way of his work, unsure of why it mattered so much to him, after all, Lucifer assigned his brother Mammon to guard you. Not that it helped much, considering the Greed demon would gladly abandon you for a shiny Grimm rolling down the hall. With a heavy sigh and flourish of his cape, he decided to seek you out for an introduction, offer his assistance, and that would be the end of his underlying worries.
Not long after a small acquaintance bloomed. It began with occasional questions on shops and streets of the Devildom and assistance with studies in potions class. The sorcerer had become a quiet constant in your life, lurking in the shadows without you realizing, a fleeting glimpse in your periphery that could be mistaken for a trick of the light. He would watch the way your hips would swish down the halls, and saw the ease of how you would begin to corral the brothers; he saw the sprouts of your relationships blossoming fruitfully in how you walked with a little more tenacity, turning corners without a shaking palm or hesitant step compared to the earlier days of your exchange. It had been a few weeks since you last seeked him out, and the restlessness that was briefly quelled has returned and began simmering to the surface. Patience was bitter, but its fruit was sweet, he’d remind himself- an old adage he remembered a wise man once said from his long years past.
——
The sound of his leather heels padded softly down the empty hallway of RAD as he pondered thoughtfully of the prior months' developments, in both your budding friendship with him and his increasing thoughts of you, ensnaring his mind and festering deep in his chest the more he tried to resist. It wouldn’t be hard to seek you out and ask you if you needed help with studies, or another excuse to spend more time with you, but that would be temporary, soon dragged off by Lucifer or any brothers who nipped stubbornly at your heels demanding attention. If he wanted to get closer to you, their lingering presence was the first obstacle to overcome. He craved more. He needed more than casual conversation and passing touches. He needed you to trust him. How else could he be more than a mere companion in your eyes when you kept him at arm's length?
Just as he stopped to pinch at the frustration collecting between his eyes, he heard soft chattering paired with two sets of footsteps: one was sporadic and light, while the other was soft, even in pressure and cadence, a familiar rhythm he tuned his ears to over months of skulking about. He could pick you out anywhere in a crowd.
”Ooooooo you promise you’ll stop by Majolish for me? Pretty please?”
Asmodeus. Sickly sweet as ever
”Yes, yes. And by the Akuzon pick up for Levi, and Devilmart for Beel’s endless appetite.”
Solomon could picture the playful roll of your eyes. It was one of many of his favorite habits you had. “I just need to drop these papers off to Mephisopheles, then pack up and I'll be on my way. I’ll see you at home.”
Home. The word soured in Solomon’s stomach, twisting and churning bile. He could be your home. He could give you anything you wanted, if only you’d come to him and ask. How much longer would it take for you to realize it? Perhaps you underestimated the power he held to make your dreams come true, as long as he could stay by your side. The fruit of patience was sweet, but it is the skilled laborers that feed their fields. All you needed was a little nudge in the right direction.. in seeing how he was good for you, better than any of the brothers. He could help you see the truth: no one else was made for you. He waited for the sound of footsteps to fade into the distance before cutting the other way.
“Agh.. where did I put it?” You mumbled in frustration.
After dropping off Mephistopheles’ paperwork, which had its own set of difficulties, you made your way back to grab your bag. Your bag which was currently… missing. You circled around the classroom and checked the others, scanning the corridors and adjacent halls. You swear you had left it in your last class, tucked neatly under your chair. You did always have a habit of setting things down without a second thought, and if it didn’t have your wallet in it you’d almost consider abandoning it to rush to the shops. While the shops were the safer part of town, it was the more rural walk back that worried you and it was beginning to get late with all the side distractions.
You took a moment to chew on your thumbnail absentmindedly while tracing your steps from earlier. Anxiety was creeping in, burning at your heels that carried you back down the hall to the original classroom.
“Shit!” you huffed in frustration, dropping your hand to rest on your hip. The pittering of your tapping foot was a metronome to the racings thoughts of what to do next. Twirling around on your heel to go back, you spotted the god forsaken thing sitting on the shelf by the door
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you swore, snatching the bag in frustration and stomping off.
———
You headed down the cobblestone path past the various shops, multiple bags dangling from your arms, double-checking your list: face cream and nail polish from Majolish for Asmo; the latest copy of whatever 12- worded-titled manga from Akuzon pick up for Levi; and three bags’ worth of snacks from Devilmart.
You continued walking home, past the bustling shops and taking twists and turns down the quieter roads, stopping to adjust the absurd amount of straps everyone expected you to carry, turning down the alleys and beaten paths that gradually faded from the bustling shops.
Throughout the entire trip your thoughts were occupied, tracing back to your bag. How did you lose it anyway? Then, there was the case of your supposed simple paper drop off to Mephistopheles, which was delayed by a stray open window, blowing the stack of papers from your hand and sending a few strays out into the courtyard. Once you ran out to collect everything as fast as you could, you received an earful from the arrogant noble demon, who took his time to chastise your delays. It was down right odd how every obstacle today presented itself, but you had eventually chalked it up to Murphy’s Law.
The sound of snapping twigs jolted your attention, hyper aware of your surroundings and the late hour now. Being so consumed by today's events you hadn't paid attention to where you were walking, or how late. The rhythm of your steps quickened to match the pace of your heart thumping against its ivory cage and echoed in your ears as adrenaline filled your veins. The air was ice-cold and it burned your lungs with each labored breath.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? A lost lamb without its shepherd?” A teasing voice called out to you, echoing eerily from somewhere on your left. A tall figure slithered from the shadows of the dark alley. All you could see underneath the hood drawn over his face was a sinister smile that revealed sharp, glistening fangs.
“It’s far too late for such a delectable soul to be wandering alone at night, wouldn’t you agree?” To your horror, a second figure approached from the other side, effectively cornering you between two demons. Step by step, they slowly closed the distance, leaving you with no chance to escape .
“Take a wrong turn, human? Where’s your lap dog, hm?” One of the demons asked, sounding far too amused.
“I take it losing every last Grimm at the casinos right now, or maybe he’s still hanging from the ceiling thanks to that damned brother of his.” The other demon simply laughed.
This was bad, and you were quickly realizing you were running out of time as the two assailants began closing in, but fear had gripped your ankles and kept them planted to the crossroads. You could run. But they’re much faster than you. Scream? Would anyone hear? Even if they did, would they be an ally? Your pacts were useless, you didn’t know how to summon the few brothers you shared them with. Options were running out quickly and your perpetrators were looming in
A wisp of purple light flashes by, and you squint as you're suddenly encased inside of a bright, translucent shield. The barrier pulse and forces the demons back, hissing and baring their teeth as if they were burned by being too close to you.
”That’s close enough,” Solomon warned as he stepped into view. Even through the rippling barrier he cast to protect you, you could see his eyes were dark and stormy with anger. “Attacking an exchange student under Lord Diavolo’s protection would surely be seen as treason, don’t you agree? I know for a fact Barbatos has excruciatingly painful ways of dealing with traitors that would dare tarnish his master's name.”
The demons' sputtering excuses were feeble and useless. Solomon kicked one demon square in the stomach before turning on his heel and punching the other demon across his jaw without mercy.
“I would recommend leaving, as fast as possible, lest he find out.” Solomon smiled now, and turned around smiling once the demons scrambled and fled into the night. The shield he cast on you dissipated as soon as the demons were out of sight, and he rushed to your side as your knees buckled and threatened to give out under you.
”Are you alright?” Solomon rested his hands on your shoulders, scanning your face and checking for any injuries. Tears welled up in your eyes and you sobbed as the adrenaline wore off.
“Shhh, shhhhh, it’s alright, I’m right here.” he folded you into a gentle embrace offering a few comforting pats on your back.
Once you calmed down, he offered to walk you back to the House of Lamentation, guiding you arm in arm. He made inquiries as to what happened and what you were doing out so late at night, of course he knew. Just like he asked why you hadn't summoned the brothers with your packs, he knew. It provided the most opportune time to offer his assistance, as your mentor, and teach you the road to becoming a sorcerer. When the two of you arrived at the House of Lamentation, your face stained with tears, he had the upper hand to convince Lucifer of his proposition; their precious lamb was almost hurt today, without their chaperone.
———
It’s been months since you started your apprenticeship with Solomon, spending hours at his side. It was hard work, the various exercises and studies he assigned to you, and often he would provide criticism and praise at whiplash speed. Solomon would often compliment your progress, and make you laugh, but when he leaned in close to read your work over your shoulder you would feel the heat blossom across your cheeks. You found his aura addicting, wanting to know more of him, spend time by his side, but just to pick his brain and learn more, you would always justify. After all, his touches were fleeting, merely that of a mentor proud of his student, you believed, but they left you craving something more, a foolish thing.
Visiting Purgatory Hall to see Solomon was a nice reprieve from the rambunctious demon brothers you lived with at the House of Lamentation. Today he must’ve had something different planned because he asked you to come to his room instead of the RAD library or the lounge he shared with his roommates.You arrived outside Solomon’s bedroom door and gave three sharp knocks, and you stood a little straighter when you heard footsteps approach from the other side.
“Welcome! I’ve been expecting you, please come in.”
”Thanks for having me Solomon.” You replied, stepping into his room. It was larger than it looked, with long bookshelf’s lining the room and stretching toward the ceiling. There was a long oak table and a few sitting chairs, matching wood with red leather. At his desks sat several manuscripts and ink quills, and on the longer center table scattered documents next to various bottles and beakers. It was neater than expected.
“Is it what you expected, dearest apprentice? You’re staring is making me nervous.” he whispered behind you unexpectedly. The sudden proximity took you by surprise.
”Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He added, amused.
”It is a sight to see, fitting for a sorcerer like you, although…” curiosity took the better of you as you scanned the room. “Where do you sleep? Do you sleep or simply hang like a bat from the ceiling like Barbatos.” You glanced up in jest.
”And what, pray tell, were you doing in Barbatos’ room? You’re going to make me jealous.” He pouted.
”Don’t be like that, I was on strictly business and it… didn’t end up well, remember?” It wasn’t a pleasant memory, the mere mention had you shrinking into yourself. Solomon offered a comforting hand on your shoulder.
”Now, my darling apprentice, we shouldn't dwell on the past. You’re much stronger now, and you know I’ll always be here to protect you as well. Come on, let's get started, will you grab a few things for me?”
Settling the stack books down on the long oak table you wiped the sweat from your brow and caught your breath.
”Should be all here!” You exclaimed proudly
”Well done! I appreciate you coming to help me, it makes me so happy to have such a helpful student.” The words came easy to Solomon, and seeing the look of proudness shining in your hopeful eyes was his weak spot.
It would be a lie to say he hasn’t grown fond of you, obsessed even. Though, he wouldn’t dare use that word. It was his responsibility to keep you safe, happy, and well cared for, even if you didn’t know it. Even if he was the hand behind the board, moving each piece in place strategically. He could see victory closing in, the checkmate that would seal your fate - you just didn’t know it yet.
As you adjusted the books and organized the table, he watched your face settle into that cute little pout when you think. He watched your hair cascade off your shoulder as you moved, tracing his eyes down your figure and taking in the soft curves that would jiggle when you walked. Solomon was a man of patience, learned from his long life span, but even his patience was wearing thin.
”Ah!” An idea came to him, smirking to himself. “My dearest apprentice, we forgot one. Would you mind grabbing the first edition copy of this book here-” he said, gesturing to the book of medicinal herbs “-for me? It’s on the top shelf right there. It has a larger catalog of some things we might need.”
You took a peek behind your shoulder, gazing up at the highest bookshelf where the older, more original copies belonged. Strange, you thought. You were sure all the materials were in front of you. You had even made sure to double check everything to ensure you wouldn’t need a second trip, and perhaps appease Solomon, but you wouldn’t out right admit that.
”Oh- I’m sorry, I was sure I had all of them, just a second.”
”No worries, I’ll be right around the corner bringing in our alchemy supplies, shout if you need me.” A lie easily crafted.
As soon as you turned around he sulked near the corner, pretending to look like he was busy, watching you from the corner of his eye as you climbed the steps of the ladder, teasing him with the tantalizing sway of your hips. A low growl sat in his throat, eyeing every bend and curve of your supple, innocent flesh. He felt his desire grow hot, the pleasant view up your thighs and rounded bottom stoking the flames. With a small, personal, adjustment to his robes he was ready to strike.
You reached for the requested book, standing on the tips of your toes and reaching out, fingertips nearly brushing the spine. With a small flick of Solomon’s wrist, the bottom of the long ladder jostled, sending you off-kilter with a shriek.
“SOLOMON!” You screeched, closing your eyes to prepare for the inevitable crash.
Something warm and firm broke your fall as you tumbled to the floor at dizzying speed, landing in a flurry of limbs and hair as you took a moment to orient yourself. The smell of sage and fresh linen filled your senses as the scene in front of you came into vision. Soft strands of silver tickled your cheeks as perplexed gray eyes looked down at you.
”My my, are you alright dear? I thought I told you to be careful.” Solomon chided you with a small frown, not making any move to give you space. His slender fingers were wrapped around your waist, and his long legs somehow had tangled between yours. A scandalous scene to any eyes that may accidentally wander wn ithout knocking.
”F-Fine! I’m fine! I don’t know what happened, the ladder moved or maybe I lost balance? I- I don’t- I couldn’t quite reach-“
”Now now-“ He tsked. “What matters is your safety, you gave me quite the scare. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
He lifted your chin with a folded index finger now, inspecting even closer so his nose was brushing yours. You’d never been this close to Solomon, but now you were taking in the grays of his irises. They were deep and boundless, monochromatic in nature, like roaring thunder clouds passing over rolling waves. The small specks of silver splashed against its dark hues reminded you of light slipping through the clouds to touch the waves. It was easy to fall and be lost, a bygone sailor lost to the currents.
The sound of your name rang in your ears, a soft voice pulling you back to shore.
”Hm?”
”Did you hear anything I just said?” Solomon asked, puzzled. “Do you have a concussion?”
”What? No!’
”Hahaha! just checking! By the way, did you call for me in your last moments before you fell?” He was smirking now, a toothy grin that pulled on the corner of his mouth.
”NO-“ your denial came abruptly, but Solomon was quick witted and had you caged, both metaphorically and physically.
”My dear apprentice, there’s no need to be shy. In fact, I’m honored to be the one you would call to in a time of need. You are absolutely adorable.” He flourished with a nose boop, before acquiescing his position and helping you to your feet. When you both stood, he made no move to give you space, letting the moment sink in, watching to see if you would lean in closer. Your eyes momentarily flickered to his lips, before losing your will and coughing, smoothing down your hair in a vain attempt to collect yourself.
Disappointing.
He had you so close, right there. If only you would give up this charade he had spent weeks, no, months, chipping away at. He did everything right, even if it did require pulling a few strings. Just a little push, he thought, replacing a few ingredients with similar likeness while you were distracted.
——
“Do we have everything?” You inquired, scanning the table.
”Almost, just a bit more of this.” Solomon reached across you, nose brushing your neck while he grabbed what he needed. Your eyes fluttered closed to take in a small breath.
”Here it all is. Start by adding the first three ingredients.” Solomon watched as you followed his instruction, grinding hearts and measuring them out carefully. You were so adorable. The anticipation had him gripping the corner of the table. You continued following his instruction and reciting the spell for the end goal successfully pulling off a tracking spell. The plan was to test it on Solomon, and he would use his teleportation to hide away. A simple sorcerer's game of hide and seek, and it would help you practice your teleportation as well.
”Very good so far, nearly there. I believe you’ll need this next.” He plucked a single hair from his head and tossed it in. As you turned to grab the last ingredient, he slipped a pinch of something extra. You tossed the remaining ingredients in and the bowl erupted with a light pink smoke, shooting directly into your face before sputtering out. You coughed and wiped your nose feeling an odd sensation begin to bloom.
”Hmm. You might have been a bit heavy handed.” Solomon pondered. “No worries, it should still work, ready?” He faked readying himself to teleport, to keep the ruse up. You felt dizzy and began wobbling, gripping the table to catch yourself.
”Hm? Are you alright?” Solomon put his hand on your shoulder to look at you, and he felt so warm.
”Yeah, um-“ you cleared your throat, embarrassed. “I’m ready.”
”You look pale-“ he looked at you with concern, “-and you're wobbling,. Here, have some water, we can try again later. Are you ill?” He continued with faux worry, handing you his glass of water.
Everything about Solomon magnified tenfold: the curve of his jaw, the bob of his Adam’s apple. His hair looked so soft and and fluffy, all you could think about were wrapping the silk strands around your fingers and pulli-
“Dearest? Are you okay?” Solomon's warm hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality. It felt large and tingled your skin even with the barrier of your jacket.
You cleared your throat again.
“Hmmn. Yeah. It’s just uh- a little warm in here.”
”Warm? Are you running a fever?” He brought the back of your hand to your cheek, forcing yourself to stifle a moan. Your hand shot up to grip his wrist. You were drowning in his senses: his touch, his scent, the pulse you could feel through his wrist. It made your knees weak. Spotting this, he wrapped his other hand around your waist to steady you, bringing you closer.
”Hey, hey- I got you, come with me. Let’s get you some air.” Solomon led you past his study to his bedroom, setting you on the edge of his bed and opening the window. A cool breeze passed over your face providing fleeting relief. After cracking the window he stood to remove his robes and tossed it on the back of the chair, the last thing you needed to see as now you could make out his slender waist through the black turtle neck he wore, his shoulder blades as he moved and the rippling of his back. The candle light provided a stark contrast on the sharp lines and curves of his figure.
“W-what, uh, are you doing?” You panicked
”Hm? I’m going to get some cool water, you seem to be running a fever.” Solomon looked over his shoulder to you, accentuating his hips and the long lines of his legs.
”I'll be right back”
He disappeared into the bathroom and you sighed in relief. You had no idea what’s come over you, but every nerve was screaming his name. Frustrated, in more ways than one, you ripped the top few buttons of your blouse to fan some of the cool air, wringing the hem of your shirt and clenching your thighs to quell the building pressure inside you, begging to be relieved.
You sat up quickly as the bathroom door opened and Solomon re-appeared with a rag and bowl of water.. He knelt down and sat it on the floor between your feet and slowly… excruciatingly slowly…rolled his sleeves past his forearms. The muted blues of his veins ran delicately down his wrists before disappearing underneath the depths of his flesh and swam back up the corded muscle, creating valleys just begging to be traced. You watched his long and lithe fingers run underneath the sleeve to secure above his elbow before he repeated the process on the other side. Your head was foggy and it was harder to breathe each passing second. Solomon dipped the clean rag into the pool of fresh water and you watched closely as his knuckles turned white and taught when he wrung the cloth of excess water, flowing in between his fingers while a few stray droplets trickled down his forearm, passing over the bulged and strained veins that twisted and moved with the motion.
He looked up at you and reached for your face, brushing a few pieces of stray hair behind your ear as he pressed the cool rag to your cheek, gently tapping from the side up to your brow and forehead. He was driving you crazy and you needed to leave before the last thread of sanity snapped, but every cell was screaming to stay, to feel the warmth of his skin and heat of his body on yours. The room started spinning and you once again brought your hand to his wrist to steady yourself.
”How does this feel?” Solomon inquired, peering up through his messy silver locks.
Amazing. Divine. Keep going.
”Better, um, thank you.” You managed through gritted teeth.
If your head wasn’t spinning as fast as it was, you would have noticed the brief flicker of Solomon's eyes from your lips to your unbuttoned shirt, forgetting you had opened it earlier for some reprieve. You might have caught the flames in his eyes, and the momentary lick of his lips.
”You’re warm, you still have your jacket on… let me help you.” Solomon stood up and hovered over you to slip the jacket from your shoulders.
Alarm bells were ringing in your head, you needed to leave. Run away, before you did something you shouldn’t change, but it felt so good to have his hands run down your arms. His touch was a sip of water in the middle of the desert, an oasis at the end of the horizon, tempting and seducing to the lost traveler, but never quite within reach.
”Here” he said gently, tossing your jacket to the ground and softly holding your hand, guiding you gently to lay down.
Abort. Abort. Abort. Leave.
“Rest a minute, you’re sweating.”
”I-I think I’m feeling better.” You protested, propping yourself up on your elbow.
”I insist. I won't let you leave this room until you’re feeling better. It’s my responsibility to take care of you.” Solomon was leaning above you now, one knee pressed next to you dipping into the mattress with the other still planted to the ground.
Unbeknown to you, the sorcerer was fighting his own battle. He had you exactly where he wanted, flushed and sweaty, clothes disheveled with need. A sight of divinity beneath him. Your eager glances you thought he hadn’t noticed have been driving him mad the whole evening, you looked like a lost little lamb in search of its Sheppard. He traced every part of you, scanning every feature, every freckle and line, naivety in your brow, he would burn it into his eyelids and carve the sight into his heart. His limits were being tested, but he needed to wait, he needed you to finally submit, then, he would reap his sweet fruit.
“Tell me, what do you need?” His lips brushed your ear.
He moved to strike, leaning down to whisper,
”I would give you anything.”
Snap! The chord which was wound tight was finally plucked, breaking the last dregs of self control. A gasp fell from your lips and you clawed at Solomon’s broad shoulders
”You, Solomon, I need you.” You pleaded, softly, strained, a broken whisper begging for salvation.
Checkmate, the King falls over and rolls off the board.
The second he heard your plea, he knew he won, you couldn’t see the deliciously arrogant smile that passed his lips, the gleam of success that darkened in his eyes. He couldn’t contain his joy and he moved to press his lips onto yours, cradling your face with his hands and wrapping his hands on the back of your neck. He angled his hands to posture your jaw up to get the best angle, begging to part your lips with his tongue, an invitation you openly accepted. He brought his hand to run down your waist and rest at your thigh, applying subtle pressure while leaning in to guide you to lay down. Solomon continued peppering kisses down your neck and began nipping at the soft skin adorning your collarbone, laying claim to that which he so desperately labored for.
Each hot kiss trailed fire on your skin, burning for him. Closing your eyes to focus on each sensation, writhing beneath him to trace every muscle down his back, the way his Adonis belt wrapped around and led into firm thighs, and fuck, he smelled so good. You were drowning in his senses, lungs heavy with his scent, branding the touch of his lips into your soul. If the world fell around the two of you and ended in burning ruins, you would take the taste of him with you on your voyage across the river Styx.
Solomon parted from you briefly, taking his warmth with him to reach behind his neck and take his shirt off with one fluid motion, leaning back on his haunches to display his pride, and let you drink him in. He was a peacock flaunting his feathers, looking down at you admiring him.
And admire you did, the moonlight filtering through the window cast his form in soft hues of blue splashing against the warm candle light, dipping over his pecs and abs, and they were adorned with inky black pact marks and symbols decorating his alabaster skin. Your eyes trailed down the shadows converging from his hips down below his belly button, he was beautiful, like a statue suspended in a museum. You felt hypnotized by him, bringing a hand to run down his torso hesitantly, like a sudden touch would stain or break him. He met you halfway to bring your hand to his heart, and you felt the beating reverberate into your palm and down your arm. Solomon closed his eyes to savor your touch, committing it to memory before raising it to his face, cradling your palm into his, kissing the back of our hand and trailing down your arm. When he reached your shoulder he brought his other hand to undo the rest of the buttons on your blouse. You arched your back to allow room for him to remove the offending article. Your hands fly to his waist to rapidly undo his belt buckle and claim what is yours.
”My my, impatient aren’t we?” Solomon mused.
”Please, I just need you close.”
”Oh?” He perked up at your admission “Who am I to deny anything to my precious apprentice?”
A wild chorus of limbs and clothes follow, tongues dancing and touches exchanged. When you were finally stripped and laid bare, Solomon took a moment to appreciate you, leaning in to wrap himself around you and tangle your legs with his. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck, he took a long huff into your hair and sighed contentedly.
“You have no idea how long I waited for this. I dreamed of you, hoping you would finally come to me.” He admitted, ready to lay his heart before him. ”I watched you, and waited. So. So patiently.” He rolled his hip, dragging his aching length across your core, pulling a sweet moan from your throat.
“I’m right here.” Tears pricked your eyes at Solomon’s admission. In this moment, you would tell him anything he desired, and if he asked, you’d set the world ablaze just to see the fire flicker within his irises.
Solomon lowered himself and brought your nipple into his mouth, hardened by the cool air and began sucking gently on it, rolling his tongue and gently pulling with his teeth while his other hand trailed down to explore the wetness in your folds. You rolled your hips into his hand and whimpered at his touch.
“Fuck- Solomon, right there, please-”
Solomon hummed in satisfaction, his voice gravel and low sending pleasurable vibrations to your nipple that he continued his ministrations on, quickening his pace with his newfound confidence. Your hands came flying to tangle into his hair and tug, mirroring the very fantasy you had earlier today.
You couldn’t take it anymore. You brought your hand down to where you two connected to take his hardened cock into your hand, drawing a hiss from the platinum haired sorcerer. You ran your thumb over the head, smearing the precum that weeped from the flushed tip, and gave his length a few languid strokes. He bucked up into your hand, and dropped his head back into the crook of your neck and began panting, moaning, singing your praises. Having him crumble under your touch stoked a fire, eager to please him, make him feel as good as he was making you feel, pressing chaste kisses into his hair while he continued rolling his hips, fucking your fist while whimpering your name into your ear. Abruptly, he grabbed onto you and rolled you both off the bed, throwing you back onto the soft carpet on the floor and caging you with his arms on either side of your head.
”I’m going to show you how much you mean to me, dearest.”
The anticipation was buzzing, sending little electrical shocks down your body as he grabbed your plush thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the fat pads dip underneath his fingers, then he hoisted them to press them flush against your sides, exposing you completely to him. Solomon hummed in pleasure and licked his lips, looking at you like a predator eyes his prey. He dipped his head to lick a long, hot stipe through your folds and your back came off the bed arched as your moans filled the room, the sweetest sound Solomon ever heard in his long years of life. He realized at that moment, he would do anything to keep it with him, at any cost, more so than he had already done. Whatever else he would have to do to secure his future with you, he was prepared to do. Too long had he watched anything good slip through his fingers with the sands of time.
The fruit of patience truly was sweet, he was addicted to your taste, squeezing your plush thighs possessively, flattening and rolling his tongue across your clit and feeling your core quiver with desire. He might have gotten you here through dubious means, but he didn’t want to be cruel to you. He responded to your silent plea by running two of his fingers around your hole and sank them slowly in, cherishing the silk feeling of your inner walls. He curled his fingers and dragged them across the sweet spot buried deep inside you, using his hands as a conductor would to an orchestra, leading the sweetest sound for his audience of two.
Chasing your high, you began to pick up your hips and meet them against the base of his fingers, syncing your movements to meet his. The pressure was building at a fast pace, collecting in your stomach and rising up your spine, full to the brim and threatening to spill over
”W-wait, not yet, need you-!”
”We have all night darling, so be good for me, yeah?” Solomon teased, looking up at your face contorting and gasping in pleasure. He continued flicking the tip of his tongue across your bud while hooking his fingers upward and massaging.
”I-I’m gonna-” you warned.
“Say my name.”
And the dam burst, pleasure flooding your senses and turning your vision white. You threw your head back while screaming his name. Your back arched while tugging at the roots of his hair that were tangled between your fingers.
Solomon watched in awe, he never witnessed anything so beautiful in his life. The growing embers of possessiveness were now a full wildfire, hot and blazing indiscriminate of anything in its path. He continued the pressure allowing you to ride out the last waves of your climax before he met you for a chaste kiss. Unlike the first one which was hot and heavy and desperate, this one was soft, slow, and gentle: a kiss two lifetime lovers would share under a tree or late at night under the sheets, whispering affection words couldn’t form.
Moments passed side by side in a shared embrace, filled with soft laughter and tracing touches while Solomon allowed you to catch your breath. He waited until your touches became desperate again, knowing the effects wouldn’t wear off for sometime. Perfect for him, he would stay up the entire night, pouring his affection into you, proving how you were made for him, you just had to see it.
He met your gaze with an inquisitive look, asking for permission to continue. When you nodded eagerly, he brought your leg around his waist to rest on his hip, lining his length to your entrance. He gripped the base and ran it up and down your wet slit teasing you, drawing a few more desperate sighs before he sank his entire length in. Solomon pressed his forehead to yours, keeping a hand to the side of your face so he could watch the pleasure wash over your face. Slowly, he pushed inside, inch by sinnful inch and relished the way you fluttered around him, not stopping until he was flush against you. Solomon released a shaky sigh and bit back the pure ecstasy he felt and took a moment to let your bodies rest a moment, connected.
“I could stay like this forever.” You whispered, still floating the clouds of your last climax
“Forever?” Solomon perked, giving a squeeze to your hip, “I quite like the sound of that.”
He rewarded your statement with a deep roll of his hips, dragging himself out and pushing slowly back in, watching the way you would throw your head back in bliss.
Your hands came to grip his waist, the deep rolling of his hips came in irresistible waves. Lost in your pleasure your hands explored the expanse of his back, feeling each muscle dip and bow as he was hitting that sweet spot deep in inside,
“Feels s-so good, Solomon.” You moaned, breathy. “You make me feel so good.”
An admission that made the sorcerer growl and began laying claim to the unbruised skin of your neck. He moved the leg that was wrapped around his hip and guided it under his arm, lifting your bottom and curling the apex of your two bodies up, so that his pelvis could rub against your bud with each thrust.
”You said you could be here forever.” He came up for air momentarily, never pausing his thrusts. “Did you mean it?”
“Yes.” He kissed you.
”You would be mine?”
“Yes-“
”Say it.” Solomon demanded, his pupils were blown with lust, picking up the pace of his strokes.
”I’m yours, Solomon.” You pleaded, chasing your high
”Again.” He punctuated with a thrust.
”I’m yours.”
”Again.” Thrust.
”I’m yours!” The coil sitting in your abdomen wound tight and finally snapped with one last thrust, sending pleasurable waves throughout your body, curling your toes and arching your back, your quivering provided Solomon with extra pleasure as he came with a groan with you. Stars filled your vision as you blindly clawed at Solomon's back, needing him to ground you, hanging on to never let him go. He whispered praises in your ear as he gripped you and allowed you to ride out your high, watching the light dance in your pupils and continuing pumping you full. When the last dregs of pleasure were pulled from you, and your body tired, he peppered you with kisses, singing your praises and tracing your side, keeping you safely caged within the confines of his limbs.
”Who am I to deny such a request from my beloved.” He muttered to himself, never breaking eye contact with your sweaty, shaking form.
”Our wish will be granted soon enough.”
——-
Floating.
Pieces of memory flooded your mind, broken scenes from the night before. Each piece playing fuzzy and bleary, never quite connecting to the next. You brought your hand to your lips, tracing the ghost of touch from last night. You remembered how Solomon touched you, and how you yearned for him. You remembered the feeling of his lips on your bare heated skin and the roll of his hips, how the two of you melded into one body. You remembered how expertly he played your body like an orchestra, and how the two of you continued your escapades late into the night: on his desk, against the wall, the carpet, until every inch of his room was marked with your scent and the bedside candles burned away. When the room finally cast into complete darkness and the moon hung high in the sky, he held your limp body and tended to you, and finally brought you to bed.
You opened your eyes, straining to keep the scene before you focused, you saw pieces of the tree tops and a dark blue sky, flashes of silver hair, and felt like you were floating. Maybe not floating, but being carried? As you strained to gain sense of your surroundings you felt wariness wrapped around you, it was Solomon. He was carrying you.
“You’re awake.” He said softly. “We’re almost there.”
”Almost where?” You replied, rubbing your eyes and clearing the hoarseness from your throat.
”To a place very important to me.” His voice was sober, devoid of his usual demeanor.
There were floating books nearby, and a strong feeling was pulling at your chest like a magnet. A few paces later Solomon gently set you down, your limbs weary and exerted still. A large fountain came into focus, glowing cerulean with books dancing around, leaving trails of phosphorus tracing their flight path. They circled around and ducked and weaved past the twisted limbs of leafless trees. Below the dark granite of the fountain lay stacks of books, some melding into the base while others created large towers around. Solomon knelt down to support your waist, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder, coming in and out of your drowsy state.
“You might know this place, you might have read about it before. Barbatos took me here once when I was young, and broken.. on the knife's edge of death really.”
He leaned his head atop yours.
”The fountain?” You wracked your brain trying to remember the details.
Barbatos had told you the story of how we managed to Summon him as a young and naive boy, and it almost killed him. You don’t remember the details but you remembered how Barbatos spoke of him fondly. Satan once read in a book that described a young and extraordinary sorcerer, one who could have caused destruction to the Three Realms, and how a demon brought him to the fountain and made him the guardian, and was known thereafter as-
”The Wise Sorcerer.” Solomon spoke, his tone sounding nostalgic. “I much always preferred the Witty Sorcerer.”
The pieces started falling into place.
”It was you.” You muttered. “Satan was right.” You smiled fondly, looking up at the fountain with him.
“It was.” He smiled. “I wanted to show you parts of me I haven’t shown anyone else. You’re that dear to me, my beloved.” My beloved. The name rang in your ears from last night, from my dearest apprentice to my beloved, it filled you with giddy pride.
”Did you mean it last night?” Solomon ran a sickeningly sweet hand down your hair
”Hm?” You angled your face to look up at him, the blanket of exhaustion weighing heavy on your mind and body.
”When you said you could stay like this forever with me.” Solomon whispered in your ear, sealing his plea by lifting your chin with his finger to press a gentle kiss. When he pulled back you looked at him like he hung the stars himself and gave him a nod, not quite understanding what he was asking.. But if there was one thing you learned over the past year is you trusted him. Implicitly, the warnings received early on, forgotten from your head, he never gave you a reason to be wary of him. In fact, he kept you safe. Why wouldn’t you trust him?
The pulling feeling returned to your chest, it began pulsing in waves, you brought your hand subconsciously to the place the feeling came from.
”It calls to you, doesn’t it?” Solomon rested his hand onto yours.
”What is it?”
“Follow it.” He whispered, guiding you by your lower back.
The buzzing reverberating in your chest was radiating through your bones, singing high pitched frequencies the closer you got, it was mesmerizing, pulling you in like a siren song. You reached a hand towards the glowing fountain, and Solomon, behind you, was watching your every move, clenching his fists with anticipation. Almost there, just a little closer.
A bright ring of light breaks from the fountain, whooshing the books away and taking the tree limbs with it. You felt a searing pain, iron hot, pulling at you and then-
Black.
——
Back at the House of Lamentation, the brothers' bickering about your whereabouts was cut short by the ground shaking, splitting the soil and uprooting trees. Something felt off and they all felt restless.
“Calm down” Lucifer chided, masking his own anxieties. “I'll be back, I have to meet with Lord Diavolo.” A lie, but he did not want his brothers to worry.
Back in his room, Solomon tucks you into his bed, safe and sound. You needed your rest after all, he turned around to go back in his study and plan on if he wanted to break the news to you, or simply let you continue on, when all of a sudden Barbatos is standing in his study, pinching and rolling his fingers inspecting something.
”Barbatos! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He smiled.
”What did you do?” Barbatos demanded.
”You hurt me. I didn’t do anything, what do you mean?” Solomon pouted.
”I thought you knew better. And what of this?” Barbatos held his hand up, showing the singed herbs from the earlier spell gone astray. “I find it odd that such a simple spell to a sorcerer of your caliber went astray, what’s even more, is the traces of this herb in particular, used for a formidable aphrodisiac.”
”A necessary escalation.” Solomon brushed off, walking up to the table and dusting off some of the remains.
Barbatos ‘ eyes narrowed, displeased with the lengths he had gone. “everyone will. Learn the truth eventually. What will they do when the years pass and they don’t age? What will you do then?”
”I assure you all is well. After all, now the brothers can spend all the time they want with them. And as for me, I have a few things in line to begin my apologies,” Solomon was over the moon, nothing would take you away from him.
”After all.” He turned to look at his room, “We have all the time in the world.”
