#Quincy x Reader

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Hello~ Hello~

I saw your Nu: Carnival - Bliss masterlist and I couldn't help but want to send you a request for it. May I have Eiden find another clan member (male reader), an ancient gem dragon alive long before Huey was? He doesn't like humans and prefers to stay up in his mountain cave and when he talks about Huey he calls him ""that foolish bastard"". I don't think the male reader would be a tsundere, but a lonely person with a lot of pain and loneliness from the past; so, a much more mature Edmond. This post doesn't have to have smut or be suggestive if you want it to be.

🍁Maple Anon

Eiden (+ Aster, Morvay, Quincy & Kuya) - Cold  Gem Dragon Male Reader 

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Hey 🍁Maple Anon, I don't know how, but this turned into a lesson in dragon anatomy around the halfway point and is probably not what you wanted, but I added extra bullet points as well as a few more characters to remedy that! The lyrics quoted in this one are from the song “Gold” by Jeff Williams. —Benny🐰

Warnings –> Dragon Dong Anatomy, Eiden, Kuya & Morvay Are Warnings In Themselves, Sexual Situations, [Name] Is Lowkey Prejudiced Against Humanity, Eiden is Horny as Usual, Quincy is Now a Unit of Measurement, Benny forgot how headcanons work

                                                                                                   

💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎

❝𝕯𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐; 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍�� 𝖚𝖕 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙-- 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓; 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖐𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖒~❞

. . .

First, lets do some exposition!

𖢻  I imagine that [Name] was a part of the original clan members of Huey's; except the dragon wasn't exactly an official member per se. Maybe Huey wanted him to join, but he's literally an ancient dragon, and if said ancient dragon says ‘no’, it's best to just leave it at that. Also, with the mention of [Name] being a gem dragon; it made me think of a scenario where Huey actually got his neon gemstone from [Name]. Maybe Huey wanted to test his strength against a legendary dragon and ended up only being able to knock loose a tiny sliver of the reptile's gem claw.

𖢻  I would think that Huey pulling up to [Name]’s humble mountain cave and trying to run the hands with him would probably add to the dislike of humans too. But, most likely, after the ‘fight', Huey would get tired and rest outside of the cave for a few days, conversing with [Name], and the dragon began to get used to his presence. Huey would probably flaunt his ‘victory’ in the form of making a necklace of the sliver of [Name]’s claw, which would annoy the ancient reptile, but the dragon would teach his newfound companion how to harness the gem's essence. But eventually… Huey's visits to his mountain cave would abruptly stop.

Now, onto the present, when Eiden arrives!

𖢻  Eiden probably met [Name] after everyone else, since the dragon isn't an official clan member. It'd probably be on their way back to Aster's mansion that someone, likely Morvay, would ask the vampire how [Name] had been. To which Eiden would then ask them who that was since he hadn't heard of anyone by that name during the entirety of his stay in Klein. This, the group, consisting of  Eiden, Aster, Morvay, Quincy, and Kuya –since the rest declined to go with in favor of heading back to rest after a long journey– took a detour and scaled up the great mountain of Chalcedony (I couldn't think of anything else) to visit the dragon.

𖢻  Eiden's first meeting with [Name] wouldn't be all that positive, with the dragon both disliking humans and having grown some resentment toward Huey. However, with Eiden being himself, he'd probably just catch on that the dragon was lonely and was pushing people away to protect himself, so Eiden convinced the others to allow him to stay in the dragon's care for a little while to soften the reptile's walls.

𖢻  The relationship between both of them from that point on can be described as a confused and exasperated husband with his headstrong and prideful wife who's a bit mean. [Name] taught Eiden to harness and control the essence in the neon gemstone (which is probably just tourmaline, if I'm being honest); the poor guy got a good handful of glares and head smacks whenever he fooled around too much. [Name] probably calls Eiden a fool or ‘young human’ most times, only rarely calling him by his actual name, as he saves that for more intimate situations.

Speaking of intimate situations...

𖢻  Let's get into [Name]’s assets~ The ancient dragon has two very large horns that curved behind his head in almost a horizontal ‘S’ shape. They are made of the same glowing rainbow gemstone as the one hanging from Eiden's neck and make for a very good stabilizer if you reach out and grab them like handles. While they aren't an erogenous zone, if you tug on them, they do hurt a bit and I imagine that [Name] is probably a masochist. Going a bit farther down we have his thick tail and two dicks– yes, that's right, we're following that trope on this one. [Name]'s tail is quite long and incredibly strong as well. It can support several heavy objects and 15 Quincys, even more than that if he's in his true form.

𖢻  Onto the pp! [Name]’s members both rest inside of a somewhat small internal sleeve when they're not at full mast. The inside of the sleeve is incredibly sensitive, with the walls being made of thin and smooth, spongy flesh, with an organ located near the back that secretes a sticky, lubricating slick that makes it easier for both members to slide in and out. The sleeve's entrance– or rather, the exit, is a simple vertical slit situated just a few inches above where a human man's schlong would be. When flaccid, [Name]’s dicks are about 2-3 inches long with a circumference of 1 inch, allowing them to rest in the sleeve without issue. But when aroused they grow to about 9-10 inches long with a circumference of 4.5 inches. They have a thin and tapered tip and various bumps and ridges along the underside and are a nice reddish pink in color.

Anyway–! Let's get back on track!

𖢻  Eiden, of course, finds [Name] super hot, but also incredibly intimidating; considering the dragon tried to kill him when he first noticed the gemstone hanging from the brunette's neck. But, after a week of spending time together in [Name]’s cave, Eiden managed to soften the ancient reptile up. Now, the world hopper sets aside a day every week to visit his favorite handsome dragon; letting the horned man train him to be stronger so that he doesn't have to rely so heavily on everyone else. That's not to say that the two don't spend time together doing other things as well though. Oftentimes, Eiden will pester [Name] about giving him a ride on his back because ‘he's never ridden a dragon before’; the audacity.

𖢻  Though… that request for 'a ride’ usually devolves into a steamy session of the sexy dragon hopping up and down on his favorite human's dick. He won't let poor Eiden cum for hours on end; stopping whenever the man gets close to punish him for his insolence. Rest in peace to Eiden's pp. We'll be holding a candlelight vigil later today in its honor.

𖢻  Aster, bless his greedy heart, always tries to convince [Name] to come to his mansion and stay for a while. The vampire both wants to brag to other nobles that he knows the great tyrant of the mountain and also just wants an old friend to visit his home and stay for a bit so that they can catch up. The two had been ‘apart’ for some time –despite Aster hypnotizing a few people to send [Name] letters every month– and the little vampire had missed him dearly. He also just wanted his favorite mannequin to come back…

𖢻  Morvay and [Name] have a strange relationship. Oftentimes, when the incubus had grown to find his regular meals less filling, he would pay a visit to his favorite dragon for a full-course meal that'd last him a whole week! However, when the insatiable familiar has had his fill, the two just cuddle and talk about how they have been since they saw each other last. Morvay fills the ancient beast in on all the details his empty little head can remember, and [Name] says the same thing as he usually did: ‘It was uneventful’. It's a nice little routine the two have and they prefer it that way.

𖢻  Quincy is surprisingly not despised by [Name] despite his status as a human. The two have only interacted twice in the past; the first being when Huey brought him by the horned man's cave after weeks of begging and the second being when [Name] made the spontaneous decision to leave his cave and take a walk around the forest for a while. Both meetings weren't too bad; the two men really just stared at each other in silence the entire time; not being bothered to talk at all. [Name] finds the tall blonde to be a comforting presence– Topper's cuteness helps as well.

𖢻  Kuya… is himself. He and the old man in the mountain had actually never met before Eiden brought him and the others with him to meet [Name]. However, the sly fox was incredibly intrigued by the dragon and paid several visits to the cave after the initial one. Kuya loves reclining against a boulder and listening as the other recounts memories of a time that the yokai hadn't even been alive for. It was quite relaxing and even more interesting than those illusion cards that the young master had tricked him with.

. . .

❝𝕷𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖒𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖉𝖆𝖞; 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖜����𝖞-- 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖌𝖔𝖑𝖉~❞

💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎•♡•💎

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘

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[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Quincy x male reader smut

Hunted

Primal play. Hurt/ comfort. General anxiety

2900 words

It was a stupid bet. You were frustrated because you felt that he was being over protective. The feelings had been building for a while but you simply reached your boiling point. Normally you didn't mind, you knew how protective he can be, especially because he's watched so many people he's cared about die. However, today you were tired and just wanted to go for a hike by yourself. Quincy of course didn't want you to go alone because you could get lost or hurt. Be it a wild beast, poacher, or one of his own hunting traps, the forest was filled with unseen dangers. The conversation turned into you yelling at him for making you feel weak. After you finished yelling he calmly asked if you'd like to prove to him you could survive on your own. A game of tag. All you had to do was touch him and make it back to the cabin.

Easy enough, right?

You should not have challenged him. You were running in circles, hopelessly lost in the middle of his woods. The winding game trail turned into wild, untouched forest making you lose any sense of direction you had. You would have felt completely alone if not for the nagging feeling of burning amber eyes on you from the darkness.

The leaves crunching underneath your feet, the occasional snap of a twig in the distance and the rustling of wind in the trees. Besides that there were no other sounds, everything was eerily still and not even birdsong could be heard. It felt dangerous, like you were being stalked. Well, you were being hunted. He was like the moon, always following, always watching, and always just out of reach.

You knew he was close, he had to be, but there were no physical signs of him anywhere. No footprints, no broken branches, nothing. Nothing but this nagging feeling and the hair on the back of your neck standing on end.

You had always felt safe with Quincy. He was always someone you could lean on for support, but what do you do when all that strength that supported you targets you instead. When the loving lazy teddy bear turns and bares its fangs.

Anxiety steadily grew as the night grew longer and shadows danced in the moonlight. One wrong step and the darkness threatened to swallow you whole. Hours passed and your hands started shaking, your legs were tired, and your nerves were shot. Every sound coming from just beyond the tree line only served to worsen the intense feelings of fear.

“I give up.” Your voice cracked. “Quincy, please come out. I want to go home. You win.” Your throat was tight from stress and croaked under the strain. Your vision blurred as your eyes became glassy with tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

No longer melting into the chorus of nature, the distinct sound of footsteps rustled in front of you. How he got in front of you without you noticing, especially considering his size, you have no idea, but that didn't matter right now. You run into his arms full force, throwing yourself into him and he doesn't even need to brace himself. He was ready, waiting for you, to welcome you back into his embrace. A few hot tears rolled down your cheeks and soaked into his shirt. An overwhelming feeling of relief flooded you as you held him in a vice grip. Afraid that if you loosened even a little bit that he would disappear into the darkness once again.

Physically and emotionally exhausted you were now only being supported by Quincy's strong arms wrapped tightly around you. After feeling scared and alone for so long right here felt like the safest place in the world. Your chest heaved as you tried to take calming breaths. Seeing how you were failing to calm yourself down Quincy's large hand rubbed up and down your spine trying to help. He spoke slowly, words of comfort, but everything was muffled and distorted by the sound of your own pounding heart.

Guilt tugged at his heart the entire time he was watching over you. He knows you saw him as a predator even though he was genuinely acting as a protector. Scaring away monsters that lurked in the woods and even disarming a few of his bear traps so you wouldn't fall into them. Not a single moment past where you weren't his top priority. Yet, the more he watched you the more the strange feeling grew in him…

He picked you up, grabbing you with a little more force than was necessary, and started making his way back to the cabin. Soft words of apologies fell from his lips, but you were still too overwhelmed to hear it.

He knew you were never in any real danger, not with him lurking in the shadows. However something about the way your once bold and defiant movements became smaller, more cautious, and almost prey-like as you ventured deeper into unknown territory flipped a switch in his mind. Normally letting his prey fall into a trap was his preferred method but something about actively hunting you awakened something deep in his mind, a feeling that he has always ignored and pushed back down into the darkness. He was a man, but something about you made him feel like he was something else entirely. A hunter, predator, maybe he was simply another beast that roamed the woods.

All he knew is that he ached for you, hungered for you. Now that he had you he struggled with what to do next. Torn between comforting or devouring you.

You left yourself open to so many opportunities to get gobbled up by him or any other animal. He lost track of how many times he was ready to pounce on you, sweet, oblivious you. Now once again you were completely vulnerable as you rested from your ordeal. He watched the broken rise and fall of your chest slowed into something more rhythmic, as the sound of your gentle breathing enchanted him more.

For now he can swallow his instincts and make sure you're taken care of. He's done enough to hurt you today and it would be bad if he lost himself to his desires.

You took the cup of water and snack he gave as a peace offering. It helped to calm you a bit more. The stale taste of anxiety being replaced by the sweet fruit. He moved to sit next to you on the bed, gauging your reaction. He knows he went too far but he still didn't want you to be mad at him. Maybe he's being greedy thinking that way, but you didn't try to move away from him so that was a good sign. He put his hand on your back and his stomach twisted when he felt your heart thundering under his fingers. It's been almost an hour since your little game ended and the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. Maybe that was why he wanted you so bad. Whatever scent you were giving off was pure excitement to him.

Before you knew it Quincy was on top of you. One hand on the small of your back pulling your hips together, and the other hand right beside your head supporting his weight so he wouldn't crush you. You were completely caged and the kiss was rough and famished. He bit your lip just hard enough to make you yelp, but that was enough to snap him back to his senses.

He froze as he hovered just an inch above your face. His eyes dilated till they were almost black with only a small ring of copper surrounding the void. He was panting heavily and he knew that he lost himself. A look of fear and guilt etched into his face. You were still breathing heavily and he could still feel your pulse racing even through your clothes. You must have been terrified. Of course you were, he was nothing more than a beast. “Sorry…” His voice a quiet rumble.

The moment he pulled back your hand shot up and grabbed his collar. Every symptom he mistook for fear melted into something else. A need that formed in the pit of your stomach. Maybe part of it was fear, but maybe, just this once, you liked it.

His eyes went wide in surprise and your brain almost entirely shut off. Not being able to think of any words to express how you were feeling you simply decided to grind your hips against his. The rough material of your pants pushing against your cock as you rub against Quincy's bulge.

For a moment his eyes glazed over, something primal trying to take over but he's desperately fighting against. It was stupid but even after everything that happened today you just wanted to be ravaged by the man on top of you. Was it because he was actually showing initiative and making the first move? Whatever the reason you wanted more.

“Don't stop”

Two little words was all it took for him to pounce on you again. His lips crashing into yours with a passion you could taste. He all but tore the clothes from your body, leaving you totally exposed underneath him. The air in the cabin was cool compared to the heat he was radiating. You could feel his muscles were bound tight like a spring, moments away from exploding but he still held himself back.

You two have had sex before, but you were always the one in control. He would spend half an hour just making sure your ass could take him comfortably, and you would ride him at your own pace. He was always careful about not grabbing you too hard or leave any marks. So gentle and cautious, he was always treating you like glass.

But not today.

He broke the kiss just long enough to lift his shirt over his head and discard the useless fabric. Large muscles curated over years of rough living made him a sculpture of perfection. Small scars littered his skin but the moment you reached out to touch him you had your hands pinned above your head. In that moment you could have sworn you heard a low growl come from his throat, but any thoughts were quickly dismissed as his tongue and teeth attacked your soft neck. His free hand teasingly ghosting your cock only to slip a finger into your ass. It was impossible to hold back your moans as he left a trail of hickeys down your neck and chest. Sharp bites comforted by a wet lick before moving to the next spot.

Soon he slipped in another finger. Moving his whole hand he was practically fucking you with his thick fingers already. You weakly pulled at his hand binding your wrist, not trying to break free but wanting to pleasure yourself more. Your cock twitched, craving the same attention that Quincy was giving to your hole.

Without warning he pulled his fingers from you. The feeling of emptiness made you whimper as your ass tried to squeeze around nothing. Though you were nowhere near as loose as he normally made you.

He finally released you to take off his pants and free his cock. It stood proud, just as long, fat, and monstrous as always.

The way he looked down at you sent a chill down your spine. It was like he was picking you apart with his eyes. Like he could see your every weakness and desire, and he was looking for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

You averted your eyes for only a moment and in a flash he settled between your legs. One leg by his waist and the other he pulled up to his shoulder, giving himself the perfect angle to dive in.

He wavered for a moment, a moment of clarity in his lust. He leaned in close to you, close enough where you could feel his ragged breath dance on your skin. “Tell me to stop.” You could hear the slight tremble in his voice. If you asked him to stop he would. You know he would. However, stopping is not an option today. Not for either of you.

“Fuck Quincy. I need you.” Your voice was breathy but clear. It made his heart race and his mind go foggy.

Slowly but firmly he pushed his cock into your tight ass. He felt so much bigger than usual because of the little amount of prep. You almost screamed when he finally bottomed out. His chest heaved as he made himself go slow. The steady rocking of his hips became faster and harder until he was slamming into you like a beast in rut.

Grunts and moans filled the room, as did the sound of skin slapping. He grabbed your cock and started pumping. The growl that he gave when the stimulation made you tighten on his dick almost made you cum.

“Ah-aah Q-Quincy!” You weren't going to last much longer. Not when Quincy is looking at you with that hunger in his eye. Like he would wreck anything or anyone if it got between you and him. Maybe you were his prey, but more than that you were his.

Every moan and mewl you made just made him harder and further fed his primal urges. He didn't even try to stop himself from sinking his teeth into your neck, right under your jawline. Leaving behind a clear mark, a claim that couldn't be hidden by clothes.

“F-fuck, I'm gonna- nnnnh-” Your back arched as you cum hard onto your chest and stomach. He continues to jerk you off as he fucks you, making your head swim and sparking your skin with overstimulation.

With a final hard thrust he releases his cum deep inside your guts, painting your insides white. He let out a grunt as he filled you up.

As you both catch your breath he looks at you with such a desire that you haven seen before. Your head and heart were filled with emotions you couldn't hope to name but they were welcome nonetheless.

He pressed his large frame against you so you could feel the vibration of his voice. Low and sultry. “Mine.” Without warning he started moving his hips again. You were already seeing stars from the pleasure but this was overwhelming.

You don't know how many times you had cum, but Quincy never stopped. Not until your ass was overflowing and dripping with his hot thick cum. The only reason he stopped was because he could see you fighting true exhaustion and losing. Struggling to simply keep your eyes open even with him pounding you into the mattress.

When he did pull out your ass hole gaped, still remembering the shape of his cock. The cum that dropped onto your skin soon turned cold in the open air. You couldn't bother moving or cleaning up though and let yourself fall into sweet unconsciousness.

Quincy watched over you for a little while as you fell asleep. He still had the stamina to continue, but what was the point if you couldn't look him in the eye as he marked his claim on you. After he watched your breathing steady and your expression shift from an exhausted ecstasy to a peaceful contentment he let out a sigh and got to work.

It was uncomfortably warm when you woke up. Like you were sleeping just a foot away from a fire pit. You tried to move but quickly found you were being held in place. Behind you Quincy held you in a bear trap like grip. The more you squirmed to get up the tighter his arms coiled around you. Still, he was conscious enough not to squeeze too tight.

“Quincy, let me up. I'm dirty..” you try and nudge him awake but he just grunts in response. “Quincy…”

“Go back to sleep. You're fine.” He grumbled with no intention of letting you go. After everything he did last night his heart aches at the idea of you not being in his arms or surrounded by him. A feeling that was contrasted by the guilt he had for being rougher with you than he wanted.

His disgruntled comment was right though. Your skin was clean and dry, all except for between your ass cheeks. You also became acutely aware of the bite marks and hickeys that covered every inch of your exposed skin. Not that Quincy was much better, his skin littered with red scratches and a few hickeys of his own. The events of last night fully dawned on you and made your heart race again. Flashes of feral Quincy filled your mind. He was daunting and devoted, scary yet tender. You naively thought he was tame but never truly got to peek at his wild side until now.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his nose brushing against a particularly sensitive bite and making you shiver.

“Rest. We will get up later.” His voice was back to its normal soft tone. So different from the primal growl in his voice last night. Hopefully you'll get to hear that voice again soon, but for now it's best not to fight him and just enjoy the quiet comfort he brings.

[stuckinhell102]

Yhwach headcannons

He deserves some love too!

SFW

I think that it would be really hard to make him fall for you.Not as hard as Aizen but still.If you managed to get ahold of his heart you are rather lucky.

Though he is still the dominant one on the relationship.

I think that his love language is quality time.I can imagine him putting his s/o on his lap while he just sits in that empty room.

His lover must be someone strong and independent and has to agree with most of his ideals.

He also wants a partner with proper manners,you don't have to be perfect in bonton or something but some basic manners are unnecessary.

If you play with his mustaches he might get annoyed but depending on his mood he might let you play with them.

[lysa1201-saucy]

💕 REQUESTS OPEN 💕 18+ ONLY 💕

Trying to get in the groove of writing NSFW again, sooo send some requests! No promises I can do all, it depends on which ones I REALLY like and get into!!!

I don’t kink shame, I’m open to most, but I WILL NOT DO includes incest, rape/non-con, beastiality (that doesn’t include humanoids. so like catgirls, catboys, hybrid shit i’m cool with), and I’ll figure out the rest when I get there lol

FANDOMS I’M COOL WITH AND CHARACTERS!

✨ = most confident in

💢 = not as confident in

Obey Me:

Lucifer ✨

Mammon 💢

Leviathan ✨

Satan ✨

Asmodeus ✨

Beelzebub 💢

Belphegor ✨

Diavolo

Barbatos

Solomon ✨

Simeon 💢

Dangerous Fellows:

Lawrence ✨

Ethan ✨

Harry ✨

Zion 💢

Mystic Messenger:

Jumin Han ✨

Jaehee Kang

Yoosung Kim 💢

Zen/Hyun Ryu

Saeyoung Choi ✨

Spy x Family:

Loid Forger

Yor Briar/Forger 💢

NU: Carnival:

Eiden

Kuya

Quincy ✨

Aster 💢

Morvay 💢

Yakumo

Olivine ✨

Blade

Dante 💢

Edmond ✨

Resident Evil:

Leon Kennedy ✨

Claire Redfield 💢

Luis Serra

Ashley Graham 💢

Ada Wong

Chris Redfield 💢

[punks-never-die205]

Captured

fem!reader x Eustass Kid (+the whole crew)

6,705 words

Summary: You wanted to try consensual non-consent and decide to role-play having been captured by the crew. Poor helpless islander you is going to be the captain's meal - but not before the crew preps you.

CW: CNC (obviously), role-play, degradation - LOTS of degradation, cum play, oral given, fingering received, anal oral received, double penetration, spanking, begging, group sex, bondage, blind-fold, nipple clamps, forced orgasms, tickle torture, sex on the deck, toe-sucking, mdni

Captured.

Your hands and arms are bound with coarse rope, and the blindfold over your eyes is secured with more rope. Passed roughly between calloused hands, you can hear little more than lecherous jeers and japes. Tugged and tossed and shoved you barely knew which way was up.

Eventually your clothes could take no more and the first resounding rip was like blood in the water for a pack of sharks. Greedy hands tore more and more, and despite how you moved or how you begged they continued, until there was nothing left but shreds hanging from the ropes that held your arms snugly behind your back.

Hands steadied you as more forced your legs into a wide stance. When you brought your knees together the hands shifted, forcing your legs wide by your thighs and denying you any ability to hide your pussy.

“No!” You cry, trying to close your legs.

“Aw, what a sweet, shy thing you are.” Says a voice by your ear. “It’s a shame to hide such beauty.” A hand cups your face, tilting your sightless gaze back. “You should thank us.”

You shake your head, bucking against the hands holding you. “N-no! Let… let me go, please.” You say it in a small voice, the embarrassment of being expose already rushing blood through you.

“Certainly, sweet miss.” The voice by your ear promises. Rough hands on your side make you jump. “Once the captain shows you all the ways you’re beautiful, I promise.”

You can’t help the shiver that rolls through you and the men around you chuckle.

“Alright lads, prep this fresh whore for the cap’n!” The voice yells and you yelp as the greedy hands from earlier return.

You can’t track the number of hands on you, but they steer clear of your privates for a long while. Instead they seem content enough to rub and scratch your legs and thighs, making you jerk from fleeting ticklish sensations. The teasing takes a turn when you kick, someone’s fingers at the sole of your foot having tickled you.

“Oh, that’s how it is, eh?”

“No! No I’m sorry, it tickled, I didn’t-!” Your words shatter into a squeal as you are held firmly and tickled. Your screeching laughter overpowers the jeers of your captors, and you thrash uselessly as they tickle your feet, the backs of your legs, your sides, and your neck.

You can’t hardly breathe from laughter, and they give you only the barest moments to catch your breath enough that you don’t pass out. You can hear them teasing you, but it’s impossible to know what they’re saying over the sounds of your own gasping laughter.

“Listen to this bitch enjoying herself!” A harsh voice like gravel and velvet cuts through everything else and they grant you a moment to catch your breath. It must be the captain for them to calm down so much. You’re panting, sagged in the hands holding you, shivering from the anticipation of whatever is going to happen next.

“Already into it, new blood?” He questions and you know he’s addressing you even if you can’t see him.

You shake your head. “Please, please just…. Let me go.”

“Heh. We’re in the middle of the sea, little toy. You want me to throw you overboard?” His voice is quieter and you can feel him looming over you.

“Please, I -.” His laugh interrupts you and you bite your lower lip.

“Begging to be tossed.” His tone is incredulous. “Problem is, I don’t chuck fresh meat until I’ve had my fill.” You feel cold metal against your stomach and jerk from the sensation. He gives you a moment to settle before moving the cold metal digit up your stomach and between your breasts.

“Hmmm… Wire, eat this whore’s ass.”

“What?” You question, not sure you heard him right.

“Aye aye boss.”

“Bubblegum, you got long fingers, work that tight cunt, but just a little.” The captain grabs your face, at least you think it’s him, turning you this way and that. “I don’t want to split this mini roast in half, but I do want to hear her beg.”

“Happily, boss.”

He squeezes your face until you open your mouth, and then spits in it.

“Anyone who wants can keep tickling her while the others work. No reason for her not to enjoy the prep.” The dark chuckles skitter through the crew and you whimper.

“Once she cums or passes out, she’s mine.” He commands and you hear the heavy boot falls as he walks away.

You’re lifted into the air with ease.

“No! Wait, please, don’t-ahhmphgh!” Fingers in your mouth garble your words as you’re made to understand there’s no room for your protests. Hands hold you in position and a thick wet tongue licks a stripe along the curve of your ass. You buck and cry out before big hands grab your cheeks and spread them open.

You protest against the fingers in your mouth but there’s no stopping the tongue that presses against your asshole. Groaning, you whimper as you can’t stop him from pushing past the tight ring of muscles. Wet and slick and naturally tapered he pushes into your ass easily.

Saliva lubricates the way as he stretches you open. It feels so weird, and so good, you can’t muffle the pleasurable edges of the next garbled sound that leaves you. The noise is an invitation to the other one, and when fingers spread your labia you buck and try to move away.

Wire’s hands grab your thighs, pulling your legs wide and pressing you against his mouth. Other hands steadied you, but his grip made it impossible to get away from the finger teasing slow circles against the entrance of your vagina.

The fingers in your mouth press in deep, making you gag on them for a second before they ease up. Just as you’re able to clear your throat, one of Bubblegum’s fingers push into your pussy. You suck in a breath of surprise.

“Fuck, she’s soaked.” Comes, you think, Bubblegum’s voice. “Look at this, it’s practically a rope of slick.” He says, pulling his finger out.

There’s a scattered murmur of agreement among those gathered that you were the neediest fresh roast they’ve ever prepped for the boss’ meal.

“What a proper slut you’ll make.” Came the voice that spoke to you at the start. “Do it proper Bubblegum.”

“Of course, Killer.” He says, pressing to fingers against your sopping hole and slowly working them in. “Me an’ Wire will make her cream real good before she passes out.”

The hands on you tightened as his fingers pushed deeper and deeper. A rough hand on your hair has your head supported and immobile.

“Deep breath, little whore, we don’t want you to pass out too soon.” Killer instructs and you find yourself breathing deep. “There’s a good girl.”

Wire’s tongue makes you grunt at a surprising rush of pleasure, and Bubblegum’s fingers twist and scissor inside you, teasing sweet spots as he slowly eases you open. You’re already giggling, the pleasure is going to make it worse and you know it’s coming, and the nerves are already dancing through you.

You can’t do anything except tense when they start tickling you, so well are you held in place that all you can do is tense and scream. The first rush breaks and you’re laughing, gasping, and screaming for them to stop.

“Gods! Fucking no! Stop! Stop! Gods-dammit I - hahahahaha, no I can’t - hahahahaha!!” Bubblegum’s thumb presses against your clit and you moan loudly nearly cumming before devolving into laughter again. It’s everything you have to breathe, you can’t defend against the sensations slamming into you.

Someone grabs your left tit and there’s a sharp sting as a clamp is set on your nipple. You scream, but it’s more laughing pleasure than pain and then someone grabs your right tit roughly.

“No don’t!” You beg as the clamp is set on your other nipple. “Fffffffffuuuuuuuuuuck, hahahahhaha!”

Swears dot the laughter, and those are only broken by big gasping gulps of air as you breathe in desperately. Every time you think you’re going to finally peak and orgasm and end this, someone tugs on the nipple clamps and the jolt pulls you away from the edge.

Bubblegum is teasing your clit relentlessly, his fingers messing with the tender spots inside you as Wire seems intent on reaching your stomach with his tongue. You can’t comprehend how long it feels like it is, it has to be an impossible length. You can’t focus on either enough between the tickling and random tugs at your tits.

“When she cums I’m going to pull these off.”

“No!!”

“Oh she’s all for it,” comes the laughing response.

“No! Do-aaaaahahahahahaha-Don’t!”

“Oh but you’re so close.”

“No! Please, no I -.”

“She throbbed on my fingers when you said it,” Bubblegum says. “I bet she’s just being shy.”

“I’m not, I’m not, I’m - fuck, fuck!” You can’t feel the tickling as the orgasm has built up and pushed everything else aside. The edging had made the newest swell impossible to ignore. “No, no, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, no!” You cry as the inevitable pleasure crests and slams into you.

The guttural pleasure ripped from your lips turns into a bellow as the clamps are pulled off your nipples. The rush of blood back into them is all pins and needles and you’re sputtering and spitting as you cum through the prickling pain, your desperate pleasure splashing down Bubblegum’s arm.

“Fuck yeah, look at that.” He says, pulling his long fingers out of your trembling cunt. “She really liked it.”

You can’t do anything except sob as Wire’s tongue wiggles out of your ass. The entire thing was too much and you can’t even find the energy to deny Bubblegum’s words.

Hands move you, with a little more care than before, and you’re shuffled into someone’s arms. The din of the  crowd fades as you’re carried into a different area.

“Hey Little One,” Killer says softly and you realize you’re in the hall leading to the workshop. “How’re you holding up?”

“I think Wire was trying to reach my brains.” You reply quietly, a soft huff of laughter escaping you. “That was intense though.”

“Yeah, we didn’t hold back much. You good? Round two’s coming up.”

You nod. “Y-yeah. I’m good.”

Killer grunts. “Shivering in anticipation?”

“Lil’ fear.” You admit, licking your lips. “Bubbles made me squirt, and…”

“If he can do that, what’s Kid gonna do?” Killer hums and you nod.

You hear a door open and Killer’s tone changes. “Whatever the fuck he wants, whore.”

Killer tosses you, and you weren’t expecting it. You yelp in surprise, landing heavy on something soft. Soft was rare in the workshop, so either Killer had taken you to the captain’s quarters, or Kid had set up something for you.

Still bound and blindfolded the space was quiet after Killer left. You shifted, moving enough to sit yourself up. The soft thing you’d landed on was Kid’s coat, and the fact made you throb a bit. Getting such gentle treatment in the middle of such a rough session was a subtle reminder of how safe you really were.

No matter what was going to happen.

The silence dragged on, and for a moment you’re starting to wonder if you aren’t alone in the room. Kid often smells like the workshop, but as you’re currently in the shop it’s hard to say what’s it and what’s him. The heavy boot falls earlier were also for show.

Kid could be deadly quiet when he wanted.

On your knees, you start to stand and his voice halts you.

“Stay.” He grunts, and you do, kneeling back down on the coat. “Heh, the boys prepped you good. Doin’ as yer told all meek and shit.”

You can feel the blood rush through you, but arguing now would be useless.

“Spread those knees apart and lean your head back,” he commands. You hesitate, but just for a second, and spread your knees apart, tilting your head back so your nose is pointed toward the ceiling.

“Look it you being a good slut. Fuck that’s hot.” His flesh hand grips your hair roughly, holding you in place. “Open those cock-sucking lips, and take what I give you.”

You shake your head as much as you can in the tight grip. The bitter smear of precum coats your lips as his cock presses against your lips.

“Either I cum in your mouth, or I’m going to make sure it shoots up your nose. All you’ll smell and taste for a month is my cum.” He says it evenly, like he’s giving you a choice between cake or pie. “Your call.”

You consider pushing the line, but of the things you’re willing to risk, having cum instead of snot in your nose is not one of them. You open your mouth and hear Kid chuckle.

“Smart choice. Now stick out your tongue, I want to see you being eager for this.” He commands, a breathlessness to his voice.

You stick out your tongue and no sooner than you do he pushes the head of his cock into your mouth. He only pushes about halfway in before you start to choke, and he pulls back, letting you breathe before forcing it deeper. He pulls back again, letting you sputter and breathe before pushing in deep again. You’ve never deep throated him, but you’re getting a crash course. Once more and you can feel your nose get buried in his pubes.

He holds you there for a long moment, hissing a swear as you squirm and gag against the thick length. He lets you up enough that you can breathe and pulls you back down, slamming his cock down the back of your throat in a few dizzying pumps. It’s all you can do to breathe until he holds you against his pubic hair once more for a second.

He pulls you back again, pulling the blindfold off before cumming on your face while you’re still coughing and gasping. The blindfold is off, but with thick globs of cum on your face you can’t open your eyes. Even if he hadn’t done so, you could barely see through the thick tears from choking on his cock.

Kid smears all the tears, snot and cum on your face, before he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is heavy and demanding and you grunt and squirm, but he doesn’t relent until his tongue’s fucking your throat the way his cock had been a minute ago.

When he lets go you collapse into the coat, coughing and gasping. There’s no pleasure in the actions, but you’re still turned on by the rough treatment. You’d wanted him and the crew to honestly use you, and Killer was right - no one was holding back.

Especially not Kid.

“You’re a tough little cut of meat.” He muses, walking around the workshop. Your eyes are still gummy and you don’t want to force them open, so you’re not exactly where he is. “I think I’ll put you in the cradle.”

“… the what?” You had a sudden image of being forced into a diaper and you weren’t sure that was really something you were okay with in this context. He knew how to push you to the edges of your capacity, but this was maybe the wrong edge.

“A nice rig that will put your ankles above your head, but also cradle you so you can watch my cock split your sweet little cunt open.” You can hear the grin in his voice as he moves around. “Or maybe I’ll just fuck your ass until you’re shitting spooge for a week.”

You get to your feet slowly. There was no one to really go, but the tone in his voice made you want to run. It was objectively a bad idea - well, bad in the sense that once Kid caught you the tenor of the evening could shift.

A hand around your throat, and a body at your back nearly makes you screech. You had no sense of Kid being behind you, but he held you in place easily.

“Leaving already?” He questions and you can’t nod or shake your head. Instead you just stay still in his hold. His fingers tighten against your throat for a moment, before he leans you over and smacks your ass. You yelp, squirming as he lands a second smack on the other cheek. Crying out again you try to twist away from the sting.

Kid holds you in place easily, spanking each cheek with whip-like snaps of his hand over and over until your ass was hot, red, and swollen and you were begging him to stop.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Stop, please! I- hnnngh!” Kid’s thick finger presses into your vagina and your legs almost buckle.

“You really are a twisted little slut.” He muses, fucking his finger in and out of you a few times before he grabs the ropes at your arms and lifts you up.

Kid sets you in the rig he mentioned earlier. He’s fast, and you’re not going to give him a hard time with the fresh sting still throbbing against your ass, so it only takes a couple minutes for you to be secured in place. There’s a moment of quiet and then a warm rag on your face as he cleans up the mess around your eyes.

“I want you to see this,” he grins as you blink up at him blearily. Kid is fully clothed. All he’s missing are the belts, and his pants are open. He gives your eyes a moment to adjust before he taps his cock against your clit.

You feel your stomach drop. This is a session. It is one hundred percent sex with someone who you have already had sex with before. As much as you’d handed over your “rights” in this session, you weren’t actually captured by big bad evil terrible pirates.

And yet, somehow, Kid’s cock looked impossibly large. Whether you had sunk into the session itself too far to really hold onto the fact that you’d taken that beast before, or if you were simply nervous because of your current immobility, you weren’t sure.

“That’s - that’s not gonna fit.” You say it with enough conviction that Kid almost laughs.

Illustration of The Cradle

He rubs it against your slit, teasing your clit with the weight of it. “Oh, it’ll fit.” He leans in a little, spreading your labia and really rutting his cock into your folds. You can’t stifle the gasp of pleasure from the pressure against your clit.

“Needy whore like you, you’re gonna take it all.” He assures you.

“I’m not…” You bite your lip as your toes flex.

“Not what?” Kid’s finger is under your chin, pulling your gaze up to his eyes and away from the eldritch demon he’s rubbing into your clit.

“A.. A…” You can feel the heat rushing to your face, and the grin on Kid’s face says he can see the embarrassment radiating off you. “Needy whore.” You manage, but it feels like a lie, and you look away from him.

“Uh huh.” He scoffs, reaching out and teasing your nipples. You gasp, the cold from his metal hand catching you off-guard. His touch is so precise with his prosthetic that you often forget it’s cold as sin.

He plays with your tits until you’re panting, feet and toes squirming, arms shifting behind your back, making the ropes groan. You can’t move enough to get away from it, and Kid is exacting and relentless. Biting back a moan you stop yourself from begging - you can’t. You just got done saying you weren’t needy.

“I’ll believe you,” Kid says, rutting against your clit again while he keeps teasing your nipples. “If you can endure this without moaning like a needy whore.”

You start to speak, ready to accept his terms, but as soon as you open your mouth Kid twists your nipples and really grinds into your clit. He doesn’t twist them harshly, but the added stimulation is enough to shatter your word into a rough moan.

“Heh.”

You can feel the heat from your face down to your shoulders. This utter bastard.

“Don’t worry, mouse.” He says, causing you to look up at him. It’s the first time anyone’s used your usual nickname since the session started. “You’re my favorite needy whore.”

He puts his hands on your ankles, pressing the head of his cock against your cunt. He’s not pushing in enough to enter you, but it won’t take much. He presses in and eases off, letting the pressure tease you while he grins down at you.

“Mine.” He reiterates, shifting his eyes down before looking back at you. “Watch it.” He commands, and your eyes shift down to his cock pressed against you. “Keep your eyes on it, and watch how well you take all of me.” He huffs the words, pushing in with enough force to finally start entering you.

The stretch seems more than usual, and you remember that Bubblegum barely prepped you compared to how Kid usually did. Kid eases back a little when your breath starts coming out faster and then pushes in again, working himself in slowly.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “Fuck you’re tight. Little slut’s really into this, huh?”

You shake your head. “Yeah,” you moan and Kid laughs.

“Conflicted much?” He says it like a question, but he’s not expecting an answer, pushing in further. “Almost there. Told ya’.” Kid’s hands tighten against your ankles a little as he pushes completely inside you. Moaning he rolls his hips and presses into you, barely moving and just bullying his cock in as deep as he can.

“N-no, wait, wait - Kid!” You gasp, your body shaking as the pleasure rushes up inside you so unexpectedly you’re breaking character. “Cum! I’m gonna cum!”

Kid grins as he continues to do what he’s been doing, leaving you to shiver and gasp beneath him. The orgasm hits you hard and the whorish scream ripped from you devolves into a growl. He’s still pressing into you, making the same deep, slow movements that threw you over the edge so quickly, and it keeps sending jolts through you.

“Wai— wait! I’m gonna, you’re gonna- oh gods it won’t stooooop!” You cry, shuddering against the cradle as it keeps you securely in place.

“Gonna cum again?” He muses, keeping the same pace. “Let’s see how many times you can cum like this. Never tenderized a fresh piece like this before, I’m curious.”

“M’not — Nnnnngh! —  fresh!” You gasp, shaking your head as the second orgasm begins to claw it’s way into you. “Gods, fuck, oh hells, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swear as you cum again, gasping and sucking in big heaving breaths.

“Oh you are for this.” Kid asserts, still not letting up. “Come on, sweetheart, one more. Just give me one more. I won’t force more than three out of you this time.”

“Can’t, I can’t,” you gasp, tears running down your cheeks. “Holy fuck hells,” you sob as Kid continues. Despite all your protesting and swearing you aren’t using your safe words, and his eyes are on you. He’s so focused on you that the ship could be sinking and Killer would need to bodily tackle him to get his attention.

“Yeah you can. One more,” he grins as you nod, managing little more than a babbled sob in response. “Good girl.”

You shake your head as your body goes taut again. Kid’s hands hold onto your feet, keeping your toes from curling as you cum, more immobile than you’ve ever been before. You make some incoherent and odd sounds, too addled from the back to back to back orgasms to manage anything else.

The pleasure is intense, addicting, and overwhelming. It’s his presence alone that makes it something you can be swept away by, instead of something to fear. Even if it overwhelms you, you know that Kid will keep you safe.

He has mercy as promised, and slowly pulls out of your trembling cunt. The empty feeling pulls a whimper from you and he grins, hand against the side of your face.

“Shhh, there you go. I got you.” His voice is soothing, and the caress is grounding. “You did good, mouse.”

“You… you didn’t,” your voice is shaky, the ropes against your skin are sending shivers through you, you’re still on edge so much.

“Hm? Oh, don’t worry.” He pats your face. “Take a moment, fresh meat, I’ll fill you up plenty.” He assures you, running his hands over your feet, legs and hips. “Need a change of position?”

You wiggle your toes and flex your fingers and take a moment to check on your pieces and parts as you slowly come down. You shake your head.

“I can stay like this.”

Kid’s smile turns devious and he grabs onto the cradle. “Good.” He steps on something and there’s a clunk that shakes the whole rig. He pushes and it starts rolling.

“What - wait, where are we going?”

“Back out on the deck. The crew did such a good job prepping you, little roast, they deserve to enjoy the feast.” He explains, opening the doors and pushing you out into the hall.

“I… I can’t take them all.” You’re back into your role, but you’re also being serious.

Kid only looks down at you and you swallow hard. You can use your word if you start to ache, and you don’t think he’d leave you to such an ordeal without keeping a close eye on you. You were, after all, just playing at being fresh meat.

You shift in the rig, struggling against the ropes. You’re not blindfolded anymore, you’re going to be able to see everyone watching you. It’s not going to be just the feel of the sun on you’re bare skin, but the heat of everyone’s desires on you.

The crew erupts in cheers when you come out onto the deck. Somehow their exuberance makes it more embarrassing.

“Seems a shame to let Wire’s hard work go to waste.” Kid says, catching something that Heat tosses him. “And I did just promise to fill your ass so full you’ll be shitting cum for a week.” He squirts thick lube onto his cock, before sticking the applicator in your ass and squeezing.

“Cold!” You gasp, squirming against the rig. Chuckles ripple through the crowd as Kid pushes into your ass with the crew all around. Even with the lube he works in carefully, and the consideration makes it feel good. You can’t keep quiet, between the stretch, the squelch, the pleasure and the attention, you’re too turned on.

“Listen to that whoresong.” You hear someone murmur.

“Ah, she tightened up at that.” Kid sneers, pressing his thumb into your clit. “Don’t try to hold back now.” He warns, rolling his thumb, teasing your clit as he works his way into your ass.

“Please!” You gasp, eyes darting around to the crew. Most had their cocks in their hands, eyes plastered to the show.

“Ah, right, you’re a needy whore.” Kid muses. “Killer, undo the cradle. Let’s get her hands free so she can show her appreciation for all our hard work.”

Killer cuts the ropes from your arms, and then unlatches the part of the rig keeping you facing Kid. He leans you back slowly after you unfold your arms, and now you’re laying on your back, your legs still tied in place as Kid pushes flush against your ass.

You moan sweetly from the sensations and two people grab your wrists. Wire and Killer put your hand on their hard cocks and you begin stroking them before they can even demand it of you. Killer calls you a good whore and Wire calls you a useful slut and you nearly cum from it. Heat comes up by your face and presses his cock against your cheek.

“Just lick it,” he says. “I’m sure a hungry thing like you wants to choke on it, but we wanna hear you moan.”

You lick, grateful to have something you can focus on while surrounded by the crew like this.

“The rules are simple!” Kid barks, addressing the crew. “Whether this whore gets you off or you handle it yer self, you cum on the meat. This fresh bitch is desperate to be properly dressed.”

“Aye, Aye Boss!!” Comes the resounding chorus.

Kid fucks your ass while you jerk off Killer and Wire, licking and kissing Heat’s cock. You can hear the musings and murmurs of the rest of the crew while you moan against Heat.

“Fuck, it’s too hot.” UK swears, coming over to you. Heat steps back and holds your head, making you watch as UK cums across your breasts.

“Say thank you-.” Kid begins to demand, but the entire situation crashes in on you and you moan loudly, cumming against Kid’s cock. He stutters and then slams into you roughly a couple times, cock twitching as he fills your ass. “Fucking hells,” he laughs, the rest of the crew sharing his amusement. “You really are a needy whore.”

“Thank you,” you sigh and hear a couple people call you a good girl.

“UK, get that strap for me.” Kid orders. You hear the words, but don’t really register them, too focused on sharing the warm haze of pleasure with those around you.

Wire cums next, coating your belly. He steps back and Reck takes his place at your hand. Heat doesn’t take much longer and he decides to have you swallow it. Kid says they can worry about stuffing you after you’re coated, but before someone can take Heat’s place UK comes back.

He hands Kid what looks like a strap on, and sure enough it is. Kid pulls out of your ass and puts it on. The strap is in the top position, and Heat helps you watch as Kid pushes back into you, the strap filling your cunt and Kid’s cock bullying back into your ass.

“Gods, fuck!” You swear as you’re filled up nicely. The strap is small, comparatively, but with both it and Kid in you, you feel intensely full. “Hnnngh, please, oh shit.”

“Heh, you don’t even know what your begging for.” Kid grins, setting a slow and steady pace, making you shiver and twitch.

Quincy comes up and takes Heat’s place. She straddles the rig with a little help from Killer, her dripping pussy over your face.

“You can scream into it,” she explains, before sitting on your face. Quincy holds onto your head and grinds into your mouth, easing up just often enough to let you breathe.

You can hear Kid saying something, and a moment later Killer leaves your hand and you feel the warmth of his cum splash against your stomach. Someone else’s cock is in your hand and you fall into a rhythm, stroking two cocks while you lick and nuzzle into Quincy’s cunt, all while Kid fucks you. The steady pace of his begins to pick up and you grunt into Quincy, moaning and gasping heavier when she lets you breathe.

She lifts up for a bit and tilts to look down at you.

“Deep breath, lil’ roast.” She commands and you take a deep breath. As soon as Quincy presses back into your face something presses against your clit and immediately vibrates.

Powerfully.

You scream into her pussy and she grinds into you. You can feel yourself heading toward your own orgasm, but Quincy gets there first. A rough grip of your hair and a satisfied swear are the only indications she’s cum on your face - you were already too covered and smeared with slick and juice to register a difference.

She leans back, a warm smile on her face, as she looks down at you. “Boss, I wanna stay here for a minute.”

“Heh, sure. Enjoy the front row seat while I make this bitch cream.”

Reck and the other crew member you can’t see with Quincy in the way, hold onto your hands and thrust into your palms, relieving you of the need to think about stroking them while you came closer and closer to your orgasm. Quincy ruts her pussy into your collarbone as you moan and whine.

“You’re so cute like this,” she grins, and you realize there’s a collection of crew mates gathered around, some with their cocks in their hands, but most just watching your face. “You were begging earlier, screaming from those clamps, but now it’s just gonna be pure pleasure.”

“Can’t wait to see all your different orgasm faces.” Boogie says, looking at you from over Quincy’s shoulder.

“Don’t, don’t look!” You gasp, trying to pull your hands away. Neither of them let go, and instead you’re trapped.

“Fuck she begs so good.”

“Quince,” Jaguar’s voice is heavy and husky. “I might get you.”

“S’alright, but let her cum first.”

“Y-yeah.” The large man stands nearby, stroking his cock with a glassy look on his face.

“Shit, shit shit shit,” you swear as the crescendo reaches its peak. Your body tenses and you hear Kid swear before he turns up the vibrator and slams heavily into you, shaking the rig. Your soundless expression shatters and you cry out. The sweet cry turns into a toe-curling moan as Kid forces you to ride it out, emptying another load into your ass.

“Fuckin’ hells.” Jaguar growls, unable to hold back. Quincy tells you to keep your eyes closed and a second later he cums on your face, the spend falling into your mouth as you’re still moaning from the orgasm. Kid moves the vibrator away and you start to come down from the high. You hear Reck swear and he coats your hand in cum before the other crew member pulls free and cums on your leg.

Quincy gets off you and Hip comes over and cleans the cum away from your eyes before grabbing your cheeks and kissing you. You have no idea whose cocks are in your hands, but they’re fucking your palms instead of expecting you to stroke them while Hip makes out with you.

“Hip that’s hot as hell.” Jaguar says as a few others chuckle.

“I wanna suck on her toes.” You aren’t sure whose asking, you’re too addled from all the orgasms since the session started.

“Sure. Anyone wants to suckle those sweet tits can too.” Kid says. He’s slowly moving his hips, taking a break as he recovers. “Kill, get House ready, Heat keep an eye on the lil’ roast. She might pass out from this, but I want to avoid that.”

“Aye boss.”

“We’re gonna break you, little roast.” Kid says, speaking loud enough to cut through your haze. Hip leans back, and makes sure you’re hearing the captain. “You won’t be able to find satisfaction anywhere else, once we’re done.”

“Oh gods,” you swear as someone’s lips wrap around your toes, their tongue licking everywhere. You want to pull your foot away, but your legs are tied to the rig.

“I’ll get the other foot.” Compo says, and you squirm.

“N-no, don’t - fuck, it feels so weird!” You cry as Compo’s lips wrap around your other set of toes. “It’s too much!”

Hop and Emma step up on either side of you, each grabbing a tit and holding it in place before leaning down and teasing your nipple. They kiss, lick, and nibble on the hard nub and the guys fucking into your hands have to work to hold you in place as you thrash against the stimulation.

“She’s so sensitive.” Hop muses before sucking on your tit and making you moan. “I’m kind of jealous.”

“Fuck she’s squirmin’ so much I don’t even hafta move.” Kid muses. “Bringing me back to life like you can’t live without my cock inside you, slut.”

“Can’t, I can’t!” you sob, letting out a musically salacious cry. “I need it, I need it - fuck - fuck me please, please! L-let me be you-you’re good whore, please!”

“That’s my girl!” Kid laughs, putting his hands on your hips and pulling almost completely out of you before thrusting back in harshly. You moan as he hilts inside you, and he repeats the action, ripping another heavy groan out of you.

He picks up his pace, slamming into your over and over, pushing the air and sense out of your body. You’re trembling from the bruising thrusts as much as you are the teasing of your tits and the splatter of cum across your neck. You’ve never been so soaked in spend like this before and the entire thing is deliriously hot.

Broken concepts dance in your mind, coherent thoughts shattered by the pleasure that fogs your very sense of self. You were his lover, his toy, his newest conquest, his slave, his best friend - everything from in and outside of the session mingled in your mind and all you were sure of was that you were nearly sated. All the hunger and need and curiosity and desire was coming to a head and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Heat cradles your head as you drool and babble.

“Don’t fight it,” you aren’t sure if he says the words or if you just understand the look on his face. “By the seas, you’re blissed the fuck out right now. Don’t hold back, let it rip you apart and pass through you.”

No one is in your hands as your fingers flex shut tightly. Tears stream down your face as you shake your head and sob. The pleasure is so overwhelming you’re almost afraid of it, but you’re surrounded by people who won’t let you stay drowned, no matter how much it pulls you under.

You relax into the crescendo and scream as the euphoria lights your body on fire. It’s a primal sound, something like a growl and the sort of groan that vibrates your ribs. In any other setting it would sound ridiculous, but now it just marks the lack of control you have as you’re forced to feel so much at once. The shiver in your limbs and the way your body roils despite being tied and held down were all involuntary - there was no control within your grasp.

You lost all sense of time in the thick swell of pleasure. You only know that if you did pass out it wasn’t for long, you could see Heat watching you, and there was no escape from the harsh euphoria as Kid made sure to fuck every twitch and whimper out of you before finally showing mercy.

Using the Cradle’s design, Heat raises the backboard up just enough to sit you up a little as Kid pulls free from your throbbing holes. There’s a proud smile on his face, and he caresses your cheek with his hand.

“Good job, Mouse.” He says, bringing your hazy gaze toward his eyes gently.

“Good job, Mouse.” You murmur in response. You want him to know you’re at least conscious, but you can’t think of any other words at the moment and so you just repeat what he’s said.

“You’re really out of it,” he says with a soft chuckle. Compo and someone else undo the binds at your ankles, rubbing your legs and slowly bringing them down.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you.” Kid promises, pulling you into his arms and cradling you against his chest. “You did real good.”

“Did good.” You repeat, giving him an exhausted smile.

“Yeah.” He kisses your forehead moving away from the crew as they get to work cleaning and breaking down the session.

Kid took you to his private bath, cleaning you up carefully and checking in on you as you slowly came back to your senses. He reassured you that you weren’t just a piece of meat, and that he loved you in so many different ways.

Aftercare was the only time he used that word, and it was the only time you said it back.

[fickleduster]

✧. ┊   Random Thirst, lmao

※ bottom.sub, amab.reader ➤ cw: dacryphilia, overstim/dumbification, rimming, hand holding 😳, sum petnames, meanies I tell ya, I wrote this intoxicated so do with that what you will

Like the most adoring boyfriend that he was, he saw you as nothing short of a masterpiece, the most perfect boy he could ever lay his eyes on.

— Correction, hands.

And he made sure that you knew, too, (even if this sentiment isn't quite 'hidden',) he always found ways of showing his adoration with his hands; be it mindlessly tracing your skin or holding your own hand at every opportunity given, he had done so and much more.

"Stay still, baby."

... Even as he's eating you out, he has a hand intertwined with yours, with the other gently squishing your plush thigh.

Having you squirm under his mouth, legs locked on his head, and unabashedly moaning as if no one would hear... Without much said, it's obvious that he relished in having you reduced into a puddle; whether by his tongue or his cock, it's his pleasure to be of service for your wonderful body.

Even after what felt like hours since he started lapping at your hole, he had found himself wanting to coax more and more orgasms from your adorable cock. Even as your body's twisting and turning, tightly grasping at the dampening sheets under you, he just couldn't stop. It's just that you tasted so damn good.

You shiver upon hearing his voice, low and warm against your neck, "... Can't you handle a bit more, darling?"

It was then that you pleaded for the first time that evening— pleading that you can't keep cumming so easily from oral alone, pleading for his cock already. He wouldn't be able to stop the mockering chuckle that left his mouth.

That's when his free hand finds it's way to your slick hole, and a finger enters with ease.

Without even so much as a small thrust of his hand, your back had already arched upon a silent scream.

You had came for the nth time that evening.

"That's a good boy."

—

... It's almost animalistic, the sight of him lurching down to your equally sweaty form while he panted, mumbling obscenities with every shallow breath he took.

He could laugh, at how you're barely holding on as he forced your ass up. You're just as a babbling wreck as he was, head thrown back at every single thrust forced into your thoroughly slicked ass, body limp against his tight grip.

This was what you wanted, wasn't it? So why are you crying so damn loud when he forces the third load inside?

➶-͙˚༘���

fushiguro toji, vox akuma, hex haywire, simon "ghost" riley, uzui tengen, chrollo lucilfer, quincy, tartaglia, kamisato ayato

[heartsofminds]

my life is changing every day, in every possible way

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” or It's Halloween, Bradley has a precocious eleven-month-old daughter, and he might be in love with her impromptu babysitter.

A/N: soooo here's a halloween thing that i kind of just threw together? i'm OBSESSED with bradley being a girl dad and just love this little girl i came up with (@gretagerwigsmuse knows that we love quincy in this household). anywho, enjoy some poorly written dadley and this super pointless halloween drabble? hope y'all had a good holiday and am sooo looking forward to writing more of this daddy/daughter duo !

“Whatever it is, Bradshaw, you’re not excused this time.” 

Jake Seresin slams his locker shut and shoves his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. The heel of his boot is kicked up, making a soft “thud” on the hollow metal as he leans his back against it. He crosses his arms to lie in front of his chest and adjusts his watch.

The small wooden bench screwed into the linoleum tile perches Bradley Bradshaw, who sits with his elbows digging into the tops of his thighs and his back aching something awful. He softly grunts before he turns to release some of the pressure there. The resounding crack it makes causes Jake to grimace a little before his face returns to the snarky default position it always seems to have. 

“I’m sorry I’m an adult? And have responsibilities?” Bradley rolls his eyes and traces his index finger around a watermark on the wood next to him. 

He notices his Nalgene water bottle sweating and subconsciously picks it up, using the bottom of his t-shirt to dry the wet spots it left in its wake. Jake and Natasha watch him without his knowledge and share a knowing look with each other, but remain silent. Sometimes it’s hard to determine if Bradley’s behavior is because he’s in a vastly different life stage than they are, or if it’s just a Bradley thing. 

Trying to figure it out makes everyone’s brains hurt so they often just let it be. 

The blonde groans again. “You say it like flying a billion-dollar aircraft every single day isn’t a huge responsibility,” he licks his lips before throwing his head back, “Can you take that huge stick out of your ass for once and let yourself have fun?” 

“I have a baby, shithead. I can’t just stop being a dad to go to a Halloween party.” 

Javy slams his locker shut and prances over to Jake and Natasha. A wrinkle in his eyebrows starts to form as he thinks over Bradley’s statement. He finds himself standing next to Jake; his stance is identical and his bargaining skills are tuned and ready to be used. 

“It’s hardly a party at all, man. It’s a costume, a couple of beers at Pen’s place, and maybe one other bar for like an hour,” he speaks and pats Bradley’s shoulder, “Live a little.” 

Bradley sighs; the puff of air housing a hint of playfulness and a hint of annoyance. He knows he’s already lost and that there is absolutely no way he’s getting out of it this time. And so help him God, he can’t believe he’s thinking this, but maybe what Jake and Javy are saying doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan. 

It would be good for him. It would be good them. It would be good for Quincy, and if any of the parenting magazine articles (that he’s kind of ashamed to have budgeted for paying for the subscriptions, if he’s being honest) had anything to say about it, children thrive when their parents are thriving. 

Besides, Penny and Mav have kinda been on his ass about it. Because yeah, she goes to daycare during the day and yes, she’s technically been around other kids and for sure has had her share of being around adults, but she’s one anxious biting attack away from being kicked out of daycare and all the people Bradley trusts (outside of Miss Charlene at the daycare who is a friend of Penny’s and was his babysitter when he was small) are up in the sky so he’s really running himself dry with options. 

Natasha calls it separation anxiety but Bradley calls it a bond. Which is true, Nat had agreed, but it wasn’t just about Quincy being attached. It was also about Bradley being just as attached, if not more. 

In the eleven months that Quincy Elaine Bradshaw had been on this Earth, Bradley hadn’t left her side for longer than four hours at a time. 

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never really had anyone to call his own before or if it’s a “Papa Bear” thing or if there’s some unexplained biological phenomena that won’t allow him to be away from his daughter without spiraling, but he hardly thinks its a problem. . . .

Except when he leaves on his lunch break to go see her at daycare and she’s in a fit of hysterics whenever his hour break is up and he has to return to work. Or when she’s eleven months old and has never slept by herself in her own room before (which is why his back is so fucked, but he’ll never admit it). Or when she’s biting kids and teachers because she’s so anxious she doesn’t know what to do with herself. 

So, yeah. Maybe it is a problem and maybe the root of it all is guilt. 

He can’t let his daughter out of his sight because he can’t help but feel guilty for raising her the same way he was and giving her a ghost that she never asked for – a parent whose approval she will always seek despite never knowing who that person truly is. 

Something about that makes him feel like he has to make up time for two as a punishment for only being one, and being the one who can’t provide her everything she’ll ever need as a growing girl and eventually as a woman. 

“I don’t know,” he says lamely. He wraps his finger around the loose thread on his t-shirt and pulls it in one fell swoop. 

“Okay, fuck. You need to get out. What do you need?” Natasha pipes up, rolling her eyes before sitting down next to him. 

He raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth to answer but she cuts him off before he can. “What’s it gonna take? Do you need a sitter? A lobotomy? You need to live a little, dude.” 

“Well, we know the sitter’s not the issue. The kid’s cute as shit,” Jake speaks up and Bradley scoffs. 

“She’s so fucking cute,” Javy agrees and Bradley has to hide his grin despite being annoyed. 

He helped make the cutest baby ever. Who wouldn’t be obnoxiously proud about that? 

“Absolutely adorable. People are lining up to babysit her,” Reuben Fitch interrupts and joins the group of aviators which further puts a pin in Bradley’s desire to decline the invitation. Rueben doesn’t involve himself in Jake or Javy’s bullshit very often, but when he does, it’s evident that the idea isn’t absolutely batshit crazy. 

Bradley gives him a playful middle finger before straightening his posture and coming to the realization that maybe Jake was right for once. 

“Yeah.” Holy fucking shit. “Rueben’s wife would put her in her pocket and take her home if you let her.” 

And the golden rule is that if Bob is game for something, then everyone else should be. So now he really has no excuse to not go out on Halloween night because he has the Southern Californian equivalent of the fucking Pope giving his two cents on to why he needs to go. 

Fuck you, Bob Floyd for always being the voice of reason. 

“See? Everyone agrees. You’re the odd one out so it’s only fair,” Jake taunts again. Everyone around Bradley seems to be shaking their head in agreement to which he realizes that he’s stuck and there’s no way he won’t be in attendance to the group’s Halloween plans. 

“But it’s her first Halloween,” he tries to reason, “I can’t leave her alone on her first one.” 

Javy sighs. “She’s not even gonna remember it. Yeah it’s a holiday but she’s not missing out on much. She doesn’t even have teeth yet.” 

Jake laughs sarcastically. “Q-dawg’s been chompin’ away on all of her little daycare friends. Haven’t you heard?” 

Bradley narrows his eyes. “Fuck you! I thought you left the room when I was on the phone with the daycare.” 

“Her business is our business now, Bradshaw. Aren’t we allowed uncle duties?” Reuben teases. Natasha clears her throat to interrupt him. “And aunt duties?”  

“Auntie Nat reigns superior and we all know it, but holy shit. She’s biting people? How is she more badass than her dad?” Nat goads and shoves the back of Bradley’s head playfully. She chuckles at how slow his head pops back up and he mocks her laugh and sticks out his tongue at her. 

“Guys, c’mon. I can’t leave her with a sitter on her first Halloween.” Although he knows he sounds silly (and he feels silly saying it, too), his daughter is his best friend in some ways. Despite her not being able to walk yet and only having a vocabulary of a few words, he can’t help but know how deeply he loves her, and how much everything about her matters to him. 

“Then don’t,” Bob says, “Just bring her to Hard Deck for like an hour and then you can run home, meet the sitter, and then meet us wherever else we decide to go.” 

And sometimes Bradley hates how much sense Bob tends to make and wishes that he was wrong. That no, the Hard Deck isn’t a suitable place for a baby, and no, there’s absolutely no way Quincy would keep her cool while being there during one of the busiest nights of the year. 

But he knows it’s a lie because her grandparents are the owners, everyone loves her and fights over having their turn to hold her or even catch a glimpse of a baby smile directed at them, and the fact that Quincy has been to the Hard Deck enough to have developed an affinity for diluted cranberry juice over the Mott’s Tots apple juice sitting in his pantry. 

“Fuck, fine. But you’re finding me a fucking babysitter,” he speaks, pointing a finger between Jake and Natasha before standing up abruptly. He turns on his heel and makes his way toward the door, knowing the only way he can make sense of the predicament he’s put himself in can be solved by seeing his joyous baby girl. 

The sounds of muffled chuckles and shoes squeaking on the ground fill the silence of Bradley’s absence; all of their eyes flitting to each other to decipher if they actually made the most stubborn man alive give into their bidding with minimal effort. 

“Did we just make Rooster. . .cave?” Reuben speaks, his arms coming up to cross in front of his chest. His thumb rolls his wedding band around on his ring finger as he waits for someone else to speak up.

“Huh,” Jake huffs, “I think we did.” 

“So I’m guessing the lobotomy is out of the question,” Mickey ponders out loud, “Y’all better know a damn good babysitter.” 

Natasha and Jake’s eyes widen in realization. They better find a damn good babysitter soon.

Carrying a baby is harder than it looks. 

Bradley swears that his daughter is an eighty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a drooly and overly excitable eleven-month-old.

It's not the worst thing in the world, he figures. 

But God, is she giving his arms a workout from the amount of times she’s tried to contort her small body to get a good look at all the ruckus and excitement going on around her. It’s when Bradley feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck that he realizes the costume he’s picked may not have been the smartest move; especially when no one seems to get what he’s supposed to be. 

Secreting sweat by the gallon seems like an unfair exchange to be dressed in what he thinks is the greatest daddy-daughter costume of all time. The flannel shirt he has on and the overwhelmingly hot coveralls to go with it was a good idea in theory (that theory being how frigid the Halloweens he used to spend in northern Virginia were when he was a little kid). 

He finally makes it to the saloon-style doors of the bar and is met with “Thriller” by Michael Jackson playing from the overhead speakers above him. Every surface seems to be decked out in cobwebs and dark purple and neon green spiders, and Quincy stares in awe at all the patrons meddling about around her before making grabby hands at the faux snakes dangling around the jukebox. 

She almost slips out of Bradley’s grasp before being wrangled back to a stable position by her chunky rolled arms. 

“Jesus, girl,” he gasps, swallowing the lump in his throat while Quincy giggles in his face. “You tryna kill me here?” 

“Well look who it is!” Penny’s teasing voice sounds in his ears. 

Quincy’s little eyes catch the figure of her faux grandma and she begins to squeal in her father’s ear before reaching her arms as far out as they can go; reaching and moving so frantically it looks as if she’s attempting to swim in midair. 

Penny moves closer to them and raises her eyebrows. Her arms instinctively reach out and she grabs Quincy from Bradley. Her fingers trace the burgundy felt of her costume before she tickles the baby. Quincy erupts in a fit of laughs. 

“What has your crazy daddy got you dressed as?” she teases, her elbow coming out to knock Bradley in his ribs playfully. “Are you an. . .apple?” 

Bradley huffs and rolls his eyes. His gaze instinctively lands on his daughter who clasps her hands on Penny’s face and traces her chubby (and insanely sticky) baby fingers across her red lips. She puckers her lips and chuckles to herself at Quincy’s amazement of red lipstick. 

“She’s a cranberry,” he exaggerates his pronunciation of the word for extra emphasis, “Has Ocean Spray become a relic around here?” 

Penny’s eyes flicker between Bradley and the baby she holds in her arms. The splotchy rosy cheeks and honeyed hazel eyes tells the tale of twins, and she’s reminded of the little boy she used to casually see around Fightertown all those years ago dressed in different variants of the same dinosaur on Halloween. 

“Sweetheart, you’re saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” she starts, simultaneously giving her attention to Quincy and the million and one different things going on around her, “I almost thought she was one of the cement balls outside of Target but realized the red was too dark.” 

He groans, his eyebrows furrowing together and a slight scowl forming on his face. Penny’s heart is warmed because his daughter has a propensity to make the same face when she’s frustrated. 

A beat absent of dialouge passes. Hoots and hollers fill the silence as well as strangers stopping by to coo at Quincy before being on their way to the pool table of their desire. Quincy babbles and talks as if she’s a lawyer prosecuting a case and Bradley’s heart softens at how animated she is. 

Her awkward tongue pushes out more saliva than what would be socially acceptable and the drool begins to gather on her face. He reaches out and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of his flannel while she flops like a dead fish away from the makeshift napkin in protest. 

God, this girl is so dramatic. 

“I handmade it,” he says softly. He runs a dry part of his sleeve across her lips more firmly to ensure he had gotten all the wetness. 

Penny hums in acknowledgement. “And you did good.” 

And he doesn’t know why he’s expecting it; why he’s waiting on Penny (of all people) to see him picking a scab and rub more salt in the wound. He knows that she would never do that and he knows that most of the people (if not all of the people who he considers close to him) see him that way. He knows that people know he’s trying his best and that he’s doing everything he can. 

Bradley knows but he just can’t make himself feel it, and he can never figure out why. 

Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad. Maybe it’s because he’s a single dad without a “real” mom or dad to show him the way. Maybe it’s because he’s finally gotten used to having someone around who relies on him and needs him and loves him unconditionally, and he’s terrified of doing something that will make her sit on a couch in a therapist office and say the words that he’s trying his best to avoid: “My dad doesn’t love me enough.” 

Bradley knows what it feels like to not be loved enough. Bradley knows what it feels like to not be liked enough. But Bradley doesn’t know what it feels like to not try hard enough, and that is something he is determined to never stop doing when it comes to his baby. 

“You’re saying it like I didn’t though.” 

Penny’s face falls and she shifts her gaze from Bradley’s daughter to him. 

“Oh, Bradley,” she sighs, her open palm coming up to cup his face, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re an amazing dad and you’re doing a fantastic job.” 

He grabs her hand with his and gives her a weak smile in return. 

“Doesn’t feel like it, though.” 

He’s usually not one for feeling sorry for himself. He’s never been too keen on throwing pity parties and inviting everyone he knows to them, and in all actuality, he doesn’t know why this bid for reassurance that he’s serving Penny is even coming up. 

“No. Stop it. No,” she playfully chides, tickling Quincy to make her erupt into a ball of silent baby chuckles. “You’re an amazing dad and everyone knows it. You’re her world and that’s all that matters.” 

Bradley opens his mouth to respond but can’t find the words to accept her compliment. He simply nods his head before the already loud noise of the bar is split by an even louder whistle. 

His neck cranes around to see his group of friends waving him over to the pool table and the anchored weight of doom starts to sink in his stomach. He remains frozen with his hands in his pockets and his body emitting heat from his personal heater of rubber waders. He feels like a seven year old at the park again; his mother standing before him and wordlessly encouraging him to go play and make friends. 

The high pitched scream of his daughter is heard as Maverick approaches. Both Penny and Bradley wince more and watch as his daughter mindlessly babbles and almost flies out of Penny’s grasp in favor of him. 

Pete smiles to himself before grabbing her from Penny. She rolls her eyes at him and he playfully sticks out his tongue. 

“Like father, like daughter,” he says, “M’never not a Bradshaw kid’s favorite.” Quincy sticks her chubby fingers near Maverick’s mouth and squeals as he pretends to bite them. 

“Did the past fifteen years just. . .not happen?” Bradley quips. In the past, the snarky comment would have made Maverick freeze on the spot but since they’ve repaired their relationship, (and Quincy’s frequent stays at Nana Pen and Papa Mav’s on the weekends) the insult rolls off Maverick’s shoulders into oblivion. 

“You’re making fun of the old timer, but I’ve been havin’ myself a grand ole time and you’re in the corner pouting like you’re in timeout,” he comments back, “Don’t you have friends or something?” 

“I’m just – taking my time to get over there.” They all look as Jake lets out an obnoxiously loud holler after hitting the eight ball into the pocket to win his pool game. “M’trying to choose joy tonight.” 

“And choosing bad costumes too.” Maverick holds his granddaughter out in front of him to get a full fledged look at her costume. She kicks her legs in the air gleefully before he pulls her back to his chest. “Who makes their kid the…Target balls?” 

Bradley lets out a groan and rubs at his temples. “Oh my God! She’s a cranberry!” 

“Love you to pieces, kid but I think you need your vision checked. You can’t put a kid inside a red sphere and call it a cranberry,” his finger comes out to poke his granddaughter and he’s met with a giggle, “A quack doesn’t always mean duck.” 

“Aren’t you, like, 5’4 –” 

Penny interrupts the conversation with her hands and quickly grabs Quincy from Maverick’s hold. He flashes her a small pout and is met with the ice cold glare of his girlfriend. 

“Bradley, go talk to your friends, babe. We’ll bring her over in a second,” she says, squeezing Pete’s bicep to drag him with her to the bar. 

“But –” they both begin to complain in unison. Penny gives them a pointed look that immediately shuts them both up. 

“Let’s go get some cranberry juice! How does that sound?” she asks Quincy who begins to smile and clap her hands in approval. Penny turns on her heel to head to the back while Maverick stands frozen in front of his nephew. 

“Do you really think I’m only 5’4?” he meekly asks, genuine concern covering his face. 

Bradley shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. The paper  “Ocean Spray” label he’s taped onto his waders bends and he mentally cringes at the crease he knows will probably be there. 

“I mean, sometimes when you turn to the side it’s hard to imagine that you’re actually 5’7.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I said, let’s go get some juice!” Penny’s yells, annoyance dripping off her tone. Maverick claps Bradley on the shoulder before retreating to go accompany Penny in getting Quincy copious amounts of diluted cranberry juice. 

With Maverick’s departure, Bradley realizes that he actually has to go interact with his friends. After all, they’re the reason that he’s here. But when he takes in the swell and dip of the loudness that is contingent on the World Series playing on the televisions around him, he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice tonight. 

He imagines that he would’ve taken Quincy up the street to trick or treat at a few houses before her impatience and curiosity made her lose interest in the activity. They would have abandoned trick or treating and ended up on the couch where she would be cuddled up beside him with her feet tucked somewhere in between his ribs (because she seems to have a talent for finding the most tender spots on his body to lay) and stroking the tip of his mustache with her perpetually sticky fingers as she begins to doze off. They would be probably watching It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before her bedtime came, and she would be read three books, tucked in, and off to sleep before he caved and pulled her from her crib and let her sleep with him in his bed. 

While it’s mundane and certainly not what he would have considered the epitome of “fun” even two years ago, he feels a weird ache in his chest knowing that he’s missing out on that reality. But he has to snap out of it if he doesn’t want to be miserable and ruin everyone’s night. 

Besides, Jake and Nat promised him free drinks all night and they already found him a babysitter and paid her for him. He’s in too deep to back out now.

Bradley takes a deep breath before approaching his friends and tries to ignore the ringing in his ears as Jake and Mickey scream as the Texas Rangers score their first homerun of the game. 

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Reuben teases, forcing a beer into his hand that had been on standby until Bradley’s arrival. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he deadpans before moving around the group and telling everyone hello. 

He’s met with joy and little jabs about graduating to “old timer” status that he playfully ignores. Bradley knows that they’re all just joking with him and that they mean no harm by their comments. Even he’s slightly surprised that he went through with coming out tonight; not to mention coming out while wearing a costume. 

His eyes catch Jake slyly handing over a twenty dollar bill to Javy accompanied by a middle finger before he turns his attention to Bradley. 

He can already sense the half-assed greeting he’s about to get from him before Jake even begins to speak. 

“Got a lot of questions for you but I’ll start with this one,” Jake begins and Bradley rolls his eyes before he finishes his statement, “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” 

He groans before pointing to the crumpled “Ocean Spray” label taped to his front. “Fucking Christ. Does no one know where the fuck cranberry juice comes from?” 

Jake laughs before taking a long swig of his beer. His ridiculous belt buckle and cowboy boots tell Bradley exactly what he’s supposed to be. Well, that and the fact that for as long as he’s known Jake, he’s always the same thing every year for Halloween. 

Leave the Texan to always be a cowboy. 

“My first guess was one of the guys from “Deadliest Catch” but since you wanna be a diva about it. . .I’ll just pretend like the Ocean Spray farmer was beyond fuckin’ obvious” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle he has in his hand, “But that’s not important. Where’s our girl?”

Bradley sighs and looks around near the back of the bar where he knows his baby is being given the spotlight by all the older Hard Deck patrons that can’t believe that, “Little Bradley Bradshaw has a baby now!” He’s known that he’s always had a knack for attention, but his daughter lives for the limelight. He’s never known anyone in his life to be so incredibly outgoing, nevermind the fact that Quincy is already the life of the party and she can’t even speak coherently yet. 

“Pen and Mav took her to get cranberry juice,” he emphasizes the word and Jake rolls his eyes at him this time instead of the reverse, “They’re gonna bring her by in a bit.” 

Natasha makes her way over to the two men; extra smiley and smelling like she had bathed in tequila. Natasha always parties hard but never lets it keep her down. Her ability to drink liquor like a fish and be perfectly fine the next morning has always been a mystery to Bradley. She’s called Phoenix for a reason, he knows. 

“Bradley!” she cheers. Her dark hair is hidden by a copper colored wig and he almost wouldn’t recognize her if he hadn’t known her face so well. The green eye makeup and the plastic vines wrapped around her shoulders and legs cue him into the fact that she’s dressed up as Poison Ivy.  

“Hey!” he cheers back, matching her enthusiasm. 

“You’re the fisher guys from “Deadliest Catch”! That’s so clever!” 

Bradley’s face drops and Jake begins to lose his composure beside him. Natasha’s eyes immediately soften with worry and she starts to search for the words to profusely apologize. 

“No I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I swear it! I was just – I thought — I think that it’s really cool and the overall thingies look great on you! I’m so sorry,” she word vomits and Jake continues to laugh hysterically. 

“Nat, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he speaks gently, “Just calm down a little.” 

She takes a deep breath and Bradley can physically see her brain wipe the incident away as if it had never happened. He’s been her best friend for years and knows what she looks like when she’s close to being black out drunk. There’s maybe a thirty-five percent chance she even remembers this interaction at all. She blinks blankly at him before getting distracted by the baseball game and almost topples over with how fast she turned her head. 

Jake lightly smacks Bradley’s chest with the back of his hand. “I’m gonna go grab her a water. You want anything?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t want Natasha to overhear him because they both know that she’ll refuse his help no matter what state she’s in. 

He shakes his head “no” before hearing the clunk of his boots carrying him to the bar, leaving him and Natsaha alone in the pocket of the bar that their friend group has claimed as their own.

Natasha’s eyes follow Jake’s path to the bar and Bradley has to hide his grin and hold his tongue to not set her off while she’s so vulnerable. Natasha has always been the tiniest bit sweet on Jake but is too stubborn to admit it. Even with all the logical circuits in her brain turned off, she refuses to let herself ponder on this fact for longer than a few seconds. She catches herself staring at the blonde in a half-assed Halloween costume before she returns her attention to Bradley. 

And just as expected, she changes the subject as if their earlier conversation had never even happened. 

“Where’s Quincy Wincey?” she asks and Bradley chuckles. 

Even with no coherent thoughts in mind, Natasha still loves his daughter and wants nothing more than to see her. 

“She’s behind the bar with Pen and Mav. She’ll be here shortly.” 

Natasha nods before opening her mouth again. “You know, you’re a great dad, B.” 

Her sudden revelation takes the words out of Bradley’s mouth. He’s known Natasha Trace for nearly fifteen years and he has never known her to give out genuine compliments half-assed. He has half the mind to ask her what she means by it, but knows that it’s no use given the state she’s in. 

All that matters is that she really means it, so he settles for a simple “Thank you” instead. 

Jake announces his return by forcing a cup of ice water into Natasha’s hand which she gripes about but begins to drink anyway. 

“Your daughter’s back there chummin’ it up, by the way,” Jake states simply and Bradley pauses. 

“What do you mean?” His hands come out to rest on his hips. 

“Well, for starters,” he begins, unwrapping a toothpick and putting it in his mouth, “She’s got people handing her candy and peanuts into a little paper bag. She’s being pretty efficient about it if I say so myself. Had half the mind to grab her from Mav while I was up there cause I wanna see her, but I didn’t wanna get in the way of her business efforts.” 

“She’s what?” 

“Paper bag. Candy. Peanuts,” Jake lists, “C’mon, man. Keep up!” 

Bradley stalks toward the bar to go get his daughter. He’s not angry, in any sense of the word, but kind of disappointed given that she’s technically trick or treating for the first time and he’s not there to witness it. Part of him is starting to feel restless at his lack of interaction with her and wants her back in his arms immediately. 

“Hey, don’t insert yourself in her business endeavors! Be happy your daughter is likable. We all know she doesn’t get it from you,” Jake shouts before returning his attention to the World Series playing out in front of him. 

By the time Bradley arrives to the bar top, he takes note of exactly what Jake had seen upon his visit. There is his daughter with ruddy cheeks and a toothy grin absolutely hamming up her cuteness at some captains and their wives with Maverick holding her up so she can stand semi-confidently on the table. Her little fist holds a brown paper bag that Penny uses for her peanuts and is full with candy and crinkled due to her lack of a proper graspar reflex. 

His daughter is a world class charmer and she has an equally charming grandpa to help her do her bidding. 

“Bradley!” Maverick cheers, turning Quincy his direction so that she can have eyes on her dad. 

Like magic, she abandons the little bag she was holding in favor of the arms of her father. He grabs her without hesitation and she glues herself to his side as if it’s her permanent position. 

“You better not be making my baby a con artist, Mav,” he weakly threatens. He coos at Quincy and marvels in the way she lays her head on his shoulder. 

“Hardly. She’s a people magnet, kid. Everyone would be happy to do anything she wanted them to do.” 

Bradley sighs, knowing that he’s missed one of her milestones. This is the price he’ll have to pay forever with being a more than single parent with the kind of job he has. He swallows the disappointment down and saves it for later. He knows that it’ll come up another time anyway, so why even bother with addressing it now? 

“You’re treating my kid like a Kennedy, Mav. Don’t get any ideas on how to sneak her onto base to get you out of trouble.” 

Pete laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. “Can’t make any promises,” he simply says, “Don’t you have to go meet the sitter soon?” 

Bradley groans at the gentle reminder his uncle is giving him. Maverick doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent in the slightest, but he knows what good parenting looks like. He had seen it with Goose and how much he had cared for Bradley in the very short amount of time he was given, there’s no doubt in his mind that Bradley is the best dad that Quincy could ever ask for. 

But what he also knows is how perfectionistic and borderline obsessive his nephew can be. He deserves a break and a break Maverick knows will be spent in good company with people who love him. 

Bradley deserves this, and he knows that Mav’s gentle reminder is more of an order telling him to be kind to himself. 

He looks down at his watch and sees the little hand inching towards the eight. “Yeah. We need to get going.” 

Pete leans over and gives Quincy a kiss on the head as a “goodbye” before shoving the paper bag of candy into her father’s hand. 

He closes his hand around Bradley’s fist and gives it a firm shake. “Have fun tonight. You deserve it.” 

Bradley nods before bidding goodbye to Penny who is beyond excited at the idea of Bradley finally going out, baby free, for the first time since he found out he was going to be a father. 

And when his daughter incoherently hums along to “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney in the backseat, Bradley knows how hard leaving her alone tonight is truly going to be. 

She shouts at him which he knows is her trying to get his attention to sing along with her. 

“You ready, babe?” he asks, eyes flitting up to peek at her in his rearview mirror, “Because, the doggone girl is mine.” 

Quincy bursts into a fit of baby giggles as he tries to ignore the feeling of impending doom brewing in his chest. He grabs a piece of chalky bubble gum from her candy bag and pops it in his mouth. He cringes as he chews. 

Who the fuck gives gum to a baby? 

Bradley doesn’t know why his heart is pounding out of his chest. 

He knows that he’ll only be gone for two hours maximum and that Quincy will probably sleep the entire time anyway. She may be precocious and charming, but she loves bedtime more than anything, and from the active night she’s had, he’d be surprised if she even made it fifteen minutes before passing out somewhere on the living room floor. 

He trusts Natasha’s judgement (and Jake’s, he’ll begrudantly admit) and he knows the sitter they found for him is nothing less than amazing. You’re a childhood friend of Natasha’s that had recently moved to the area and had been Jake’s date one time to the Navy Ball six years ago (which he had learned from an Instagram post dated from 2017). 

And Bradley will say he doesn’t know much about you (outside of his deep dive stalk that he had done days before, but that remains beside the point, he thinks) but that would be a big fat lie. He feels a little pathetic to admit that he had created a faux LinkedIn profile to be able to look you up and see your credentials as well as finding every mutual follower you had amassed between Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Bob. 

And it’s a little creepy, he admits, but he’s only just looking out for the safety of his daughter! Just because you know his friends doesn’t mean that he knows you (which he knows is wildly untrue given the overwhelming amount of Internet stalking he had done on you in the past week). 

Bradley is burning a hole into his living room floor by pacing back and forth with his daughter in his arms. As anticipated, she’s started to doze off and he chuckles to himself. Quincy loves bedtime and that remains uncontested by the way her little lips are pursed and she lets out light snores. 

The sound of a car door opening and shutting keys him into being aware of your presence and he scares you half to death because he opens the door before you can knock; your knuckles almost coming into contact with his chin had you not been paying attention. 

“Oh,” you mummer, “Ummm. You’re Bradley, right?” 

And you’ve never felt as dumb as you do now because of course he’s Bradley. You know what he looks like and the baby asleep on his shoulder and the last name “Bradshaw” printed on the doormat outside should be enough for you to deductively reason that that’s him right in front of you. 

Not to mention, you’ve been Internet stalking him and know what he looks like for a fact because of the amount of photos Natasha has of him on her Instagram and in her story highlights. You had always found him attractive whenever your eyes graced those pictures, but that’s all it was; a fleeting thought that was never watered and was gone as soon as it was there. 

But now that he’s in front of you, now that you’re getting a really good look at him holding a precious baby on his hip and somehow making rubber waders look amazing, your mouth starts to get dry and your heartbeat starts to quicken. 

“You must be the sitter,” he declares and he mentally kicks himself for how cold he’s coming off. His nerves have a tendency to put him into fight or flight and the pressure of being in your presence merely adds to that. 

He clears his throat when he notices your lips forming a thin line and rejection teeming from your body language. 

Fuck. Why do I always do this? 

“Oh! Uh – Come in,” he steps aside and closes the door behind you as you walk in. 

From what you know about Bradley, you know that he’s a single dad who had a less than stellar record for wanting female companionship. When Nat would come to Williamsburg to visit you all those years ago when you were fresh out of undergrad and working as a TA, barely scraping enough money to pay your rent, she would lay on your floor and crone about how she had a friend who never seemed to be able to keep a girlfriend. 

But he was amazing, she would insist, and he’s such an awesome person, she would say. Somehow though, Bradley always seemed to be heartbroken and searching for the next way to smash what little he had left of it into unsalvageable pieces. 

Even though that was close to a decade ago, you know that the fact remains true when you peer across the pictures in his living room. Photos of a blonde couple and a dark haird little boy that you know are his parents. Photos of him with the infamous and insane Maverick. Photos of him with his daughter, but no photos of him and his daughter’s mother; let alone a girlfriend of any kind. 

“So she’ll probably sleep the entire time. Don’t put her in her crib because she’ll scream bloody murder and not calm down for a long time so you’re free to keep her on the couch or put her in my bed,” he lays her down in the corner of his couch and puts the large blanket laying there on her lower half, “She’s allergic to strawberries but I don’t think she’s gonna be eating anything while you’re here and I don’t have strawberries in the house.” 

He pauses, wracking his brain for more information to tell you that wouldn’t just be him retelling his daughter’s entire life story. “Oh! This is kind of weird, but if she wakes up and won’t go back to sleep, just play “The Girl is Mine” –” 

“The Paul McCartney song?” you question. Your eyes search his face and are full of amusement. He can’t help but feel his chest flutter at the little glimmer they give off. 

Focus. You can’t flirt with the babysitter. What’s wrong with you? 

“Well, it’s Michael Jackson’s song featuring Paul McCartney but yeah. It usually calms her right down and she’ll settle enough to doze back off.”  

He knows that his daughter is more than quirky. Sometimes he settles for the word “particular,” but he knows quirky is the right one to use. 

You start to laugh a little. “That’s so –” 

“Weird?” he inserts, “Yeah, I know. I’m raising a sixty-year-old but there could be worse songs. Be grateful she’s phased out of only wanting to listen to “Break Free” because there’s nothing worse than listening to EDM on a loop at three AM because she won’t fall asleep unless it’s playing.” 

You shake your head and agree. “Well, I promise that we’ll behave ourselves and not get into anything too crazy. She’s adorable, you know, so if she asks, I don’t know if I can stand it to say no.”

You can’t flirt with her dad. You can’t be the babysitter that’s trying to get banged by the dad. What’s wrong with you? 

He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll see to that. Her sitter is pretty cute too so I think I’d be pretty forgiving.” 

And fuck. Is he, is he flirting with you? 

You’re left speechless before his phone rings and he rolls his eyes before grabbing it off the entryway table. 

“Hang on a sec,” he says before swiping across the screen to answer. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jake. I’m on the way.” 

He grabs his keys and starts heading toward the door, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and ear and you have to stop yourself from drooling. “Calm the fuck down, dude. I’m leaving like right now. . .Yes, I’m literally walking out the door – Can you chill? I’ll be there when I get there?” 

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 

He bids you goodbye with a simple wave before shutting the door and running to his car. The sound of the front door closing instantly wakes Quincy who shoots her head up and frantically swivels it around in pursuit of her father. When she can’t spot him, her bottom lip droops and starts to wobble. 

She spots you and immediately lifts her arms up, telling you that she wants to be held. You graciously comply and coo softly to her and marvel in the way she instantly koalas to your side as if she had always had a spot there and had always known you. 

Part of you thinks that it’s fate. That in some way, you’re meant to be in her life and meant to stick around but you know that this silly schoolgirl thinking will only get your heart smashed to pieces. You decide to ignore it. 

Besides, Natasha would kill you if you ever expressed to her how hot you found her other best friend. 

Some things just aren’t meant to be. 

Bradley jogs into the next bar that his friends had decided to go to with a slight smile on his face. He scans the crowd and spots Jake and Bob trying to hold up a beyond inebriated Natasha. 

“You’re awful happ — Oh dear God. Don’t tell me you screwed the sitter,”  Jake greets and Bob looks away bashfully once the statement leaves Jake’s mouth. 

Bradley mocks him before helping them guide Natasha to a booth. 

“Can you ever just say "hello" like a normal person? Do you always have to be bitchy?” he remarks. 

Jake lets Natasha rest her head on his shoulder and looks down to check on her. “It was just a comment. You know we picked her because we wanna set you guys up, right?” 

Bradley’s world stops. He raises his eyebrows and feels his mouth go dry. 

“You what?” 

“I mean, she’s cute. She’s smart. She loves kids and she obviously didn’t vom on you from getting a look at your face, so I assume it went well,” he starts listing his reasonings on his fingers, “You also bounced in here like you have a can of jumping beans shoved up your ass so you’re giddy about something.” 

Bradley scoffs. “I do not have anything shoved up my a– Why do you care so much about who I’m seeing?” 

Jake looks at Bob who starts to shrink a little in his seat. He instantly knows that the set up wasn’t all just Jake and Nat. It was probably the entire squadron. 

“We want you to be happy, dude. I mean, this is a good opportunity for you and for Quincy,” Bob starts and Bradley knows that he needs to listen and take it into actual consideration if he knows what’s good for him. 

Jake and Natasha are class A meddlers, but everyone else getting involved shows how much this matters to him.

“You’re doing great and I know for a fact I’m not half the man you are, but you also gotta cut yourself some slack. You have to let yourself be happy, too. Life isn’t all just about sacrifice, you know?” 

“And we made a reservation for you both at that one rooftop restaurant downtown. There’s a $250 cancellation fee so you kinda have to go,” Jake adds and Bob facepalms himself at their friend’s lack of tact. 

“You did what?” 

“Also she thinks you’re hot. She texted Nat about you ten minutes ago and she’s way too drunk to respond so we did for her and as of now, “He totes thinks you’re hot too. Make a move when he gets back.”” 

Bradley’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to find the words to say. 

“Thank us when you’re getting us together about the proposal.” 

There’s something about the way that life flashes before your eyes and there’s never anything you can do about it. 

You can take photos or collect trivial keepsakes. You can talk about the events in past tense and have the story change slightly every single time the words leave your mouth. You can dream about it in watercolor memory and try to make sense of it all. 

But no one ever tells you what it means when you’re standing before your daughter, a dark haired beauty with such elegance and spunk that it’s impossible to put a label on it, as she embarks on a journey to truly be her own person. 

No one ever tells you how to cry so you don’t smudge your mascara. No one ever tells you the hole in your heart this day will give you but the rainbow of joy that supersedes it when it’s all said and done. No one ever tells you how all the times she had a nightmare or scraped her knees or needed you sit at the forefront of your brain. 

And when you stand before your daughter dressed in a white dress and getting married to the love of her life, you can’t help but recall the night that you fell in love with her and remember the little baby she was all those years ago. 

So around all the orchids and wedding guests and happy tears, you settle to retell this moment in the only way you know how. 

“The first time I met my daughter, she was dressed as a cranberry.” 

And somehow, that statement is all you need to explain the love between the two of you. 

[fanaticsnail]

Where's the pain, Reck?

Hey Doc Masterlist

Word Count: 700+

Synopsis: The navy-haired gunslinger was rushed into your clinic with major abdominal pain. You prepare for surgery.

Themes: Kid Pirates x gn!reader, platonic series, Reck, Jaguar, Quincy, Heat. Hints to surgery, friendship, body-functions, Heat has a distinct nose for articulation. You are 'Doc', the doctor of the Kid Pirates.

Notes: As soon as I saw @a-killer-obsession's ask in my inbox, I couldn't resist. I can't. Your poor friend 😭.

“Hey, Doc-!” the booming voice of a partially panicked Jaguar called out to you, “Clear your schedule for emergency surgery!”

Hastily knocked from your own little world by the intrusion to your office, you flung your magazine down and sprinted to your sink. Thoroughly rinsing and drying your hands, interlacing your fingers to stretch them for mobility, you quickly smacked on your medical latex over your digits.

While you enacted this small ritual, Jaguar placed Reck onto the medical cot with Quincy and Heat by his side. The navy-haired man was screaming, clutching his belly and face contorted in absolute agony.

“S’okay, Reck. We're seein’ Doc now. Get you sorted in a second,” Jaguar soothed his crewmate, gently caressing his forehead in a bid to ease his pain. You looked to Quincy and Heat, waiting for an explanation.

You looked to where Reck was clutching, empathetically clenching your teeth and sucking in a hiss through your tightly bound lips.

“Where's the pain, Reck?” you queried, elbowing Heat and Quincy out of the way gently to reach your patient. Reck could only let out a soft sob accompanied with a guttural shriek while convulsing on the medical cot.

“Jaguar, has Reck had any history of appendicitis in his family?”

“How the fuck would I know?” he shot back at you, his brow furrowed in puzzlement, “Half of the crew are war orphans, and the other half are bastards who only know one parent.”

“Fuck,” you shook your head, gently moving Reck's hand from his abdomen and seeking out the bulbous and inflamed organ you suspected was the reason for his harm. “Reck, work with me, hon. Just sit tight and we'll get to the source of-.”

With a final shriek, the pressure alleviated from his guts with a lengthy, deep, warbling ‘thrrrrrrrrrhp.’

Flatulence was the only sound to echo within your office, the room beginning to fill with the scent of an unholy concoction of a smell both wet and dry. The reverberations were enough to shake the medical cot, prompting Quincy, Jaguar, Heat, and yourself to recoil and choke back on your gags.

There was nothing truly comparable to the backwater boglands’ stench that fled from the rear of Reck, who’s face both expressed relief and horror to the events transpiring before an audience.

After what seemed like an eternity, Reck sheepishly clenched his jaw and cringed out a smile while tapping his stomach with his open palm.

“No need for surgery,” he laughed dryly, and without humor, “I feel much better.”

Glaring up at him, your expression darkened as you gestured for the door of your office to wordlessly relay your desires for him and the entourage that followed to leave. Reck jumped from the bay, clutching Jaguar by the elbow and ushering him along. Quincy followed not far behind, elbowing him in the ribs while he laughed at her playfulness.

Heat remained by your side, speechless with his jaw slack and nose curled back in disgust.

“Heat?” you called to the blue-haired man stunned beside you.

“I-... I can-...” he choked, bile rising in his flame propelling throat. “...I can fucking taste what he ate.”

“Heat,” you whined, reaching for the door to your bay and proceeding to open and close the door, in a bid to siphon the poor smell out from the bay and replace it with fresh air.

“It's like,” Heat rose his hands in the air in front of his chest, “It's fucking sour? Like he's been eating nothing but pickles and eggs for a week. That, mixed with the dried meat kept in barrels below deck-... Like, I know the smell.”

“Please,” you begged him, attempting to flee the thoughts of food from your mind to no avail.

“Like, you know when oats go rancid?” he continued, “Using salt-water to cook them in instead of milk, and using the milk you should've used with the oats, left out for a few days in the sun with a smoked ham hock in the same container-.”

“-Heat, stop. Please, you're gonna put me off,” you cry, your pleas turning to laughter the longer he used his nose to associate the flatulence, rolling over his palate and discussing the stench akin to a sommelier sampling a fine wine.

“You're not put off by that fucking smell already?” he chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his hips back onto the medical bay, “You've got a stronger stomach than I do, Doc.”

"And you've got a great discernment for scents, Heat," you compliment him, gesturing to your door, "Now, please leave? That's enough excitement for the day."

"You got it, Doc."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @nerium-lil @sinning-23 @a-killer-obsession

I just didn't want to give away the butt of the joke (bad pun, bad pun, bad pun). I can't even. Thank you for this beautiful idea, and I really feel their pain, and I hope I did your ask justice.

[weakheroo]

Being Yhwachs other half ┈─★ ⠀

So he's in love, obsessed actually.

Always has that proud smirk when you're beside him, during meetings or battles in general.

The only person he trusts.

Calls you 'other half' from time to time, mostly to let others know the connection y'all have.

Often invites you to his private chambers to discuss and have deep conversations while drinking tea or wine can lead to other stuff too wink wink.

You seem like the only one to truly understand him on a deep level, because of that he often seeks you for advice, in subtle ways.

Despite that he tries not to show favoritism towards you.

Lets you call him by his real name, instead of 'your majesty' or 'sir'.

Loves how his name sounds on your lips, its not said with fear, hatred, or idolization, but with genuine sincerity.

Treats you as an equal rather than a second in command.

Despises to see you too close to other males.

Doesn't like when he has to go into slumber since that means he can't see you. You take the mask of the ruler so at least he doesn't have to worry while sleeping knowing the almighty is in good hands or...eyes idk.

Head pats!

Even though he can come off as rough sometimes, he really cares for you.

If its cold then he'll definitely drape his maroon cloak or cape thing over you. It smells just like him and it kinda shows how you're off limits to others which please Yhwach to the max.

Often looks into your eyes as if seeking your soul. He finds you similar yet also so different from him.

Imagine this y'all are in battle and something strikes, barely missing you two, so he just grabs your arm nudging you behind him, and you have to remind him that its you who should be protecting him, not the other way around, then he just hits you with "I am not a king who needs protection." with that deep voice of his and boom you're smitten.

Overall just happy he can have someone he can trust and speak to freely.

[raredust-doondust-ghobarnadir]

Now you may be seeing something right? FGT Ichigo looks kinda a lot like Yhwach.

Now we know Ichigo is a Quincy and all Quincy have Yhwach's blood running in their veins but only Ichigo looks like him to this extent when in his Final Getsuga Tensho.

Both have long dark hair.

Red crimson eyes.

And a handsome fac-

Ahem, I mean this leads me to believe that Ichigo may have been using his Quincy powers while in that state. Hey look, this is just a theory and Kubo may have just thought it's a cool design choice before the Yhwach twist and all but just let me have fun with this one okay!

Now what is Final Getsuga Tensho specifically? Some believe it's Ichigo absorbing all of Zangetsu's powers but I disagree. I think FGT is more of a fusion between them. Getsuga Tensho is a technique using Zangetsu's powers and only Ichigo can call upon the technique, it cannot be used by Zangetsu without its wielder or Ichigo without his weapon. And my proof is this line by Ichigo:

He is fighting with Zangetsu, not using him.

And there's also the fact that Zangetsu was literally fused to his hand.

Now then that we established that, let's get to this point.

Final Getsuga Tensho is not just a final technique. It's also a combination of all of Ichigo's powers. Both Shinigami, Hollow and Quincy. And why is that?

When Ichigo was fighting Zangetsu he was fighting both his Quincy (in Young lad Zangetsu) Hollow/Shinigami (In white Ichigo) in a fused state. And achieving FGT is him basically accepting both powers, and making himself a weapon for a short time, becoming Getsuga itself.

Heck we talked about his design resembling Yhwach why not talk about how his design resembles a Hollow in how the mask wraps around half of his face with little teeth and how the black spirit energy is like his Tensa Zangetsu's Getsuga Tensho (shinigami power) only strengthening my thought about it not just being a final technique/attack but a fusion of all of his powers, both mastered and latent (which is why Ishinn had Ichigo do it, not him. His wouldn't probably match Aizen)

And the nail in the coffin is what Aizen says here.

Aizen here is beyond Quincy, Shinigamis, Hollows and humans, no one can stand up to him. He's on a higher plane than all beings except Ichigo. Who overpowered him with ease, who's on a higher plane than he is.

There's only one being that can be on a higher plane than the Quincy,Hollows,Shinigami:

Yhwach, the Quincy King, the Almighty. He's the only one who could over power aizen that much and without even trying.

Now I am not saying that Ichigo is somehow using the Almighty powers, that's stupid. I am saying that he was using his Quincy powers which are from Yhwach himself. Fusing it with his other abilities to make Aizen look like a joke.

And even then, FGT is probably just an imperfect version of Ichigo's final form he used against Yhwach. Because FGT is used when Ichigo didn't fully realize and unlock his Quincy powers/Blood. And that it's a one shot weapon where he can use it only once and lose all his powers after whereas his final form where he realizes and mastered all of his powers he uses to its fullest potential and doesn't just disappear.

And that it looked like how Zangetsu looks like when he was fighting him for the Final Getsuga Tensho.

And all of this leads me to believe that Ichigo was using his Quincy powers there and that's how he overpowered Aizen that easily, especially in base.

TL;DR FGT is just an imperfect Final form that Ichigo uses against Yhwach in chapter 676.

Good night or Good morning 👍.

NaruHina 4ever

Petition to call Tensa Zangetsu YoungMan Zangetsu.

But remember. That's just a theory, a game theory. Thanks for watching.

[brights-place]

Can you do (Separate) Prince D, Cooper, and King trollex experiencing love at first sight with their future S/O

Love at First sight

Pairings: Prince D X Reader, Cooper X Reader, Trollex X Reader, Synth X Reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: I haven't written in so long I'm sorry times have been TOUGH but I also forgot about the account but if you don't mind I also added Synth because THESE ARE MY TOP 4 TROLLS CHARACTERS THAT I LOVEEE!! but I think I'm pulling away from Trolls abit and I'm being dragged into my old hyperfixations WHICH IS WILD!! because I loved trolls since well it came out

Prince D

- You met Prince D with Cooper since you saw him escaping and told him you would come along since he was your best friend and you wanted to take care of him cause you also knew he was... different - So imagine getting abducted with him to see a male who looked EXACTLY like Cooper but he had a more chilled, laid-back face yet his eyes were staring at yours. - Love at first sight as your eyes shined at eachother like a zing as you both couldn't help but feel warm inside (HOTLE TRANSALVANYA HINT YA KNOW!! ZING!) - The male has gold tinsel-like fur on his neck. He has shorter and thicker dreadlocks than Cooper, which appear to have rings of gold on them and also wears an earring on his left ear, which matches the one worn by the older looking male troll beside him. - Your eyes shifted back to coopers who stood out beside you as you whispered to cooper to be careful you learnt everything about them from there genre to who they were - You stood beside cooper the whole time who heard his whole past and how they were looking for him the whole time while your jaw dropped eyes wide when glancing at cooper before your hands played with your fingers - You seemed to smile when you noticed he considers himself to be Hip hop rather than just Funk, and accepted Cooper considering himself both Pop and Funk after Cooper said that one doesn't have to be just one thing.

- When they were sent off you made sure to stay beside cooper you wanted to help your best friend and his family

- You and Prince D were dancing together vibing with the music smiling as you glanced towards Prince D who was singing with his mother before singing with you making you laugh - You and Prince D soon gotten closer after awhile - when you two hangout you lay against him when your both just sitting down playing with his hair out of boredom and sometimes adding some colorful beads beside the golden rings on his dreads - You like hearing the random beats he makes or snippets of some songs of hiphop and enjoy staring at him - After awhile you two were developing feelings for eachother which was very hard for Cooper to deal with cause well he tried so hard not to burst out the secret of you two liking eachother even though it was very difficult for him cause he finds it confusing how oblivious you were

- When you started to get too close almost seeing around each other with you smiling around him and clinging to his side as you blabbered away as he listened nodding his head - when someone gets the Cool laid back prince D jealous you giggle because he likes to look away with a slight blush with a pout on his lip if you point out - You love to make up some little dances that follow along to Prince D's beats just to get him to snort-laugh and smile at your shenanigans. - You and Darnell went on dates pretty often you already hung out constantly but you two had actual dates 2-3 times a week! - even if your diffrent trolls he cares for you ALOT your his partner after all Pop, Rock, Country, etc etc! he doesn't care he loves you for you - You would do stuff beside him if he is busy and would show off your works to him if you were an artist or did something cool. He enjoys how you explain how your day went. - Cuddles are amazing as he smiles at you evertime - If he finds any cool stickers that you would like he would get them and hand them to you as a gift or would find little thing slike pins or keychains and hand them to you as a way of him showing he remembered you - You end up visiting eachother alot and when you went to visit prince D he asked you out on date as you stared at him turning around screaming and turning back to him nodding "I would like that!" "Cool its a date"

Cooper

- You met cooper when poppy introduced you two too eachother since you were a baker and needed some help - so when poppy motioned for cooper to come in but he tripped and started laughing you couldn't help but star at him with wide eyes as your hand quietly grasped where your heart was for a slight moment feeling warmth grow on your cheeks. - Your eyes shined when meeting his as a Zing was felt a love at first sight when poppy left you showed him around - He helped you out with baking but he just daid to scare him and you failed cause he expected it but when you accidentally shut out the lights he screamed and pooped out cupcakes causing you to stare at him like an wild animal - Cooper's style of comedy is non-sequitur, meaning that he's silly often for the sake of being silly which you love about him - When you get tired though he lets you rest on him as he continues talking and laughing like always - He can't help but continue to laugh everytime when you make a little stupid thing but when you look sad he makes sure he does something stupidly sweet in return - You end up being around each other a lot and when you went to visit cooper he asked you out on date as you stared at him turning around screaming and turning back to him nodding "I would like that!" "Cool its a date" he laughed happily stomping his feet as you giggled cupping his face in your hands

Trollex

- You met king trollex at a rave - Trollex and Techno Beat Drop Button are best friends so it's obvious he's gonna talk to him about how he feels about you and how amazing you are when you start dating and when you weren't - You met at one of his raves you were dancing near the front with other techno trolls cheering - He loved your smile and how you danced around literally grinned wider when you two made eye contact as your heart swelled beating at the same time of the techno music - He told Synth to take over and wanted to get to know you... Literally swam towards you and welcomed you happily ( If your an different genre he would ask questions and if your an fellow techno troll he'd ask why he hasn't seen you around ) - when he stared at your eyes properly he couldn't help but stare with wide eyes as he felt his heart beat glow brighter when seeing you smile as you couldn't help but giggled staring at the heart on his chest that was beating faster - he likes to be around you he gets to be himself but you make sure he doesn't get out of hand and he loves it he's laid back and likes to vibe with you - You both get closer and vibe alot - As soon as you both hangout a month later he ends up rambling and trollex he ends up well he asked you out on date as you stared at him turning around screaming and turning back to him nodding "I would like that!" he spun you around and twirled you around as he grinned happily peppering your face with kisses

Synth

- Synth and You when you met? it was on a pier - You were listening to music and blasting the beat tapping your finger against the pier to a beat unaware of synth below who was trying to figure a beat out - When you played a beat he paused and pressed a button and when you continued to tap or stomp when listening to music he perks up and it becomes a good beat and he can't wait to show it off - You know when you listen to a tyoe of music so you go into your room and secretly dance or walk around thinking of a plot line or hyperfixating on an imaginary scene yeah that was you (I DO THAT PELASE DON'T TELL ME IM THE ONLY ONE) - Once he made the beat he jumped up from the water and spoke loudly causing you to scream but he apologized but it was super happy to get out of his music block - you soon got to know eachother for hours and end up always meeting at the pier - After a week He invites you to the rave where he was gonna preform the song he got the idea from you and you were like fuck it - Tell him what you really like and he will take his time he never starts an fight at all and would take it step by step but when your close to fighting he'll walk over slowly and whispering affirming words to make you calm down which works if you can't handle loud noises

- Synth wasn’t the most emotionally aware troll so he finds it hard to understand your emotions sometimes

- It takes him awhile but he gets there just for you and just to see you smile again cause if your not smiling he wouldn’t know what to do. - You were incredibly attracted to Synth's carefree, upbeat attitude and sense of humor. You love that Synth is always ready to brighten your day and make you laugh. - Synth took you to a rave and smiled as he cupped your face and kissed you on the spot before panicking and he starts asking you out and you both end up being flustered and nodding when he asked you to go on a date "I would like that!" he cheered placing a glow stick necklace around you to pull you into a kiss.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Nu carnival boys as omegas and how they deal with their heat

Warnings: ABO, suggestive material with Olivine, drug use with Edmond and Rei

Yakumo

He needs a big nest. It's easier to take him back home because he already has an entire room set up for this. His heats are unfortunately long but as long as he has his nest it's okay. You will have to bring him anything he may need when he's in there because no force can get him out. Cuddle with him or not he's okay. He knows you love him because he's surrounded by your scent and those he cares about. He's not clingy or distant, he just wants to get through this without leaving his fluffy little room. He was extremely scared to let you into his nest the first time, but when he did finally let you in you realized that it was already covered with your shirts and jackets. He feels guilty about stealing your scented clothing but he is not giving it back. Not that you mind.

Edmond

The king has been suppling him with suppressors so he can do his job and not have to deal with his heat. Unfortunately being on suppressors for years is not healthy for someone. He was so scared when his suppressors didn't work because his body built a tolerance and he went through a full heat cycle for the first time. He becomes super sensitive during this time so he doesn't want any physical contact. He gets sensory overload easily but sit near him and he'll use you as a grounding force. Just let him touch you at his own pace so he doesn't get overwhelmed. He gets really timid and skittish during his heat, and he hates how it makes him feel. He appreciates how understanding you are during these times, but was scared at first because he didn't know how you would react.

Olivine

It's hard to smell when his heat is coming because he's always covered in incense. However when it hits, it hits hard. He doesn't want to worry anyone so he ignores his heat until he's in so much pain he collapses. Unfortunately there are plenty of people who want to take advantage of him so you need to be the first to find him if he does. He wants to bathe in your scent, so give him your shirt to wear and he's happy. He will ask you to help the church since he can't do his duties like this. Help the church to make him stop worrying but spend time with him too. Once he's in his nest he's not leaving until his cycle finishes. He loves your presence and when he's like this you can convince him to do pretty much anything, he kind of stops thinking. That makes it easy for you to just tell him to relax and let you take care of him.

Quincy

He smells so strong when his heat finally hits, and it smells so good! His scent is very musky and the pine sap undertones is the only hint of sweetness. He smells like an alpha even when he's in heat. His heats are not frequent and they don't last long, only about 2 days every few months. He used to just wander into the woods and come back after a few days preferring to handle it alone, but now that he has you (as the wonderful loving alpha you are) he loves snuggling up with you through his heat. His heat never bothered him much and it was really only his scent that gave him away. He loves having you with him though. He may get a little possessive during this time but he's mostly normal. If he wanted to he could just go about his life as normal, but he'd rather spend the time with you. He doesn't use a nest so you'll just be hanging out in his cabin mostly. He also becomes a little more open to PDA like hand holding.

Kuya

He is slightly more obnoxious than usual right before it starts, wanting to push you away because he hates not feeling in control. When he finally enters his heat he's a big pile of mush. He's also a lot more honest than he'd like. Gifts and other things make him really happy and he'll tell you just how much he loves you pampering him. Just don't bring it up after his heat is over because he'll deny it to the end. He also has no scent, so besides the personality shift you can't tell when he's in or out of his cycle. Technically he does have a floral scent, but it's so faint that unless you are right on top of him you can't even tell it's there. Sometimes when he's not in his heat he'll be a little mean in hopes that you'll bring him a present.

Blade

He recognizes the warning signs really early on and gets actually pretty excited about it. He loves curling up in the nest that you lovingly filled with soft and cute things for him. Somehow he became more cuddly than normal. His heat isn't that bad, it's just uncomfortable for him if you're not around. His scent turns super sweet like candy and is really strong. He doesn't really need the nest because his heat doesn't cause him too much discomfort, but there's no way he's missing out on an opportunity to be surrounded by you and other cute things.

Garu

He wants to be on top of you the entire time he's in heat, and I mean the entire time. You aren't allowed to even move without him whimpering like he's in pain. Not that you were going to leave but sometimes you just need to adjust. The easiest way to leave the nest (if you absolutely have to) is to pick him up and carry him with you. He'll have his face buried in your neck or chest the whole time. He isn't actually in any pain physically, but he gets extremely distressed if he can't feel you with him.

Karu

Anger. He tries to fight his heat and it just hurts him more. You are going to have to fight to get him into a nest, but once you do he is not leaving and neither are you. He's a strong independent boy that doesn't need an alpha! …But as long as you're here he might as well scent you. He wants to provide for you so if you smell his heat coming early you should encourage him to go hunting that way you won't have to, and he can feel like he is still taking care of you during his heat.

Dante

Stubborn idiot pushes through the pain of his heat. He doesn't have a very strong heat scent but that's because he wears a rare incense to mask it. He will go about his day as normal, fighting, training, being a good ruler, but he collapses into his nest the moment the sun sets. He doesn't like a big nest but he does want you by his side. Your scent helps relieve some of the pain that's built up during the day. If you try to pamper him with gifts he will probably get mad. He doesn't like being spoiled when he's in heat, but after he'll be fine with it. He can be nippy during this time but if he gets really aggressive he will apologize afterwards. You need to keep an eye on him during the day when he leaves to do his duties. There is no convincing him to stay inside during this time but you do your best to take care of him without interfering.

Rei

Oh he despises his heat. He is almost always sick when his heat hits, and it's entirely his own fault. He hates his heat cycle so much that he makes different drugs or blockers or suppressors to try and stop it. For someone who doesn't show much emotion normally he gets incredibly fired up around his heat. He does not want anybody anywhere near him during this time, despite needing the help. He hates that physical contact makes him feel good and that he finds your scent relaxing. He tries so hard to push you away but sometimes you just need to force him into a blanket so he doesn't make himself sicker. He is also going to be mad at you for a few days because it worked.

Eiden

It would be so cruel if he never experienced a heat cycle until he came to this world. Unfortunately for him that's what I'm going with. You smelled his heat coming only hours before it hit him. No one realized he was going to be an omega so no one had a nest prepared for him. If he's joined up with the clan members one of them could lend their nest. If not he spends the entire time acting as a weighted blanket, laying directly on top of you to take in your scent and warmth. This is the first time his head has felt fuzzy like this and it does scare him at first, but you're so patient and caring as you help him through his heat. You make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Aster

I know it's hard but please keep yourself covered when he's in heat. He gets more cuddly and it's adorable, but he also gets a lot more bitey. The first time you were with him during a heat he almost drank you dry. He thinks your scent is calming and delicious. Give him lots of scented shirts and you'll be okay. He does like cuddling with you but you just have to be mindful of how close you are to his mouth. You have to be careful when you're getting in or out of his nest because all the fabrics that fill it are incredibly expensive, and if you tear a single piece he is going to make you pay.

Morvay

Honestly he's so clingy and needy in general that it's hard to tell when he's actually in heat, or faking for attention because he knows you'll spoil him. Not that you don't spoil him anyway but he absolutely loves when all of your attention is on him during his heat. He becomes a little more greedy during his heat. His scent doesn't become stronger but it does become thicker. Like his scent lingers more and it feels like it sticks to you. You don't mind wearing his scent, and he loves when you smell like him and when he smells like you.

[vyloy]

may i please request some nu carnival quincy x a male reader who’s a virgin?

Quincy

╰┈➤ tw: slight overstimulation, bulge, size, male reader, genitalia not specified

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"Quincy, could you help me pick this up, it's way too heavy", you called him over to help, thinking he would pick a box up at a time but oh you were wrong, he immediately picked up all three boxes, your jaw dropped, "How the hell...", "hm?", he looked at you confusingly, "nothing! please bring them to the townsfolks", "mn", he nodded as he carried the boxes like they weren't heavy, you thought it was hot but quickly erased the thought and went back to pack some more things for the townsfolk.

"Phew! That was tiring!", you sighed, plopping onto Aster's couch, "Hm? Y/n, have you finished?", Aster asked as he passed by the living room, "yep! it was a real pain, you should pay me for this type of work y'know", you jokingly said in which he replied with, "I'm already letting you live here for free, I think that's enough", before he turned into a bat, escaping through the window before you could react, "that vampire..", you sighed once more but with a smile on your face. Suddenly seeing a shadow leaning ontop of you, looked back to see Quincy, "Oh Quincy! You must be tired after those heavy boxes, let's get you something to eat", "they weren't heavy at all", "eh...", you were baffled, how could he say that when you couldn't even lift one of the boxes to the town if your life depended on it? He really does have inhuman strength, "Whatever, I'll still get you something to eat, how does skewers sound?", he nodded as you walked to the kitchen, him following behind.

The two of you enjoy some skewers, well the three of you considering Topper also joined in, devouring most of the skewers on the table but either way, you and Quincy enjoyed the meal.

It was just a relief to have your work over and done with for the day.

Even though it hadn't been that late, you decided to take a bath and head to bed first, you deserved some rest anyways.

As you settle in your bed, you decide to read a couple books before sleeping, they were the only source of entertainment you had when it came to night time as your phone magically dissappeared the moment you stepped into this world so you were forced to adapt and live your everyday life without one, making you more productive.

As you were in the middle of a book, you suddenly got a knock on the door, you immediately knew it was Quincy as he had been visiting you a couple times in the knight prior to tonight. When you opened the door, you saw Quincy without Topper, "Oh where's Topper? I'm surprised to see you without him", "...", he didn't answer, he only 'pushed' his way into your room, taking a seat on your bed.

Even with a stone cold face, you could see the visible blush on his face, it was odd, "Quincy? Are you okay? Your face is a little red..", you go to touch his cheek, hands cupping his face, "m...", all he does is look down, you follow his gaze and sees that he needs his essence regulated, you've seen this happen to the other residents of this mansion but never have you seen it happen to Quincy, he never really approached anyone about it. "Oh...uh..do you need help with that..?", you said between a few stutters, what were you supposed to say in a situation like this anyways?, "mhm..", he nods slightly, 'fuck' you thought, you have never done something like this before, you've only heard about what goes down when Eiden's the one regulating the others' essences but never have you tried to do it yourself, you were too unexperienced but now, your crush needs your help, fast.

"Alright then-", just as you were about to unbutton your clothes, Quincy pounces on you, letting you fall on top of your bed, startling you, "Quincy? I don't know if it is a good idea to start off so rough!", he proceeds to undress you for you, letting your clothes get thrown on the floor as he focuses on your body, "your skin is soft", he states, making you even more nervous, "this is my first time, please go easy on me-", "don't make such a fuss, relax", he says, very out of character of him.

He attacks your neck, leaving huge hickeys everytime he goes to nibble on a spot, soon enough your neck was covered with hickeys everywhere, it was a sign he has taken you as his, "Quincy...~", you moaned a bit as his hands trail to your nipples, squeezing them just a bit before letting go and massaging your chest, you had never played with yoir own nipples whike masturbating before so it was a new feeling, a good new feeling.

By now, the two of you have already remove all clothing the both of you have, "m..", Quincy's face blushed even more seeing your figure, you were so perfect to him. Quincy immediately prepares you for him, he knows how big he is and wants you to be prepared, he doesn't want it to hurt. He grabs your hips with one hand as the other's two fingers make their way inside of you, making sure to move around while they're in your hole, you moan loudly, fortunately the walls are soundproof and were made for incidents like these so nobody would wake up to the sound of your moans, "Qu-Quincy...!~", you grab his hand, your eyes rolling out of pleasure, even his fingers were big, not to mention the size of his cock, you drooled at the thought of it being inside of you soon. Just as you were about to cum, a sudden feeling of emptiness creeps in due to his fingers leaving your hole.

"Quincy, i want...", you trailed off, trying to find a good way to tell him you wanted his cock to be inside of you right this moment, "say it", he tells you, his eyes full of lust as you finally say the key words, "please shove your cock inside of me!", you cover your face with your hands due to embarrassment but he quickly removes your hands from hiding yourself, "as you wish", was all he said before plunging his cock inside of you, god it hurted like hell, he was so big, "shh, it'll feel better", he reassured, rubbing your hips lovingly. Finally you feel the pleadure after a moment of suffering from pain, now you felt pleasure, you also couldn't help but notce the bulge on uour stomach, likely cauded by Quincy's huge cock, "Quincy, is this you..?", you asked, curious, "m", was all he said before asking you, "move?", you nodded and he immediately started to thrust over and over again into you, making sure you feel every last inch of his cock.

Just a few minutes in and you feel almost overstimulated, maybe it was just his cock that was too big for you to handle. He loved the look on your face, the face of someone completely in ecstasy, he couldn't help but to kiss you, a deep kiss, this was too much to take at once, you were overheating, his cock inside you, his lips on yours, you were in heaven.

After that night, the two of you continued life like normal but of course, the both of you know what's always on each other's minds after said incident, two idiots in love but don't have the guts to tell one another.

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Taglist: @secretivemessenger @devilswhore-emrys @jkloserdazai @miyuuuki

GUESS WHO FINALLY FINISHED A WRITING😭

[timetravellingshinigami]

LMFAO KENPACHI 💀

[sashi-ya]

𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 Äs Nödt x F! Nurse! Reader

ಇ. I had this fic saved for myself, but I honestly didn't think my heart would be that broken when his inevitable end would get animated. Don't get me wrong, I loved Rukia and Byaku's win, but... you gotta understand that for a nurse, As Nodt represents those who you couldn't save. A patient whose hand needed a squeeze, but still it was too painful for him... poor thing. ಇ. tw: medical terminology. be careful if you are sensitive to illness and death topics. it is full of little metaphors, try to understand where I was going with what I wrote. you can ask me too! ಇ. wc: 1k

Before he was even a Sternritter, As was a simple man. A suffering, yet simple man. And you knew him very well.

He was sick, bedridden. It was too painful for him to even breathe. His existence was cold, sterile, and for him so unworthy.

However, there was a Sun. A Sun that would shine a light every time it walked through the doors of his ever-pristine white room… you.

His voice has never been loud, but really, really low. It wasn’t sweet, it was very raspy, as if he was trembling in fear. His short, straight hair framed his façade, the mask giving him oxygen carved red marks on his cheeks and black eyes fixed in a boring ceiling.

Oh, but you. His only reason to smile. But did he show it to you? No. Did he tell you? Neither.

But you knew…

“Hello Äs! how are you doing today?” you ask, with a metallic tray on your hands. Who knows how many pills are in there, but all of them are equally necessary for him to stay alive.

“H- hello… g- good” he said, every time. He doesn’t feel good, he never does. But does he want for you to worry about him? No.

You come closer to his bed, leaving the tray over his tiny bedside table. Taking a swift look at his monitor, you see -as always- his heart rate slightly going up. Ah… he is at least interested in feeling something besides pain and fear about his inevitable end.

“So, Sir Nödt… I’m aware today is your physical therapy day. Nurse (male name) won’t be able to attend the hospital today, would you allow me to do it for him?” you ask. Everything should be professional. You probably were waiting a “no” but instead he took a little time to answer.

“Hmh…” he nods, as much as he could possibly move his neck without grimacing in pain.

You smile, kindly. Your look softens. You didn’t want to feel sorry, pity for him. You really thought those feelings weren’t proper. But you couldn’t help it. Your heart ached too, and you wanted to help him as much as you could… “Good! Let’s make those muscles move with utmost care! Let me put on some tunes too”

You weren’t sure about him wanting for real to do it. He never did, as your colleagues said. “He is in pain, but he is equally scared to feel pain and that freezes him even more. He won’t ever get better…”

Again, your heart ached. What do they know about getting better? Why judging him? He needed help, not critics. And… who knows, maybe, he just needed someone to believe in him to feel better.

You make sure your hands aren’t cold. You wear a mask to come close to him, you don’t want to create more problems for him, a simple germ could cost him his thread hanging life.

You take your phone and press play. A soft melody starts playing. You don’t really know when it was, but you were sure he said he likes the sound of pianos playing to relax.

 Äs widens his eyes. Extremely black orbs fix on you, he is amazed by the song filling the room, he is probably glad to hear something besides the sound of the oxygen flow on his face.

“Give your hand, please” you whisper, trying not to cover the song. You let him choose which one of his pale hands will move first.

He breathes in a considerable amount of air into his lungs, and then, with trembling motion his right bony hand reaches yours. It feels soft. Lightweight.

And so needy.

You begin to inspect his joints. Of course it’s painful for him, not only because of being sick but also because of avoiding to move them for so long. “One finger at a time” you murmur, as you can feel him desiring to grab your hand.

He goes slow. Äs wants more, but he is in pain. He is afraid.

“Don’t be scared. I’m holding your hand right now. You can try to hold mine” you encourage him. You, perhaps, wanted more and even the same way he does for him to grab your hand… Are you falling in love with a patient? A.. dying patient?

He sees you. You see him. He closes his eyes. And maybe a little smile wanted to adorn his lips. His fine, chapped, lips.

“Follow me, Äs”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ.

When he opens his eyes he isn’t lying down in a mattress. He is standing, in two feet. He is still pale, his hands show that. A cold breeze kisses his cheeks, he notices his hair is way longer now as it flows with the wind around.

He can hear kids laughing, and the greenery around feels refreshing. A park… it’s been so long since he stood in the middle of one.

Suddenly, something lands on his cold nose. It’s as soft as the wind, but it’s pink. A cherry blossom petal just flew up to where he is. And like that rosy flower, a million rain down from dark wooden trees.

“Spring? Is this Hanami?” he asks and notices he can speak louder. And when he does, it’s not painful… it’s… normal.

He slowly turns around. And again, moving doesn’t hurt. Breathing doesn’t hurt. Her arms around his waist coming from behind, either.

“Äs! Love! Turn around, I wanna take a picture of you with the Cherry Blossoms in the back!” you chime. Your camera, an old analogue one, captures the beauty of a pinkish rain that doesn’t wet but only kisses your skin with a soft, soft scent.

He is absolutely stunned by your beauty as you walk back pointing the camera lens to him. Your hair also flows. You are his nurse, his sun. What are you doing there? Why is he alive?

“Smile you silly! You are scaring me! What’s gotten into you?” you scold him, his death stare creeps you out sometimes.

As the camera shots and captures his amazed look, you walk back towards his thin arms. “Wanna have some ice cream? Or do you prefer cotton candy? Oh wait, maybe you want Takoyaki?” you excitedly jump, feeling the hard edges of his hipbones against your belly when hugging him.

“I just want to hug you for a little longer…” he murmurs. It kinda scares you, because when he ever said something sweet?

“Hug me for as long as you want, sweetheart…” you whisper, nuzzled in the crook of his neck. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, it’s so soothing to feel his chest go up and down, breathing pure air…  

Don't wake up. Don't wake up. please, just for a few moments now... Your Majesty.

[heartsofminds]

and the songbirds are singing like they know the score - part i.

"If Bradley squints his eyes, he can still make out the little five-year-old that he once knew who thought that he put the stars in the sky and cried when she found out that Jake’s real name wasn’t Hangman." or Quincy Bradshaw is growing up and no one knows what to do about it; especially Bradley.

a/n: in light of father's day, enjoy part one to bradley's precocious daughter making a re-appearance and jake seresin being reasonable for once. part two will be posted soon! the angst will be resolved, don't you worry!

It happens in between the end credits and the black fade-out screen. 

The piercing sound of the phone ringing snaps you and your husband out of your near comatose states on the couch, seemingly entranced by Molly Ringwald’s whining (which only she can get away with because she’s fucking Molly Ringwald, of course) for the entirety of Sixteen Candles. 

“Holy shit,” Bradley swallows, leaning up to sit entirely straight. His movements jostle you, causing you to wince at your cheek unsticking from its glued spot on his right pec. 

You smack your lips and sigh, trying to wake yourself up. The obnoxiously mechanical sound the phone makes causes your ears a subtle pain, and you silently curse your husband for refusing to remove the landline phone that sits glued to your kitchen wall. 

“It serves a purpose,” he had reasoned. “Don’t kill my dream of having a rotary phone.” 

And the conversation of uninstalling a 1970s landline phone from your new house was lost in the abyss of cardboard boxes and cheerios on the floor from your then beyond spunky and energetic three-year-old daughter. 

So while it sticks out like an eyesore amongst your “lived-in” and perfectly curated home, you often forget it’s there... except on occasions like this when the sporadic ringing shakes your eardrums and tightens the ever-present rubberband around your temples in the worst way possible. 

Bradley sits with his elbows on his knees, almost trying to muster up the strength to deal with the nuisance of the ringing phone. He sits for a second and sighs before hearing your body shift. 

You smush your face into a pillow; the constant ringing making you want to tear your hair out by the second. 

“Bradley!” you whine. He pats the part of your calf uncovered by your shared throw blanket with an unspoken tenderness. 

“Sorry,” he timidly apologizes. 

He stands up; his left knee making an impressive “crack” before swiping his phone off the coffee table on his way to the kitchen. 

You turn the TV off and lie in the complete darkness of your living room. The illumination of the moonlight through the glass windowed door in your kitchen shines its way to the floor in front of your couch. You have half the mind to yell to your husband to close the blinds that line the backdoor before your voice catches in your throat. 

No one ever calls the landline. Very few people even have the phone number for the landline outside of Maverick and a few close family friends. Besides, anyone who needed to reach you had your cell phone numbers anyway. 

So who the actual fuck is calling your landline at 11 PM on a Thursday? 

You hear Bradley yank the phone from its place on the wall and exhale with a huff. After sixteen years of being together, you know that huff is his tell of being annoyed. 

“Hello?” he gruffly answers. His irritation makes the question sound more like a monotonous statement. 

“Bradshaw –” 

Jake Seresin is on the other end of the line. You can recognize his voice from the other room with his cadence even though you’re not on the phone with him. Having “mom ears” does that to a person, you suppose. 

“Why the fuck are you calling my house at 11 PM?” Bradley snaps. 

You’re wondering the same thing, but you’ll have to talk to him about being so rude and huffy. Jake may actually need something, after all. 

“Well, you weren’t answering your fucking cell and neither was your wife so I had to do something.” 

Bradley rolls his eyes and looks back into the darkened living room. He’s been more on edge about you lately. 

“You can’t miss me that fucking much to be spamming my phone with calls,” he sighs and leans his back up against the wall. He notices the open blinds on the back door and walks to close them before he’s yanked back by the phone cord. 

“Don’t cream your pants. I don’t like you that much.” 

Bradley lets out a soft snort in amusement before he remembers that he’s supposed to be annoyed. He opens his mouth to ask Jake what exactly it is that’s so damn important and can’t wait until tomorrow morning when he’s beaten to it. 

“I have Quincy here in the passenger seat and she’s beyond unwell.” 

The statement sends Bradley into panic mode instantly. His voice catches in his throat and he can’t recall a moment he’s had where he’s felt like he’s had to force the breath out of himself like this. 

He lets out something between a huff, a cough, and a wheeze before remembering he can’t make a huge show of himself right now because it’ll also throw you into panic mode. 

“What the fuck do you mean she’s not well? Jake, where the fuck are you?” he whispers into the phone, trying to cover his mouth as much as possible so you can’t even read his lips if you tried. “Is she okay? What’s –” 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Bradley is panicking. Even Bradley’s beyond intoxicated and passed out seventeen-year-old daughter sitting in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck could piece together that her father is nothing but a raging ball of anxiety at the moment, and Jake is positive that his friend is growing another patch of gray hair as the seconds pass. 

“Oh. . .fuck, I guess I should’ve phrased that better,” Jake admits. His truck comes to a halt at a spotlight and he glances over at his goddaughter. “She’s fine. She’s drunk as shit right now, but I’m on the way to drop her at yours.”

Bradley can feel the obnoxious orange ball of anxiety inside of him shift to a tumultuous rage-induced scarlett. His hand tightens around the phone cord and he has to stop himself before he yanks it out of the wall. He’s gotten angry like this before, but it never was angled toward his daughter. 

Never toward his sweet, precious girl. Never toward his amazing Quincy. 

But she knows the rules (and she chose to break them) and she knows what was told to her (and she snuck out anyway) and she knows that it’s dangerous to be that drunk (but yet she’s passed out in Jake’s truck). 

And if that isn’t both nerve-wracking and frustrating, Bradley doesn’t know what is. 

“Put her on the phone,” he speaks lowly. 

Jake gulps, knowing that he’s in one of those moods. Bradley doesn’t express anger as often as he expresses annoyance, but an angry Bradley is never someone he wants to be around. And from the way that Quincy made it sound when she called him to come get her from some random party in the middle of nowhere thirty-five minutes away from her house at 11 PM on a school night, he knows her ass is being had tomorrow morning by both you and Bradley. 

There’s absolutely no way his goddaughter is coming out of this unscathed. 

“Dude, she’s obliterated right now and I think you talking to her is just gonna make it worse.” 

“And I don’t give a fuck. I said, put her on the fucking phone now.” 

Jake shakes his head and rolls his eyes as Quincy begins to stir next to him in her seat. He’s always been the person she’s called whenever she was in trouble. He always got the first hug whenever she was brought around. He’s always been her source of comfort outside of her parents and he’s never minded it because being around her is easy. 

It was easy to carry her around whenever she asked when she was little. It was easy to give in and let her sit in the cockpit of his grounded aircraft with him and let her play with the buttons when her dad and Papa Mav refused. It was easy to pick her up from school at midday and take her to lunch. It was easy to bring her back gifts from wherever he was deployed and even easier picking them out because she’s a sucker for meaningless trinkets. 

It was easy to be her godfather and she’s a smart and relatively easy kid, but Jake has never been prepared for this part. 

Because doing what’s best for her is hard, and he realizes that when he can feel his friend wanting to put him through a wall over the phone. 

“No,” he speaks and he can hear Bradley let out a small gasp at the denial of his request, “She fucked up bad, Bradley. I’m sure she knows and you can have it out with her tomorrow morning, but right now, she’s not in any place to be screamed at and made to feel worse. You’re her dad and m’not tryin’ to take that away from you –” 

Bradley scoffs, “What exactly do you fuckin’ know about raising kids, Jake? Huh?” 

Jake grimaces and decides to take the brute of Bradley’s anger. Better him than Quincy, he figures. Besides, he knows Bradley doesn’t mean any of it. . . At least he hopes he doesn’t. 

“You obviously can’t be a dad because you just wanna have fun and dick around all the fucking time. Buying them fuckin’ candy and letting them off scott-free doesn’t do shit. You don’t have what it takes to raise a fucking person.” 

Jake doesn’t know why, but part of him gets that prickly feeling in his chest. Usually, every insult rolls off his shoulders into oblivion and he gets off on making people angry and being able to put on the facade that he really couldn’t give a damn if he tried.

But this one hurts because he knows that Bradley is right in some regard. 

He’s a runner and he lets people down. He’s nearing fifty (and God, he never thought he ever would) and has never even bothered to settle down. And he’s made peace with himself a long time ago that he doesn’t deserve a wife or a family or kids because he would never be able to love them more than he loves himself; more than he loves his career. 

To hear one of your closest friends admit that to you openly, to know that someone outside of you sees it too, makes his heart stop momentarily and forces him to feel the ache of the words meant to stab him in the chest. 

“I understand,” he swallows. He knows arguing with Bradley isn’t the right thing to do at the moment and never will be. “I’m still not putting her on the phone. We will be at your house shortly.” 

The line goes dead and Bradley is overcome with a wave of anger that drowns him like a tsunami. He knows what he said was shitty and that he has no right to do that to someone who he considers a close friend, but he just can’t help himself. 

He knows no allies when it comes to his daughter. 

The sound of the plastic phone slamming into its rightful place on the wall alarms you and part of your heart hurts for Jake. 

Jake has no concept of boundaries and has no limit to the absurdities that he often commits, but Jake also has the biggest heart that gets overshadowed by his equally big ego. You know the words uttered to him by your husband have knocked him down in ways Bradley isn’t the slightest bit aware of, and you start to silently cry for him because you know he won’t do it for himself. 

You force yourself up from your deepened spot on the couch and waddle your way to Bradley in the kitchen. The tears streaming down your face only fuel your need to make it right and to stand up for Jake and his quietly hurt feelings. 

You don’t know the full of what happened, but you heard enough to know that no one deserves to be spoken to that way. Bradley is upset (and he seemingly always has this cloud of gloom hanging over his head), but that gives him no right to be so cruel. 

The mama bear feelings are only amplified by the thirty-nine-week bump on your frontside making you tilt forward more than you usually do. Jake is a big boy and you know he can handle himself and that this situation has nothing to do with you, per se, but the lack of kindness surrounding you currently is stuffy, and you’d do anything to break the barrier to actually breathe. 

You try and stifle your cries and wipe your starry eyes before you approach your husband; silently cursing how cold your feet are and longing for the day when you can put your socks back on yourself independently. 

He stands with his hands against the wall and his head drooped between them. It’s a look of defeat; a showcase of hopelessness and frustration mixed into a burly mess of indigo and violets from the moonlight and dark sky peeping into your kitchen windows. Despite the darkness surrounding him, you can see the pink flush on the back of Bradley’s ears that has traveled to the tops of his shoulder blades. 

The anger is rampant and on the verge of explosion. Seeing your sweet Bradley like this is a sight rarer than a double rainbow. Part of you knows you shouldn’t poke the bear, but Bradley knows he shouldn’t speak to people like that. Compromising your morals is something you’ve never let yourself do and being bone tired and thirty-nine weeks pregnant is not going to change that. 

Something’s gotta give, and you decide that it’s going to be you. 

His head pops up the second he senses your presence. He knows that something is off with you after your lack of announcement. His home and heart had been preoccupied by two of the most chatty (and rather heavy-footed) women for the past sixteen and a half years. Silence is not welcomed in abundance in the Bradshaw household.

As if he didn’t have to suck in his sharp breath of frustration seconds prior, he turns to you and opens his arms. The darkness hides your tears and aggravation, but he knows that it stands next to you as an unwelcome visitor. 

Part of you wants to indulge, but an overwhelming portion of you houses irritation that won’t let you bite. 

This night was supposed to be one of peace and tranquility. You’re coming up on week three of rest allocated by your maternity leave and you finally feel like the walls in your house aren’t closing in on you. Bradley’s light load of scheduled hops and paperwork has helped with giving you company earlier in the afternoons before you have to make room for your second daughter. The way that she’s sitting on your bladder and constantly kicking your ribs in the middle of the night throws the hope that she’ll be calm and sweet out of the window and opens the door to the reality that she’ll be a carbon copy of her older sister. 

“What’s wrong?” you grumble, sending Bradley a scowl. You ignore his open arms and head to the fridge. You slam the carton of orange juice down on the counter and swing open the cabinet door to grab yourself a glass. 

Bradley furrows his eyebrows in confusion and lowers his arms in defeat. His feet drag him closer to you subconsciously. The thought that you moved away from him because you wanted space doesn’t cross his mind. 

“Nothing,” he leans his hip against the countertop, eyes scanning the thin stream of juice being poured into the glass. His nose wrinkles as you flash your eyebrows at him. That was always his tell of hiding something. 

He knows you can clock it. He just really doesn’t want to argue right now. 

You take a gulp from your glass while rolling your eyes. “Don’t lie to me. I know it was Jake.” 

“Doesn’t mean something is wrong.” His shoulders slump before he closes the refrigerator door. You had been extra forgetful in this stage of your pregnancy. 

Your lips mouth a reflexive, “Thank you” before you huff. Being lied to was something you never appreciated; especially when you know how bad Bradley is at doing it. Besides, you know that he knows you have heard quite a bit. The pointlessness of his actions starts a kindling of rage in your belly. 

“Well, that’s funny because you’re telling Jake he doesn’t know how to be a parent over the phone?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

His spine straightens and his cheeks spill a baby pink hue that starts to spread to the tips of his ears. You think he looks just like your daughter even though you can’t see the fullness of his face. Your eyes start to twinkle before you remember that you’re pissed at him. The serious face holds a standstill. 

“Don’t play dumb. Do I need to say the exact words for it to ring a bell? ‘You don’t have what it takes to raise a fuckin’ person.’ Seriously, Bradley? What the fuck is your problem?” 

He winces at the agitation in your voice. Hearing it being said by someone other than him makes him realize how fucked up he was to say it; let alone even think about saying it to someone as dear to him and your family as Jake. Your hands heavily place the glass in the metal bottom of the kitchen sink and your heavy footsteps storm past him back to the living room. 

Bradley reaches out to grab your wrist and spins you to look at him. His hands envelop yours and place them flat on his chest. He sighs before dropping his head as if he was a puppy that had just gotten scolded. 

“You’re right,” his eyes scan your face but refuse to peer into your own, “I have no right to talk to people like that.” 

You let him hold you as your annoyance shifts to a denotation of shocked nerves that leave your heart sprinting like crazy in your chest for air. You’ve always been somewhat easy to work up, but your nerves have been oversensitive as of late. 

Penny and your mother call it your mother’s intuition maturing, but you like to call it a nuisance. Although the first baby you’ll be giving birth to will make her way earthside in a few short weeks, your first baby will always be the chunky eleven-month-old with blotchy pink cheeks and abundant sass you met on Halloween sixteen years ago. 

Bradley’s steady hand rubbing soothing circles on your back does little to help you differentiate the present and the imaginary. You aren’t sure how much time has passed or if his soft caresses continue on your spine, but you’re damn sure of what your gut is telling you. 

Something is wrong. Something is wrong. Something is wrong. 

“Is she okay?” you ask him. 

The words uttered make the world stop turning for the millisecond it took you to speak. 

You know deep in your heart that she’s not okay; that she hasn’t been for a while. Your bright and bubbly baby turned angsty and moody Senior in high school had happened overnight, it seems. What was once excited chatter at the dinner table about school and friends and club soccer and yearbook committee soon became absent, and the sound of silence from a missing spot at the dining table with you and Bradley had become the norm. 

It became extremely noticeable in the last few weeks of her Senior year; calls of truancy being made to your home phone and numerous talks about possible grounding if she didn’t get her act together becoming more and more frequent. 

Her attendance sucks but her grades remain stellar, so the idea of punishing her falls flat on its face whenever it gets brought up. You both have always known how intelligent your daughter is. You just wish she didn’t know it so well to know that you and her father are bluffing. 

And to be totally truthful, preparing for a new and unexpected baby hadn’t been part of the plan. You know that you’re not Quincy’s mother in any sense of the word, but you’re her mom and have been for as long as she can remember. Looking for your face in the school pick-up line and at soccer games and honor roll assemblies had always been her normal, and the fact that she had to share that with something embryonic (as she would call it) that hadn’t even graced real outside world oxygen (again, Quincy vernacular) was not something on her bingo card for her Senior year of high school. 

Your absences from these things, the things that are important to her but she’s far too stubborn to admit how much they actually mean out loud, were felt this year. She was raised understanding and kind but has inherited the sensitivity of her father’s heart. You know how much this entire pregnancy has deeply hurt her, and the guilt swallows you whole. 

The abyss of her unverbalized pain looms like a fog in every corner of your mind. Guilt has a funny way of turning all emotions into its twin. 

“I mean, yes? But she’s in for it once she steps foot in this house,” he grumbles. The meteoric thumping of his heart in his chest soothes you, but you know that the adrenaline pumping through his veins to move the muscle at lightning speed is sourced in anger. 

“So she called Jake?” 

Bradley scoffs. Your face is buried in his chest, but you know his huff of annoyance was accompanied by an eye roll. 

“Tried to use him as her ‘get out of jail free’ card. Knows that shit doesn’t work so I don’t even know why she did that.” 

You stifle a laugh and pull back to look at him. “I’m sorry I was so mean earlier. Didn’t mean it,” you whisper and he grins. Apologies have never been your strong suit. He would argue that you’re more stubborn than your daughter and Maverick in that regard.

“I’m sorry I was such a dick. Know you don’t like when I get like that.” 

There’s no need for acceptance. You have him wholeheartedly the same way he has you. Verbally accepting each other’s apologies has long been a thing of the past; especially when you feel like you share each other in ways that no one else on Earth would be able to understand; two halves of a whole – husband and wife. 

Your hand lightly taps his chest before you scoot past him to return back to the living room. From the digital numbers of the oven light in the kitchen, you know that it’s nearing midnight. You and Bradley had never been “good sleepers” (and now that you’re thinking about it, neither is Quincy), but you figure that you should get as much sleep as you’re still allowed. God knows that the new baby will be all Bradshaw and will probably be the worst sleeper too. 

Bradley hears your heavy footsteps trudge up to the bedroom and the soft suction of the door frame signifying that you’re about to lay down for the night. He wants nothing more than to join you and revel in the peace; remind himself to breathe and of simpler times when it was just you and him, but it had never just been you and him because it was always you and him and Quincy. 

The ache in his stomach returns at the thought. He has to put himself back in the mindset to put his foot down and let his daughter know that what she had done was incredibly unacceptable. 

It’s not like he’s mad at her for choosing to act her age for once. 

He had always worried himself sick after parent-teacher conferences because all of her teachers would comment on how mature his daughter was, but how that maturity often caused her to isolate herself. She had always been bright but at the expense of never wanting to play imaginary games with her classmates because she didn’t see the point in “pretending.” He had always thought that it was his fault; that exposing your baby to the History Channel and retired veteran chatter at the bar during the day made her not like other kids. 

And it’s not like he wanted her to be a certain way or that he was scared of her being “weird” or that she wasn’t living up the the expectation of what he thought having a kid would be like. 

Bradley had just wanted her to be kind and to feel loved, and he knows from experience that it’s hard living life when you don’t feel like the former nor do you ever feel the support from the latter. He knows a life of isolation and a sharp tongue that spears a bleeding heart. The last thing he ever wanted was for his daughter to know the same. 

Nevertheless, he’s still angry. Angry? Enraged? Pissed? 

Disappointed. 

Bradley had seen the signs as much as you have of your daughter’s downward spiral through the duration of the school year. He ignored the phone calls of truancy and let them go to voicemail and held his breath and his tongue when she answered a question he asked her a little too harshly. He ignored the attitude and the slamming of doors and the glow of her bedside lamp being on well past 2 AM most nights. 

Bradley ignored all of it because confronting it and her made it real, and facing the reality that she’s growing up and will no longer need him is something that he will never be prepared to do. 

He takes deep breaths and grabs his water bottle off the counter, unscrewing the top and taking colossal sips. His therapist had given him a printed list of techniques years ago to help him manage his anxiety. If he can’t control the speed of Jake’s truck driving down the interstate to his house, he can control the pace of the icy chugs sliding down his throat. 

Bradley wipes his mouth with the back of his arm and places the metal water bottle down on the counter. He paces back and forth before he realizes that pacing always makes him more anxious. His feet carry him back to the living room where he sits on the edge of the couch and balances his elbows on the tops of his thighs. 

All that can be heard is the subtle tick of the large wall clock hanging above the mantle and the soft buzz of cicadas in the backyard. The silence is cut in half by blinding headlights beaming their way through the curtains that line the front window and the roar of an engine. 

He doesn’t jump up to unlock the door like he usually would. His thoughts are still maniacally bouncing around his skull like a ten-cent bouncy ball. Besides, he doesn’t even know if he dares to face Jake after he had spoken so horribly to him such a short time ago. 

The old Bradley, the one who was still hurting and lonely with no wife or kids or family, wouldn’t have given a damn. Fuck Jake and fuck everyone else. 

But this Bradley, the one who is a dad and a husband and a friend and a son, gives a damn and he gives such a big one that he feels nauseous. 

The headlights flick off and the engine is killed. The silence that resumes is so instantaneous that he can almost fool himself into believing that everything is normal. That his daughter is upstairs fast asleep in her room and that her godfather is fifteen minutes away at his own house. He prays Jake won’t knock on the door and disturb it again. Jake never knocked on the door anyway, so he might luck out, he figures. 

But Bradley underestimates how nervous Jake is about this whole thing and soon enough, the sound of his friend’s knuckles rapping on the dark green wood that is the entity of his front door. 

He holds his breath as he opens it. 

He sees Jake, twenty years older than when they finally put their past behind them and became friends, and then he sees his daughter, meek and saddened and slightly drunk. 

If Bradley squints his eyes, he can still make out the little five-year-old that he once knew who thought that he put the stars in the sky and cried when she found out that Jake’s real name wasn’t Hangman. 

The Leemoore sweatshirt she has on is three sizes too big and does little to make her look like a high school partygoer, so he knows she has a riskier top beneath it. There’s no doubt Jake probably made a pit stop at his house to give it to her before bringing her home. 

Jake knows that Bradley hates secrets, so her sneaking out and also having a second secret wardrobe stashed beneath the floorboards under her bed would not make for a welcome guest upon her coming home after getting busted. The sweatshirt at least bought her a little time. 

“Hey,” Jake speaks, finally slicing the tension with a greeting. His left arm is looped through his goddaughter’s and she leans on him heavily to prevent herself from falling. 

“Hey,” Bradley says back. His face is stern. Jake knows he means business. 

“I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to see me next.” Even though Jake is kind of pissed and anxious, there still remains a glimmer of humor within him. The complaint of many ex-girlfriends had always been how he never took anything seriously (and his serious lack of commitment too, but that’s an issue for another time), and he knows that it’s a blessing and a curse.

“Yeah, no kidding.” 

Bradley grabs his daughter’s free arm and helps Jake maneuver her inside over the steep ledge of the front door and to the asylum of the living room couch. 

Quincy’s eyes are wide open and her brain is moving in slow motion; scanning her surroundings but not being able to focus on one thing before her eyes are caught by the presence of another. She had never been drunk before in her life and the copious amounts of vomit that had spewed out of her mouth tonight discouraged her from trying to speak. Any thought of opening her mouth made the muscle memory of puking prevail. 

The rational part of her brain knows that her father wants to wring her neck, but she silently prides herself on calling Jake and kind of doing the right thing (even though she knows the right thing was not sneaking out and getting fucked up on a Thursday, to begin with). Her dad will forgive her and spending time with Jake was always fun. She just vows to make sure that she’ll never puke in front of him again because he turned green at the sight of her hunched over on the side of the road. 

Quincy lands on the couch with an incredible lack of grace. She bounces and almost slips off again, but sticks her foot out to help support her. Her vision is blurred before she focuses on the sight of her dad with the deepest frown on his face and his hands on his hips. Her eyes follow a horizontal line next to him and see Jake worrying his lip in between his teeth. A hiccup falls out of her mouth and she rushes to close it before her body can register a solution to the nausea plaguing her currently. 

The silence between the three of them is unforgiving and she can’t remember a time where she had felt so. . .embarassed. 

Here she is, about to get the scolding of her life in front of one of the adults she admires the most. All she had ever wanted was to be seen as a grown-up and it’s clear to her now that the men in front of her think anything but that. 

“You got anything to say?” Bradley huffs. His glare sharpens the more he takes in his daughter’s appearance. 

The silence he’s met with kindles a fire in his belly that shifts the anxiety he feels to the beginning of an obnoxious anger. 

Quincy can’t answer verbally because she knows she’ll throw up. She can’t shake her head to answer him either. The room is spinning and the spiraling shadow cast by her vision will undoubtedly make her throw up too. She can’t even feel her lips and anything she has to say will not be an answer worthy of her dad’s appreciation. She fucked up big time and now she has to reap what she’s sown. 

Her dad scoffs. The room inflates with tension from all three of the living room’s occupants. Quincy closes her eyes. Jake holds his breath. Bradley bawls his hand into a fist. 

Here it comes. 

Bradley opens his mouth; words like venom sitting on the tip of his tongue. Quincy closes her eyes and braces herself for the yelling that she knows is coming. 

“Hey, let’s table it for tomorrow. Yeah?” 

If Jake wasn’t already her favorite, now he certainly is. 

Bradley turns to him. His cheeks are tomato red and his wrath sitting in the base of his throat. He has half the mind to come unglued on him before he remembers the pit of guilt from earlier. The putrid watery feeling of guilt dampens his vocal chords. His sentences dig a grave in his voicebox. 

Jake is right. 

His daughter can barely sit up straight and you’re upstairs trying to sleep. There’s no point in waking the entire house and having a one-sided screaming match with someone who will only have the faintest memory of what happened the next morning. 

Bradley lets out a hefty breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. Jake claps him on the shoulder in silent praise for his decision to drop it. Never would he have ever thought that Jake Seresin of all people would be the one discouraging him from being a total hothead. 

“Thanks for bringing her home, man. Sorry about – you know –” he attempts to apologize. Apologies to you rolled off his tongue like water rolled off waterfalls. They just didn’t have that effect when it came to other people who weren’t you. 

“Don’t sweat it. Wouldn’t be stickin’ around if I took half the shit you say to heart.” 

It’s not funny but Bradley laughs. He doesn’t know if it’s a feeble attempt at repairing the hurt he had done earlier or if it’s to absolve some of the fury that was sitting unleashed in the room, but he’s never been more thankful for Jake in that moment. 

Bradley starts to walk Jake to the front door and back out to his truck. Despite being the flashiest and cockiest person he knows, Jake has had the same car for close to twenty years. The silver F-150 had seen many drunk Bradleys and many drunk yous. He just wished that his daughter wouldn’t have been a passenger on the faux “drunk bus” too. 

He’ll never admit it, but part of him is jealous that Quincy called Jake instead of him. He wants to classify the feeling as betrayal, but he knows that it’s just envy. He knows that he would’ve called Maverick at this age instead of his mom. It’s a teenage rite of passage and nothing personal. 

“Look, it’s late and I know you’re pissed but she did the right thing. The party got busted, you know. And she uh – her friends were drinking, like a lot, and wanted her to get in the car with them,” Jake pauses, making sure Bradley is hearing the case of positives he’s building for Quincy, “She said no and then she called me.” 

Bradley nods his head and the tension in his shoulders starts to relax bit by bit. He’s oddly comforted by his daughter’s morality despite committing the precipice of what makes up an immoral teenager to get herself in this damn situation anyway. 

“Most kids don’t do that and I know she isn’t most kids so uh – don’t go too hard on her tomorrow?” 

The open door of the truck makes a high-pitched dinging noise as Jake’s legs sit half situated on the seat and halfway steady on the ground. The soft yellow light emitting from the streetlights tints the world in a sepia hue. 

“Can’t promise that. She’s in some serious shit.” 

Jake chuckles. “Serious shit or not, that’s still your baby. She needs you more than you think, you know.” 

The car door is shut and the engine is cranked. Bradley pats the hollowed metal of the truck as a “goodnight and goodbye” send-off as Jake backs out of his driveway and into the street. He watches as he rounds the corner to the stop sign before the image of his friend’s truck draws smaller and smaller and smaller until the image is microscopic. 

Bradley finds his way back inside and sees his daughter lying on her side with a throw blanket swallowing her figure. 

He heads into the kitchen to grab her a glass of water and some Advil to set on the coffee table. Bradley doesn’t recall being hungover so much as just sick to his fucking stomach the first time he drank, but he leaves it for her just in case. His eyes catch the bottom cabinet that houses the popcorn buckets and mixing bowls and grabs the largest one to serve as her “catch-all” puke bucket for the night. 

As he settles everything and makes his journey upstairs to your shared bedroom, he hears the wet wretch of what cannot be mistaken for vomiting. His heart harbors empathy for his little girl, but his brain garners no sympathy for her. Some sick part of him is glad that she’s throwing up because it’s a consequence that he doesn’t have to impose on her. She had done it to herself. 

“That’s what I thought."

He turns off the bedside lamp as he lays down next to you. You don’t stir from your deep sleep. The house is finally quiet and everything as is it should be. 

Bradley just doesn’t like the fact that this kind of peace is tainted with the fact that Quincy is growing up and that there is nothing he can do to stop it.