#anon went from all of the liquid in their body working to keep them warm to all of the liquid in their body working to keep them cool

[stupid-and-cute-are-enough]

for the past 4 days, i've descended into madness over the anon getting turned into an animatronic. behold. 2.6k words @get-rammed i've gone insane

as always, i spew BTS lore in the tags

“Alright, that’s everything,” his Handler announces, finishing the paint on his last claw. They give his hand a satisfied pat. Monty watches as they turn away and begin packing up their things, making idle chatter as they do, offhandedly mentioning that they hope it isn’t too late by the time they actually get to head home. They told him earlier that they’ve got a meeting with the higher-ups once they’re done tonight, and it’s been weighing on him all day.

“I don’t think you should go to that meeting,” he says because he can’t take it any longer.

They pause. “What do you mean?”

“I just… I don’t think you should go.” Monty clenches his fists in his lap. It doesn’t feel right. If it was any other lame meeting announced in a staff email, sure, but this isn’t one of those. They were approached in person. No documents, nothing written; just pulled them aside this morning and told them something about enhancing the Handler experience. All of the other Handlers have gone home already, too, and there’s nothing that they could want just his for that meant anything good.

They huff fondly. “I don’t really have a choice, Monty.”

They keep getting ready, a sinking feeling forming in Monty. He tries again to explain that it’s a bad idea again but is gently shut down. His Handler hugs his head on their way out, an act he’d usually eat up and crave more of, but tonight, he feels like rejecting it. It just feels so wrong.

“Sweets, please, don’t go.” He grabs onto their sleeve. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

Their face softens. “I hear you, Monty, but I have to. I’ll probably get fired if I don’t.” They laugh a little. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Worst-case scenario, they dump a mountain of work on me. Everything’ll be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, big guy.”

—

They announced a new animatronic the very next day.

The announcement made Monty raise a brow because even with his debut as a Glamrock, as rushed as it was, Fazzbear Entertainment still took their time to milk it for all its worth. Surely, with a brand-new animatronic, they’d pull out all of the theatrics. But, no, management had just called everyone backstage (Monty was grabbed by Chica’s Handler because his still wasn’t here, and it worried him. They always tell him if they’re going to be late) and spilled the news.

It’s another gator, which, geez, thanks, corporate. It’s dressed in actual clothes, unlike the rest of them. It’s a little smaller than Monty, with a sleeker design. Monty eyes the new thing up and down. There’s something… wrong with it. Monty feels it. So does the rest of the band. It stands across from them, eyes too wide, taking in too much yet too little information at the same time. Its hands are clutched together, held tightly to its chest. It’s a shambling mess, really. Barely finished and definitely not ready for crowds. The thing really needs a Handler, which only reminds Monty of the empty space by his side.

It’s different from them. It doesn’t fill its body like it’s supposed to. A feeling of uneasiness washes over the room. Even the other Handlers look a little disturbed.

After the incredibly lackluster introduction, dampened by the uneasiness of everyone in the room, management gives up on pleasantries and snaps at everyone to prepare for opening time. They leave without further explanation, not even telling everyone what the newcomer is supposed to be doing. Everyone takes the chance to leave as fast as possible, abandoning the barely functional animatronic where it stands.

Something in Monty tells him to linger, as disturbed as he is. The sinking feeling he had last night returns tenfold.

It looks too familiar. Cautiously, Monty approaches the thing, eyeing the uniform it wears. He dares not to peek at the nametag displayed proudly on its chest. The animatronic tilts its head up at him slightly, or at least it tries. Monty can hear the inner mechanics going, but it remains frozen. He stands uncomfortably in front of it, unsure of what to do. Everything about it feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong.

He peeks at the nametag, and his world comes crashing down. Surely not. They couldn’t have shoved a whole person, a full consciousness, inside of an animatronic, could they? That technology doesn’t exist, right? Right?

Monty reaches out a shaking hand, staring into the bot’s blank, red eyes. It can’t be. Fazzbear has done some fucked up, shady stuff, but they wouldn’t do this, would they? This has to be too far. It has to. His hand touches their forearm, feeling the all-too-familiar fabric of the Handler uniforms under his finger pads. He meets their eyes, registering the terror behind their blank stare.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, it’s... I, uh-”

“M-” Their voice fries out, and their jaw moves unnaturally. But it’s enough for Monty. That’s their voice. That’s their voice. Monty feels something vile fester inside of him. If he could get sick, he would. That’s them. That’s them in there. They’re in there. That’s his Handler, who he saw just last night, in there.

Their stare is so blank. Their hands are clutched together so tightly. That’s them.

“Oh, sweets…”

His hands slide down their arms to take their hands, snagging his thumb on the cuff of their uniform as he goes. Something there catches his eyes, though, something a human eye would miss, but something he’s been trained to notice. A tiny speckle of blood stained into the fabric. Their blood.

Monty sucks in a breath, his grip on their hands tightening. They were hurt when this was done to them. They bled.

“Let’s go to my green room,” he says. He keeps his voice gentle, but there’s also no room to argue. He doesn’t think they could, anyway. They don’t respond to him or make any kind of movement, so Monty moves for them. Slowly, painfully, he guides them up to his green room, keeping a gentle set of hands on them the entire way. They stumble and would’ve fallen without Monty to catch them. Their tail drags limply behind them. They probably don’t know how to use it for balance yet. The word yet makes Monty’s heart hurt.

He ensures the door stays open as they shuffle into his room, hovering over them until they’ve been cautiously guided to sit on the couch. They don’t need to struggle to stand anymore. Monty doesn’t think he could handle seeing it.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he says. It’s a lie. It’s an awful, horrible lie, but what else is he supposed to say?

They try to speak again, but their voice fries into something that sounds like a quiet cry. Their body begins to tremble, their hands clenching around each other even harder. All tell-tale signs that they’re crying, but they don’t have tears anymore. Instead, their eyes just stare into the wall, unresponsive.

“I’m so sorry, sweets,” he says as they weep. He sits beside them on the couch, cautiously wrapping his body around theirs. He doesn’t know if the different sensations will upset them even further, but he also doesn’t know what else to do.

“H-” A billow of steam rolls out of their jaw, rattling their whole system. The sudden movement startles Monty, making him pull away.

“Hey, sweets, you-” Monty glances into their eyes, wide, sightless, terrified, with a slack jaw pouring steam, “you need to calm down. I know it seems like I’m askin’ the impossible of ya, but you’ll overheat yourself, and I dunno how to fix that.”

Their body shudders, unresponsive to their mind. Monty doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to help. He remembers what they did when he first came online and when he was given his new body. They surrounded him with familiar, comforting things, but his Handler doesn’t live here like he does. At least they didn’t. Their greatest comforts are probably far out of Monty’s reach. He searches around his green room, trying to find anything he knows helps them relax.

He spots a fidget they used to love playing with during his noon charging sessions. It should be simple enough; it just needs a pushing and pulling motion. Nothing complicated. But his Handler’s hands don’t react, even as he pries them apart and presses the fidget into their palm. Their fingers remain tense, not even twitching.

“Okay, something easier. I got it. I’ve got you.”

Monty reaches and grabs one of the oversized plushies lying beside the two of them on the couch. It’s big enough for him to comfortably interact with, so it should be good enough for them, too, right? He places the weighted plush in their lap, tucking its arms in so his Handler doesn’t have to do it themself. It looks like they try to wrap their arms around the plush, but the thing just ends up getting knocked to the floor. The failure to get their arms to work only serves to upset his Handler more as their hands begin trembling, the metal of the digits clinking together. 

Monty looks up at them, scared for them. Scared with them. If they can’t function, they’re going to be decommissioned– not fired, not still alive, decommissioned and dead. Gone forever. Their head has turned slightly, staring intensely at something, so Monty follows their line of sight. His gaze lands on their jacket that they accidentally left last night, draped across a chair. Now a little shaky himself, Monty gets up and retrieves it for them.

He realizes once he gets back that it doesn’t fit them anymore. It used to be so big on them, but it doesn’t fit now. Their favorite jacket, the one they wore every day, doesn’t fit anymore. He drapes it over their shoulders, bringing it around them tightly. Their shoulders are bigger under his hands. Wider. Their body is like his own now and so very, very different from what it used to be.

He retakes their hands, kneeling in front of them. He meets their eyes, which stare deep into whatever kind of soul he has.

“Look at me, Chere,” he says, squeezing their hands, trying to ground them. He’d tell them to breathe with him, but they can’t anymore, and he doesn’t know if that’ll help or upset them. “I’ve got you. I promise. I won’t ever, ever let anything else happen to you. I promise.”

Their hands squeeze his own, and Monty lets out his own version of a sigh of relief. The shaking in their limbs begins to die down, the steam eventually coming to an end. He smiles at them, keeping his hold on their hands solid. He praises them softly, rubbing their knuckles.

Their eyes meet his properly, and Monty can see the hurt and the fear in their eyes. They shift, jaw moving experimentally.

“I… can’t breathe,” they say.

Monty’s heart breaks for them. They try to shift, try to grab onto their jacket and pull it tighter around them, but their limbs won’t cooperate, and the metal of their fingers slips against the satin material.

“Here, you gotta… you gotta grip with the pads of your fingers. Like this,” Monty says, taking hold of their hands and guiding their fingers to do so. A shudder runs through their system, getting their hands to tighten and pull, if only slightly.

Monty steps back to take another look at the design of their new body. A gator, like him. Their hair is soft and synthetic, with a little product to keep it sleek, so at least that wasn’t taken from them. In a bitter-sweet kind of way, Monty can imagine helping them style their hair in the morning when the dust settles. But Monty still has trouble adjusting to his mohawk, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for them right now. How long it’ll take for that dust to settle. They’re smaller than him. Sleeker. A little more compact and able to fit into tighter spaces. Probably equipped with the same processing power Monty has, and he prays to whatever is out there, none of the guardrails. Overall, they’re… built to work. They were hurt, maybe even killed, their body broken, disposed of, and shoved into this body to work. To work! They never get to go home again; they never get to have a life outside of the Pizzaplex ever again, all so Fazzbear Entertainment could have another obedient little worker.

Monty shoves down his anger. They don’t need that right now. Instead, he turns his energy to muster up the best smile he can, affirming the correct motions with their hands.

“There you go, you’ve got it.” His smile wavers a little at their silence. 

They stare at their hands, their new, robotic, alien hands. Hands that don’t listen when they tell them to move. A body that doesn’t listen. They grip around the fabric of their jacket, feeling, in a way, the mechanics whirr in their arms. But they don’t feel the silky fabric anywhere but their finger pads. They feel the warmth of Monty in front of them, holding onto them, but only in broad strokes. It’s not like skin. It’ll never be like skin. There’s no more blood, only coolant (they feel so cold), no nerves, no organs. No lungs. Those things are still there, in a way, in a robotic sense.

All of the essential bits keeping their body moving are still there. But it’s not their body. Flashes of blood and mutilation streak across their vision the longer they stare. They have claws now. And a snout. And a tail. They always thought it’d be kind of cool to have a tail, who doesn’t, but not like this. They don’t want this. They want to go home and lay in bed and fall asleep and hope that this is some god-awful dream. They want to fight with their ID at the stupid maintenance tunnel exit, and drive home tired, and wake up five hours later to come to work and do it all over again. 

“... sweets?”

They look up to Monty, sight still a little unclear. He looks worried. He looks scared. They don’t think they’ve ever seen him scared. He tentatively takes their hands, prying the fabric away before they rip something.

They stay there, Monty kneeling, Handler sitting, staring at each other. Lost, scared, confused. Neither quite sure what to say.

“I wanna go home,” they eventually settle on. They can see the resolve in Monty crack.

“I know, sweets.” He rubs their knuckles again. They’re disturbed by how little they can feel of it. “I’m so sorry they did this to you.”

They want to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he has nothing to be sorry for, but the words don’t come to them. So, instead, they sit in silence. Awful, dreadful silence.

Eventually, Monty stands, still holding their hands in his. “You’ve gotta be getting… tired,” he murmurs. “Here, I’ll show you how to get charged.”

His Handler know how. They’ve helped Monty settle in to get charged a million times. But it’s different now. They need to charge. Their battery isn’t running low, they don’t think anyway, but the emotional drain is enough for them to take the carefully offered out. Monty gets them set up, gently explaining things as he goes, like what it’s going to feel like at first and how entering standby will kind of feel like sleeping (at least, what he’s pretty sure sleeping feels like). When everything is said and done, and Monty is sure they’ll be out for a while, he turns to eye the big door that separates his room from the rest of the Pizzaplex.

His curtains are closed, and he’s going to make sure it stays that way. For a long time.

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hello! Can I request a caitvi x reader where the reader is really clingy due to some...unforseen event in their past? Sorry if it's a bit too vague😓😓.

BTW I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING. ITS AMAZING KEEP IT UPP 💯 👌

Hola hola!! It's not that vague at all! Thank you so much for your kind words! Here's your request, Anon! Also, do you guys mind if I reuse gifs? I try to find different ones each time, but there are only so many LMFAO

Cling Onto the Words You Say | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Every morning it's the same thing: Vi and Caitlyn get ready for work and you cry about them leaving. It's not like they didn't come back. Vi didn't understand your being upset. After a conversation with Caitlyn, Vi realizes she has some maturing to do and an apology to curate.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: F-Bomb, Hurt/Comfort(?), Comedy, Cheesy Costumes, Dramatic Use Of Rain and Water, No Use of Y/n

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

"You can't go," you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. It was around 5 in the morning. Soft pellets of rain hit and ran down the glass window while the orange haze of the light strained your eyes. This morning was cold, the air nicking your skin and rattling your bones.

Your socks, thick comforter, and heater were doing nothing to keep you warm. Only your partners can keep you warm.

"Muffin," Vi sighed. She tore your hand off her sleeve. It was too early for this. Every morning you cling to her and Caitlyn as if you'll never see them again. She didn't get it. Every morning they'd leave and every night they'd return. It was like you had some sort of separation anxiety.

"We'll be back before you know it," Caitlyn's voice soothed the heartache in your chest. Vi's thick boots sloshed together as she met Caitlyn near the en suite's bathroom. You sat in the middle of the comically large and now empty bed.

"I just-- I don't understand why you have to go so early. Can't you go at a later time?"

Vi closed her eyes to suppress an eye roll and a groan. You warned them before you three started dating that you were clingy, but she never thought it would be this much. It annoyed her how much you thought of the worst. She's proved herself over and over that she'll come back; Caitlyn too, so why can't you ever believe them?

Caitlyn put a patient hand on Vi's shoulder. "You know we can't. We're going to be okay, darling. I'll check in at lunch." She then leaned over to Vi's ear. "Come on," she whispered, "let's go."

The two of them left the room, giving you soft smiles.

The tears that have been threatening to fall finally do. The hot liquid rolls down your cheeks and the strain of the light is no longer.

You're now alone in your room, sitting in the dark while the rain clatters down your windows.

-

"I just don't get it," Vi huffed, throwing her hoodie over her head. Caitlyn offered her umbrella, but Vi pushed her hand away. "Every morning it's the same exact thing. The tears, the clinging. It's getting too much for me."

"Vi, now come on. You don't know what they went through."

"Oh, what, and you do?" Vi scoffed. She sharply turned her body towards Caitlyn, blocking the woman from walking. Caitlyn sighed. With the readjusting grip of her umbrella, she vaguely moved her shoulders.

"That's not what I meant."

Vi rolled her eyes. "Wow, okay. What a morning for me, huh, Cupcake? I'm not already annoyed that I have to come in early, but then I have to find out my partners are keeping secrets from me!"

Caitlyn thinks this could've been due to the weather, but she swore she saw Vi's eyes darken in color.

"Vi, let me explain--"

"And it's fucking raining too!" Vi barked. She stormed to the curb to violently kick her foot through the puddle of water. The disturbed water further soaked the concrete underneath the two women. "I fucking hate the rain."

"Violet!" Caitlyn shouted. Another eye roll came from the pinkette. She squared her shoulders to Caitlyn and gestured, saying "Now what?" with her body.

"You need to calm down," Caitlyn's voice calmed down as she eased towards Vi. "It's nothing personal and no one is keeping secrets. You also wouldn't be soaking wet if you got under the umbrella."

"I don't need no umbrella."

"Right. I'll be sure to remember that when you're ill on the couch, claiming you're dying when you have the common cold." Caitlyn motioned to the spot beside her. "Come on."

Vi huffed. "There's no point of me being under the umbrella anyone. I'm soaking wet," the woman complained, yet found herself beside the taller woman.

Caitlyn's face lit up with a warm smile and squinted eyes. "We'll get you fresh clothes back at the office. For now, listen to me with your head, not your heart."

On the walk to work, Caitlyn explained to Vi the reasons behind your clinginess. At first, Caitlyn was hesitant. It wasn't her business to tell, but your lack of storytelling was putting a wedge between you and Vi. Caitlyn didn't want her partners to hate each other. You were meant to love each other and her.

Throughout the work day, Vi spent most of her time processing the information Caitlyn told her and reflected on her actions. God, I'm an asshole.

Honestly, Vi should've known. She went through something similarly traumatic with her parents and even her sister. You would think going through such events would make her more emphatic, but nope. Instead, the past created a hothead with a big head and thick skull.

As Caitlyn promised, she checked in at lunch, but in a different way than she was planning...

"This is ridiculous," Caitlyn pouted at Vi. They were at your shared doorstep dressed in cheesy costumes they found at various stores.

Caitlyn was dressed in a red and shiny halter top with a Barbie pink mini skirt. She had black straps around her shoulders that held up white angel wings. She also wore a headband halo, white garters, white and lacy thigh highs, and finally, oh finally, cheesy ass face paint with hearts and "I love you" plastered all over her face.

Vi grinned. "I think you look hot, Cupcake."

Vi herself was wearing a red tank top, a doctor's coat, and black jeans. She also wore "hipster" glasses. Whatever the hell that meant.

"Of course you do," Caitlyn scoffed. "What is the point of this? We're supposed to be delivering lunch and we have," she stopped to check her watch, "30 minutes until our lunch is over."

"Oh, come on! That's plenty of time!" the pinkette beamed.

Caitlyn sighed, fixing the hold of the basket she was carrying. At least Vi had the smart to pick up lunch before forcing Caitlyn into this ridiculous costume and painting her face with childlike mischief. "What the hell are we supposed to be anyways?"

Vi's grin hasn't left her face once. She was enjoying this so much, the joy she felt overlapped the pain she was feeling in her cheeks. "I'm glad you asked. We're Dr. Love," Vi gestured to herself, "and his Cupid! Tada!" She gestured to Caitlyn who wore a stoneface.

"Who the hell is Dr. Love?!"

"I don't know!" Vi pouted, bringing her shoulders to her ears. "Look, I only had a few minutes to put this together and I really want to make it up to Muffin for being an ass, so, if you won't do this for me, do this for Muffin. Please?"

Vi's gray eyes stared into Caitlyn's blue. Her pupils were large and her bottom lip protruding from her mouth. At work, Vi was distant and closed-off like her mind was somewhere else. She had a permanent frown on her face and this was the first time all day Caitlyn saw joy in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, Caitlyn pressed the doorbell to the house.

"Yes! Oh, yes, yes!" Vi grabbed Caitlyn's face, careful to mind the paint, and pressed a big kiss to her cheek. "I owe you one."

Caitlyn shrugged with a bashful smile, her cheeks matching the color of her top. "Oh, well..."

The dark wood door creaked open, revealing your frame. You didn't look much better from this morning, but at least you were dressed. "Hello--?" you blink at Caitlyn and Vi. Vi grinned proudly, holding her hands in front of her while Caitlyn shyly smiled.

"We brought you lunch," Caitlyn said.

With your eyes shifting between the two of them, your heart couldn't help but skip a few beats at the gesture. You had no clue what the hell they were dressed as, but the colors hinted towards something with love. "Okay," you said dragging out the word. You stepped aside and invited Vi and Cait into their own home.

"Why the getup?" You finally ask them once they settle themselves on the couch. Caitlyn was peacefully sitting with her legs crossed at the ankle. With her perfect posture and angel wings, she looked something short of ethereal. With her outfit, however, she looked like a drunken college student on Halloween night.

"I wanted to do something special for you," Vi explained. She was setting up the arrangement of your favorite treats and lunch foods on the coffee table. She was comfortable sitting on the floor while she did this. "Especially after this morning."

"Oh," you pursed your lips to the side. You sat on the opposite side of Caitlyn. "That? I don't even remember," you say as if you didn't cry for 2 hours after they left.

"Yeah, you do," Vi and Caitlyn said in unison.

You shrugged. "Who's to say?"

With a soft chuckle, Vi turned herself around to look you in the eye. "Muffin," she took ahold of your hands. "I love you. I love you more than I can put into words. Never, ever, in my life, will I abandon you. Never will I say one thing yet mean the other. Never will I say one thing and do another.

"You," she pulled herself off the floor. She situated herself between you and Caitlyn. "are my life," she continued. She turned to place a hand on Caitlyn's knee. "You both are."

Just like this morning, tears stung your eyes. Your heart ached and wept, yet unlike this morning, for a happy reason. Someone took the time to understand you, to get you, and to apologize for what they've done to you.

You don't know how Vi came to this realization, but you're thankful to any force that helped her along the way.

"I love you," Vi said, her eyes on you again "and I'm sorry."

A sob broke past your chest as you threw yourself onto Vi. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, sobbing into the nape of her neck.

"Oh, hey now," Vi whispered, wrapping her arms around you. Her heavy and comforting hand rubbed your back. She closed her eyes, taking in your scent and feeling you sob and break down against her chest. "It's okay. It's alright."

Caitlyn frowned at the sight though her heart was smiling. You were allowing yourself to be vulnerable with them, something she knew was hard for you given your past with your family. You trusted them. Finally, your heart knew you were safe with them.

Caitlyn reached to wipe away any tears she could see.

Snotty and emotional, you pulled yourself off of Vi. "I forgive you. Th-Thank you for apologizing to me."

"Hey, don't thank me for the bare minimum. I upset you and apologizing should naturally be the next step. I don't want to lose you, Muff." Vi held your face between her hands.

Her eyes danced around your face, taking in your features as her heart broke to see tears. She kissed them away, licking off the saltiness left on her lips. "Now, tell me," she whispered, a smirk showing on her lips. "How hot does Cupcake look right now?"

"Hm?" you peered from behind Vi. There, you see Caitlyn with her legs still crossed at the ankle. Her posture was still perfect, her wings and halo standing tall, and you didn't notice it before, but her top had a heart-shaped boob window. You snickered. "Very," you whispered back to Vi.

Seeing your lips move but not hearing you, Caitlyn raised a brow. "Hey," she pouted. "What are you talking about? Why is Vi laughing? What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Cupcake!" Vi laughed. "Let's just eat lunch, okay?"

Caitlyn pouted but complied nonetheless. They're running out of time to be with you anyway and she's hungry. She grabbed a tea sandwich and nibbled on it.

Vi grinned at you. "We good?"

"We're great."

WC: 1,989

[quinloki]

Pussy Cat

fem!reader x Lucci

Summary: You're the most sought after piece of ass in the Grand Line Metro, and you're going to retire soon to open a BDSM club. One of your clients offers his services, but he's not really what you're looking for.

You give him a chance to change your mind.

CW: knotting, vaginal sex, oral sex, rough sex, lights on, pressed against glass, forced orgasms, mdni

Written on a whim, thanks to @anon-germany for causing the inspiration randomly. It's not exactly what I had kicked around in discord chat, but I like how it went.

It was a nice room.

They were always nice rooms. Nice rooms, nice food, nice clothes, nice, nice, nice.

You sigh, but it’s barely a shift of your shoulders, hardly a release of soft air between your lips. You’re with a good client, or had been. The business of the evening was handled, and thin silks hung from the finely shaped lines of your freshly cleaned body. The jarring marks of the night’s festivities dappled your skin, but the salve tonight and the application in the morning would be enough to fade them entirely.

You might take tomorrow night off, unless it was to keep your current client company again. Taking a sip of sweet liquor you smile despite it. That was hardly likely.

Of all your clients, Lucci called for you the least.

You were certain it had nothing to do with your skills. There was no one else he was bringing into his room. Between his own busy work, and his low - but no less satisfying - libido, he simply had no more need for additional companionship. He paid for the privilege to mark you, and he never overstepped the boundaries of what marks he could leave.

Unsurprising. You were the starling of the city. The most sought woman in the entire metropolis. Only six people in the city could call you directly, and of those, only five were clients.

But soon you would be retiring. The club was taking off, and while you had nothing against warming the beds of those you deemed worthy, it wasn’t something you could dedicate time enough to as a job anymore.

“I’m surprised,” Lucci says, walking into the room with naught on but the clear drops of water slipping from his thick hair and down his chiseled body.

“That I’m still here?” You muse. You weren’t kicked from someone’s room, you left when you were ready. Lucci knew that, so your words were a hallow jape.

“My current project is ending soon, and you haven’t offered me a position in your club.” He says it flatly, the air of one who would’ve turned it down anyway.

“Lucci, my dear, not in a million years.” You reply just as flatly.

“Oh?” The interest is curling in his tone, but you don’t pay it any mind. He’s an objective one - pragmatic.

“You’re good at what you do, and you’re good in bed, I won’t deny that, but my sweet winter cat, you’re not skilled enough for my club.” The sweet liquor against your tongue is perhaps, maybe a little too sweet.

“Skilled enough for some other club then?”

“Perhaps.” You drape yourself over the arm of the couch, watching his naked form shift under your scrutiny. “Why would you even be concerned with such a thing? I couldn’t imagine you accepting me as your boss.”

“Considering a change of pace.” He admits, stepping behind the marble-floored wet bar. “Maybe I’ve given enough to this government.”

“Well, I would recommend some other change of pace. Besides, you are not filled with an excess of passion, Lucci. I wouldn’t feel right expecting you to fake it more than not.” You take a drink, catching the sardonic smile on his lips. “Not that you aren’t faking enough already. See? You said yourself you wanted a change of pace.”

“What skills then, would I need, in order to not be faking it?”

“Ah… don’t make me answer something like that pussy cat,” you tease, the amber liquid warming your blood and sinking you into the brushed leather of the couch. “I’m far too comfortable around you to be kind.”

“Don’t waste your energy treating me kindly. If I’m going to make an informed decision about my next move, I need to know.”

“Hmph.” You take another gulp and regard him for a moment. He seems neutral enough, irritated maybe in some deep recess, bothered that you hadn’t simply accepted his offer as a matter of course. Well, he asked.

“In order to be useful in a kink club, one needs to be flexible. In mind, body, and skillset. Certainly, people will have things that they specialize in, but even the world’s best rigger does me little good if he can’t also fill several different kinds of dominant roles.

“Case in point, my dear. Rough, demanding, and prone to leaving marks. None of these things are bad, but you rarely deviate. You’re predictable in your desires, and your desires are for your own pleasure. You’d make a fine client to my club, but less so an addition to it.

“Your rigging skills are lacking. You don’t have the patience for proper shibari, and you don’t have the elegance for a lot of the knots. You are, admittedly elegant yourself, but I need people who can make my clients feel like they’re being enhanced by the experience, not just used.

“All of your love is for yourself as well. I don’t mind it, I’m not mewling beneath you in blissful haze because I’m seeking love in your sheets, but you are coldness without warmth. You’re all hard edges and sharp teeth and while you could find money enough in doing case by case client work - as there is certainly a market for your type - the lack of flexibility does me little good.”

Pausing you finish off the last of the sweet liquid in your cup, sighing and laying your head on the soft arm of the couch.

“You may well be skilled enough to know what your clients want, but I doubt you could put passion into your praise - assuming you could even be spurred toward actually saying the words themselves.” You wave your hand dismissively, turning enough to look over and realize that Lucci is standing in front of you and the couch.

The first thing you notice is the twitching, throbbing cock between his thighs, and as your eyes shift upward you see the hard gold eyes on you. His pupils are slits and you’re certain he’s willing himself to keep his human form.

��… You asked.” You assert. Despite the ease in your limbs and words you could feel the tension in the room.

“And the other side of that evaluation?” He questions. Despite the edge in the air and the obvious tension in his body, his voice is deadly calm.

You glance down at the impressive member he has, and realize the base is swelling. You’d explicitly forbade him from transforming while having sex with you, but only because you’d been worried his zoan form would be too cat-like to be pleasurable. Something about the idea of a knot in your guts was putting a knot in your guts already.

“I… doubt,” you tear your eyes back up to his face. “That anyone would be your equal in,” you lick your lips involuntarily. The look in his eyes practically has you pinned to the couch. “Primal play.”

“Could you,” you swallow again, eyes shifting back down. The knot at the base of his cock is almost twice as thick as his shaft. “Control-!”

Lucci leans in suddenly, a growl in his chest, and you jump back, sinking deep into the couch. He’s almost nose to nose with you, and there’s no where else for you to go. His hands are on either side of you, and you’re effectively imprisoned. It would be impossible to slip by him, unless he allowed you to.

“Do you think this is a lack of control?”

Your eyes shift between his. You can’t keep yourself calm, and you can feel your pulse start to race. It’s not fear - you haven’t feared a client in a long time. But there is something. Some sensation that has you feeling concern, at the least.

You barely shake your head. “…No.”

He leans down more, hot breath crashing against your skin as his lips trail so close to your jaw, you can almost feel the small hairs on your skin move from the pressure.

“Don’t you want to know?” He questions, hips moving enough to lay his heavy cock on your thigh. “What this knot will do to your precious, hundred thousand beri a night delicious pussy?” His teeth nip at the curve of your ear. “What wholly undignified sounds would you make despite yourself? Would your sweet, practiced mewling purrs survive the orgasms I force from you?” He licks up the side of your neck and you drop the glass. Lucci catches it with ease, pressing his head against yours and full on pinning you.

“Say yes.”

You shift against the couch. “To what?”

“Let me fuck you.” He growls the demanding words, breathing you in deep for a moment. “You always play at giving yourself to me. This time, this last time, actually surrender to me.” His hands grip the leather of the couch, making it groan.

“… yes.”

Lucci throws the glass, unbothered as it crashes against the wall, and lifts you from the couch. You gasp at the sudden motion, but you’re over his shoulder so quickly it’s disorienting. By the time you can sort out where you are he’s draped you over the bar he was standing at when he first posed his question.

Pushing you back, Lucci holds you by your thighs, spreading your legs wide and keeping you from falling off the bar by his hold alone. Your ass against one side of the bar, your shoulders were off the other side of it. Your hands were holding onto the edge while your head was pointed toward the floor, leaving you arched over the narrow bar, unable to see what Lucci was doing.

He kisses the insides of your thigh before licking heavily against your slit. His tongue pushes past your labia easily and he sucks your clit harshly. You moan as he continues, letting the rush of blood to your head carry the pleasure to newer heights.

He licks and sucks you to the edge quickly, and you don’t try to fight it. Lucci will have to do more than eat you out like a man starved to make you fall apart, but just as you begin to indulge in your orgasm he stops, and slaps your swollen clit harshly. The jolt of pain mingles with the orgasm you had nearly reached and you cry out.

The swear ripped from your lips isn’t the sound Lucci was looking for, and before you can yell at him, he’s back between your thighs. This time with and ice cube in his mouth.

“LUCCI!” You cry, the cold soothing the sting of the strike and his tongue making your body jolt. He holds you firmly, despite the way your body bucks, and you stay stuck in your precarious position. Once the ice melts he changes gears, grabbing one of your ankles and holding it out. The leverage keeps you in place, but it feels like you’re going to fall.

Two fingers push into your cold cunt and they feel so warm comparatively it almost burns. The sharp sting is blessedly brief, but your sense of imbalance has you off balance entirely. Lucci’s fingers curl inside you and you nearly cum, once his thumb presses against your clit there’s no saving you.

“No! I - hnnnngh!!” You choke on your words, the powerful rush of pleasure splattering dots across your vision. Your head spins as blood rushes to your thighs and pounds back into your head. Lucci doesn’t relent until you’re gasping to catch your breath, your body twitching randomly as you come down from the violent high.

A swear slips from your lips as Lucci reaches over the bar and lifts you up. You cling to him, too hazy and dizzy to keep yourself upright easily on your own.

“Bastard,” you mutter into his shoulder, not even protesting as he picks you up entirely.

He presses your bare back against glass and before you can ask what he thinks he’s doing he kisses you. The rough action denies you much say in the matter, and his tongue is in your mouth as his cock pushes into your swollen pussy.

You can’t help the satisfied moan that swirls around your tongue as he slowly pushes in deeper and deeper. The swell of the knot has made him thicker, you’re almost certain, and the girthy bulb at the base nestles against your labia warmly. Considering everything else, it’s gentle, despite the concern that paws at the edges of your mind about how it could possibly fit.

Leaning into him, you drape your arms around his shoulders, scratching your nails against his back. You can feel the grin pull at the corners of his lips, even as he continues to kiss you, his hips beginning a steady pace. With your legs hooked over his arms, your body held where he wants it by the glass against your skin, he picks up speed.

The gentle smack of the knot against your lips becomes more of a slap, but Lucci never thrusts in hard enough to bruise you. The light sting of the wet slap isn’t enough to lessen the pleasure coiling up inside you again, your fingers flexing against his back as the pace and your heavy breaths have broken the kiss.

“Wuh-where,” you murmur foggily, looking around enough to realize he’s pressed you against the thick sliding doors that lead out to the balcony. No one from the street would see you, but with the lights on in the hotel suite, anyone from the nearby hotel towers would know what was going on.

You start to say his name and his teeth are at your neck. He doesn’t bite, instead he licks and nips at the tender skin as he thrusts faster, pushing your legs back further. Your fingers dig into his back more as you can do little else than take what he gives you.

“Fuck,” you huff, unable to even adjust as he brings you closer again. You can feel the sweat prickle along your skin, the stickiness of your skin against the glass threatening to give way as pleasure and friction make your skin slick. All you can do is hold onto Lucci more, trusting him to keep his iron grip on you even if the glass doesn’t.

“N-no, please, Lucci!” The pleasure was building so fast, and you wanted to prolong it, to escape it, to have a moment to adjust to it, but he wouldn’t give you that. This wasn’t him following your mewling desires.

“Too-too much!” You nearly growl the words, a dull ache twisting your muscles from the second orgasm so close on the heels of the first. Not only does he deny you a moment, but he speeds up, thrusting into you hard enough that it’s pushing the breath from your lungs.

The knot bullies against your labia and the wet mess of sweat and slick sets off a concern in your brain, making you tense. Lucci growls against your neck, as you fruitlessly try to push him back. The knot, the knot - it’s going to go in, and you can’t form the words to beg him to slow down!

“Cum!” Lucci snarls, the heavy thrust behind the word forcing the thick knot into your sopping cunt.

The growl, the command, the terrifying stretch as the thick mass buries into you, and there’s no way for you to deny him. Your body locks up as the orgasm slams into you. The sound ripped from your throat is guttural, full of fear and pleasure and maybe even anger. You claw at his back, arms desperate to pull your body up from what felt like a drowning.

When you manage to breathe in, the rush of oxygen flooding your muscles as they finally released, you were sobbing. Lucci grins, licking your tears from your cheeks as he rolls his hips, fucking the knot deep and sending jolts of pleasure through your already shivering body.

“Ah, good.” He muses, slowly bullying the knot inside you. “You’re really enjoying it. Sometimes it’s too over-stimulating, and causes pain, but you’re lucky.”

Lucci pushes his hips up into you, leaning down and licking your breast sweetly, sending a thrill through you and pulling a whine from your lips.

Moving you away from the glass he holds you close, walking away from the balcony doors. Each step makes you moan as he shifts inside you. Your toes curl and your arms shiver from every small movement sending jolts of sharp pleasure through you.

“We’re going to be like this for a couple hours at least.” He explains calmly, laying you out on the messy bed from the rounds before your conversation. The implication sinks into you and you shake your head. “I said I was going to fuck you.” Lucci reminds you, pressing heavily into your hips.

“You didn’t think I’d be done after a couple small orgasms, did you… pussy cat?”

[ollypopwrites]

if you're still taking requests, can you write a fic where Gale has a cold and the others have to take care of him and cook instead 🥺

Anon I've been working on this for so long! My actual partner got very sick and then we had a move and then a weekend wedding getaway -- it's been hectic. But I've got about 3k words of Gale being doted on for you.

A Wizard in Need

Pairings: Mostly gen but also Bloodweave

Rating: M (language mostly)

CW: chronic illness, common colds, self-worth issues, slight body-horror imagery.

Read on Ao3

His whole body shook with the sudden heat, limbs beginning to jerk and shift, and hot liquid pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his eyes — damn, even his ears. Their time has run out, he realized, as his insides churned and changed, the pain unbearable as his bones broke beneath the skin. Soon he would be no more than another thrall, moving to the whims of some Elder Brain and without his own to think for himself. 

But the hunger of the orb swelled beyond anything else he could comprehend. The transformation could not even offer a reprieve. His last dreadful act as his own person is the orbs' imminent final stand – a deafening roar numbed his body to the pain and everything went white. 

Gale shot up suddenly in his bedroll, a strangled cry becoming a hacking cough, as he gasped for breath. His camp clothes were soaked with sweat, he felt them sticking  to his too warm body.  His hands felt at his face, the familiar scratch of his beard, his nose and lips were all present — no tentacles. Gale shuddered in relief, catching his breath. 

But Gods, he still felt terrible. Feverish, his mind in a haze and his head feeling as if it were stuffed full of cotton. 

There was a rustle at the flap of his tent and he saw the slight glow of red eyes. The rest of Astarion’s face was  backlit by the fire outside, hiding most of it in shadow. Gale felt too unsteady to be sure but he thought the perfect lines of his companion’s face were creased in concern before he schooled them back to his usual half-lidded stare. 

“Thought the tadpole might have finally had its way,” he said quietly. 

“For a moment there, I did as well,” Gale breathed a sigh. 

“It’s the orb, isn’t it?”

Gale rubbed at his chest. It ached, surely, as it always did. But the hunger clawing beneath his skin was more of a background feeling rather than whatever this was. 

“No, not this time,” he replied. “It’s-“�� he sneezed abruptly, several times in a row, and afterward his entire head throbbed.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion seemed half-amused. “I believe you have a  common cold.”

“That’s — “ 

Preposterous, and above all else annoying. They had tadpoles in their heads threatening to change them every day, a cult on their heels, he had an orb of netherese magic stuffed in his chest and now he had a trifling bug which made him feel like his entire head was about to burst. 

“Inconvenient.” Gale finished lamely. 

“Will you survive?” Astarion asked sarcastically. 

Too ill to even pretend to be jovial, Gale rolled his eyes and started getting out of his bedroll. “I just need some tea and a quick wash up.” 

When he tried to stand, however, the world began to spin. With a quickness that did nothing to help his dizziness, Astarion leapt forward into the tent, keeping him from falling sideways. He helped Gale down, seemed to hesitate with his hand out and then pressed it on the wizard’s sweaty forehead. His hand was shockingly and soothingly cool. Gale couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling. 

“You’re scorching.” Astarion noted. 

“I question the validity of your knowledge on the matter,” Gale sniffled. “You’re freezing.”

“Vampire,” Astarion gestured to himself as if he had forgotten. “But I know a flush when I see one, and yours is decidedly not one of debauchery.”

There was a clever remark somewhere he could retort with, just on the edge of flirting, but all Gale could think of was crawling back to his bedroll. He grabbed his waterskin, taking heavy pulls to soothe the scratching in his throat. After which he found no energy to do much else.

“Rest,” he muttered. “I need rest.” 

Astarion said nothing as Gale flopped back into his bedroll. He should tell him to bugger off, Astarion was on watch after all, but he didn’t send him away. The vampire sat still, unnaturally so as he always did, before grabbing his waterskin and walking out of the tent. 

Gale shifted between consciousness, exhaustion taking over but a fit of coughing or sneezing kept him from fully submitting. He felt more than heard Astarion come back, placing his waterskin by his hand again and a cool wet cloth pressed against his forehead. It could have been the fever and the ever changing state of his wakefulness but Gale was certain Astarion kept taking the cloth and cooling it between his hands before placing it back on his forehead. 

As if he had shifted through time itself, Gale woke up what felt like moments later. Except there were birds singing outside his tent rather than the tune of crickets. Sunlight didn’t quite pierce the cloth of his tent but it lit it up from the outside, and he could hear everyone moving around camp. 

He still felt dreadful. Blindly reaching for his water he found it full, and drank as much as he could before slumping back. For a while he tried to use his considerable willpower to sit up, get dressed and greet the next day of horrors which awaited them. But he simply did not want to. 

Just as he was about to force himself up, just outside his tent he heard, “Gale? Are you awake?” From Shadowheart. 

“Yes,” he croaked. 

“May I come in?”

“Yes.” 

There was the slightest frown as she peered in first. “Astarion says you have the plague.”

Gale didn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a fever,” he tried to assure her. “A bit of rest and it’ll pass, I’m sure.

“Sk’va it’s the transformation,” Lae’zel hissed just outside. “We should give the wizard an honorable death before it takes hold.”

Gale wanted to remind her that an honorable death would mean a decidedly unhonorable explosion which would wipe out their entire camp and beyond, but Wyll spoke up before he could.

“It’s a cold, Lae’zel,” Wyll said. “Nothing some hearty broth and rest can’t fix.”

Everyone seemed to be standing just outside of his tent. Out of view but definitely not out of hearing range. 

“If he is cold we have extra blankets,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Why do we waste our time with broth?”

“No,” Karlach said, “a cold, mate. A bug.”

“Then smash the bug.” 

“It’s not a real bug,” Wyll explained. “It’s a turn of phrase. Gale’s ill, with a common and mostly harmless sickness.”

“Tch’k.”

Sometimes Gale wondered if Lae’zel’s ignorance to Faerunian turns of phrase was merely a bit she was fully committed to. He couldn’t help but breathe out a small laugh but that triggered a coughing fit that stole his breath and shredded his throat.

Shadowheart gently pushed him down with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m more a battle healer, less a medicine woman,” she frowned. “Are you hungry? Wyll’s starting a bone broth but we have porridge.”

“Porridge sounds lovely,” Gale attempted a smile. 

“I’m on it!” Karlach yelled and he heard the heavy stomps of her boots trail off. 

“Halsin went to find some herbs for a tea he thinks may help,” Shadowheart told him. 

That was rather kind of Halsin to go out of his way. Gale thought for a moment he should try to make an attempt to tough it out. They did have very important things to do, after all. But as he woke with the ever present pain of the orb on top of feeling so dreadfully, he was not sure he could stand on his own two feet for long. Typical. Washed up, burdensome old man that he was: he would be the one to get ill on the road. He wasted valuable magical items, was  a constant threat of blowing them off the face of Faerûn and was now too sickly to move. 

He offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. “When Halsin returns, have him leave the herbs with the supplies, I’ll fetch myself a cup later.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “If you’re sure.”

“Quite sure.” 

“Astarion filled your waterskin, drink it,” she said blandly, then disappeared from the tent. 

“We’ll leave you to rest,” Wyll said through the cloth. “Shout if you need anything.”

It was quiet for a bit, the unintelligible murmur of everyone about camp and the birdsong outside would have been comforting if he didn’t feel so dreadful. He closed his eyes, and focused on his breath, trying to ignore the fact that his nose was too stopped. Heavy thumping footsteps and a flood of warmth in the tent alerted him to Karlach before she even said anything. 

“Delivery!” She boomed. “I warmed it up for you. One benefit of being a walking inferno.” She clanked on the metal in her chest. 

“Thank you, Karlach,” he said. 

“Of course, bomb buddies gotta stick together,” she gave a toothy grin. 

“Karlach let him rest,” Shadowheart called. 

“Oops, sorry,” she smiled sheepishly. “Shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Gale nodded. Bomb buddies. He wished he had her exuberance in the face of certain death. After she was gone, he willed himself to eat and had a mind to try and get up to wash his plate, but politeness would have to wait in the face of the dizziness he felt. He drank down some of the water and laid back, trying to breathe again. His chest ached. His fingers rubbed around the mark of the orb, not doing much to aid in the pain but now a habit more than anything. 

It was quiet, almost peaceful. Until suddenly his body wrought out a coughing fit so powerful he thought he may vomit. Suddenly the orb throbbed, his entire body seemed to vibrate and then — he woke up again. Still coughing. A cold, firm hand pulled him to sit, shocking him slightly at the unannounced presence. 

“Easy,” Astarion said simply. “Breathe.”

Gale closed his eyes, catching his breath. He still felt horrible. Astarion placed his waterskin in his hand, helping him lift it to his lips and drink some down. It was a heavenly sensation, the cool liquid soothing his throat and slaking the dry raw feeling from the cough. 

The day had changed into evening, not quite late enough to engulf his tent in darkness but enough that his gaze had to adjust to the low light. 

“Halsin made tea,” Astarion commented. “I’ll have Karlach warm it up for you. Wyll’s broth for you should be done soon, took me ages to find something big enough to boil down.”

Gale shook his head. “We need to make for the mountain pass,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his own self. Raspy and nasal. “You all should have sent a scouting party, not wasted time playing nurse.”

“Now is that any way to thank us?” Astarion simpered dramatically. “Lae’zel and Karlach found a path to the crèche, once you're done lazing about we will all head there to see if her little device works. When it inevitably fails, we will head to the Underdark at Halsin’s behest.” He tilted his head, not unlike a curious cat, Gale noted. “We can’t do that without our resident wizard, now can we? Who else will I bother on the road?”

“There’s plenty of people to bother in camp, if you must.”

“They’re not as fun as you.”

Gale was grateful for the fever. It could easily be the reason he suddenly felt his cheeks heat up if Astarion noticed. Without saying anything, Astarion held out the water again. Gale peered past him as he took a drink to a mirror he had in the corner of the camp. It was strange to see Astarion in front of him and not in the reflection. If Gale didn’t know better he’d think him a hallucination, a result of the illness that made Gale’s own reflection have the sunken in look he saw. 

“You should clear off,” Gale muttered. “The last thing we need is for illness to spread through the camp.”

“I haven’t been ill in nearly 200 years, Gale.” Astarion waved him off. “But if you want me to leave, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

Gale didn’t want him to leave, but he was on his way out anyway. Not much later he returned with a piping hot cup of tea. It was not a pleasurable mixture, slightly sour and earthy, the only reprieve from the flavor was the sweetness of honey in the aftertaste. He was not going to doubt Halsin’s knowledge, nor did he want to appear ungrateful. 

Astarion never left. Halsin came in, broad body taking up so much room in his tent he couldn’t even see Astarion behind him. He offered him more tea, some kind words and another cold cloth before leaving. Thankfully Astarion didn’t seem to want to chat, he simply thumbed through a book and lounged on some pillows. Every so often he would cool the wet cloth for Gale, or run to fetch some more water.

Wyll came in with broth and some bread. Gale found it in himself to sit up long enough to eat and let the others check in on him. The Blade of the Frontiers made quite a decent bone broth; he’d said the cook at the Ravenguard estate had taught him the recipe after many days spent sick in his youth. Lae’zel had grabbed his face and inspected it, as if looking for some errant tentacle that had escaped everyone’s notice. She gave one of her low growling hums out and told him he needed to rest, as if he had been trying to sprint the length of the lake the entire day. The healers had offered teas and potions to help him sleep.

Karlach had shyly offered her beloved bear Clive to sit with him since she couldn’t without burning his tent down. It was sweet, and childlike of her to do so, but he appreciated it more than he would have imagined. It seemed no one had realized just how much he was weighing them down. Perhaps they just didn’t want to mention it.

His chest ached. 

“Do you need a magic item?”

“What?”

“You’re rubbing the mark.” 

Gale immediately stopped, having started the pointless effort to soothe the pain without thinking. “No, I’m alright.”

“Don’t be stoic,” Astsrion said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“What does suit me, in your esteemed opinion, Astsrion?” Gale couldn’t keep the slight lilt of sarcasm out of his tone despite himself. 

“An unfevered flush, I’d imagine,” Astsrion replied immediately. “Does it hurt terribly?”

“It always does,” Gale replied, his raspy voice tired and defeated.

“Drink your tea,” Astarion simply said. “Halsin says it’ll help you sleep. Probably tastes like dirt, though. I don’t envy you.”

Gale took a sip, shuddering at the flavor. “It is…earthy,” he conceded. “But the effort is appreciated.”

Astarion’s lips twitched into a smile. 

“Astarion,” Gale began cautiously, “why are you still here?”

Astarion looked at him for a long moment, eyes rounding out as he seemed to think. “Someone has to make sure you’re still breathing.”

“It’s a cold,” Gale said, “I’m not at risk of falling over dead just yet.”

“With those grey hairs you can't be too sure.”

“Oh,” Gale breathed out a soft laugh, “you certainly know how to keep me humble, don’t you? And while I’m ill? Your bedside manner could use some practice.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” Astarion smirked. 

“Happy to assist,” Gale replied. “Word of advice, don’t mention dying to your ailing patient, it doesn’t inspire much comfort.”

It was quiet for a bit as Gale drank the tea down as quickly as he could. It was not a pleasant taste, and he wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. He gently stretched after setting the cup aside, his back stiff from laying all day and shoulders wound up from tensing them in his sleep. Gods, he wanted to bathe and sleep but he felt the energy draining from him. Halsin’s concoction was working quickly to lure him into a gentle sleep. 

“Say what you will about the flavor,” Gale yawned, blinking blearily. “Halsin’s skills as an apothecary are quite impressive.”

“I’ll pass your compliments along.”

“Without embezzling, if you please.”

Another quiet moment as Gale laid back, ready to let sleep wash over him. He was used to Astarion’s presence now, not sure what the real point of it was, but it kept the worst of the anxious thoughts at bay. And it was a comfort, Gale tried not to linger too long on that, but it was nice to have him there. 

“Everyone offered to care for you, you know,” Astarion said without preamble. “No one complained. Except me, of course, but I’d rather bring mine directly.”

Gale frowned at the ceiling of his tent, unsure what brought that comment on.

“Burdensome is debatable, darling, I’m hardly one to cast judgment about dietary needs,” Astarion tried to hide behind a casual tone, “but washed up is a bit harsh,”

“The tadpoles.” Gale winced in realization.

“Little blighters,” Astarion agreed. “We’re in this together, Gale. Whether we like it or not. We’d all take the bleeding heart kindness you’d offer any of us without blinking,” he tilted his head a bit, “it’s only right that you accept ours.”

That seemed like flawed logic; Gale was, with few exceptions, the most volatile besides Karlach. Even having him with them was expensive and dangerous. But his thoughts could not linger too long on it, as Halsin’s tea had his mind slipping towards blissful rest. The last thing he felt was the gentle coolness of a hand on his forehead, and the soft whisper of Astarion’s voice. 

“Sleep tight, darling. We’ve got you.”

Thank you for reading!

[apoptoses]

“Here is a secret little story he tells Daniel” please I’m STILL recovering from the Friday Night Riccardo feels and now THIS 😮‍💨 Amadeo getting drunk off his ass at the pub with Riccardo and having him be his first “real” kiss feels so true to both of them and what they meant to each other and how Armand has carried his memory to the present day by bringing up this story to his forever lover pleaaaase. I feel like you live in my brain because emotionally charged road trips? Life changing experiences with your twin flame on the road? The fact that every time I watch the MVs for Aerosmith’s Crazy and Arctic Monkeys’ Suck It And See I can only picture Armand and Daniel (tho Lestat is always the one doing the stripping scene in the Crazy strip club sequence). This feels like a prophecy fulfilled. And set during the PL era after their reunion? You’re a fucking GIFT 🥹 xoxo DA

Oh Dungeon Anon, how convenient that you show up just as I'm working on something relevant to your smutty interests!

Lestat stripping in the Crazy video is my new favorite thing, I'm obsessed. You know that man went to strip clubs while he was in his little glam rock band, got his band mates drunk and hopped on that pole at least once. With those tight leather pants and his vampire agility? He'd make the pros look like amateurs. Have you seen that video of the club with the 20 ft tall pole a woman goes down, gripping it with nothing but her thighs all the way to bottom? That. That is him, 100%.

But yes! Armand and Daniel! Fixing their issues, going over stories of lost love, making both of my test audience readers choke sob. You'll have it all! And you'll have this too, Vampire!Daniel getting it on via Armand biting his throat and filling his head with illusions while they're mind connected:

Yes, there it was, it was back. He was back in London-Venice-New York with a real cock inside him, Armand’s cock, that he was forced to keep so deep inside him he could barely thrust. All Armand could do was rub little maddening circles in him as he rolled his hips.

Daniel snuck his hand between them. Pressed down on his stomach and imagined he could feel Armand moving inside him, moaned when Armand caught up with his ideas and made it feel as though he really could. His cock bumped Daniel’s palm through the soft wall of his stomach over and over until he sobbed with it.

Armand wedged his hand in between their bodies too and toyed with his dick. He was soft. He was hard. He was so thirsty and so close to orgasm he was out of his head and shaking with it. Daniel rested his sweat soaked forehead on Armand’s shoulder, not caring that the blood would stain his shirt, and let himself go pliant as Armand jacked him off. 

In life he’d gone crazy when Armand had rubbed the sensitive skin below the tip of his dick. In death, in the illusion it was the same. A strangely warm thumb rubbing up and down until his muscles drew tight within him. He could hear the pound of Armand’s heart, the rush of his blood right beneath his mouth. He was like a bow with the string running from his mouth to his cock, overdrawn until he was ready to snap.

“Please, I can’t take it, please.”

Come, lover. Come for me.

Daniel’s hips stuttered uselessly into Armand’s hand. His fangs were buried in his shoulder before he could even finish his command.

As a mortal he’d been given the pleasure of coming and drinking from Armand in tandem hundreds of times. Every time he had thought this was it, it doesn’t get any better than this. As a mortal, he’d been so goddamned wrong. Armand’s illusion-memory-fantasy ratcheted the feeling of orgasm up to eleven. Into a full bodied thing that didn’t just involve his dick but every inch of him, that made his mouth prickle and burn as it pulsed through him. Each wave of it hit with each swallow of Armand’s blood until Daniel was flying with it.  Until his vision was gone and all he could see was liquid gold and red flowing through him, into his veins and under his skin.

Happy smutty Sunday! xoxo

[awkwardgtace]

Sleepovers Aren't Always One Night

🐸 anon asked me for a part 2 to The World's Weirdest Sleepover I wasn't totally sure what to do, but slow day at work and I'm happy to deliver

Sleepovers Aren't Always One Night

You were comfortable, too comfortable. You snapped open your eyes terrified to see the huge chest in front of you. The fingers around you felt like a cage. You started to panic and those immovable columns came closer. A scream died in your throat as you looked up to the face of the human holding you.

"Are you alright?" They asked. Their voice was thick with sleep. Dark eyes barely aware that slowly seemed to wake up. "Hey, what's wrong?"

You were frozen as they moved you from their chest. Your brain was fuzzy. You were warm and cold all at once. Sleeping in the human's hold was starting to feel better. Those eyes were alert now, but filled with worry.

"D-don't-" you tried. Your throat hurt, as though you had nothing to drink for days. The human moved you closer, pressed your face to their lips. You tried to push away, but your body wouldn't move.

"You're warm, probably too warm," they whispered. Their breath washed over you feeling weirdly good. The human pulled you away to look at you, concern on their face so clearly overwhelming.

They moved you again, holding you to their chest. You listened to the racing heart beneath the wall of skin. You couldn't understand why they would be like this, you were getting tired. You felt like this recently. Like it would be easier to sleep. You went to someone you could trust before you did that though. That was for a you that was more awake to think about. The human already caught you there wasn't a reason to fight off this feeling.

"Shit, shit, shit," the human was cursing. You could barely remember what happened. Your body was aching, had they done that? You couldn't stop a groan that made your throat burn. 

"What's wrong?" You croaked. The human was hovering above you immediately, it was almost a relief. It felt like that dream from the night that it was too cold came back.

"You're awake." They smiled, it felt calming and terrifying all at once. You tried to sit up, but huge fingers were next to you as you started to move. "Take it easy, it seems like you have a bad fever. Guess we couldn't get through the cold with no consequences. Let me help you up ok?"

You nodded, expecting fingers to pull you up. Instead they just hovered nearby waiting. You started to pull yourself up, the huge fingertips merely pressed against you to help lift you up. A few fingers sat behind you leaving you leaning back. Sitting up was hard. The human brought over something else and left it near you. They dipped a spoon into it and brought it close.

"You have to drink something, can you manage it?" They asked. You felt your throat burn when you swallowed, you had to manage it. You shuffled a bit to sit up straighter before leaning towards the spoon. You slowly lifted an arm to scoop some of the liquid to your lips. The second it hit your throat you became greedy taking all you could. "Hey it's ok to take it slow. There's plenty, it's not going away."

You nodded as they spoke. The dreamy night in the cold had nothing on this. Your mind was making this human too kind, it would hurt when you woke up alone. You took slower drinks until you couldn't stomach anymore. The human put the spoon in the larger object and left it alone.

"Can you tell me how you're feeling? You're still really warm, but anything else?" They asked. Their voice sounded frazzled. You never heard the human like this in all the years you lived with them. Your imagination was too good it seemed.

"Throat hurts, head fuzzy… sad," you murmured. It was easier to talk now. The not quite water helped a lot. The human furrowed their brows, it looked a bit funny to you.

"Why are you sad?" Their voice was quieter than you remember ever hearing it. You knew it was a dream, but it felt nice having your imaginary human care so much. You were feeling tired again, your dream would keep you safe.

"This is a dream, I'll wake up alone again." You didn't have anything to hide from your own dream. The human's face softened before they placed a hand flat next to you.

"Then let's keep you comfortable in this dream, ok?"

You smiled and climbed on the offered hand. You knew even in a dream you should be cautious, but this human was taking care of you. It was ok to let go and live in a dream sometimes, wasn't it? Their hand was warm, you nearly collapsed into it. Their fingers longer than you folded over you to keep you shielded from the world.

"Get some rest, I'll keep the dream going for as long as you want," they whispered. You smiled and curled up a bit tighter under their fingers.

"Thank you…" you said.

The next day you had similar interactions. You'd wake up and this vivid dream would help you. They gave you warm food and something they said should help. They let you stay in their hand the whole time. You wondered if human hands could really be quite so soft.

It was the third day that you woke up with a clearer mind. You could recall the blissful dream of someone taking care of you, no worry that you were burdening someone. That someone was in danger for you. You wished it could be real, but you hadn't spoken to the human since the breakfast after the sleepover.

You started to sit up, freezing at the feeling around you. It was softer than anything in your home. You slowly looked around to truly take in your surroundings. You were in the human's room again, on their bed. You jumped up causing a wave of dizziness. You tried to push it aside.

You had to get down, but you didn't have your things. You looked around, there was nothing to help you get down close by. You stumbled towards the edge, hoping for something soft on the floor.

You were knocked off your feet by the tremors around the house. They were light, but you were in no condition to stand your ground. You looked up, finding the door of the room wide open. The human had to be coming back. You tried to rush back to the spot you woke up, but the growing tremors made it hard.

You were forced to sit and stare at the door as the towering form walked in. The dark eyes found you immediately. That just made the human move faster and come closer. Their steps made you bounce, you were only more scared now. The human fell in front of you, this time launching you up. Their hand caught you, there was no escape.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I did that when moving around," they said. You tried not to show how scared you were, they seemed to know anyway. "Don't worry, I'm just a dream right? I won't hurt you."

"Wh-what?!" You yelled. That… that was what the human you imagined said. The one who had taken care of you. Their eyes widened before they slowly lowered their hand. They bypassed the bed and went straight to the floor. You knew they were angry and didn't try to run once their fingers flattened.

"That reaction makes me think you're feeling a lot better, you don't have to stay here. I don't think you brought anything with you the other night, but if I'm wrong just let me know." They had a sad smile. You didn't understand, they should be annoyed. Getting sick brought trouble and they even stayed with you for so long.

"I-I'm sorry, it won't happen again!" You tried to hop to your feet, but a new wave of dizziness had you falling back down. The dark eyes filled with worry came close, but their hand stayed firmly on the ground. You could leave.

"You got sick, it's ok to need some help. Honestly I'm glad you asked for a sleepover before it got that bad. I couldn't really take your temperature, but you were burning."

You didn't remember asking to sleep with them. The last thing you really remembered was feeling too warm in your home. You couldn't imagine why you would have come here. Unless it was that safe feeling, a hope it would happen again. The pad of one of their fingers brushed against your face.

"Are you sure you're alright to go back? I'm still worried, it seems like your fever just broke," they said. You looked past their finger to their eyes dripping with worry. You shook your head.

"I… I'm not sure. Getting sick can usually be a death sentence, especially like that. I don't even remember coming to you," you admitted. 

You expected the human to dump you off their hand. You had burdened them for days, and now admitted it's because you were weak. The hand holding you moved up quickly yet carefully. You were pressed against their chest, a dull thud beneath you. Faintly you remembered the sound of it racing, the fear from somewhere you couldn't place.

"It doesn't have to be anymore. You weren't a burden, I was happy to take care of you," they said. Their voice sounded different, like it was shattering. "I'll be honest, when I woke up and you were looking up at me terrified I thought I'd hurt you. When I brought you close and felt your fever I thought the world would shatter. I didn't want to lose you when I only just got to talk to you."

The human let out a shaky sigh. The sound felt painful to hear again. You could remember the tear stained face and pain they were barely letting out when you last heard it. You never learned why they were like that, but you did break a rule that day. You'd stolen an extra paper star they made a long time ago. You left it somewhere they'd find it, the smile when they did made the risk worth it.

"I… thank you for taking care of me, is it ok if I come back if I get sick again?" You asked. Your own voice was almost too quiet. The thudding heart picked up and the human pulled you away. You were left staring at their face with tears rolling down their cheeks. They smiled through them, they smiled at you.

"I thought I'd have to ask for you to trust me like that again," they smiled. They leaned forward and pressed their forehead against you. It was unbelievable how all encompassing they were when mixed with the kindness they continued to show you. "Please let me help you whenever you need it, I want to know you."

"...ok… I want to know you too…" The human moved again, pulling you down. They held you close and that heartbeat filled your ears. This time you even caught the smell of their soap as they only held you more firmly. You didn't feel like those impossible fingers would get tighter, that they would hurt you.

"Thank you…"

[catgirlforkaeya]

I WAS SO HAPPY WHEN I SAW THAT YOU POSTED THE OTHER DAY OML

if you're taking requests do you think that you could possibly do kaeya with a reader who has like a pretty bad tendency to not take care of themselves whether that be when sick or just in general? im in need of some fluff and cuddles dear lord. i really like your modern au kaeya btw

im not sure how to really work this and idk where your rules for asking went but😭 could i be 🍁 anon? <3

“you need to take better care of yourself.”

kaeya x gn!reader

synopsis: you fall ill after not looking out for yourself properly

word count: 936

hurt/comfort + fluff + sickfic + modern au

warnings: small mention of throwing up + reader doesn’t take care of themself (obvi by the title and request) + mental health struggles (?) + i can’t think of anymore

a/n: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭😭 it’s been sitting in my inbox forever i know and i apologize but i hope this is good, and you can absolutely be 🍁 anon if you still want :)

you were currently wrapped up in blankets, there was probably about 5 layers on top of you right now. however, you were still shivering. your fever was higher than any other fever you’ve had before. everything felt fuzzy right now— your mind was off in its own world while your body was desperately trying to fight off an illness. what a lovely way to spend your break.

the sound of a door opening brought you slightly back down to reality. your eyes flicked towards the door, relieved to see kaeya walking in with a bowl in his hand. the aroma of chicken noodle soup quickly filled the room.

as you went to sit up so that you could eat, your arms gave out on you. this fever had caused you to be so weak to the point you could barely even sit up. kaeya quickly sat down the soup when he noticed the struggles, helping you sit up right in bed. once you were finally steady, he handed you the soup with a metal spoon.

“are you feeling any better?” kaeya asked as he sat down next to you on the bed. you could see him looking at you out of the corner of your eye as you ate.

“no,” you mumbled, taking a spoonful of soup and putting it into your mouth. a small hiss left your lips at the hot liquid inside your mouth.

kaeya’s heart ached at seeing the current state you were in. although you were under five blankets and wearing his hoodie you were still shaking like a leaf. the only thing your body could keep down right now was the chicken noodle soup, but even that was a hit or miss. your eyes were dark and sunken in, probably from the restless nights you’ve had. he wished he could’ve done something sooner and prevented you from getting to this point.

within a few minutes your stomach quickly got full, unable to eat anything more. you set the soup onto your nightstand and crawled back under the covers. this time kaeya laid down with you too, hoping that his body heat might help warm you up a little bit more.

“you’re gonna get sick—“ you protested, looking up at kaeya as he pulled you closer towards him.

“stop worrying about me, i’ll be fine,” he spoke softly, kissing the top of your head.

you tried to protest against it once again but he shushed you.

“you need to start taking better care of yourself,” kaeya began, a sigh falling from his lips. “you worry about everybody else to the point that you hardly focus on yourself. you didn’t even notice you were sick until you could barely even function because you weren’t focusing on you. i’m not mad at you for this, because i can get the same way sometimes. i’m just worried about you.”

you fell silent, his words echoing through your head. kaeya was right. you don’t tend to your own needs anymore, all of your focus is on the ones around you. sadly most of them don’t even notice this. kaeya is the only one who has picked up on this almost destructive habit of yours. you ignored all of your symptoms of the illness until your body was overwhelmed from the virus, waking up in a condition that almost landed you in the hospital.

“i’m sorry,” you spoke quietly, afraid to speak up any louder. if you did speak any louder you feared the tears would start flowing.

“you don’t have anything to be sorry about love,” kaeya reached down and tilted your chin up so that you could look at him. his thumb gently brushed over your cheekbone, wiping away tears that already began falling. you weren’t quite sure why you were so emotional— whether it was because you finally had somebody who actually cared or the fact that you’re so exhausted from being sick that your body reverted to crying. whatever the cause was it just felt nice to have kaeya hold you.

this time, you didn’t protest when you felt kaeya pull you flush against his body, his grip tightening on you. you laid there, head buried into his chest as his fingers trailed up and down your spine.

“i love you,” kaeya whispered as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, placing gentle kisses.

“i love you more,” you whispered back, lips curving upwards slightly. for a split second all of this affection made you forget about the misery. you placed a small kiss to his chest in return. oh, how desperately you both just wanted to kiss each other’s lips but you knew it’d be too risky. you’d truly feel horrible if you got kaeya sick.

the rest of the day you two stayed in this position— kaeya holding you close as you rested your head against him. you faded in and out of consciousness once in awhile, you were trying to resist the exhaustion but it was getting too hard to fight off.

the last thing you remember is looking up at kaeya, who was scrolling through his phone while the tv played in the background. his thumbs rhythmically rubbing circles into your side. something about that moment just felt so domestic, even though it was a simple moment it still made you feel all warm and fuzzy… but that might’ve also been the fever trying to break.

as you finally drifted off to sleep you made a small silent promise to kaeya— you’d start taking better care of yourself as soon as you got over this sickness.

© all rights reserved to catgirlforkaeya. reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Down By The Docks

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Word Count: 1810

This is inspired by another request, from an anon this time.

The idea is a '40's AU. I wasn't totally sure if that meant they wanted a story totally set in the 1940's or something that just didn't reference the war, or pretended the war wasn't on/our characters aren't involved in the war, so I just picked one.

Hope this is what you wanted anon!

-------------

Bucky Barnes was one of the best looking fellas Y/n had ever laid eyes on, of that he was sure. It was only his second day working down on the docks, but he was sure he could happily spend the rest of his life working this menial job if the view never changed.

He was always quick with a smile for a pretty dame or even, Y/n had noticed, a particularly handsome fella.

Y/n had thought for sure he had imagined seeing his 'impressing a pretty dame' smile aimed at the bloke who had delivered a sack of letters to the area they were working in.

He would have written it off as the heat getting to him if not for that very same smile being directed his way later that day while they were all sitting around eating their lunches.

None of the other's seemed to have picked up Bucky's brazen flirting with both genders, or maybe they just didn't care. That last one seemed pretty unlikely though.

Y/n just hiked up a brow at Bucky the second time he shot him that pretty smile. He had no idea what to do with that. It couldn't be helped that it was illegal to be that way, that was just the way of the world.

--------------

Y/n was sure that Bucky was trying to kill him.

He had shown up to work wearing his standard work wear. Just the worn whites and browns of clothes that had been washed too many times but that you couldn't afford to throw out yet.

It just wasn't fair that the day was particularly warm, so everyone had ended up stripped down to their pants. All those half naked male bodies glimmering with sweat, the noises they made unconsciously as they lifted boxes full of cargo and moved them to where they needed to go.

And right there, in the middle of it all, Bucky Barnes. Poor Y/n had ended up being sent home from being 'affected by the sun'. It wasn't his fault dammit, Bucky had been parading around looking good enough to eat. Y/n was ashamed to find himself literally walking into poles and walls in his preoccupation with the half naked Bucky.

----------

Y/n sighed in relief. Tonight was going to be blessedly free of one Bucky Barnes, perpetual thorn in his gay side.

He was going out to a bar. It was an open secret that this particular bar was a gay bar. The cops in that area were happy to turn a blind eye to it largely because several of them were known regulars there.

That didn't mean you could just go about talking about it, or anything that went on inside it while you weren't there.

It was still illegal after all.

Y/n leaned back into his booth and sighed happily. A nice drink, some eye candy that wouldn't beat the crap out of him just for giving them the eye, and a little dancing ought to make his worries just float away.

Y/n had been looking forward to this all week.

Damn Barnes to hell and back.

Y/n moved over to the bar to order himself something silly. He was feeling the need for some ridiculousness tonight.

He had just taken his first sip of his drink when he spotted him. There he was, standing by the bar just a little ways down from Y/n, seemingly ordering a drink.

Y/n tried valiantly to not spit his mouthful of booze all over the bar. He had paid good money for that drink and he would be damned if he wasted it.

It didn't work very well. Some of it ended up coming out of his nose, and as he hacked up the parts of it that went down the wrong pipe to choke him, the rest dribbled down his chin.

'Well, that was attractive,' Y/n thought drily.

"Oh gosh, are you alright? Here, let me help."

Y/n turned watering eyes on the man addressing him.

He was met with a short blond who looked like a stiff wind could knock him over if he wasn't careful.

He was holding out a handkerchief and looking unsure of himself.

Y/n went to reassure the stranger that he was fine, but some small remaining part of the drink that hadn't been attempting to kill him before chose that moment to do so. Instead of words, he could only hack and cough, trying to get the liquid out of his lungs.

Y/n felt a hand on his back moving in firm circles, trying to help. He looked back over at the man to find him at his side frowning as he rubbed at Y/n's back.

When Y/n could finally speak properly he took the handkerchief, which had once again been offered, to clean his face of tears and spit and snot.

'Who'd have thought that alcohol burned so badly going into a person's nose and lungs?' Y/n thought disgustedly.

When he had cleaned himself up properly and turned back to his savior he suddenly realised he had no idea how to make this situation any less awkward.

The other man apparently had no such reservations.

"I'm Steve by the way. That looked pretty painful. Are you okay now?"

He was so earnest, and it didn't look like he was laughing at Y/n at all, so he could only nod vaguely.

"Yeah, I was just surprised by something. I'm Y/n, just so you know."

Y/n paused, feeling every bit as awkward as he ever had.

"Um, after that bit of excitement, I think I'm gonna call it a night. Murderous drinks aside it was nice meeting you. Can I clean this and bring it back here some time for you Steve?"

Y/n held up the thoroughly soaked handkerchief, cringing internally.

"Oh, don't worry about it, but are you sure you don't want to stay for a little bit longer? I'm here with my friend, but he's never very good company when there's dancing and alcohol involved."

Y/n mulled it over for a second, before manners kicked in.

"Yeah, no worries. I could stay for a bit longer, if only to save you from a lonely evening."

Steve's smile was sweet, but Y/n also couldn't detect anything else behind it. It didn't seem like he was trying to hit on Y/n, just that he didn't want to spend the night alone while his 'friend' danced the night away.

Y/n followed behind Steve as he led him over to the booth that Y/n had originally been sitting in.

Y/n stopped still at the sight of who was sitting across from Steve. Bucky dang-it-all-to-heck Barnes.

At their approach, Bucky turned away from the two women sitting with him in the booth. His handsome face lit up when he registered who it was standing in front of him.

"Stevie, there you are. I was starting to think you ditched me earlier than ever, but look what you found. I should bring you here more often."

Steve just gave Bucky a blank look.

Y/n couldn't blame him. If his 'good friend' had taken him out for a night of fun, he wouldn't have appreciated him looking at other guys that way either. He wasn't exactly backward in letting people know he was interested from the sounds of it.

Y/n stood awkwardly by the booth, not really sure if he should still be there. He had followed Steve to keep him company, but if it were him in Steve's shoes right now, he'd want him to leave.

"Um, I think I should probably head off actually."

Steve turned back to Y/n looking confused.

"Oh, well if you're sure. You don't have to stay if you don't want to of course."

Y/n refused to acknowledge the fact that Bucky was honest to goodness pouting. Was there anything in this world that was fair?

"Well, at least let me walk you out."

There would be no arguing apparently, as Bucky was already out of his seat and herding Y/n to the door.

"It was nice meeting you!" Y/n barely managed to turn to yell to Steve as he was pulled away by the ever insistent Bucky.

Once they made it outside Bucky paused and turned to face Y/n.

"Hey."

Y/n turned to face him.

"Gotta say, I'm gettin' a bit confused here."

Y/n frowned but stayed silent.

"When we met at work I thought you were pretty cute, but you don't hit on people down by the docks if you wanna live to see the next sunrise, you know? But then you were always starin' an I thought, maybe you mighta been interested. Then that day you kept walkin' into things happened and I was pretty dang sure you were."

Y/n was blushing by now.

'Great so he did notice.'

"But then I see you here."

Bucky had moved closer and lowered his voice, speaking softer.

"An, no offense to Stevie, but he's not exactly every guys dream-boat. You know, I don't even think he knows this is a gay bar."

He broke off here to chuckle quietly. He was standing so close, he was practically pressing Y/n up against the wall of the bar.

"But then you're actin' all stand-offish. Like you can't even bare to look at me. So, what's a guy to think?"

Bucky seems to realise how this might be coming across and pulls away to give Y/n some room.

"Do I got a shot with you Y/n?"

Y/n had been floating somewhere dreamy with Bucky pressed up so close to him, but when he pulled away, reality came crashing down. How dare he ask questions like that when Steve was in there waiting for him to get back?

"You got some nerve Barnes. You can't just ask anyone out. Not when you got a fantastic guy like that waiting for you in there!"

"Fantastic guy? What-"

Y/n cut him off before he could sweet talk his way out of this.

"Steve! He's sweet, and kind and probably way too good for someone who flirts with everyone on the block!"

Bucky was laughing, which Y/n thought was way out of line.

"Wha, Y/n, Steve's just a friend. He don't even swing that way."

Y/n's face lit up with the brightest blush he had ever felt. He was sure he was going to actually self-combust before long.

"Oh."

"Yeah. So is that why you looked at me like that?"

He moved closer again, and when he spoke that damned silver tongue was back.

"I would never. When I'm with someone, they're the most important person in the world to me. Besides, how could I ever look my ma in the face again if I treated my partner like that?"

Y/n blushed fiercely.

"So whaddya say? Give me a shot?"

Y/n could only nod, face still a brilliant red.

[ushittyoldman]

sweetheart like you

request.  hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song) 

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?” 

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.”

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably. 

“Holy shit.” 

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes. 

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes. 

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer. 

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.” 

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you. 

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend. 

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat. 

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing. 

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

[kaijime]

lights down low pt. 2

pt. 1

anon. lights down low was so good can u do a continuation of it maybe like y/n invites some of them to her house and boom gangbang

includes. kuroo tetsurou, bokuto koutarou, oikawa tooru, ushijima wakatoshi

cw. fem reader, fivesome, a yagami yato reference (little cutie), oral (receiving and giving), fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie, Bokuto’s kind of a sub ig??, handjob, face sitting, squirting, double penetration, anal

a/n. Kinda don’t wanna leave an a/n because I’m still mad at the fact that the first time I wrote this it got DELETED, still spicy about that but what can I do? I was already planning on making a sequel to Lights down low since it did so good, I just couldn’t figure out how and who. Anyways, hope your guys enjoy it.

It had been a few month since the wonderful videocall that left them all hot and needy. It wasn’t the only time that happened, in fact, ever since then it was repeated at least twice a week. Which obviously led to some awkward moments in the hallways.

The one time Tendou groped your ass in the hallway, or the one time Kuroo pinned you against the wall, got really close to your ear and whispered ‘are you wearing that underwear we love so much for tonight?’. Which for the record, you were, but now it was wet.

Currently you were in your house. You eyed yourself in the mirror one last time before you heard the doorbell ring. You rush to answer it, knowing full well who was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

The door was locked behind you when you let the four boys, Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa and Ushijima. For a moment you just stood there, wondering what to do now. Well, you had invited them home because your parents weren’t going to be home for the next few days, so I guess it was their move now. You walk to the kitchen and they follow you, almost like lost puppies. 

“So...would you guys like something to drink? Or something to drink?”

“That sweet pussy” your cheeks flushed at his words, embarrassed by the fact that they had barely arrived and they already had you dripping through you panties. Out of nowhere Ushijima picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and holding the back of your thighs to keep you safe. They walked up the stairs and down the hall to your room and Ushi placed you on the bed carefully.

You sat up quickly, taking off your shirt and slipping off your shorts as the boys quickly take their clothe off. The bed shifted when Oikawa climbed on. “No bra? Is this all for us baby?” You nod your head, a silent beg. Trying to communicate how much you needed him.

You feel the bed shift again when Ushijima slips in behind you, you end up between his legs, his rock hard dick pushing against your lower back. The boy in front of you slips a hand in the waistline of your cute underwear, doing nothing to hide the wet spot in between your legs, and he pulls them off. He leaves your wet cunt on display for the rest of the men in the room and throws your panties to an unknown corner of the room.

“This here...its so wet. Have you been thinking of us? Little cutie?” you nod as you guide both of Ushijima’s hands to touch your breasts, using his calloused fingers to tease your nipples and he catches on quickly to how you want him to treat you. Oikawa leans in and licks a long stripe through your folds, his warm tongue making you feel all kinds of ways. “You like that?”

He goes all in, diving between you legs to work his magic, sucking your clit occasionally, which drove you insane. You raised your hips, grinding them against his mouth for more friction. You finally got a piece of what you needed when he slipped a finger into your hole, he watched as your face transformed completely with every twist and turn he gave with his finger, and even more when he slipped in another one. 

“Tooru please... f-fuck me”

“Be patient love, we wont leave you unsatisfied. Now let go, I wanna hear your sweet music” he curls his fingers at the right spot making your hips shoot up in pleasure and he starts leaving marks on the inside of your thighs. One of his hands is knuckles deep inside you and the other one is holding your leg over his shoulder, you’re loving every second of it. “Are you close? I wanna hear you scream my name darling”

“T-Tooru!” you shout s you clench around his fingers, your slick coating them and your body was squirming. Shaky words mixed with his name and other profanities would spill out of your mouth in your moment of ecstasy, driving all of them crazy. Ushi’s cock twitching behind you and you felt a small drop of liquid trickle down to your arse, his precum.

When you finally came down from your high Tooru quickly flipped you over so that now you finally see Ushijima’s big cock. It wasn’t anything to laugh at, standing tall and bumping against his abdomen, his pretty pink tip dripping precum.

“Don’t be shy darling, take it in your mouth” Oikawa suggested, although his tone indicated it was and order.

“Its so big, I don’t think I can” you give it a try anyway, licking a stripe from the base to the tip, repeating the movement over and over until you took it in your mouth. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and threatened to slip out. And they did, when Oikawa entered you with no warning, he took your distraction with Ushijima’s cock to his advantage and sheathed himself inside of you all at once. You let out a loud moan, which only sent vibrations through the cock in your mouth and made the man throw his head back at the feeling.

Oikawa started moving, steady thrusts while he held your hips with his calloused hands, sure to leave marks. Ushi moved too, thrusting his hips into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat every time and holding your hair to steady himself. 

“Fuck- You feel so tight” you shift your gaze to your left and watch Kuroo jacking off with a piece of fabric around his length. Not just any piece of fabric, your previously discarded panties, the sight alone makes you clench on Tooru, and he notices. “Awwe, clenching when you see his fucking himself with your panties? Such a slut, having two of her holes stuffed. How does it feel? Oh wait, you shouldn’t speak with your mouth full”

Then you saw him, Bokuto, sitting in a chair and watching you with pleading eyes. His length just begging to be touched. You motioned him to come here with your hand and he did as told, desperate to be touched. When he got close enough to the bed you grabbed his cock and stroked it, rubbing the tip with your thumb and basically fucking him with your hand. 

“(Y/n)! Can I cum inside? Please let me come inside”

“Of course you can Ushi” Oikawa answered for you, he was still going at it, with every thrust he went faster and harder, his eyes fixated on the way your ass bounced and jiggled every time he shot his hips against yours. The sight was so arousing, he couldn’t hold back any longer and he leaned over you so his chest was right behind your back. He left kisses and bite marks on your neck and on the back of your neck.

Ushijima spurted thick ropes of cum into your mouth, holding your head close to him and forcing you to swallow it all. Not that you would complain. You felt Bokuto’s dick in your hand twitch, a signal that he was close. You took Ushijima’s cock out of your mouth, a little bit of his seed dripping down your chin, you filled you mouth with Bokuto’s cock. You hollow your cheeks in hope of making him spill it all inside and he did, painting your cheeks white with his cum and throwing his head back at the amazing feeling. 

Just as you felt the white haired male nearing his end you reached your own climax, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your walls spasming around Tooru’s cock. 

“You feel so good- hah! I’m gonna cum!” he shot his load inside your hole, leaving a warm feeling behind when it was over and he pulled out. Your fucked out figure was flipped again, laying on your back while Oikawa cleaned your chin with his shirt. “You did so good for us doll, now its their turn” he motions towards Kuroo, who had your panties in his hand, except now they were coated in his white substance. 

He laid on the bed next to you and you sat up supporting yourself with your elbow.

“Sit on my face” your eyes shoot open in shock. 

“Wh-what?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself doll, come sit on my face” you hesitantly move your way up to be situated on top of his face, holding onto the headboard of the bed for dear life. “Come on dear, I don’t have all day”

He grabs your hips with a bruising grip and shoves you down on his mouth and he sucks on your clit. Slurping, sucking and other lewd noises could be heard from his spot in between your legs. He brought your body up to let himself be heard.

“I want you to fuck yourself with my tongue”

“N-no I can-tt ah! Kuroo-!” he lowered you on his tongue and you began grinding on his face, his nose occasionally grazing against your clit. Minutes later you feel yourself close to orgasm, though this one feels different, it feels stronger. 

“K-Kuroo no! I’ll make a m-mess-! Please let me g-get off Kuroo!” he pretended he didn’t hear you, he wanted you to make a mess. So you did, squirting all over his face, your juices dripping on his cheeks and he licked his lips to taste you.

“You taste so good doll, now I wanna see you do that again. Bo, come over here” and the male followed the orders, his cock was painfully hard again. Kuroo moved from the bed, taking you with him in his arms as you held onto him like a koala. Bokuto laid down on the bed on Kuroo’s previous place and Kuroo placed you above Bokuto’s rock hard cock.

“K-Kuroo no! Its so big! I-I can’t take it” you whined when he put you down on his friends cock. He reached deeper than you could’ve ever reached with one of your toys, though they all seemed insignificant right now, you could never go back to using them now that you found something bigger and better to satisfy yourself with. Your train of thought was interrupted when Kuroo entered a finger in your ass, the sudden stretch in your unused hole making tears fall again.

“N-no! Kuroo that’s s-so dirty”

“Nonsense baby, nothing about you is dirty. Nothing you could ever have...” he moved the finger inside of you, trying to get you used to the new sensation while you bounced on Bokuto’s cock. “Nothing you could ever do...” he slips in another finger and your pain turned into pleasure the harder he went with his fingers. “Nothing you could ever say... would make me think that you’re dirty”

He removed all three fingers from your hole and you felt relieved. You shouldn’t feel relieved though, you should know by now, Kuroo doesn’t do anything without a reason. He only pulled his fingers out of your asshole because something bigger was coming. He went inside.

You scream out his name in pleasure, the feeling of being stuffed by two cocks was even more fulfilling than one. You kept bouncing on Bokuto, who was just taking in the view of the contortions of your face, how your eyes would shut every time he hit your cervix and how your whines only became louder.

You put your hands on Bokuto’s chest so you could keep balance.

“Oh! What do we have here?” curious Oikawa had found your small vibrator on your drawer and smirked at you playfully. 

“N-no-! Ple-ease, no more! No m-more” but it was too late Tooru had put the vibrating bullet against your clit and had your body shaking and squirming in pleasure.

“You feel so good (Y/n)-! If you clench on me like that-... I’m gonna cum” Bokuto whined. You just nodded your head, too absorbed in your own pleasure to mind him while he blew his load, coating your cute cunt in his cum. Kuroo left open mouthed kissed on your shoulder and that was the last piece of pleasure you needed to explode. You pulled yourself off his cock and make the mess, leaving his thighs soaking with your slick. 

The sight made Kuroo finish, pulling out of your ass and spurting cum on your back. When he finished his orgasm he stood back and admired the masterpiece he had created. After that you collapsed on top of Bokuto, and the rest of your memories were foggy. You remember the warmth of the bath they gave you as after care and you remember Ushi tucking you in. 

And you remember thinking as you went to sleep, ‘what a well spent afternoon’.

©️ kaijime | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[persimmonteas]

take a good look

4 times you gaze at him + 1 time he gazes at you

fic cowritten with @shinaus​, art by @annypuff​ <3. you can buy mel a coffee and anny a coffee. please support them! their work is banging and i love them 🥺 

pairing: vampire!shinso x f!reader

word count: ~4.5k

genre: slice of life fantasy (a tinge of coffee shop!AU), fluff, mutual pining, smut

cw: dom!shinso, size kink, daddy kink (inspired by toshi anon), praise kink, some degradation (he says slut 3x), fingerfucking, nipple play, choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, mating press, hickies everywhere, a cunt slap, overstimulation

first time: the coffee shop incident 

Of course your favorite coffee shop is swamped. This place is the only good thing about waking up close to dawn, with drinks always better than what your office has to offer and not to mention the pastries they make fresh.

Letting out a small groan, you decide to wait it out in the line and do your best to hurry with your breakfast before heading into work. Thankfully, you always leave yourself with enough time to actually sit and enjoy whatever you decide to buy that day, opting for it over greasy break rooms or stuffy smoking areas. 

Once the warm mug is in hand, you make quick work to try and find your usual spot only to find it occupied. While you won’t act possessive over a public seat of all things, losing the chance to enjoy glancing out the window and munching down your croissant seems to screw with your brain. 

You act without thinking, making a sharp turn to go sit somewhere else only for your knee to make contact with the underside of another table. Shit, you think to yourself, hearing the clatter of their cup. You helplessly watch liquid run down the table and into the person’s lap. 

You expect them to flinch, dart up from the table or, hell, even yell at you for your carelessness. He doesn’t yell at you and you don’t expect to see the colour of the liquid running down the table onto the floor to be red. Blood red. Fuck. A vampire. Hopefully, one who doesn’t eat you for your stupidity.

Just as you feel your heart sinking down to your stomach, your eyes flick up to meet the man whose day you likely ruined. You don’t see a hint of anger on his attractive features. In his defence, it’s probably because he’s busy looking at the way you’re gawking at him.

His unkempt hair and the deep eye bags adorning his sculpted face somehow make him look all the more endearing. It even looks like he’s wearing the smallest hint of eyeliner. Or are his eyes just naturally like that? Hard to tell. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts (and staring session) by him breaking eye contact with you to clean himself up, before rising to his feet and doing the same to the table. It makes you come back down to Earth, and thereby remembering your clownery

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—” you start, but are met with a hand held up in front of your face. You furrow your brows in confusion, having assumed his lack of aggression would mean he’d be more understanding but nope.

“No issue,” he grumbles in response, giving his trousers one last wipe down before swiftly weaving through the others in the coffee shop, flipping his hoodie up and taking his leave. Now, you’re even more confused. 

Sure, you spilled something over him and the table, but you would have bought him another one? Paid for his dry cleaning or something maybe? Yet, off he went, moving so quickly you couldn’t ever hope to catch up to him. Fucking vampires, man, you shake your head.

The confusion eventually fades but not completely. You help one of the baristas doing the last of the clean up before settling into the strange vampire’s seat and letting your mind wander as you eat your breakfast. 

second time: gawking at the gym

It’s a common occurrence for you to make it to the gym right as the rush of 9-5s ends, the perfect time in your opinion. Nobody hogging any of the ellipticals, the water cooler always left unoccupied and nothing but time for you to get through your usual routine.

With this in mind, you can confidently say that nothing out of the ordinary ever happens at the gym. Well, could say. 

Carefully bringing your leg around to meet the other on your way off of the exercise bike, you're momentarily distracted by the sound of a nearby treadmill whirring so much hard that it sounds as though it may break. 

Lifting your towel and water bottle, you make your way over in curiosity. It almost seems as if whoever is on the treadmill moves even faster as you approach. Once you make it there, you’re met with the man who seems to be continuously haunting your surroundings. 

Despite his unruly purple hair in a band and all-black gym attire, vamp man still seems out of place. The athletic wear is a complete change of pace, considering the hoodie and leather jacket he was wearing during your first encounter. 

You rid yourself of any wandering thoughts about the man and focus on him being the reason that the treadmill is about to be on its last legs. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him; the sheer speed of his legs is mindblowing.  And a little ridiculous looking if you’re honest with yourself.

The moment is short lived when he slows to a stop, probably thinking the same thing that you are about the poor machine not being able to last another mile. He looks like he’s barely broken a sweat. Fucking vampires, you repeat to yourself.  

Just your luck, he notices your presence as he dabs the side of his not-even-sweating face with his towel. He begins to smirk at your eyes on him. 

“Little rude to stare, isn’t it?” he wonders aloud, voice much deeper and more luxurious than what you remember. Getting caught fills you with deep embarrassment. You stutter out a quick apology before making your way over to another machine. 

Even with your back facing away from any passing people as you continue your routine, you can practically feel his eyes boring into you.

A few minutes is all it takes for you to turn to check if your suspicions are correct. You’re met with his shameless stare. He’s not even making an attempt to hide his gaze either, leaning on one of the back walls as he watches you, large arms crossed over his broad chest somehow making the skin-tight shirt he’s wearing even tighter. 

This is torture, you think to yourself as you give him a polite smile, only to hear him chuckling at your strained smile.

“What? So you can stare but I can’t?” he tries, fully getting your attention once more as you stop what you’re doing. Sighing and smacking your machine, you come off of your machine and make your way back over to him.

Your confidence about approaching decreases as you see the full height difference between you two. You’re a fair bit smaller than he is. He looms over you even with his back still leaning against the wall.

“If you’re trying to stalk me, you’re doing a bad job. It should be me, after all. I’m the predator,” he lightly mocks you. 

You almost stomp your foot. “I am not stalking you!” you protest. “It isn’t my fault that you apparently go to the same coffee shop and gym as me.” 

He levels you with a delighted look. Humans usually don’t take his teasing well but you seem so much fun.

Throwing an annoyed peace sign at him, you make your way out of the gym.

third time: literally just that scene in the first twilight movie without edward doing donuts in his car into the lot

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out at this time?” The low voice comes from your side, making every muscle in your body suddenly jolt. You just left your friends. Why do creeps seem to have a radar?

Even as you pick up your pace and ignore the question, it only seems to egg him on more. Right as he starts talking to you again, he’s swiftly cut off.

Feeling a small gust of wind at your back despite the calm night, you turn in confusion. Where did the creep go? Your question is answered when you watch him get slammed against the nearest storefront’s shutters. A much taller figure overshadows over him, hand around the creep’s throat. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the purple hair, unruly as ever starting from the collar of his coat. You stride over and pull on Shinso’s coat sleeve in hopes of ceasing his threatening actions—no matter how much the creep deserves the vampire’s ire. After all, you don’t want Shinso to end up with a track record after, like, a century (you’re guessing) without one.

“Shinso,” you say, eyes pleading as you look up at him—unaware of how much he enjoys hearing you so naturally say his name. He meets your stare briefly then rolls his eyes and releases his hold, watching the man scramble away. The chuckle that leaves him at the scene makes you wonder if he’s a sadist. 

Before you can wonder much more, he grips your hand tightly in his own as he leads you farther down the street. The clasp strangely comforting to you despite his freezing skin.

“You really need to stop being so irresponsible,” he tells you, tone almost mocking as he (somehow) takes every right path to your apartment building. There’s no point in questioning how he knows this. After all, for some reason, the world keeps leading you to him in an array of coincidences that are starting to feel less and less coincidental. 

When you let out a scoff, his hand seems to tighten further and you reflexively try to yank your hand away. He just stops in his tracks and turns to face you. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t question, especially since he speaks up before you do. 

“Don’t make me have to watch your every move to keep you out of trouble, I’d like to have a social life too, you know,” he grumbles, before turning to walk away. It leaves you a little dumbfounded to say the least, since you’re not exactly stopping him from having a life. Y’know, with, how totally unplanned these encounters are and all.

fourth time: the confrontation

Apparently, not one thing can be your own anymore. Not that you’re complaining, of course, but the sheer number of coincidences between you and Shinso is extraordinary and only seems to escalate. You keep running into him even in places so busy that you think there’s no chance of running into anybody you know. 

Now that Autumn is in full swing, the nights are colder and the leaves are dappled in brown and red shades. The perfect time to start going on walks through some of the bustling parks you live near. 

You love the scenery, especially the large lake that lies in the middle of your favorite park. As dusk rolls around, you take the chance to get a walk in to enjoy the now barely visible sunlight and to ponder a certain vampire. 

Not even one lap into walking around the lake, you catch sight of the colour that’s been plaguing your thoughts in your peripheral. 

The deep indigo colour is hard to miss, especially when it’s on the head of the vampire you keep running into. Though this time feels a little different since you finally catch him when he’s unaware of you.

Sitting on one of the benches facing the water, he’s wearing his typical hoodie and leather jacket and is holding what looks to be a book. What kind of book a vampire reads is beyond your imagination. 

All you know is that you finally have the opportunity to take the upper hand. Every time you see Shinso, he worms his way out of your questions. Or he leaves in an ominous distinctly vampire fashion.

There’s no reason for him to be everywhere you go, unless ... You want to confirm your hypothesis. 

The plan is simple. You’ll act like you're still out on your casual walk and you’ll walk up to the bench and sit down in a non-suspicious way. You nod to yourself. Perfect, flawless plan. 

It shockingly works … his book must be really good. You get all the way up to the bench without him acknowledging you. Since he’s only taking up one side, you don’t wait for verbal permission to sit down alongside him.

He still makes no indication that he notices you. His eyes never leave the book he has in his hands. You fixate your eyes on the silver ring on his index finger as he flicks through the pages. 

You lean in close and try to keep your smugness about finally startling him from bleeding into your voice when you speak. 

“You know, I’m starting to think you’re conveniently everywhere I go on purpose.”

For the first time ever, he’s the one caught off guard. Shinso flinches away from you and brings his eyes to meet yours. Without his signature smirk or witty comments, he simply gets up to take his leave. 

Well. This certainly isn’t going the way you want.

After your many encounters, you can pick up on his overall mood through his reactions to you. Though, he’s never reacted like this. At least not since the incident at the coffee shop.

The dismissal ignites irritation in you. Why is up to him whether or not you interacted? Taking the opportunity while you still have it, you follow him. 

It isn’t until he passes a large tree just off of the main path that you completely catch up to him. You realize he’ll easily slip away if you don’t move quickly. So you do, hand coming up to hit the tree trunk and essentially blocking his way. 

His eyes widen at you. However, he makes no attempt at escaping. 

“Why do we keep running into each other?” you ask with exasperation, eyes still on him as he moves to lean against the tree. You don’t move your hand, using it to grasp some control of the situation.

“You’re everywhere I go, it doesn’t matter where or when. You’re always there.” The rant is far from needed for him, he knows this already. But, you keep going. 

“What is this? Were we lovers in a past life or something? Do you have some unresolved feelings?” The way you’re rambling makes you impossibly endearing to him. His classic chuckle slipping out stops you in your tracks.

“Nothing of the sort,” he curtly replies. You cross your arms over your chest at his usual demeanor returning. “No such thing as reincarnated soulmates, at least with what I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Though, the feelings department…” As he continues, he leans closer to you. So much so you can almost feel his breath on your face and smell his warm, spicy cologne. 

“Is there a problem if I do have feelings for you?”

You blink at him. What? You don’t think you’ve ever been so caught off guard.. Feelings? Is that what this has all been about? 

Every previous encounter begins to run through your head and you start picking out small things that back up his statement. The lingering stares, teasing words, protective nature. You groan and drag your hands down your face. Man, you didn’t pick up on any of his hints. He must think you’re an idiot. 

Before you can give him an answer, he pushes off the tree, standing over you at full height. Assuming he’s about to attempt to leave once more, you’re surprised to see him turning back in the direction of the bench. When you make no effort to move, he reaches out and pulls you by your coat until his hand is in yours. 

“I’ll take that as not a problem.” A smirk still on his face due to you indirectly feeding his ego. 

Although, now walking beside him, you don’t miss the way his free hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. A gesture you recognise as one of his nervous tics. Did you do that to him? You grin at the idea that you make the great vampire feel that way.

“There’s a scooter rental place down by this side of the lake.” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, realising he’s been trying to hold eye contact with you. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you let me take you out on a ride around the lake, I’ll answer any questions you have, deal?”

The way he’s practically bargaining with you makes you want to laugh, but you keep your face neutral as you agree to his offer. Who turns down taking a romantic scooter ride with a hot vampire? Nobody. 

Of course, he takes any opportunity to tease you, so he rents a smaller scooter so you have to cling onto him.

You don’t complain though. How can you as you enjoy feeling his back muscles flex? Not to mention, he keeps his promise and answers any and every question you have about himself or his past. And, wow, he has an interesting and long past. 

As the sky turns dark and drips stars, you’re left with a feeling rising in your chest that you certainly don’t reject and with the hope of meeting him again—on purpose, this time. A planned event seems likely as you clutch the torn-out blank page of his book with his phone number scribbled across it in your fist.

one time: he gazes at you

“Hitoshi. You already have better night vision than me. This is so extra!” you protest, stumbling through the dark apartment as your vampiric boyfriend maneuvers you to ... his room, you think. 

Hitoshi just rubs soothing circles on your back and you just know the fucker is smirking. You hear the light click on. 

“You can take the blindfold off.” 

Tugging the blindfold off, you stare at the new object Hitoshi bought for his room. 

“Baby, this is a mirror.” 

He nods while leaning against his bed, looking infuriatingly pretty per usual. 

“You can’t even see yourself in a mirror. Why?” You arch an eyebrow in Hitoshi’s direction, trying to explain your absolute bafflement at his purchase. 

“In case you’re here and want to check yourself out.”  

You see nothing but innocence plastered on his facial expression but did you trust it? No. 

A mindblowing second later, he stands in front of you, caressing your face with calloused, cold hands. A nice contrast to the sweltering temperature in his room he set for you. Hitoshi leans in to kiss you, gentle but firm. Your hands go up to fist his shirt as he intensifies the kiss. 

He slides his hands down your cheek to stroke your lip and then slowly skims down your body.  

“It would be a great idea to take this off,” he whispers, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

You eagerly nod as he strips you out of your shirt and pants. Awareness of his plans finally clicks when he turns you to face the mirror. 

The remark on the tip of your tongue dies when Hitoshi rolls your nipples through the thin lace of your bra. You arch into his touch as he gently pinches and pulls them. God, your panties are already drenched and nipples hard. 

“Fuck,” you moan as Hitoshi slides your panties to the side. Letting you lean against his corded chest, he hitches one of your legs off the floor. 

“Go on, spread yourself open. Let me see how wet your slutty cunt is,” he murmurs into your ear. 

You hard swallow as you spread your glistening lips open for him, strands of your arousal clinging to your fingers when you pull them away. Hitoshi digs his hand into your thigh.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He sounds amused as he uses his other hand to pull your hair by the roots.

“No, no, daddy, I’m sorry,” you apologize and move your hand back to where it belongs. 

“Good girl, look at yourself. Wrecked without even being fucked.” You stare at yourself in the mirror with a half-lidded gaze. He’s right. With your heaving chest and puffy, soaked pussy, you look like you’ve been railed. But instead, you continue to spread open your aching pussy for your fully clothed boyfriend.

“Daddy, daddy, please touch me,” you plead as you grind against his hard bulge, desperate for any kind of friction. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” If you were any more lucid, you’d have smacked Hitoshi for his lilting tease. 

“Aren’t I always a good girl,” you whine, hands clambering at his thighs. 

He chuckles at that, kissing your head before somehow gracefully crumpling to the ground with you in his lap. In a blink, he has you spread out in his lap as he plays with your clit. He slides a thick finger inside your tiny cunny as he grazes your shoulder with his canines.

“Look at you,” he coos. “You look so good like this, my darling little slut.” 

You don’t even have a retort, too enraptured by the sight of Hitoshi fingerfucking your sopping cunt with his invisible hand. The way your cunt opens for him and gapes in the mirror spellbinding for both of you.

You moan as your hips jerk up. There’s not much more he loves than how your lips part and your legs shake at how he strokes his finger inside of you. 

“More,” you beg. How can he resist your dazed expression? 

“Such a needy baby,” he tsks as he scissors you open with another finger. 

Another strum of your clit and pinch of your nipple and you’re gone, eyes squeezing shut. Your juices surely ruining his pants as you writhe in his lap. 

He cradles your cheek and then grips your chin to turn you back to the mirror. 

“Look at yourself, pretty girl. Such a fucked out mess.” 

You gaze at the bruises blooming over your shoulders and down your neck and shudder, pleased. The aftershocks of your orgasm leave you warm as you languidly suck your juices off Hitoshi’s fingers.  

“Toshi!” you squeal as he gently deposits you on his bed and pulls his clothes off. The bed is purely decorative and for you considering he doesn’t sleep. Although, even with a bed, you guys still fuck over every surface in his apartment. 

Your sensitivity protests fall to deaf ears as he bends your knees to your chest. This time, Hitoshi is the one to spread you open. He slaps your cunt and you claw at the sheets. Pumping two fingers slowly in and out of you, he uses his other hand to roughly pull down your bra.

His chapped lips wrapping around your nipple and cold fingers groping your other breast feel overwhelming. Hitoshi cages you in, sucking wet kisses over your tits, leaving you no room to evade his overstimulation as you squirm to get away from his fingers fucking up into you. 

Your sore nipples and cunt get a moment of reprieve as he moves down to concentrate on marking bites all over your plush thighs. Instantly, you miss being full. 

When he passes your empty, clenching cunt for the third time to suck bruises on your inner thighs, you burst. 

“Daddy, please, please, fuck me!” 

Hitoshi trails kisses up your heated skin to your throat, laving over the hickies he left.

“Beautiful,” he croons as he finally positions his tip against your hole and pushes in. The praise and stretch make you whine. He stills as your tiny cunt clenches around him. Your warm, drenched walls wrapping around his cock makes him toss his head back in pleasure. 

“My patient good girl,” he groans, pulling at your nipples. 

“Fuck—more, daddy, more,” you curse as you squirm, your hips rocking up to meet his shallow thrusts. He doesn’t reply and grazes his fangs over your pulse point as he holds your hips down. 

Your breath hitches—and he abruptly pulls back.

“Did my baby think I was going to bite her?” Hitoshi gives you a lazy smirk as he keeps his vexingly slow pace, watching his cock drag in and out of your creaming cunt. 

His large hand wrapping around your neck makes you squeak and suddenly tighten around him. Your favorite necklace. Knowing he’s using an insignificant fraction of his strength to please you makes your eyes roll back as your breath stutters.

“That’s it, cum for me, pretty girl.” Hitoshi starts a punishing pace as he strokes your clit with his free hand. His dark eyes never leave his hand wrapped around your throat, your ravishing lightheaded face and your bouncing tits. Hitoshi’s furrowed expression as he drags his tongue over his canines in concentration makes you whimper. 

You buck against him, gushing around him and crying out his name.

The way you cum so prettily for him has Hitoshi hissing your name in your ear as he thrusts deep into your spasming cunt, chasing his own release. Intertwining his hands with yours, he presses you into the mattress to pin you down. Before long, his orgasm washes over him. 

You gaze contentedly at Hitoshi as he pulls out, feeling empty already—and then you realize. 

“Hitoshi! I swear to god if I look like a grape again,” you threaten as you try to stand up to head to the bathroom. 

You don’t even take a step before he whisks you into his bathroom, laughing at you and kissing your forehead. 

Well. You suppose looking like a grape isn’t that bad.

[cheesygroove]

With a roll of the ice

pairing: Wheein x f!reader

c & ws: smut; ice play; sensory deprivation; mentions of alcohol; a lil swearing.

wc: 2k~

requested by anon

Round ice cube molds. You could have just gone for a regular plastic ice tray, the cheaper option at the store. But if it can serve a sexual purpose, why not? The process of moving to a new place with your girlfriend had you overanalyzing the simplest home utensils you needed. It was good to have that kind of freedom to choose.

Wheein just had the simpler intentions for it, though. One night, you came home to find her drinking alone at the still empty living room, lights all turned off. The lighted up fireplace was the sole reason you could see her, sitting with legs crossed and a glass in hand. A bunch of bottles, a second glass and her sketchbook, as well as her drawing materials, were all scattered around the floor.

"Whee, what are you doing...?" you asked while taking your shoes off. "I thought your group photoshoot was tomorrow," you worried about her drinking; better to not have to deal with a headache on the next day.

"I'm just having some coke. The alcohol is for you," she explained. "Can you get the ice for us?"

Not wanting to ruin the mood she set up, you used your phone flashlight to walk to the kitchen. There, you grabbed an ice bucket and emptied the silicone trays inside, shaking it a little to prevent the round cubes from sticking together.

"I would have picked it up before, but I didn't want it to melt before you arrived," Wheein said when you came back and placed the bucket on the floor.

"It's okay, babe," you assured, kissing her cheek tenderly after sitting by the fireplace with her. "Anxious because of work?"

She let out a sigh. You knew her really well.

"Getting better already, actually. It's good to have you here." Wheein smiled at you, stroking your knee with her hand. "I just needed to relax a little. Tomorrow is going to be a full day."

You nodded, reaching for a glass and the bottle of flavored vodka. Being so close to the fireplace, you reconsidered the idea of picking a drink that would burn you up even more. The current warmth was nice and it felt cozy, but it could be too much if you added more heat to it.

"Settling for the coke too? What a saint you've become," Wheein teased. A soft drink could be nice too, you thought, leaving your now full glass on the floor to look at her. She held a round ice cube between her thumb and index finger, rolling it slightly by moving both fingers in opposite directions. Well, now that brought you some thoughts back.

"This kind of... feels good," Wheein said, puppy-like eyes entertained with the water now dripping from her thumb, "it doesn't get sticky when it melts a little. And it rolls."

Right. It rolls. You pictured something like that, back at the store, wondering if it really would have this effect against her skin. Not simply dragging the ice across, but rolling it, gave a different perspective to everything. You bit your lip in excitement, now knowing your fantasy was real.

And well, why not feel this for yourself? One hand went to the bucket, but you needed both to get the ice out — it got stuck together. You appreciated the round shape inside of your mouth, rolling it around with your tongue, feeling your warmth slowly melting it. You sucked on the ice a little bit, stopping when Wheein's eyes met yours.

"You look really sexy doing this," she remarked. A side smirk allowed one of her dimples to show up, which turned into a laugh after you touched your own cheek, feeling the small ball formed by the ice. "So pretty."

You admired Wheein for a moment. Weak shadows danced around her figure, following the movement of the flames; hair recently dyed red held up in a neat bun, leaving her neck fully exposed. Around it she wore a bandeau, neatly positioned so that it didn't cover her Caddo tattoo. You found that detail particularly inviting, and added to the fact that she clearly wasn't wearing a bra...

"Why don't you try this too?" you suggested. The ice had melted already, but the cold sensation it left in your mouth, somehow, had you feeling hotter between your legs. "You'll find the temperature contrast sexier than me."

Wheein's gaze went down to your mouth, filled with desire for your humid lips.

"Can I try it from your source?"

"Please do."

Wheein really did move first. The coolness of your mouth warmed up in hers, as she simply stole that from you by chasing the kiss with all her greed. You felt like the flames from the fireplace itself had engulfed you when her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you to the floor with her. Although when your lips parted, she was the one craving to cool it down.

"Oh my," she was able to say while gasping for air. Holding you by the back of your neck with both hands, she placed a few more quick presses against your lips before speaking again, "Hmmmm. I liked that it was... unexpected. Your mouth felt so soft from the cold."

You smiled when her fingers delicately caressed your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Wheein had her eyes on something else while doing it, though. Still holding your weight over her body with your elbows, you looked over your shoulder to discover that she eyed the ice bucket.

"Wanna try that again? With more than a kiss?" you asked, full of a smug satisfaction because the question wasn't even necessary — Wheein's pleading face spoke for itself.

_____

"Love, you really trust me a lot for this, huh," you said while tying the bandeau to the back of her head to use it as a blindfold. Depriving her from the sense of sight was part of your original fantasy, a way to allow her to have a better focus on the hot and cold feeling.

Wheein sat between your spread legs, backing herself into your lap after you moved closer to the fireplace. The orange light of the fire was now able to fully glow on her naked body. The air felt thick and hot when you breathed in, and a little sweat started building up on your back.

"I trust you more than I probably should," she whispered, leaning on your shoulder to place a few kisses along your jawline, "but you always repay it well."

"Right," you agreed, gently undoing Wheein's bun and letting the hair fall on her shoulders, making contact with your bare chest. One hand gave it a gentle tug, while you stretched the other arm to reach for the ice bucket, taking a round ice out. It quickly started wetting your palm, being just perfect for what you wanted to do. You got her hair out of the way with a harsh pull, pressing the ice against her neck. "I always make you feel so good."

Wheein's first reaction was to recoil at the sudden cold feeling, gasping loudly, but you held the ice in place with a strong grip on her neck.

"Shhhh, Wheeinie," you whispered on her ear as her gasping slowly turned into moaning, pleased with you using your palm to roll the ice against her skin, "this is just a massage. We haven't even started yet."

When it melted into a piece too small to be rolled, you simply dragged it across her chest, stopping at an already hardened nipple. The sensation of her skin under your cooled fingers felt softer than usual, the increased sensitivity having you muttering a curse against the back of her neck. Your other hand fetched for more round ice while you still held her boob, squeezing her nipple. Water dripped from your fingers and rolled down her stomach.

"More. Please," Wheein begged impatiently. Her hands were on your thighs, which were reddening from her burying her nails on them every time you did something right. You hoped to see a mark there by the end of the night.

"If you keep hurrying me up, I won't be gentle," you warned, shoving the ice against the boob you had neglected before and holding it strongly. Wheein's scream at the sudden shock ended up in a loud cry, her back arching at you circling the cube around her nipple. "Is that what you want, huh?"

"Uh-huh," she was able to shout out in agreement between her delicious moans, head now dropped backwards onto your shoulder. You moved your body to the side so you could whisper directly at her ear.

"What a slut you are."

Wheein lustfully mumbled a few yes yes yes I am when you stressed that word, like she had done many times before. She gasped in surprise when you stopped rolling the ice on her nipple, and gasped even harder when you took that same nipple in your mouth. Sucking the cold out of it. What was left of that cube you used to roll down her body, leaving behind a trail of water and stopping just before her pussy.

"Did you make a mess on the floor, Wheein...?" you asked.

You had inclined your head forward to look at the space between her legs. With all the action, Wheein had her knees up and under her chin, throbbing cunt fully exposed to the hot air. She was dripping on the floor, so much was the arousal.

"Hmmmmm, no. There's a lot of ice melting here," she lied. You smirked while thinking of how you would punish Wheein for that, one hand drowned in the bucket and getting really cold. The round cubes were now slowly turning into water altogether, coming out already humid — which meant that you didn't need to wait before using it on her.

"I would've been way nicer to you, Whee," you said, "but you don't deserve it."

Ring and middle finger squeezed her labia on each side, making the hole wider for the ice. Her reaction to the intimate contact with the cold immediately showed that she wanted you to put it in, her nails definitely leaving your thigh scratched this time. Instead, you simply stimulated her entrance, rolling and rubbing the round ice against it, even letting just a tip in. Wheein moaned sweetly, whispering your name, almost begging you to fuck her.

You took the ice into your mouth before it fully melted, wanting to taste her liquid even if the water was mixed in. Wheein grunted in annoyance from that, but there wasn't time to take her protests further — the same fingers which squeezed her open before now slid with ease inside of her, producing sweet wet sounds with each pump in. Part of you wanted to grab more ice, to roll it on her skin, to do anything, but you couldn't do much when her moans and then screams of pleasure filled your ears. Your hand was soaked with her climax in almost no time.

"Mmmmhm... Can't believe you didn't..."

You laughed when her words kept trailing off — Wheein was absolutely spent. She tiredly dropped into your arms after her orgasm, trying but failing to sound her complaints. Now any warmth was welcome, yours or from the fireplace, her hands pressing yours against her body to hug her tighter.

"What? You really wanna complain when I left you in this state?" you scoffed while gently removing the bandeau she wore as a blindfold.

Wheein sat up to face you, narrowing her eyes and pouting her mouth. She trembled a bit, still lacking the necessary balance, but kept her posture.

"I... I... Fuck." She gulped and shook her head, recollecting herself. "I just wanted you to roll the ice inside of me!"

ao3 link

[moral-turpitudes]

Reap What You Sow:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Sight Mentions of Blood/Gore, Fluff.

Word Count: 3,273

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: Y/N is accused of stealing a check from the company, resulting in her being fired. But only after a tense situation, does her boss and longtime crush Thomas find out the truth.

It was nearing midnight as Y/N walked through the shop, her heels clicking on the uneven wooden floors as Linda finished the nights paperwork, a nervous look on her face as she shuffled them away.

Y/N paid no mind as she sat down at her desk near Thomas’ office. Tapping her pen nervously as she glanced at her wristwatch. They were supposed to be here by now. All of the Shelby brothers were supposed to be shouting and running through the shops still high on their victory against one of the other gangs in town. They were supposed to be sighing in relief and pouring the boys drinks, but only silence ensued as Linda crept towards the company safe which she’d sneakily found the combination to while going through Y/N’s desk one night. With a quick movement, she unlocked the heavy door, yanking it open and rifling through the stack of blank checks and tearing off a slip.

“Are you alright Linda? Do you need help?” Y/N asked as she saw her walk quickly back to her seat.

“I’m fine, just had to move around the shop a bit. Nerves right?” She said while fiddling with the slip of paper hidden in her hand, out of sight from her curious coworker.

“Yeah, I understand. They should be back by now. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure Arthur will go straight to you when he arrives though.” She said with a small smile.

Linda nodded and quickly wrote the check out, shoving it in her purse before giving Y/N a small stack of papers.

“I’m going to run a letter to the mail, I’ll be back.” She said, walking out the door before Y/N could speak.

“Weird.” She mumbled to herself as she went back to going through the papers Linda handed her, all ones Thomas needed to sign-off on in the morning.

The cold air crept through Linda’s dress as she walked with her arms clutched around her to keep warm, the mailbox just in her sights as she remembered what she had to do.

“I’ll pay you if you keep quite about us alright love? It’ll only upset Arthur if he finds out. It could ruin our chances of being together if he’s not dealt with.” She’d said to her lover the night before Thomas’ plan went into effect. Tonight they were planning to take down a troublesome gang that strolled into town, but they were none the wiser to who she’d been fooling around with right under Arthur’s nose. The man was one of the gangs hit men, with the precise instruction from Linda to take Arthur out so she could run off with him instead.

The car nearby sent a shiver down Linda’s spine as she dropped the check into the mailbox, hoping it would all be over soon with no one suspecting her. She even used a blank check thinking no one could trace it, but little did she know just how well Shelby Company Limited kept their finances. As the car neared, she hoped Arthur wasn’t inside, meaning her plan had worked and her payment would be sent. But only time would tell.

With quick steps she went back into the shop, seeing Y/N walking out of Thomas’ office as she’d placed the remaining paperwork on his desk.

“Did ya find it okay? I thought you’d left for the night.” Y/N said.

“Everything is fine Y/N. Were you able to get those papers sorted?” She asked, changing the subject as the boys walked through door looking worse for wear.

“Yes.” Y/N answered quickly as she followed Linda’s wide-eyed gaze to the front door.

“Y/N go get the first aid kit. Now!” Thomas demanded as he sat Arthur down in a nearby chair, John helping unbutton his shirt as Finn grabbed the whiskey from Thomas’ office.

“Drink up brother this is going to hurt.” Finn said, holding the bottle to his lips as he chugged the brown liquid.

“My god what happened?” Y/N heard Linda ask as she gathered the first aid kit with shaking hands.

“Those fuckers shot me, one of the fellows almost shot me in the head damn near.” Arthur said through gritted teeth as Thomas looked at the gunshot wound to his abdomen.

“Here Tom.” Y/N said quickly, handing him the kit and crouching near Arthur to hold his hand that Linda was surprisingly not holding.

“It’ll be alright, deep breaths.” Y/N said squeezing his hand a bit to take his mind off Thomas extracting the bullet.

The room filled with Arthur’s shouts of agony as Thomas worked to dislodge it, his blood spurting out every so often from the movements of the tools.

“Linda are you alright?” John asked as he saw her face turn pale. He was holding Arthur back and helpless at the point.

“Yeah. Arthur? Love? It’s me. I want to stay but I’ll be no use on the floor. I’ll go home to be get things ready for you. Stay strong love.” She said quickly, her face sparkling with sweat as she fought back nausea from the sight of her almost ex-husbands blood. A panicked feeling shooting through her veins as she realized her plan was falling apart.

“Oh alright, just go!” He shouted drunkenly as he grew frustrated at the situation. His mind trying to piece together why he was targeted out of all of them as Thomas stopped the bleeding and stitched him up.

“I don’t know Tom, I don’t know why they aimed at me....why he aimed at me I don’t know....” He said, drifting off as he grew tired from the ordeal.

“It’s alright we’ll figure it out in the morning.” Thomas said, helping his brother up as John got the door and helped him into the car.

“Where’s John taking him?” Y/N asked, wiping her hands on her dress as she stared at the bloody mess on the floor.

“Home. He can rest there more than here. Thank you for looking after the shop with Linda.” He said, going to clean up the mess.

“It’s no problem Tommy. Here I can clean that...if you need a moment to rest.” She said, grabbing a cloth near her and dousing it in some of the whiskey.

Thomas stepped back as she wiped the rest of the blood away, her hair falling out of its loose bun as she ringed the last of the blood off the towel and into the small pail that contained the bullet.

“Are you hurt or anything?” She asked, her heart racing as she realized he’d been staring.

“Just a few scratches. Don’t worry about it love.” He said, lighting a cigarette and staring into her eyes. Y/N could feel her cheeks heating up as she looked back towards her desk, the old butterflies she’d had tucked away for the man resurfacing as of late.

“Well if everything’s done here, am I free to go?” She asked.

“Mhmm.” He said, walking towards his office as she gathered her things. His mind racing with why his brother was shot out of all of them. If anything he thought he would’ve been the first on their hit list.

“I’ve left the paperwork from today on your desk if you feel like signing them. Goodnight Tommy.” She said giving him a small smile.

“Thank you, good night love.” He said, his lips turning up slightly as he watched her walking out the door.

The next morning, Michael had came into his office urgently, with a stack of checks in his hand.

“One of them are missing Tom. Wasn’t me but it was recent. I can tell because we just wrote one today and the one before it is gone. See.” He said showing him the checkbook and where the sequence of numbers hadn’t lined up.

“Well who the fuck stole a company check then aye? Only three people know the code and that’s you, Polly, and Y/N.” He said, his heart aching at the thought of her doing something like that when he already paid her more than she’d expected.

“You want me to call a meeting?” Michael asked, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Yeah. Whoever did that probably knows about Arthur.” He said, his suspicion growing from last nights events.

“What’s wrong?” Polly asked as they all sat around the large table in the betting room.

“I have reasons to suspect someone has stolen a check from the company. Maybe used it to pay off someone perhaps.” He said, his eyes darting to everyone. Linda looked tired and Arthur sat near her with a pained expression.

“Would any one of you happen to know who it was? It was recent.” He said, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. The smoke filling the room almost as heavily as the tension.

“It wasn’t Michael or I.” Polly said, shaking her head.

“Y/N...do you know anything about this?” Thomas asked, his eyes much more serious than last night. They were frightening in the way they bore into her soul despite her not knowing what was going on.

“No. I haven’t got a clue Tommy.” She said, holding his gaze as her heart raced.

“Linda...you were also here last night. Do you know?” He asked looking at her with the same calculating eyes.

“No. All I remember is I stepped out for a moment to send off one of your letters and to catch some air before you all arrived.” She said.

“And Y/N was the only one at the shop during that time?” He asked.

“Yes.” She said, her eyes squinting slightly at the poor woman who hadn’t done a thing wrong the whole time she’d been there.

“Look, Tommy I-“ Y/N started to say before he interrupted her in a harsh tone.

“I don’t know why you stole it, but somehow my brother was shot the same night and you were the last person I saw in the shop. You were also the only person there while Linda was away. I have no other choice but to fire you, Y/N. Get your things and go.” He said. Y/N’s face paled and her eyes brimmed with tears as she silently left the room. She averted her gaze from everyone, instead looking at the floor as she packed her things and went out the door, thinking she’d never return to the shop again.

She tried to defend herself somewhat, knowing she didn’t have anything to do with what happened. But none of her words would speak sense into him right now. He was too quick to make judgements, but she wasn’t prepared for him to hurt her like he just did. She felt her body trembling and growing warmer as she slammed her car door shut, the sheer embarrassment and anger rising in her as she made her way home.

As the day drug on, Thomas searched with Michael for the check, calling post offices and banks to see where it could have been sent and who had written it.

“It was picked up this morning Mr. Shelby. Doesn’t look like your handwriting though. I’ll have it sent to you. You caught it just in time.” The woman said, glancing at the writing on the envelope.

“Alright, thank you ma’am.” He said before hanging up.

“What’d they say aye?” Arthur asked, wincing as he moved about in his chair.

“They’re sending it back. It was almost sent out so we caught it just in time. She mentioned it wasn’t my handwriting.” He said, lighting a cigarette.

“Christ. What’d Linda say aye? Did her letter get sent out? She said it was for a charity.” Arthur asked, remembering she mentioned a letter.

“I’ve never written one to any charities, not recently.” Thomas said as his eyes narrowed.

“What...do you think...Linda stole the check?” Arthur asked quietly, knowing she was right around the corner.

“It’s possible. I know she’s your wife and all but she hasn’t exactly been helpful around here lately. Also it’s not adding up.” He said, his mind racing as he thought about the meeting.

“Christ....so you think she wrote the letter and the check then? They would’ve found the letter.” Arthur said.

“Aye, I think the letter was a ruse. The woman from the post office never found a letter from us. Just the check.” He said.

“Well let’s fookin’ ask her then. I can’t sleep at night knowing me wife’s trying to kill me.” Arthur said, a bit of panic in his voice as he realized she may have put a hit on him.

Over the next hour Thomas and him discussed the possibility of it being her, or it being Y/N. But now all signs were pointing to the short-haired blonde woman who not only had a knack for stealing hearts, but for stealing checks as well as, the mailman handed Thomas the envelope that had cursive handwriting on it. Inside contained a check and a terribly forged signature, along with her distinctive handwriting. Thomas couldn’t help but look out into the evening sky as he realized he’d made the wrong decision once again.

Linda heard her name being called as Thomas stood out his office door after retrieving the mail, the tension in the air seeming to rise as she reluctantly made her way to him.

“I have something to discuss with you and Arthur.” He said, ushering her into his office.

He locked the door behind her and stood in front of it as Linda sat by her husband. His tone more hostile than it had been at the family meeting earlier.

“So Linda...I’ll ask this once again. Did you steal the check?”

Linda looked around the room nervously as Arthur carefully got up and moved towards the door, officially wary of the woman.

Seeing as she had no way out, she sighed. Kissing the dream of running off with her lover goodbye as she knew how this interrogation could go.

“Y-yes I stole the combination from Y/N and snuck in the safe. The check was...to a man.” She said.

“Well it wasn’t to me. Who the fuck was it made out to?” Arthur asked, clinching his fists.

Linda stared at him blankly as a tear fell down her cheek.

“A man named Isaac. He was in-in that gang. I....I’ve been seeing him.” She said, wiping the tears from her eyes as he stalked forward.

“You fookin’ what?.... No...You don’t just put a hit out on a Shelby. Especially not on your own fucking husband.” He said angrily as Thomas put a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“I did though, Arthur. I wanted to run off with him. I wanted you gone so it would be easier for me to leave. But I can’t do that now.” She said.

“So you knew I’d be walking into a death trap aye? You could’ve gotten more than me killed.” He spat, leaning against the door.

Linda nodded as she tore her gaze from the man she once thought she loved, guilt and anger taking over as she stood up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Thomas said, watching her reach for the gun on his desk.

“I just want to leave this place.” She said looking at the gun in her hand as she raised it at Thomas.

“If you shoot us, it’ll make it harder to leave. Put the gun down.” He said sternly.

With a sigh, she lowered the gun and placed it on the table. Wiping her tears away with shaking hands as she walked to the door and stared at Arthur angrily. His hurt expression at her confession barely phasing her.

“Arthur...” She said, trying to grab his hand from the doorknob. With a quick movement he gripped her wrist tightly before speaking.

“Fuck you Linda. I’m glad you failed.” He said with a slightly evil smirk.

“What do you mean? He got the check.” She said, not noticing the post had sent it back.

“We got the check and saw it was in your handwriting...we also killed him after he shot me. He won’t need you where he’s going. On the bright side...now you can suffer alone.” He said, as Linda looked angrily at him. Tears streaming down her face silently as he let go of her wrist.

“Linda.” Thomas said, causing her to rip her gaze from her now ex-husband.

“You should get your things together. You’re fired.” He said.

“You can’t do that! What will I do about money? The house?” She asked.

“You should’ve thought about that before you tried to hire someone to kill my brother. Now go.” He said lighting a cigarette and pointing her out the door.

With one last glance, she ran out of the office. The commotion of her gathering all her things making the rest of the company look around nervously as she did a walk of shame out the door with her stuff. Shoving it all in her car and vowing to never come back.

As the company got back to work for the evening, Thomas quickly ran out too, barely uttering a goodbye to Polly before leaving.

“Where are you going at this hour?” She asked, looking up from her papers.

“I made a mistake Pol.” He said.

“I’m not surprised.” She said.

“Excuse me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“At least get the balls to tell her you’re sorry and that ya like her. Maybe bring her some flowers. We could all see it you know.” She said as he rubbed the back of his neck impatiently.

“Anything else to add Pol?” He asked.

“Don’t fire her again. She’s the one good thing that’s happened to this goddamned company.” She said as he nodded and went towards her flat.

When he arrived with flowers in hand, he didn’t expect to see her in such a state. Her eyes were red and puffy like she’d been crying. And her hair was unkept as she held a bottle of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Why the fuck are you here aye?” She asked, slightly slurring her words.

“It was Linda....Y/N. All along it was her. She didn’t mail a letter, she mailed a check. And that check almost got Arthur killed. I’m uh...sorry for all I did back there.” He said.

“What...did you bring me flowers to cheer me up? Fuck off.” She said before trying to shut the door.

“Wait.” He said, holding his free hand out to hold the door.

“I came here for three reasons alright?” He said.

“Well get to talking because it’s cold.” She said, throwing her cigarette over the steps into the damp ground.

“Alright...I wanted to apologize because I know what I did and you didn’t deserve that. And I wanted to offer you your job back.” He said.

“What’s the third aye? I may be tipsy but I can still count.” She said.

“That I like you. I know I’ve been a real bastard recently but I swear I do.” He said.

“What do you say aye?” He asked, holding the flowers out to her.

“Next time buy me roses. And...I’ll accept your offer, but it’s only because I like you too. Now are we going to stand around here all night or are you coming in?” She asked with a slight smirk.

He smiled for what seemed like the first time in forever, taking his cap off as she grabbed the flowers from him. Leading him inside where they would later spend the rest of the night and many other nights to come.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

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[wanderinginksplot]

Hiya, I was wondering if I could please request 3 (Echo) with B+O (Injury/sickness recovery + first kiss)? I don’t really mind who’s in recovery or whether it’s 501st echo/bad batch echo, I just thought these prompts would lead nicely into a confession between our two main characters; also I just want to say I love your writing!! ❤️

Aww, thank you so much for the request and for being so kind, Anon! Sorry this took forever, but I’ve been stuck in an idea block for a week or two, and I ended up writing about four different versions of this. You’re very sweet, but you probably shouldn’t be nice to me, because apparently, it makes me write one-shots that are way too long. So here’s a 2700 word one-shot...

Also! It ended up being a tad spicy toward the end. Nothing anywhere close to M-rating, but more than I usually write in one-shots.

Echo + Injury/Sickness Recovery + First Kiss

The first time you met Echo, you didn't like him very much.

You were in the medbay for a sickness that was taking Coruscant by storm, hitting nat-born GAR members especially hard. As a nat-born intelligence officer, you had been ordered to the GAR's main medbay, which had been sub-divided into large bays full of cots. Almost every cot was filled with GAR personnel who needed treatment for the same sickness.

It wouldn't have been bad if you had been able to take the meds right away and start the healing process, but you had been on a dangerous mission and fought the sickness off for longer than you should have. It had worked and you had survived your mission, but you were severely dehydrated. The medics - all clone troopers, by that point - had ordered you to stay until you were fully healed and they could get your fluid levels back where they should have been. Faced with no other options, you had agreed.

And then the 501st had arrived. 

Through your IV, you had gotten through half a bag of a liquid you preferred not to think too hard about. The medics promised that your meds would be kicking in soon, and you would feel much better before the day was over. For the moment, you felt nauseated and every part of your body ached, especially your head.

When the troopers came in, their white armor painted with blue accents in various styles, they were so loud that the rest of the medbay went quiet. 

One of the medics, his hair shaved short to show off a set of intricate tattoos, hurried up to them as he pulled off his gloves. You could hear his hissed question from your bed on the other side of the large room. "What are you idiots doing here?"

One of the men beamed at him. "We're in trouble!"

You scoffed to yourself. You had no difficulty believing they had gotten on someone's bad side. 

The tattooed medic rubbed his temples. "Hardcase… what did you guys do now?"

You had heard stories about the rowdy 501st from other operatives. They were supposed to be a nightmare to work alongside, all explosions and heroics without any grasp of subtlety. 

One of the other men stepped forward and seemed to be offering an explanation, but he did it in a voice pitched low enough that you couldn't hear him. You were grateful for that, and did your best to fall asleep.

It wasn't to be, however, as one of the 501st made his way down the row of beds in your direction. He chatted with some of the other patients, laughing loudly at their responses. By the time he reached you, you could have cheerfully put a blaster to the 5 tattooed on his temple.

"And how are you doing today?" the trooper belted out. 

"In a lot of pain, actually," you snapped at him, a visceral response to the effect his voice had on your roiling stomach. "Can you please talk more quietly?"

There. A please. You were being polite.

"If I'm quiet, does that mean I can stay over here with you, pretty lady?" he asked with a wink, settling onto the foot of your bed.

You eyed him stonily. You felt revolting from the effects of the sickness, and you were wearing a GAR-issued medical gown besides. ‘Pretty’ was an attempt at flattery, and not even a believable one.

"Fives," the medic with the head tattoos admonished, stepping up to your bedside as well. "Stop. She doesn't feel well and she doesn't need you hanging around, making it worse."

"Me?" Fives asked, sounding both shocked and offended. "We both know I only make things better, Kix."

You sighed and wished with your whole soul that they would both go away. You just wanted to sleep.

"Besides," Fives continued, "We were ordered to help in the medbay. You wouldn't want me to disobey orders, would you?"

From the look on Kix's face, he had lined up a scathing retort that you were dying to hear, but you needed to make a brief announcement. "If this conversation continues right here, I am going to vomit."

You had never seen two grown men move so quickly. You would have smiled if you didn't feel so rotten. 

"Echo," Kix called softly with a worried glance in your direction, beckoning yet another trooper over.

This one had no tattoos, but you vaguely recognized him as the only trooper you hadn't been able to overhear earlier.

"Get Fives away from here," Kix ordered. "Keep him productive and occupied, but don't let him talk."

Echo nodded and gave you an apologetic nod. "I'm sorry about him," he said, indicating Fives, who looked deeply offended.

"Please," was the only response you could muster, cradling your head delicately in your hands. From the bit of your peripheral vision that wasn’t blocked by your palms, you watched his shoulders slump slightly as he towed his brother away. When you finally fell asleep, your dreams were full of Echo’s disappointed face along with strong feelings of guilt.

The second time you met him was only a few hours later. You were having fever dreams. The medication had apparently worn off and no one had noticed. In your dreams, you had called a medic over a dozen times, but you always woke to find that you hadn’t said a thing, and fell asleep again before you could.

It was one of these shallow, fitful dreams that Echo interrupted. “Hey. Hey! Shhh, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

Thoroughly confused by the world of the surrounding medbay, you squinted up at him. “Echo?” He nodded and you launched right into the speech you had prepared in your sleep. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I just… my head hurt, and you guys are loud, and-”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Echo assured you, crouching by your bedside to put himself on your level. “The 501st - and Fives in particular - is very loud. It’s our best quality.”

You snorted at that and Echo’s kind face broke into a warm smile. “You should get back to sleep. It’s really late. Or early. I’m not sure which, but everyone else is asleep, and you should be, too.”

“I think I need some meds, actually,” you admitted. “I feel like death.”

Echo frowned and reached up to brush his fingers over your forehead, flinching back almost immediately. “Kriff, you’re burning up! Hang on, let me grab a medic for you.”

You nodded, but grabbed his wrist before he could leave, “If you bring me some water, I’ll love you forever.”

It was just a childish hyperbole, something you and your family had said whenever you had asked for a favor, particularly a minor one. Echo didn’t seem to have the same connection with it, based on the way he had frozen in place and was staring at you with wide eyes that flashed between your face and your grip on his wrist.

Clearing your throat, you released him and corrected yourself. “I mean, please? I’m very thirsty.”

Echo turned around a moment later and you sighed, hoping your hot face looked like the flush of a fever.

You were half-drowsing when Echo came back with Kix in tow. You jumped a bit when Kix said your name, and Echo was quick to soothe you. “Easy, easy. It’s just us.”

He handed you the biggest glass of water you had ever seen and retreated halfway across the medbay before you had chugged half of it.

The next day, you were actually feeling better. Granted, ‘better’ was a relative term, but you didn’t actively want to die any more, and that was something. The only thing messing up your day was the lingering awkwardness between you and Echo. Every time his circuit around the room took him past your cot, he would avoid your eyes. 

From your calculations, he looped around the gigantic medbay room every six minutes or so. On his next lap past, you softly asked, “Echo?”

You had meant to be subtle and quiet, but you were still a bit less hydrated than you should have been, and it came out as a horrifying croak. If someone had called your name in that voice, you would have immediately run away, but Echo just turned slightly and looked your direction.

“I’m sorry for last night,” you apologized.

“You already said that,” Echo reminded you gently. “The 501st is loud. I understand why you weren’t happy with us.”

“Not about that,” you forced out, half-wishing you could just let him think you had been delirious with fever and thus not responsible for anything you had said or done. “I mean that I’m sorry for saying the whole love you forever thing. It was a joke, but I feel like it landed poorly.”

“There’s no need, really,” Echo told you. He smiled then, a small sad smile. “We clones don’t get to see much good in the universe. Not with this war going on. Even though you were joking, it was nice to hear something like that.”

You stared at him, trying to keep the poker face the GAR had hired you for.

“Besides,” Echo said with a laugh, “if you want to see how a bad joke really sounds, hang out with Fives for a few minutes. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to see the difference!”

You chuckled at that and the smile he gave lit his whole face as he continued his patrol. You watched Echo leave, thinking hard. It was ironic that this was the conversation where your heart had melted just a touch. It wasn’t love, not yet, but this third exchange left feelings that were inappropriate considering that you had known him for less than a day.

That night, you couldn’t sleep, betrayed by all of the napping you had done during the day. Echo was patrolling the room again and noticed you on his fourth lap.

He crouched by your bedside once again. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope,” you admitted with a sigh. “Can you?”

Echo frowned. “I can, but I’m on watch right now.”

“On watch,” you repeated skeptically. “For what?”

“Someone has to make sure the patients are doing okay while the medics sleep,” he explained. “It’s a very important job.”

“Your brothers are all playing sabacc in the corner,” you pointed out. “Go join them. Or, better yet, get some sleep. I haven’t seen you take a break yet.”

“You were unconscious for over half of the day,” Echo reminded you. “I could have been on break then.”

“You weren’t,” you told him confidently. “Because you wouldn’t have known that I slept the whole time.”

Echo frowned. “You’re too smart to work for the army.”

“Intelligence officer,” you explained simply. 

Lifting his eyebrows in exaggerated shock, Echo leapt to his feet and gave a dramatic salute. You pretended to aim a kick in his direction and you both dissolved into muffled giggles in an attempt not to wake any of the other patients.

“If you won’t try to sleep, at least sit down?” you requested, indicating the foot of your cot as you struggled to sit up so you could move out of his way. “You’re stressing me out. I can’t be expected to get better if I’m stressed.”

“We can’t have that,” Echo teased. He helped you sit up before he did anything else, but the awkwardness of the position left him hauling you up by your armpits. You were thankful that you had found the strength to walk to the sonic shower that day, at least. “Not like I can get sick from you, anyway.”

Echo sat talking with you for hours, even after his brothers had all drifted off at their sabacc table. Before you fell asleep again, he brought you another giant glass of water. You accepted it with a smile. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

He nodded and left so you could get some sleep. By the time you had finished the glass, he was on the other side of the medbay and couldn’t hear you mutter, “Love you forever.”

For the next few days, Echo lived by your bedside. The conversations you had made you laugh so hard that you went into the occasional coughing fit and got the evil eye from Kix. So, you were less pleased than you had expected to be when Kix told you that you could be discharged the following day.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Getting your sleep pattern back under control was going to be the biggest struggle, you reflected, staring at the massive beams supporting the ceiling.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Echo teased, walking up. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You waved a hand around dramatically. “I’m trying to commit these beautiful surroundings to memory. If I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll need to remember the enchanting way the dust clings to that wall over there.”

Suddenly serious, Echo asked, “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

You nodded, and couldn’t tell if it was your imagination, or if he really looked disappointed. Still, he mustered a smile. “I’m glad.”

With a falsely offended gasp, you replied, “You’re glad I’m leaving? That’s rude!”

“No, I mean-!” Echo sputtered, grimacing at you when you started to laugh. “I’m glad you’re getting better. Even if you’re just as mean as the day I met you.”

“Yeah, I’m terrible,” you agreed with a grin. 

“You are not,” he countered immediately. “You’re sweet and funny and- I’ll miss you. Selfish, huh?”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you admitted. “I guess we’re both selfish. But, hey, you’ll finally get some sleep now!”

“I suppose I will,” Echo said with the ghost of his usual smile. “At least we can have one last overnight conversation. Unless you’re too tired?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sit down, Echo.”

The two of you talked for hours that night. The medbay steadily got more silent and your eyes began to ache. Try as you might, you were still recovering from your illness and the point came when you couldn’t fight it off any longer. You fell into a light doze as Echo was talking.

You were dimly aware as he finished his sentence and waited for a response, but you couldn’t make yourself say anything. Echo gave an amused sounding hum and stood from your cot. You immediately missed his warmth, but felt like he was still standing by you.

Soft lips pressed against your forehead and left as Echo started to move away. “What was that cop-out bantha dung?” you asked blearily. 

Echo jumped a bit and stared down at you, but you were half-asleep, impulsive, and you knew what you wanted. You sat up to grab his shoulders and brought him back down to you, kissing him with as much fervor as an extremely tired person could muster.

He kissed you back, opening his mouth to release an almost-soundless groan, and you were suddenly wide awake. With both of you actively participating in your embrace, it didn’t take long for the pair of you to get carried away. 

When you finally broke apart, it was only because someone had cleared their throat sharply. 

Echo pulled back, bracing on his forearms to look up at Kix while you peered at the medic from under Echo’s chest. When had he gotten on top of you? His hip brushed against your upper thigh and you abruptly didn’t care anymore.

“I take it you’re well enough to be released from here?” Kix asked, a raised brow accentuating his smirk. 

You glanced around to find that half of the medbay was awake and staring at you and Echo with expressions ranging from bleary bewilderment to amused approval. Some of Echo’s brothers were awake as well, though their faces ran heavily to outright shock.

“Uh, yeah. I’m ready to go home,” you agreed, glancing up at Echo. “Wanna come with me?”

Echo nodded and glanced up at Kix. The medic shrugged and looked at the ceiling. “No, I have no idea where Echo went. He worked several around the chrono shifts and then he disappeared. I assume he went to get some well-deserved rest. Sign here.”

The last part was directed at you and you obligingly scrawled your name on the datapad he was holding out in your direction. 

“Your personal effects are in the front room,” Kix informed you. “Drink some water now and then, would you?”

“Of course, thanks,” you said absently, attention already stolen away by the fascinating blush creeping up Echo’s cheeks. You slipped out from under him and grabbed his hand to tow him behind you. “C’mon. You’re gonna love my apartment.”

---

A/N - ahh, why did this end up being such a novel? Sorry about that! If you want to read similar works, check out my masterlist or make a request based on this post (or make something up and I’ll do my best!). Thanks for reading!

[quietmyfearswith]

fussy ; preferences

warnings — don’t think there’s any swear words here,, angst? fluff? clingy!reader, mean!laurie

characters — andy barber, steve rogers, bucky barnes, lance tucker,  syverson, august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DDLG FIC,, was inspired by this ask! to the anon who requested for it i hope you like it and tell me what you think!

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space

masterlist

Andy and Y/N went over to the city where Laurie and Jacob moved to. A party was held to celebrate Jacob’s graduation from high school and a sendoff for when he heads to university. Y/N was chatting up with Jacob as they both were preparing the snacks and appetizers for the guests that would later on arrive. The two didn’t feel awkward around each other; in fact they shared a lot of similarities, and could easily converse about anything. “Jacob, I think some of your friends are here already,” With that Jacob politely excused himself and before Y/N could find Andy, Laurie approached her. “So you and Andy are still together huh?” She sounded amused which made her feel awkward; she nodded to answer her question. “I’m surprised that you two lasted for so long,” Y/N had to step back in order to create distance between her and Laurie. “I mean, when I heard that you two were dating I thought that it was just Andy having a rebound; I didn’t actually think he’d stay this long with you.” Y/N’s lips were starting to quiver as her frantics eyes began to look around for Andy. As she locked eyes with Andy, she made me a move to go for him but just before she can do so, Laurie had a final jab at her with a smirk, “Perhaps he still is in that phase.”

Pushing her way past Laurie, she headed to enter the house, Andy noticed how Y/N’s demeanor changed and handed over some of the decorations he was putting up to Laurie’s boyfriend and chased after her.  Grabbing her arm, the lawyer guided the two to one of the vacant rooms, “What's wrong?” Y/N made grabby hands for Andy once she sat on the bed, her eyes were letting down a few tears that were peeking earlier due to what Laurie had been saying. He complied, engulfing her around in his warm embrace, stroking her hair as he was trying his best to calm her down as her whole body shook, “She was being mean to me, dada.” Andy moved a bit so he could see her face and wiped away tears that stained her face, “Who was being mean to you, missy?” After taking deep breaths, Y/N explained, “Laurie said the only reason dada is with me is because I’m your rebound.” Anger fueled within Andy upon hearing the lie that was told to his love; he decided that it was best to talk about it with Laurie later, but his focus right now was calming down the beloved girl in his arms. Situating her in his lap, he pressed loving kisses all over her face as his hands comfortingly rubbed her back, “Whatever she said to you isn’t true, missy. Dada loves you and you’re not his rebound. You’re the love and light of my life; you are the person that completes me.”

Y/N was mad at August; he burnt her nuggies, didn’t play with her during her playtime, and now he opted to sleep in the other room since he was too far busy with his work. Tossing and turning around their spacious bed didn’t lull her to sleep since she missed the warmth and love provided to her by her loving boyfriend. Gripping her stuffie with one hand, she stood and left the bed, venturing to the part of the house where she suspected her daddy would be. Barefoot and in her nightgown, she knocked on the door and with the lack of answer, she entered slowly. 

Seeing her daddy with no shirt and just some sweatpants on the bed made her long for the moments she’d get to spend all day wrapped in his arms. Quietly climbing on the bed, she moved his arm that was stretched across the mattress, lifting it and placing it above her body. Feeling movement around him, August moved his head and sleepily mumbled, “Little one?” She nodded as she kissed his forehead, “It’s me, daddy.” On instinct, he turned so his whole body faced hers; wrapping his legs around hers as his arms scooped her arm so her side was flushed against his, “Not mad at daddy anymore?” Shaking her head, she played with his chest hairs a bit as her eyes began to sleepily drop before confirming, “Not mad, daddy. I missed being with you.”

It was going to be a big mission; Bucky knew that hence why he was packing and repacking his duffel bags that he’d be bringing for the mission. “Tătic,” Y/N wailed, “Come be with me!” Despite being a man of control, it took every ounce of it for Bucky not to drop what he was doing and cuddle up Y/N. “Not now, sweetheart. I need to make sure I have everything.” The girl let out a loud grunt as she continued watching her favorite cartoons with her arms crossed; the sergeant not appreciating the slight presence of her brat attitude by yelling, “I heard that!”

“I just want my tătic to be with me before he leaves me again,” There was less anger in her sentence but more sadness. And even when he was in the other side of their living quarters, the super soldier was able to pick it up which led him to finish up quickly arranging his things to find his girl pouting as she watched. Sitting beside her he patted his lap, “Come sit here, sweetie.” The girl leapt out and did so as she snuggled the top of her head against Bucky’s chin. “Is that what this is all about, sweetie? You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone?” Nodding, she fiddled with the fingers on his metal arm; she always loved the coldness it always had. “I always miss you, tătic; I wanna spend as much time with you as I can before you leave.”

Y/N knew Steve would be coming back soon from his meeting so she busied herself by having a  tea party with her stuffies. “There you go, Bunbun, be careful now the tea’s quite hot,” She spoke to her stuffie as she poured him some of the imaginary liquid. When she heard some keys shake accompanied by the sound of the door unlocking, Y/N bounced from where she was sitting and excitedly turned to where the sounds were coming from. Smiling widely, her eyes glimmered with excitement and relief that finally her daddy was here, “How’s my little doll?” 

“Want you to hold me please sir? I missed you!” She requested softly but didn’t move from where she was seated — knowing that she wasn’t given the permission yet to move. Steve then sat beside her and patted his lap, and the girl took it as her cue to hover him. Wrapping her arms around his neck she took the super soldier back in surprise with the force for he lost balance and ended up laying down as he chuckles loudly at his girl’s antics. “You missed me too much? I was only gone for a few hours, doll,” But she pouted at him and instead countered, “Few hours too long, sir!” Sitting up with the girl still tightly latched onto him, Steve then kissed her nose as he promised, “Well you get me for the rest of the day now, doll; what do you wanna do?”

Even following his retirement from the army, Syverson saw to it that he exercises everyday to keep in shape. As he was doing his pushups in the backyard, he was surprised to see his Y/N come out in the sun with a tray of cold beverages. “What you got there, baby girl?” He mused as he paused his workout and sat down on the mat. Smiling as she drank from her cup she beamed, “Made you a drink, Captain. Thought you might be thirsty.” Nodding he waved her off, “Thanks for that baby; but I'll drink one later okay?”

Y/N wasn’t given a chance to argue since he immediately went back to his workout routine. And as he did so, her eyes suddenly found themselves focusing on Sy’s bulging and muscular arms. She always loved being wrapped around them and letting her fingertips run over the skin there. Wanting to feel him around here again she whimpered out loud, “Captain.” As he was in the middle of doing a plank, he whipped his head to look over to his girl and raised his brows as sweat dropped on it. Making grabby hands was all that she could do and the former soldier didn’t have enough heart to ignore her any longer so he abandoned his current position and walked towards her, lifting her up, chuckling as her legs went around his waist and her hands wrapped themselves around his neck. “You’re my needy baby girl aren’t you?” Despite his teasing, Y/N could only nod as she nuzzled against his neck, planting kisses on his sweat-soaked skin.

The gymnastics competition just ended and it went well for Lance; since his student won gold and silver. Y/N had been given firm and clear instructions that after the event Lance would pick her up from her seat. And like a good girl she was still sitting down even if the games ended 15 minutes ago. Her head was moving left and right, searching for a trace of her boyfriend. Both her legs were bouncing as she was aching to leave the place since she wanted to spend time with him. Being shoved and pushed around, even when she was seated, was inevitable with the other spectators wishing to vacate the gymnasium. There was also a kid that threw his soda cup in a fit and she was unfortunately splashed with some of the liquid; the brat’s parents didn’t even apologize but instead just dragged their kid away.

As she was wiping some of the sticky liquid off her, a worried voice asked her, “What happened to you, angel?” Her eyes glowed upon seeing his handsome face, her earlier bothered state quickly melting away upon seeing him. “Papa, hi!” She squeaked out in joy and moved to hug him but was halted when the gymnast placed both his hands on her shoulders; he was amused at how quick her mood shifted but was concerned about her so he reiterated his question, “What happened, angel? What are you wiping off?” Y/N pouted as she clawed at his forearms, after a long day of watching and having to be big she just wanted nothing more but to snuggle up to him. And when he didn’t give in to what she wanted, she answered, “Some kid threw his soda, papa. Got me a little wet but it’s fine,” Lance was about to argue that it wasn’t fine but was quickly cut off by his angel’s whiny demands, “Just wanna snuggle you, papa. I missed you.” letting go of her shoulders, he then wrapped his arms around her and she was more than happy about it as she laid her cheek against his shoulder, “Congratulations, papa. I love you.”

“King, stop it tickles,” Y/N giggled as her sides were being intruded by the fingertips of Ransom. “Why not, princess? It’s so fun isn’t it,” He laughed as she squirmed from where she was sitting right across him. After the two had their lunch, they retreated to the couch so he could read to his princess who was feeling little. From reading storybooks, Ransom could sense his baby was getting all needy so he put the book down to turn his attention to his baby. As Y/N was busy laughing and pushing Ransom’s hands away, she failed to warn him how she was so close to puking the meal she just ate. “Stop, stop, king,” Was the only warning she gave before being able to push his hands away and quickly stand up to head towards the bathroom. “Princess?” Ransom followed her and his heart sank as he saw her throwing up on the toilet bowl. Immediately kneeling behind her, he pulled back her hair that framed the front of her face. Rubbing his hand on her back, “Let it out, princess.”

Once she was done, the former playboy took it upon himself to flush the toilet and grab some tissue to wipe her mouth of any more vomit. He grabbed her hand, indicating for her to stand and when she did he guided her to the sink and lifted her so she could sit on the countertop. “I’m gonna brush your teeth now, okay?” She nodded and automatically opened her mouth so when he brought her toothpaste-filled bristles against her teeth. After he had cleaned her teeth and rid of the putrid traces of vomit, Y/N pouted her lip as she looked at Ransom with glossy eyes, “I’m so sorry, I liked our playtime so much and I shouldn’t have moved around too much.” Placing both his hands on her cheeks, he lifted her face so they both looked directly at each other’s eyes, “It’s not your fault okay? I should have not played with you too much, princess.” Nodding, she wrapped her arms around Ransom as best she could, “I wanna cuddle with you king.” Kissing her nose, he lifted her off the counter and onto their bedroom, “We can do that, princess.”

[rocorambles]

Plot Twist

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader 

Genre/Warning: NSFW, Yandere, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Rape/Non-con, Blackmail

Summary: Not everything is what it seems and you find out the hard way that sometimes there's more than meets the eye with handsome volleyball players.

Requested by Anon

You playfully smack Oikawa as he continues complaining about studying. The two of you are in the same class and although you had known of the popular athlete before that, you’d never had the chance to actually talk to him. It wasn’t until you were assigned to do a group project together that the two of you even introduced yourselves. At first, you had exasperatedly sighed thinking the handsome third-year wasn’t going to pull his weight and that you’d be left to do all the work, but you were pleasantly surprised to see how serious and studious he actually was. You quickly finished the project and with the night still young, the two of you had begun chatting and getting to know each other. 

After that, whenever there were other group projects or homework assigned, you became each other’s first choice of partner and study buddy and that’s how you found yourself here on Oikawa’s bedroom floor with textbooks and notes splayed everywhere as the two of you prepared for an upcoming exam. You lean back and close your eyes, resting for a second as the brunette next to you continues squawking about how much material you need to get through. With a yawn, you check the time on your phone and are shocked by how late it is. Oikawa’s rant stops as he eyes you packing your things and he pouts at you. “Are you already leaving? You can sleepover if you want! My parents are away this week and it’ll give us more time to study.” You flick his head and chuckle at the petulant whine he lets out. “I don’t think I have the mental capacity to look at another page tonight. I just want to go home and pass out.” 

Oikawa follows you like a puppy as you make your way to his front door and you smile as you wave back at him and continue on your way home alone. You shiver and hold your school blazer tightly against yourself. Why were you so cold? With a muffled curse you’re about to turn around to go back to Oikawa’s house realizing you had left your scarf there when a blunt force hits your head and you feel yourself falling before your world goes dark.       

Your heavy eyelids flutter as you blearily open your eyes and you wince at the throbbing pain in your head. You move to rub your temple, but freeze when you realize something is stopping your hand. Your heart begins to race as you look behind you only to find your wrists bound behind your back and in a panicked daze you take a look at your surroundings and tears begin to well in your eyes when you realize you’re in what appears to be a basement. There’s a ringing in your ears and you can’t think clearly, but a muffled groan from the corner of the room has you whipping your head. You almost sob in relief when you see Oikawa’s familiar figure and you rise on shaky legs as you walk over to him, but your heart sinks when you realize his hands are also tied just like yours. 

“What happened? Why are we here?” You’re spitting a million questions a minute trying to make some sense of the jumbled thoughts in your head when a leg gently nudges you. “Relax. We need to calm down and think.” You clamp your mouth shut in agreement and shuffle besides Oikawa. Silence overtakes the room as you both sit and think about how to escape when a nagging thought exits your mouth. “Oikawa, how did you end up here? Someone or something hit me when I was outside, but weren’t you still at home?” You think you feel the taller boy stiffen at your words, but you’re too distracted by what he says next to dwell on it. “You forgot your scarf so I went running after you to return it. That’s when I saw someone dragging your body away, so I tried to fight him and well...as you can see that didn’t work out too well.” 

Guilt eats at you. If you hadn’t been so forgetful, Oikawa wouldn’t have had to come looking for you. It’s your fault that he’s locked up here with you. The thought has tears streaming down your face and Oikawa gently tries to console you as you blubber apology after apology to him. “Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for some creep to assault you. I’m glad I was able to try helping the girl I like.” Your heart flutters at those words and you tentatively look into warm chocolate-brown eyes. “Y-you...did you just say ‘a girl I like’?” A rosy tint flares on Oikawa’s cheeks as he nervously smiles at you. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to confess to you, but yeah, I like you.” You know you should be focused on figuring out how to get out of this situation, but you can’t help the way happiness bubbles inside of you and you shyly confess that you also have feelings for the handsome volleyball player. You lay your head on Oikawa’s broad shoulder as the two of you resume brainstorming how you’re going to escape when Oikawa excitedly nudges you off of him. “Look, over there! Is that a pocket knife?” The two of you scramble over and hope clamors inside of you when you realize he’s right. It never occurs to you how strange it is that your captor would leave such an obvious tool in the open like this. All you can think of is cutting the binds on your wrists and leaving this nightmare behind you. 

Wrists freed, Oikawa grabs your hand and the two of you race up the stairs. You’re already prepared to kick down what you assume is going to be a locked door, but are stunned when Oikawa easily twists the knobs and pulls you through into a familiar living room. “Oikawa, wh-why are we in your house?” Your voice sounds small and shaky even to your ears and you stare glassy-eyed at the boy who still has a firm hold of your wrist. You subtly try pulling your hand out of his grasp, but wince when he only tightens his grip. “I really was just going to return your scarf to you, but you just looked so vulnerable all alone in the dark and I couldn’t help myself. I’ve wanted you so badly for so long and now that I know you want me too, we can finally be together!” 

You shiver at the cheery smile on his face and disgust roils inside of you. “You’re sick. What’s wrong with you? You don’t just kidnap someone to get them to confess to you. Let go of me! I’m leaving.” You begin frantically pulling your arm and pushing Oikawa’s firm body away from you, but you cringe when he just pulls you in closer until he’s tightly embracing you. “Don’t be like that, Y/N-chan! You said you like me, so it’s all fine now. I can’t wait to go on dates with you and show you off at matches. I bet you’ll look so cute wearing my volleyball jacket.” Hearing your muffled voice trying to say something, Oikawa steps back and gives you some space to talk while keeping his hands on your shoulders. “We’re not dating and I don’t want anything to do with you anymore, you freak. Let me go right now!” You claw at his hands that are now digging into your skin, but you falter for a second when you look at brown eyes now laced with anger and malice. “You’re not going anywhere until you agree to date me.” He roughly grabs you by the roots of your hair and begins dragging you down a hallway and nausea hits you when you realize he’s bringing you to his bedroom. You dig your heels into the floor, you scream, you scratch at the strong arm painfully yanking your locks, but Oikawa doesn’t even falter and before you can clearly register what’s happening, he’s already dumped you onto his bed.

You scramble to sit up, but Oikawa’s knees dig into your sensitive inner thighs and you flinch at the pain. He leans down until you can feel his breath on your face and you attempt to push his chest to keep some distance between you, but he presses his knee harder into your thigh and with a pained gasp you reluctantly put your hands down by your sides. With a victorious smirk, he swoops down and nuzzles his nose into the curve of your neck and your jaw clenches when you feel him lick a sloppy wet line from your collarbone to the back of your ear. You’re sickened by the trail of saliva he leaves all over you, but the last straw is when he tries to kiss you. As soon as you feel lips touch yours, you bite down and take vengeful pleasure in his roar of pained fury, using the momentary distraction to begin sliding out from under him, but your movements are halted by a mind-numbing sting across your face. 

Wide-eyed and unsure of what just happened, you gingerly bring a hand to your face and just stare at the drops of blood smeared across your skin as your nose continues to stream ruby red liquid. Still shocked at being slapped, you don’t even realize Oikawa’s moving until you’re being thrown back on the bed, a strong hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off much needed oxygen. Dry heaving and light-headed at the sight of your own blood, you weakly dig your nails into the forearm holding you down, but Oikawa just sneers down at you. He wipes the blood from his own wound you caused and smears the rust colored paint across your lips. “I didn’t know you liked it rough, Y/N-chan. This is going to be a lot of fun.” You choke as his grip tightens and his free hand begins to push your shirt and bra up until your breasts are on display for him. You continue flailing in an attempt to get some leverage, but you only serve to make your breasts shake and Oikawa stares, entranced by the sight. He slaps your bouncy mounds and humiliation courses through you as he continues playing with them as if they’re just toys.     

Your back arches as his mouth roughly sucks and licks at your nipples and despite the anger and fear lancing through you, you begin to feel something else, something pleasurable coiling at the edges of your mind. Smirking as he sees arousal beginning to trickle its way onto your face, Oikawa lets go of your throat and you gasp for breath. You’re so busy trying to breathe normally again that you fail to stop hands from practically ripping off your clothing until it’s too late and you’re completely bare waist down. You try to close your legs and you reach your hands down to cover your most intimate part, but Oikawa is quick to trap your wrists in one large hand above your head and his muscular frame nestled between your legs impedes your ability to move them any closer. You continue writhing beneath him, trying to loosen his grip, but you instantly stop as you hear a pleasured groan leave Oikawa’s mouth. Mortified, you realize in your struggle, you had been grinding against his clothed groin. “What’s wrong, Y/N-chan? It felt so good when you shook your hips like that. Keep on struggling, cutie.” Not wanting to give the bastard even an ounce of pleasure, you opt for snarling fierce threats at him instead, but he just squishes your cheeks in his hand and coos about how adorable you are before beginning to remove his own pants and boxers. 

Your stomach churns at the sight of Oikawa’s cock and you can feel tears sliding down your face as his tip nudges at your opening. He hums in discontent when he realizes you’re still fairly dry and he resumes his oral ministrations on your nipples and begins circling your clit. You try to focus on your hate, on the fact that this is rape, on the fact that you don’t want this, but Oikawa’s had practice and your grimace begins to turn into aroused pants as lust fogs your mind. He dips his fingers into your pussy and moans at how drenched you’ve become and with a lewd pop, he releases your aching nipple from his mouth and watches as his cock slowly slides into your tight hole, relishing the way your walls clench around him. Your mouth gapes open at the feeling of being stretched, but a sudden realization has you trying to blink away the pleasured haze. “Oikawa, are you using a condom?” Dread pools in your stomach when you look down and see his bare length thrusting in and out of you. “Please, please, don’t cum inside me. I’m not using protection.” You’ve already resigned yourself to being raped, but the thought of being knocked up, especially by the monster on top of you, has a new level of anxiety peaking within you. Oikawa’s pace just increases at your words and you throw your head back moaning as he rubs against your g-spot with every motion. “If you don’t want me to cum inside you, just lie there and take it like a good girl.” And you do just that. You close your eyes and lose yourself in the pleasure, intent on at least pretending it was anyone else on top of you, pretending it was anyone else bringing you to your climax, but when you finally feel yourself about to burst, you let out a choked sob when you look up into Oikawa’s face and you climax with anguished sobs wracking your body.

Spurred on by your spasming walls, Oikawa feels his release around the corner and he immediately pulls out of you, only to once again roughly grab you by your hair. He pulls your head back until your neck arches and your mouth drops open and with a few last furious strokes, he paints your face with sticky white strands. Dazed, you sit there mutely, but a bright flash shakes you out of your stupor and you stare up horrified when you see Oikawa brightly grinning down at his phone screen. You lunge at him, trying to get rid of the photo evidence, but his hand still holding your hair only tightens and you hiss at the pain as you’re held in place. Your fists clench and you consider punching the smile off his face, but your hands go limp when he shows you the picture on his screen. You look absolutely wrecked. There’s tears, drool, blood, and semen smeared all over your face. Oikawa’s cock is almost brushing against your mouth. And worst of all, you look like you’re enjoying it, with your eyes rolled all the way back and your mouth wide open, the corners twitched slightly upwards in a mockery of a smile. You look like a whore who just orgasmed and loved every second of it.

Your mouth moves and you try to find words, but you sit there speechless. Oikawa releases his grip on you and begins to tenderly stroke your hair instead. “If you don’t want me to send this picture around to all your friends, your family, and the universities you’re applying to, you’ll date me, understand?” You want to believe your friends and family wouldn’t judge you. That they’d listen to you and believe you if you told them what happened. But the universities you’re applying to? A board of strangers you’ll be desperately working to impress? A board of strangers who’d be deciding what path your future takes? You slowly wrap your arms around Oikawa as affectionately as you can and you lay your head against his chest. Internally you recoil at the way he lovingly reciprocates the embrace, but you let yourself melt into his hold. What choice do you have?