#i count it as a win that i got out of bed; put on pants and brushed my hair

[fingertipsmp3]

Think I’m getting a chest infection lads 👍🏻

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you hiding an injury from them !

pairings: ot13 x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k (lowkey estimated bc word counter isn’t working)

cw: injuries (sprained wrist/ankle, concussions, etc.), blood mentioned but not descriptive (woozi) way too much backstory bc i'm a d1 yapper

a/n: for the record i've never sustained a major injury (thankfully!) besides when i dislocated my shoulder when i was 4 years old so this may not be accurate. SO sorry that this took so long i had a brain fart or smth 😔

scoups - you really didn't think he'd notice immediately, but he does. you accidentally rolled your ankle trying to catch the subway. it wasn't too bad; the doctor said you'd minorly sprained your ankle, but all it needed was a couple weeks in a splint.

so deciding it wasn't that big of a deal (and lowkey a win since you got to skip work), you didn't think of telling seungcheol because one, you didn't feel like listening to him scold you for staying up too late the night before, and two, he'd just gotten off tour. he didn't need to spend the next couple of weeks babying you over an injury that didn't even require surgery. in some attempt to hide it, you put on some sweatpants and slippers and call it a day.

but when he returns home from a day out and catches you instantly put down your leg from where you'd been elevating it on a footstool, he immediately grows suspicious of something. "why were you doing that just now?"

"eh? i think you're being paranoid- oh, um..." you try to play it off, but then he comes closer and inspects your body for a bit before pulling up your pant leg to reveal the splint surrounding your ankle despite your protests.

his eyes widen and he looks up at you from where he's kneeling. "you got hurt? when? why didn't you call me?" he asks rapidly. you sigh, listening to him scold you even more than what he would have if you'd told him earlier, finally promising him to never hide anything from him again.

jeonghan - basically, you slipped in the shower and gave yourself a concussion while jeonghan was at practice. out of pure embarrassment, you didn't tell jeonghan because let's be real, it sounded a little stupid and someone like him would never let you live it down.

and honestly, you thought you'd exceeded. jeonghan had come home and didn't mention anything to you, just complaining about how he hates all his choreography (he says this everytime he has to learn new choreo...). that was until you went to bed.

all is well, but then those massive headaches roll in one by one and now you're stuck with an unbearable migraine. trying not to disturb your boyfriend, you uncurl yourself from him and barely make your way to the kitchen.

the headache only gets worse as you fumble with the advil bottle while cursing your concussion aloud when suddenly a hand takes it and opens it. "here," you turn around, only to find jeonghan offering the bottle with a confused, sleepy look.

"and what were you muttering around? a concussion or something?" you gulp, taking the advil as you try to come up with an excuse. he takes your (literally three second) hesitation as an answer, "wait- you actually got a concussion?" avoiding the question, you attempt to usher him back to bed, but now he's somehow gained consciousness and doesn't back down. "y/n, what happened? and why didn't you tell me?" and when you finally tell him, he's... disappointed?

"baby, you really didn't tell me you got a concussion because you thought i'd make fun of you?" he sighs, shaking his head before putting his hands on your shoulder, "i'm your lover before a jokester or best friend, okay? i care about you more than anything. don't hide things like this from me."

joshua - in this situation, you would say "snitches get stitches" but the only one who actually got stitches was you.

you got a pretty bad arm wound while bike riding with your friend. it hurt and the only thing you really remembered was crying from the pain. anyways, joshua had just gotten off tour, and you'd feel bad for making him worry, so you made your friend promise to not mention it to him.

but the only warning you get when you return home from the hospital is a text from that same friend saying, "sorry y/n...." before you open the door and are greeted by a very worried joshua.

"y/n! i heard about your arm, are you okay?" you try to brush him off, but he doesn't let you. "hey, your friend also said you were going to try to hide it from me. why's that?"

"it's really not a big deal shua-"

"don't lie to me, she said you were crying, babe. why are you trying so hard to keep this from me?"

you don't know what to say and joshua just embraces you, "here, i'll take care of you okay?" and you let him, because it's joshua.

jun - ugh, he's so oblivious yet somehow annoyingly observant that he finds out without trying.

someone ran over your toe with a shopping cart during your grocery trip. it truly didn't hurt that much in the moment, but the hours after that? oh boy were they torturing.

it still didn't seem like enough to tell jun about, so you simply went about your day suffering in silence.

during dinner, however, he asks you through scoops of chinese steamed egg, "did you hurt your foot while shopping?"

taken aback by the accuracy of his question, you literally drop your spoon and he's just like, "what?? you just seem to be lighter on your feet today, that's all."

he takes the whole situation pretty lightly (oblivious i tell you) that he doesn't even believe you when you try to tell him the truth 😭 "okay, okay, you're just trying to make me seem smart now." so then you take off your sock at the dinner table and lift your bruised foot to show him and he looks at you like this: (°ロ°)

hoshi - unlike jun, he does NOT take it lightly. he's almost offended.

yes, you shouldn't be trying to walk around too much with a bad ankle, but you can't help it okay? sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, like walk hoshi's dog, latte, while he works on his album.

he's been really busy, okay? you never told him about how you tripped around a week ago, so you'd just been living as if it never happened. honestly it's no surprise that you kind of automatically accepted his sister's request without thinking of your ankle (that was praying you'd stop putting pressure on it).

but then you make the grave mistake of posting your walk on instagram with just a sliver of the bandage wrapping up your ankle. he literally hearts the story, removes it, and replies with an angry face.

he calls you, "y/n! what are you doing walking around with an obviously injured leg? and why am i finding out through your instagram story?"

you're not sure what to say, but he talks for you, "i'm leaving practice right now so i can take care of both my babies, don't move. you'll make your ankle worse, babe."

"right, because you'd know-" and he hangs up on you,

wonwoo - silently observant...

you were surprised that you'd been able to go this long with a cast around your wrist, only using hoodies to conceal it, but turns out wonwoo's like those shop employees who wait for people to steal $1000 worth of stuff before dropping that lawsuit on them.

one day, you're both just sitting on the couch when he grabs ahold of your wrist. he literally waits for you to be distracted, doomscrolling on social media, to do it.

but then you feel him roll up your sleeve, and now you're doomed.

"what's this, y/n?" he asks firmly, holding your arm tight enough to where you can't move, but somehow gently as to prevent any discomfort (how cute of him).

"you really didn't think i would notice it? you wearing hoodies when it's 70 degrees, eating with your nondominant hand, taking forever to shower because you have to wash your hair with one arm, why didn't you just let me take care of you?"

you sort of shrink back in shame; wonwoo read you and you were stunned. he simply takes you into his arms, murmuring, "i'm not mad, i just want you to know that you don't have to struggle like that when i'm here. i'll notice either way."

woozi - ouch. you accidentally cut yourself while cleaning up the remnants of a glass cup you dropped. the cut was deep, but somehow still in a sleepy daze, you cleaned it to the best of your ability, slapped some gauze on it, and went back to bed.

whenever jihoon comes home, he follows his normal 2 am schedule, but then notices the blood-stained towel in the hamper. he rushes to your room, only to find you sound asleep.

still, he shakes you awake, "y/n, why's there a towel with blood all over it in the laundry room?" you kind of look at him, confused, before simply lifting your arm to reveal the amateur work you did you bandage it.

at first, he sighs in relief, but then you see his brows furrow. "when did this happen? seems kinda serious..." he inspects it closely as you mumble, "i dunno, couple hours ago? i dropped something."

"what? why didn't you call me? i could've come home earlier to take care of it." he says, feeling guilty about not being there.

"it's really nothing, you've been really busy anyway. this isn't something you should worry about-" but he shushs you. "i'm never too busy to help you, y/n. i don't want you thinking like that."

dk - like hoshi, he doesn't take it lightly. you took a heavy fall while rushing to work a couple days ago. it wasn't a big deal until your arm started to bruise pretty badly.

you knew seokmin would freak out at it, so you planned on wearing long sleeve shirts to cover it up, and it'd been working pretty well.

but unfortunately for you, this had to be the time where you forgot to bring a shirt with you to shower, accidentally bringing two pairs of pants instead.

you tried to dash in and out of your room as fast as possible, but seokmin was plopped on your bed, getting a clear view of your arm (you had a towel wrapped around you okay?).

his jaw drops, you grab a shirt, water is dripping everywhere, and you yell “i’ll explain later!” as you run back to the bathroom.

when you come back, his jaw is still in the same position. “seok, it’s really not that bad.” you assure him, but he barely pays attention, just reaching for your arm. “it looks bad though…” he mumbles, poking at the bruise like a little kid, ��that didn’t hurt, right?”

ugh, he’s so cute.

mingyu - you somehow manage to slice your hand open while cooking dinner for whenever mingyu comes home.

do you tell him? absolutely not. you definitely do not need him locking you out of the kitchen after you try to cook one time.

you really don’t have time to go to the hospital (which you definitely should’ve done??) so you opt to put some pressure on it with a towel until it stops bleeding, and because you have terrible timing, mingyu enters the apartment.

at first he says “smells pretty good! what are you-“ he strides into the kitchen to see the food you were unable to plate at the dining table (that actually looks pretty good), your distressed face, and then your hand.

“at least i got here on time,” he says, taking your hand and looking at it closely. “don’t worry, i was like trained for this stuff.” he smiles, heading toward what you used to think was an overstuffed medical cabinet.

“you didn’t even call me. were you planning to take care of this yourself?” he asks, wrapping your hand with precision. “i’m here for a reason, you know? you just gotta let me help you, baby.”

the8 - you had a feeling minghao would notice immediately, but there was a very slim chance he’d miss it this time. he’d just got done filming for his survival show, and you knew he’d be tired when he got home.

you’re a pretty clumsy person, and you always felt bad for making a usually calm minghao worried. so, when you tripped and got a concussion the day before, you didn’t tell him.

it was going fine, painkillers acting as your savior, but then you ran out of them. groaning, you decide to wait for minghao to leave the house to go buy more, but he doesn’t?

it’s like his subconscious knew your plan, and eventually you just can’t take it anymore, calling your friend and asking her to drop some off.

then you go to take a nap on the couch as an attempt to sleep off the headache you have, unaware that your friend’s at the door.

minghao gently shakes you awake, bottle of advil in his hand and a concerned look on his face. “i knew something was up with you. you should’ve just told me, y/n.” he says, explaining how your friend gave him a weird face when he asked about the medication and then dropping how you got a concussion like it was obvious.

“we shouldn’t hide things like this, okay? it’s not good for you.”

seungkwan - let’s just say, you may not be cut out for volleyball.

you were just goofing off with your friends, playing volleyball, when you dislocated your shoulder. seungkwan was hosting a variety show, and you didn’t feel like bothering him, so you didn’t mention it, not even when he video called you during his lunch break.

it wasn’t that bad of an injury, the doctor popped it back into its socket and you were sent home with some medication.

a week passes with no problem, but then seungkwan offers to play some badminton (like the LAST sport you should be trying to play during recovery), and thinking it wouldn’t be too bad, you accept.

it’s only till you’re actually swinging the racket that you realize that your shoulder has definitely not healed, let alone healed enough to really be playing a sport. you suddenly pause, “wait- just give me a minute.” he runs over from his side of the court. “hey, what’s going on? you look like you’re in pain.”

trying to get out the fact it’s because you got a dislocated shoulder, you ramble “it’s fine, just a dislocatedshoulderigotaweekagowithouttellingyou 😄”

and he’s like “WHAT? are you crazy?? why are you trying to play on it?” and proceeds to grab that same arm and drag you out of the court. he definitely scolds you for the rest of the day…

vernon - normally he’s chill, but right now he’s lowkey tweaking out.

while he was visiting his sister for her birthday, you broke your leg. you didn’t tell vernon because you wanted him to have a good time with his sister (how nice of you 😊), but when he comes home, he doesn’t think of it as such.

you’re laying on the couch, watching a show, whenever he enters the apartment. there’s a blanket over you, so he doesn’t notice the leg immediately.

“finally, this jet lag has got me *yawn* out of it.” he says, lifting the blanket just enough so he can slide in next to you.

he still doesn’t notice until his leg touches your boot, yelping in surprise. “why are you wearing shoes on the couch?” and then making another surprised noise when you reveal its a medical boot.

“did this happen when i was gone? you should’ve told me…” he gently scolds you, mainly because you made him so surprised, and then just lays back with you on the couch like nothing happened.

dino - you really wanted to tell him, but he just looked so happy in singapore and you really didn’t feel like ruining his time there.

on the way to class, you fractured your wrist while trying to catch yourself. since then, you’ve been struggling trying to do basically anything: changing clothes, showering, cooking, the list goes on.

but you didn’t tell him, just choosing to get through it until he comes home.

“y/n~ i’m home!” he calls out, walking in with his luggage. you’re in the shower, arm sticking out as far as it can away from the water, trash bag wrapped around that arm, and ultimately, just in a bad position.

“um, in here! can you help me?” you holler. you feel bad for making him help you as soon as he got home, but you’re going through hell and back trying to shampoo your hair.

he walks into the bathroom, “you sure you want me in here?” and all he sees is a fogged up shower with a trash bagged arm sticking out of it. surprisingly, he immediately understands what happened.

“babe, you should’ve told me earlier.” he says, helping you wash your hair properly. “i don’t like to think that you’ve been struggling like this without me there.” he frowns, kissing you on the forehead.

[jayybugg]

drunken confessions

Theodore Nott x FemRavenclaw!Reader

Summary: Theo drinks a little bit more than he should....

Warnings: Drinking, No use of Y/N, Only mentions being in Ravenclaw once, and very cute???

Word Count: 1.6K

Note: Long time no see, my loves! I took a really long hiatus abruptly because life was kicking my ass badly. I decided that my first fic back should be a Theo fluff because who would I be if I didn't give this boy all of my attention? I hope you guys all enjoy it.

Banners by @cafekitsune

Music boomed through the Slytherin common room as you tried to navigate the sweaty bodies and screaming teens. You were trying to find Theodore, the person who had invited you. It was a celebratory party for Slytherin winning the quidditch game against Hufflepuff. You were in the Ravenclaw house but are good friends with many people in Slytherin.

"Oy," Draco pulled you to the side, "Looking for Theo?"

"Yeah, you've seen him?" you asked, gripping his arm so no one could separate you both. Draco nodded, pulling you to a separate room where Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo sat.

"Finally, you're here." Daphne pulled you in for a hug, whispering in your ear, "Drunk pants over there have been asking about you for the past hour."

You glanced over at Theo, who was very drunk. "He never drinks this much." You whispered back to Daphne. She shrugged. "He caught the stitch. Winner of the game tonight."

You nodded, walking over to Theo and sitting next to him. He immediately grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. "I've been waiting for you all night," Theo said, speaking slowly so his words didn't get slurred.

"I'm sorry. Why'd you drink so much without me?" You asked, tapping softly on his wrist. "I didn't mean to." Theo said, "Won the game, so people had given me a bunch of drinks."

You nodded, allowing Theo to go back to being the life of the party. Enzo sat down next to you, to keep you company as the party continued.

"So, what's your excuse for not being at the game tonight?" Enzo asked.

"That project for Transfiguration. My partner is an idiot who waited last minute to do his part, so I had to help him. I feel bad for missing it." You said, taking a sip of your water.

"Theo was upset that you weren't there. Probably what motivated him to win the game. That boy is obsessed with you," Enzo said, nudging you. You cleared your throat, feeling a sudden sense of nervousness. "We're just friends, Enzo."

"For now." Enzo wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed at him, rolling your eyes.

Did you like Theo? Yeah, but you didn't think he would like you back. He had a lot of girls on him and he could choose any of them. You were so wrapped in your mind and your conversation that you didn't notice that Theo had wandered off until you heard your name being called.

"Take Theo back to his dorm, please!" Blaise pleaded as he and Mattheo held a nearly blacked-out Theo up. You hopped up, grabbing Theo from them.

"Oh, hey, pretty girl." Theo drunkenly grinned at you. You smiled back. "You should've stopped drinking, Teddy."

"Really should've." Mattheo agreed. "You know where his dorm is. Don't worry about cleaning up down here, we got it."

You nodded, saying your goodbyes to everyone before walking upstairs to Theo's room.

"Pretty girl." Theo dragged out the pet name. "Your hair is so soft."

"Thanks, Teddy." You opened the door to his room, switched on the lights, and put him on the bed.

"Come on, let's get you in pajamas." You tapped his nose lightly, making him smile at you.

"You're so pretty, pretty girl. That's why I call you 'pretty girl' because you're so fucking pretty. Sometimes I think you're otherworldly because of it," Theo gushed, falling back on his bed. You felt your heartbeat pick up as the compliments flowed from Theo's mouth.

"Thank you, Theo. Here, put this shirt on." You handed the shirt to Theo, who shook his head no. "I like to be shirtless."

Theo pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in the hamper. You tried your best not to stare at his chest before handing him a pair of pants.

"You're taking good care of me, pretty girl. I wish you could always take care of me. Merlin, I love you so much." Theo spoke again. You felt your eyes widen as you looked at him. "What?" You said softly.

"I love you like I'm so in love with you. I just want to be with you all the time." Theo continued. You cleared your throat, pushing him under the covers. Theo was clearly saying anything to you because he was drunk. If Pansy or Daphne were here, he would probably say the same thing. You forced yourself to repeat that to yourself repeatedly so you could believe it.

"Get some sleep, Theo, goodnight." You switched off his light as you swung his door open. "Goodnight, my pretty girl. I love you." Theo said.

You quickly shut the door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn't know how to interpret what had just happened. Theo admitted to being in love with you. Or did he? He was drunk, so he probably wasn't serious. Yeah, he was drunk. You took a deep breath before making your way back downstairs.

Mattheo saw you hurry down the stairs and raised his eyebrow at you, "You good? Is Theo okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. I'm just gonna go back to my dorm," You said. Mattheo eyed you, "What happened?"

"What? Why would anything happen?" You asked, diverting your eyes anywhere but to Mattheo's.

"..."

You sighed, glancing down at your feet, "Theo said he was in love with me."

The room froze as everyone turned their heads to look at you. Suddenly, you felt tiny. "What? Why are you guys staring at me like that?" You asked.

"Nothing! It's just...." Daphne glanced at everyone, "We didn't expect Theo to confess that when he was drunk."

"Yeah, I had galleons on an angry confession followed by an angry, passionate kiss," Draco said, causing Pansy to hit him in the arm.

You blinked. Confess? Confess as in.... he's been holding this in for a long time?

"Wait, so he's telling the truth, and you all knew it?" You asked. Everyone made noises in agreement.

"I mean, everyone can see how head over heels he is for you. You were the only one denying it." Blaise said. Your face felt hot, and you shook your head, "I'm going to my dorm."

Everyone laughed, bidding you goodbye.

Theo woke up the next day with a terrible headache.

"Ahh, there's our champion." Blaise's teasing voice caused Theo to groan.

"Why would I ever drink that much?" Theo asked, mainly to himself. Enzo laughed, setting a cup of water and some medicine on Theo's bedside. "I don't know, but it was quite entertaining to see you get taken care of by your pretty girl." Enzo's voice was teasing and light.

Theo's face immediately heated at the idea of acting like a fool in front of you. "Did I do something stupid in front of her?"

Blaise and Enzo shared a look before shrugging. Theo looked at both of them. "What? What did I do? Oh, Merlin, tell me I didn't embarrass myself."

"I wouldn't say you embarrassed yourself," Blaise said.

"But sober Theo definitely wouldn't have confessed to her that he's in love with her," Enzo said.

It took Theo a moment to realize what Enzo had said before his face turned completely red in shame and embarrassment.

"I told her I was in love with her?" Theo groaned loudly. That was not how he pictured confessing to you. Well, he never pictured confessing his feelings to you because he was scared and had no intentions of doing it.

"It's a good thing, don't you think? I mean, she finally knows." Blaise said, "Although she might need some convincing because she thinks you only said it because you were drunk and probably didn't mean it."

Theo hopped out of his bed, finding the nearest t-shirt before slipping on his shoes. He had already confessed how he felt and if it's already out there, there's no point in hiding it.

Theo spirited to your dorm, not muttering a good morning to anyone as he pushed past them. Finally, he got to your dorm and banged on it until he heard your feet shuffling.

"Teddy?" You asked groggily before focusing your eyes on the out-of-breath and frizzled Theo in front of you, "What the hell happened to you?"

"I meant it."

"What?"

There was silence between you two. He knew you knew what he was talking about, so it didn't take long for realization to take over your face.

"I meant it." Theo repeated himself, "Every word I said last night while I was sloppy drunk was true."

"I have been trying to work up the courage to say something about it for the last year or so. Granted, I didn't think it would be while I was drunk."

"How long?" You tilted your head to the side, with a hint of amusement gracing your face.

Theo's face flushed pink, as he knew you were teasing him, as well as being genuinely curious. "Since first year. When I saw you on the train to school."

"You didn't even speak to me until third year."

"I was nervous." Theo let out a breath. "I watched you, though."

You held back a laugh as Theo immediately turned even more red. "That was creepy. I didn't mean it like that! I just— we've shared a lot of classes and— I'm going to shut up."

You stood on your tippy toes, kissing Theo's flushed cheeks. "I've had a crush on you since second year."

"Really?"

You nodded, smiling. "So what now?"

"Um, will you go on a date with me? Maybe next weekend after the quidditch game?" Theo asked, feeling more nervous than ever.

"I would love to, " you smiled. And I won't miss this game, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that." Theo smiled back.

You gave Theo another kiss on the cheek. "It's still early. I'll see you later, okay?"

Theo nodded, and you smiled, closing your door. Theo stayed there for a few more seconds until he realized he probably looked crazy for just smiling at your door.

Who knew getting drunk had some perks?

[paci-papa]

It was a Friday night just like any other, which was great. You LOVED Friday nights!

On Friday nights, you were free.

Free from Papa and his silly rules. Free from humiliating diaper changes. Free to use whatever big girl words you wanted!

At least, you were free between 6 and 8 pm.

As a moderately successful streamer, you didn't want to give up your channel when Papa convinced you to become his live-in adult baby. You enjoyed video games and the moderate amount of fame you'd gained playing them too much to completely give it up.

So, after careful negotiation with Papa, he agreed that those two hours on Friday evenings were yours to do with what you wished.

"Suck it, nooooob," you yelled out after winning another match, "Why don't you go cry to your fucking Mommy? Maybe she'll care that you just shit your pampers. I definitely don't!"

You smiled and posed for the stream, checking to see how your followers were reacting to yet another victory royale. What you saw stopped your heart.

Standing just behind you on the screen was Papa looming behind you, a menacing look on his face.

"Oh, my little stinkerbelle, did one of your silly friends make boom-booms in their pants too? It definitely smells like you did! Come, show Papa!"

You frantically looked at the time on your computer before trying, and failing, to terminate your stream.

8:02 pm.

You'd lost track of time.

Desperately, you tried to save face, laughing off Papa's words and dismissing the all-too-accurate insinuation that you were sitting in a messy diaper. Papa wasn't having it.

In front of your active webcam, hr dragged you out of your fancy gaming chair, spun you around so your well-padded ass was on display to your followers, and pulled back the waistband of your diaper.

"Oh my goodness, you really did a number on this one, didn't you sweet pea? Let's get you changed!"

You could hear the chat blowing up behind you. Your cheeks burnt bright red as the dings of notifications seemed multiply exponentially behind you.

You tried to pull away and protest, but your resistance was useless. Your pleas were met with your pacifier being tucked between your lips. Your attempts to pull away were met to harsh swats on your messy bottom.

In a half second, you found yourself over Papa's lap, messy diaper on display as he paddled you into submission.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Papa asked as his blows ceased, turning you so the camera could see your tear covered face.

"Yeth, Papa," you lisped out obediently.

You could see your followers laughing at you in the chat.

The next two hours seemed to drag on forever. In full view of your stream, Papa proceeded to baby you. He diapered you. Dressed you in a onesie. Bottle fed you. He even burped you.

The whole time your camera was running, and you could see your chat exploding in a way it never had before.

Your nightmare finally ended when Papa made you say, "Nini" to your friends and put you to bed. Or at least, you thought it did.

The next time you logged onto your stream, your jaw dropped.

Your follower count had exploded ten-fold. Papa's little show had made you a low-level internet celebrity. And, while that may have been exciting before, when you attempted to stream again, you found that both your new found fame was not all it was cracked up to be.

New and old followers were no longer interested in you as a gamer anymore. They weren't even interested in you as a cute cam girl. No, all they wanted was to see the silly little pamper packer get babied by her daddy.

And that's how your stream turned into this. Long gone were the days of you owning noobs on Fortnite. You wouldn't be caught dead swearing at noobs for not carrying their weight in the squad. If you got to play a video game at all, it was Animal Crossing or Hello Kitty Island Adventure, and even that was happening less frequently.

Instead, your followers logged in to watch you like this: Diapered and dolled up, acting like the big baby you are.

And now, as you lay on the bed, suckling your baba, diaper pointed towards the camera, you don't even hesitate to push a big icky mess into your pants for the world to see. Why would you? You're just giving your followers what you want, after all.

Photo provided by and used with the permission of @prettymuchpottytrained02, the sweetest of peas!

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

All The Rage

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: Not me forgetting I HAVE REQUESTS. Also, peep the new divider.

I DID NOT READ THIS DO NOT TELL ME IF IT SUCKS

Buck sits across the table from you. This was probably the best moment of his entire life. Okay, well, not really, but this was definitely the coolest thing he’d done in a long time. 

Athena had asked him to go undercover with you because unfortunately, you fit the serial killer's profile to a T. She was going to choose Tommy, he was better under pressure but Buck legitimately got on his knees and begged to do this with you. 

So now you’re on a “date,” and you’ve been getting special attention from the owner all night. It was his thing to give the target special attention, so it wasn’t weird when he was learning all about them. His restaurant was known for the owner taking special interest in a couple every night, and no one had put together a good 60% of those couples ended up dead. 

It was a mystery to everyone once it was so blatantly obvious. 

So you and Buck fit the profile perfectly, and now you’re on a date. 

Your first date as it so happened, and Buck planned to make it a good one especially since the precinct was going to be footing the bill for this one. 

He pulled out the chair for you and pushed you in before sitting across from you. He was a nervous wreck and even more nervous he would sweat through his freaking suit. He was probably going to start hyperventilating if he didn’t catch Eddie from the corner of the room giving him a thumbs up.

He and Hen were at a table together watching them and as absolutely ridiculous as it was to have back up there for a fake date turned real date it made him feel better. 

“You think it’s working?” You ask quietly, watching him fill your glass again. Oh yeah, he had them leave the bottle. 

“I think so, he’s asked like… a shitload of personal questions. Hell I even learned things about you” 

You giggle and take your glass, tilting it a little in thanks, and sip it.

“I learned some things too… Did you seriously meet LeBron??” 

Buck wiggles in his seat excitedly “Yes, god yes he’s so cool… and so tall. I mean I’m tall- but fuck I’m not a basketball player tall. I'm not NBA tall.” 

“I’m only five feet, Buck, you might as well be NBA tall to me.” 

That’s one of the things he really liked about you too, how petite you were. He knows you didn’t really think he could but he knew for sure he could pick you up and toss you on the bed Sabrina Carpenter “Bed Chem” style. 

“Buck?” You wave your hand in front of his face and he flinches. Oh, you really hadn’t jumped across the table and knocked him and his chair over and ripped his clothes off and-

“Sir? Are you okay?” 

The owner Giorgio, also waves his hand in front of Buck’s face and he flinches again. You’re sitting back in your chair, swirling your wine in your glass with a little smirk and he’s looking like an adorable idiot.

“Oh! Sorry- I- I zoned out. Uh- Hi Giorgio” 

“I was just asking Mrs. Buckley if you’d both wanted dessert.  Our tiramisu is award-winning”

“Oooo tiramisu? Sign me up, G.” Buck rubs his hands together and licks his lips and you snort and slap your hand over your mouth.

“That was not very ladylike, Mrs. Buckley” He felt a shiver go down his spine, the alias all night had been driving him straight down into the dirtiest places of his mind. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry Mr. Buckley” you purr and he has to let his napkin fall over his lap even if it does very, very little to hide the way his pants are bulging. 

Giorgio leaves you two with a wink and you move your chair closer to Buck’s. 

“I really think he’s buying it” 

He puts his arm over your chair and leans in, he places his hand in your lap with his palm up and you smile softly and take it.

“Yeah probably… we’re pretty convincing huh?” He places little kisses on your joined hands and you giggle and lean closer, kissing his jaw. 

“I hope so. Actually, you know when I think about it I really hope not, you know what I mean?” 

Oh yeah, the whole murder thing. 

“Maybe he’ll think we’re so cute together he’ll spare us” He trails his fingers over your arm and you shiver. You lean into him more and place your hand on his chest. 

“I think it’s the opposite actually… the cuter we get the more he hates us” 

“So we gotta be even cuter huh? I can do that.” 

He hooks his finger under your chin and your cheeks flush. You look so pretty like that, he thinks while nuzzling his nose against yours. He’s eating up every single little noise that comes out of you, wishing he could have you alone just for a few minutes to what other kinds of noises he could get from you. 

You lean up with a playful smirk and kiss him, pushing all your feelings into the kiss and kind of hoping he feels it and at the same time hoping he doesn’t. What if he didn't feel the same way?

Your fears are quieted when he cups your face and pulls you closer. He makes a whimpering needy noise and it sends a flutter through your belly.

Jesus what you’d do to make him make that sound in other situations. 

His hands fly to your hips and pull you impossibly closer to him, he doesn’t care if he can breathe or not he just wants you. 

You taste like the expensive champagne and something sweeter, something smoother. A girl he’d let peg him honestly and now he’s wondering if you’d be into that. 

Okay, you’re both getting ahead of yourselves. 

Your kiss is interrupted by Giorgio clearing his throat. You can tell by the little tic in his jaw… you’ve got him on the hook. He sets down the plate of tiramisu with two forks and smiles.

It doesn’t reach his eyes, they’re colder than ice and darker than a stormy night and you shiver in Buck’s arms. He holds you closer and gives Giorgio a tight smile.

“Thanks, G! We really appreciate it” He lets his hand splay across your bare thigh and strokes it softly. He nuzzles his nose against your neck and you blush.

“Maybe we should take this to go…” He mumbles against your throat and you feel the heat creeping up your neck with each kiss. His lips are so soft and plump, you jump a little when you feel him bite down.

“C-can we have that to g- Jesus Buck” 

You can’t help the little moan that escapes your lips and you feel him grin against your skin.

“I���ll get it ready for you.” 

Giorgio’s tone is short and curt, not that usual smoothness it had been all night. He walks away and you turn your attention back to Buck, whose hand is now on your hip and rubbing distracting little circles. 

“B-baby he’s gone” Your breath hitches and he pulls away just a little to look at you.

“What did you call me?” 

“I-I I don’t- I’m-“You’re tripping over your words and he’s eating it up. He grins like an idiot and pecks your cheek.

“Let’s get movin’ baby girl” 

To keep you both safe you were given a “house” where you could pretend to live together and lure Giorgio and everything would be handled. It was his M.O. to stake out the house first, start surveillance, and then strike in the dead of night after six weeks of planning. 

Oh, six blissful weeks. 

And for the next six weeks, Buck was a work-from-home fitness coach and you were a part-time receptionist for a nearby dental clinic. It was a good thing you’d had that receptionist job when you were going through college. There were undercover cops stationed everywhere and almost all of your days were planned out. Work, grocery shopping, even cute mini date nights. Everything was planned to a T. 

Except for this. 

The front door slams against the wall, shaking the pictures and causing you both to jump.

“Buck! We have neighbors now!” He’s already shoving your dress up your hips and over your head and you’re clawing at the buttons on his shirt. 

“So they’ll get a show” 

He pushes you against the wall and blindly reaches to kick the front door shut, his lips attached to yours. You push him back against the door and triple-lock it like Athena had taught you. 

He turns you again and pins you to the wall. You arch your back into his hips and he grinds his cock into your ass.

“Fuck- what- what’s the” He grits his teeth and shoves his dress pants down around his ankles kicking them off and finding his way back to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. 

You push his hand away from the alarm system and punch the code in yourself. 

“It’s Eddie’s birthday, remember?” 

“I’m not thinking about Eddie right now” His hand slides down the front of your underwear, if you could even call it that. 

“I am” You press yourself into his hand and gasp, letting your head lean against the wall. His hips stutter against yours when he feels how smooth you are. 

“Why?” He turns you back around and tosses you over his shoulder easily like a ragdoll. You laugh and try to reach down and slap his butt. 

“Ever been to Paris?” 

You can feel his body tense and you wiggle your eyebrows. He puts you on the bed and goes to take his shirt off while you shimmy out of your dress.

“All right, first this, then after the whole murderer thing we convince Eddie to date us” 

“Sounds good to me” 

He stands between your legs, opening them up and dragging his fingers between your soaked folds. He sucks his fingers, swirling his tongue around them to get every last sticky drop, and watches you watching him. He likes the way your eyes widen and stay stuck on his tongue.

“Don’t worry bunny, I’ll show you how good I am with my mouth next time” 

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet”. He groans, rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds, coating it in your juices.

“I bet you want to feel every thick inch of me stretching out your greedy little cunt, don’t you?” 

He taps your clit with the tip pushing just slightly into you and grins wickedly. 

“Tell me how badly you need my cock, tell me you need it to live” 

You reach down and try to push him further inside you while whimpering and making your voice as pathetic and sweet as you can. 

“Please, I need you, Buck. I need your cock inside me so badly, I can’t live without it. I can’t breathe without you inside me and ruining me.” 

Buck lets out a little giggle and slaps his hand over his mouth before clearing his throat and being “serious” again and you grin widely. 

“You get me, Y/N. You really get me.” 

With a feral growl, he slams his hips forward, burying every inch of his thick cock deep inside your tight, dripping cunt in one brutal thrust.

Oh, he’d been waiting for this, after pining for who knows how long he’s finally buried balls deep inside you. You let out a shuddering gasp and he grabs your hips, setting a hard, aching rhythm that has your toes curling. You’re propped up on your elbows watching the way he stretches you, your eyes glued to the way he disappears inside you. 

He’s so big on dirty talk, all his flirty little giggles and comments are gone and it’s like he’s an entirely different person the second he enters your silky walls. Not that you’re complaining in the least. Your eyes roll into your skull and you let your head fall backward.

“This is what you needed, isn't it baby bunny? To be split open on my fat cock and used like the dirty little fuck toy you are. Been starin’ at those pretty lips all night… can’t wait to see what they can do” 

He leans forward and spits on your clit and your jaw drops. He can feel you clench around him as he smears it messily between your folds. 

“Fuck you’re such a perfect little cum dump, aren’t you? So good for me.” 

Leaning down, he captures your mouth in a filthy, kiss, his tongue invading and claiming every inch of you. He swallows your moans, breathing in your pleasure like a man starved. 

He pistons his hips faster and harder, the thick head of his cock slamming against your cervix with every thrust. He can feel your silken walls fluttering and clenching around him, gripping his shaft like a vice.

You’re lost for him completely, watching the way he takes you with a dizzied expression on your face. You’d never felt anything like him before and god you were so sure you never would again. He filled you so perfectly, hitting that spot in you over and over to the point where all you could do was babble incoherently for him. 

One large hand slides up to roughly palm your breast, squeezing the plush mound and pinching your nipple hard. You jolt off the bed arch your back, into his hands, and gasp breathlessly. He loves when you’re speechless it turns out, he gets to watch the way he overloads your pretty little head with pleasure. 

“Jesus, I love these gorgeous tits.”  He groans, ducking his head down to take a stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks hard, his tongue lashing over the sensitive bud as he bites down just shy of too hard.

His other hand slides between your sweat-slicked bodies, finding your clit. He rubs the sensitive nub hard and fast, matching the brutal pace of his thrusts. He feels you start to tighten around him, knowing you’re close.

“Cum with me baby, please I wanna feel you cumming on my cock. I need to know what it feels like to fill your tight cunt with my cum” 

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you and explodes, painting your walls with his sticky seed. You fall over the edge with him, screaming his name and clenching around his cock. Your nails dig into his back and he hisses in pain, rutting his hips into yours again and pushing his cum deeper. 

He weakly falls onto you, knocking what little wind there was out of you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder. 

“This is literally going to be the best six weeks ever” He curls up into your arms and you nod breathlessly, of course, he’s a giant cuddle bug. He moves off of you just a bit so you can actually breathe and buries his face into your chest. 

“And I hope you’re ready for round two, just gimme like- 15 minutes” 

“10 minutes is your rebound time??”

“Actually it’s more like 10” He cheeses “But I wanted to give you some extra time”

Buck decides he likes watching you sleep.  And definitely not in a creepy Edward Cullen way. 

 But you’re laying in his arms so nicely and your skin is so soft and plush against his body. He can feel the way your curves mold to him like you fit into his side perfectly and he’s content. After four rounds, he’s incredibly content. 

“You bein’ a perv again?” 

Your sleepy tone sends him spiraling a little and he’s gotta bring himself back to earth and will his dick to just stay calm. 

“No, Jerk. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss” He mumbles into your hair. His fingers flow lazily over your spine, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin against him. He reaches down and hikes your leg further over his hips and you nuzzle into his chest.

“Which kiss?” You yawn and blink blearily up at him, he looks down and studies your sleepy little face like he wants to commit every single thing about you to memory.

“The one in the restaurant… I thought you liked me, but I couldn’t really tell. Kinda went out on a limb with this one.” 

“Can you tell now?” 

“I think so” 

You push up from his chest and he whines, trying to pull you back down.

“You spit on my pussy and you think I’m into you?” 

He shrugs awkwardly “I didn’t want to just assume!”

“You called me your, and I quote “Perfect little cum dump” and you’re not sure if I’m into you?!” 

“Well! Are you?!” 

“Oh my god” You let your body slump against his and he wraps his arms and legs around you like a koala 

“Tell meeeee” He rolls side to side and you laugh and struggle against his arms.

“Yes! Evan. You gorgeous fucking idiot, I’m into you. I’m incredibly into you and very excited to be spending the next six weeks with you” 

“I’m so glad you said that, or else this would have been super awkward. I made us breakfast!” 

“Oooh! Really?” You perk up a little and he smirks while you push yourself up from his chest again and sit on your legs. He stares freely at your figure, just drinking it all in. 

“Mhmmm, Blueberry pancakes and bacon with that really sexy whipped butter”

“That butter is really sexy…” you agree while wrapping the duvet around you in a giant fluffy dress. 

“You ready to eat, Mrs. Buckley?” 

“I’m ready, Mr. Buckley.”

[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

The Bat catches a cold (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Prompt: The Bat never falls sick, or so he thinks. (2k~ words)

Bruce Wayne does not fall sick. 

The man simply can’t afford to. He could not possibly disturb the precarious balance he’s achieved between his double life of running a Fortune 500 company by day and fighting criminal masterminds by night. 

So his recent sneezing fits must be a result of allergies, it’s pollen season after all. And those dull headaches he’s be experiencing the past couple of days? Probably just a lack of sleep,  the Riddler’s recent antics had resulted in some long and arduous nights. 

Today he woke up feeling kind of feverish, body aching all over. But he’s got to push through, there’s an important board meeting he can’t miss. Especially not over something as silly as a common cold.

“Alfred, did you put the kettle on for coffee?” Bruce’s horse voice calls out, as he all but staggers through the hallway on his way to the kitchen. A little caffeine and a painkiller should do the trick.

As he approaches the archway to the spacious open plan kitchen, he blinks away the final wisps of sleep encroaching his vision, only to notice that instead of his trusted butler Alfred its his partner puttering about.

“Alfred’s out on an errand, I’ve put the kettle on but it’s gonna be- Oh” 

You pause in your words as you look up from the counter, taking in the state of your husband.

Eyes rimmed red, hair scuffled and messy, a far cry from the smart slicked gelled back style you’re used to.

Also is he still in his pyjamas? It’s ten past nine, he’s should be in his starched white collar and dress pants by now. 

“Right. Could you make me a cup of coffee please? I’ve got to leave for the office in ten” he rasps before succumbing to a heavy cough. 

“Uh- I don’t think you should be going to work in your current state” you comment as you cross the counter to examine him better.

He shakes his head in hopes of ridding himself of the pounding headache. Bad idea. Now he feels like the room is swimming around him.

As he sniffles through his congested nose, you take in his slouched stance and tired profile. Yeah there’s no way he can go to work in this state.

As you place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature a soft gasp escapes you, he’s burning up. 

“Bruce you’re running a high fever, you need to rest” you chastise. Did he really think he could hobble into work in this state?

“I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather” he groans in protest, though his statement was severely undermined by him leaning against the kitchen archway for support. 

This was quiet typical of Bruce, he was stubborn as an Ox when it came to admitting he needed rest. You give him an unimpressed stare, you were not buying it.

“Really now? Is that why you’re slowly sliding down the archway? Because you’re the pinnacle of  good health?” 

That causes him to abruptly stand up, he sways in place for a moment, “I told you I’m fine it’s just a-“ 

And that’s all he can muster before he begins to fall forward, limbs seemingly in free fall. 

“Bruce!” you exclaim as you rush forward to steady him. But he’s much heavier with his limp muscles, so instead your valiant attempt ends up with the both of you slowly going down as a heap onto the hardwood floor.

But that’s still marginally better than him falling flat on his face so you’ll count it as a win. 

“Okay, time to get you back to bed. Can you stand up?” You pat his cheek as his head rests in your lap, hoping that will wake him up from his haze.

“No need for all that, I just need a moment to catch my breath- I’m fine” 

Though he voices his protest, his hand clumsily lands over your own, relishing the feeling of your cool palm against his hot face.

“Oh of course, you just need a minute to lie on the floor and then you’ll be able to crawl to work. Silly me for not realising” you remark dryly.

Bruce was usually a fan of your sarcasm, except when it was directed at him. He attempts to glare at you in response, but only manages to blink owlishly instead given his current state.

An exasperated sigh escapes you. You knew he was gonna be bull-headed about this, asking for help wasn’t exactly a part of Bruce’s lexicon. So it’s time for a bit of an ultimatum.

“Right so there are two ways we can go about this. Either you let me help you back to the bed where you will rest for the remainder of the day” you state, making sure you placed stern emphasis on the ‘rest’ part.

His face scrunches at the prospect, the concept of rest foreign and unappealing to him.

“Or if you won’t listen, I guess I won’t have much choice but to get Dick and Jason to carry you to bed” 

You had to bite back a laugh at the way his eyes balked at the prospect. He was not going to be humiliated like that. He can already envision Jason’s poorly concealed attempt at suppressing his laugher, and he just knew Dick was gonna bring this up at some inopportune moment at a future family dinner.

You can practically see the gears in his head turning, trying to work out another third option where he gets what he wants with his pride remaining intact. However, he doesn’t get very far in his dazed state.

So Bruce decides to go with the lesser of the two evils, one that would leave his ego less bruised.

“… I suppose you can help me to bed” He mumbles, causing you to laugh at his resigned tone. There we go.

“You know it’s not a crime to ask for help once in a while. You don’t have to bear all the burdens on your own” you reply as you help prop him up. 

Slinging his arm over your shoulder, you begin the trek back to the bedroom. He huffs, unable to meet your eyes.

“I don’t want to worry you” he admits quietly. 

He knows you worry enough already. He sees how your brows crease in concern when he comes home after patrol sporting a particularly nasty gash. He recalls the several times he caught you looking at him, quickly masking your anxious expression with a sweet smile. And on multiple occasions he’s found you dozed off on the couch well past midnight, in your attempt to stay up and wait for him until he returned from a mission.

It often causes a pit of guilt in his stomach that he finds it hard to push away. You already put up with so many eccentricities given his vigilante double life, that too all with a warm smile. He’d hate to add to your worries.

“Bruce” you tut, “You ought to know I want to help. You’re always juggling so many things all at once, it feels nice to help out once in a while. Besides, it’s not like I can help much with your nightly escapades” you say with a light laugh as you help him into bed.

But Bruce doesn’t miss the strain in your voice when you mentioned that last bit, you feel like you’re not doing enough, which is so far from the truth. Before he can address it you leave the room, stating you’d get him medicine and a cup of warm tea to help with the cold.

The next few hours seemingly pass in a blur, after his doze of medicine Bruce was out cold, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He wakes up in the late afternoon, the morning headache reduced to a dull pain at the back of his head, his voice feeling less hoarse than before. 

As he rubs his eyes to rid himself of the remnants of sleep, he notices you curled up on the sofa next to the bed, a book in your hand as you leaf through the pages.

“Morning sleepyhead” you tease as you notice him sitting up on the bed.

“How long was I out?” He asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“A couple of hours, feel any better?”

“Yeah… were you waiting up for me all this while?”

You give a light shrug, “It was gonna be a slow afternoon for me anyway, thought I might as well spend it keeping an eye on my patient for the day”

Bruce looks aways from your smile, feeling his cheeks flush. If you’d dare tease him about it he’d blame it on his cold no doubt.

There’s a beat of silence before he reaches over to grasp your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You do help (Name), more than you know it. I look forward to coming home to you every night, I’m deeply appreciate of the peace you bring in my life” he remarks, referring to your last statement before he fell asleep.

Bruce wasn’t one for bold declarations nor was he a waxing romantic. However, that’s not to say he didn’t cherish you in his life. 

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, at times he’s still taken by surprise by your willingness to put up with the whirlwind of chaos that constitutes his life. You provide a sense of warmth and familiarity that he always believed would be out of reach for him. Something he couldn’t afford, given his commitment to his mission under the cowl. A tradeoff he’d have to simply learn to live with.

He pulls your hand closer and kisses your knuckles, unable to voice his jumbled thoughts but hoping to convey the sentiment nevertheless.

You smile at his gesture, as much as you wanted to coo at his gentle words and warm disposition (which was not that common a site), you knew he’d only flush bright red in embarrassment. You decided to save the teasing for another time.

“That’s kind of you to say. You know I’m here for you. We all are” you reassure, referring to the rest of rag tag bunch of a family. 

“Well, as much as I love the kids, I wouldn’t describe them as a source of peace, quite the contrary really” he winces as he recalls their latest antics.

A discombobulated performance featuring Tim’s latest handmade gadget malfunctioning and causing a small fire, Damian’s new dagger stunt breaking several pieces of expensive china, a manhunt for Dick’s dog’s who got lost in the Bat Cave and Jason’s attempted DIY hair dye gone wrong causing him to sulk in his room for several days. Alfred came to the rescue as per the usual, putting out both literal and metaphorical fires.

Of course you supported when you could. That is to say when you managed to stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of what you were witnessing.

You shake your head with a smile, before suggesting in a teasing tone “Maybe that’s just their way of showing love?”

He snorts at that, “Right by giving me new grey hairs”

He can’t help the bent smile forming on his face as you laugh at his quip. He still marvels at how easy it is between the two of you. How easy you make it for him to feel a sense of calm and security in your relationship. 

“What’ve you been reading there?” he asks, his chest warming at how your eyes light up, ands the excitement in your tone as you begin to describe the book to him.

Perhaps it’s not all that bad to need to lean on you once in a while.

Especially not if it means he get to make more precious memories with you.

[sttoru]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 '𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒, CHAPTER II: you smuggle the wounded man into your dorm room and nurse him back to health in secret. a fragile bond forms between you and the stranger - whose name you learn is toji - as you spend your first night together.

word count. 6.6k-ish

tags. assassin!toji fushiguro x college student!female reader. sfw. bits of angst. mentions of blood, knives, murder. reader gets called 'woman'. general warnings: size difference. age gap (reader early 20's, toji early 30's). chapter one here

Three. Two. One.

You accept your miserable fate with a gulp. You prepare yourself for the unbearable pain that awaits your body until the last breath leaves your lungs. You hope the anguish lasts for a second or two before your vision turns pitch black. Before your soul meets its maker. Or before it gets lost somewhere more peaceful than this life you've led.

Closing your eyes, waiting for the impact, and uttering your final words in your head felt like eternity. Maybe the man is playing with your emotions before he decides to make an end to your life. Perhaps he is such a nasty psycho. And you can’t believe that out of all people who could’ve met him tonight on the street, you did.

You sniff. Life is unfair. Even at your final moments, you couldn’t help but feel you got the short end of the stick. You wait and wait, but your death doesn’t arrive. You sigh and ask whoever can hear your thoughts to make it quick.

“Shit,” Your ‘murderer’ coughs. It sounds like a painful cough, one that came out the back of his throat. You hear metal clattering on wet concrete not a second later. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise, your vision instantly filling with a frightening sight. You watch as the injured man starts to cough up blood. He’s unable to lift a finger in that state of his.

This is your chance to make a run for it. The voice in your head is screaming at you to move and get yourself to safety. It’s a perfect opportunity to get help. But something inside of you is urging you to stay.

Any normal person would have escaped by now.

‘I must be out of my mind,’ you silently think. You don’t loosen the grip you have on your scarf, the one pressed against the man’s open wound. Your body is yelling at you—begging you to move away—yet your heart is pleading to stay put. There is no way your body wins over the strong will of your heart. Your soul, that’s strangely connected to his, a man that threatened to kill you without hesitation.

You surely have lost your mind.

“Sir, oh my god,” you panic. You chose to stay, however have no clue what to do. You’re trying your best to think of a solution to all of this. Your eyes catch a glimpse of your now wet phone laying in a puddle of rain. You hope it still works. Well, even if it does, you surely can’t call an ambulance for the man. He had stated that he didn’t want any help.

If you consider the possibility of him being a murderer, you’d understand that he wouldn’t want an ambulance to be involved. You shake your head as your body desperately tries to continue fighting against your heart’s desires. ‘Sympathizing with a possible murderer. God I really must have gone insane,’ you curse yourself out in your head.

The sound of heavy breathing brings you back into the current moment. You catch the way the bloodied man is trying to regain his strength. You try to coax him into staying still, “sir, please don’t move. It could worsen your injury.”

You voicing your worries only causes the man to try and push you away. Despite his weakened state, the little push he gives you is enough to make you lose the grip on your crimson stained scarf. You watch in pure horror as more blood pours down his black shirt, onto his white pants.

“No, please. Please listen to me,” you don’t know why you’re begging a grown man, a killer, to listen to you for his own sake. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be back in your dorm room, in your cozy bed, watching a series while it pours outside. You shouldn’t be playing the hero to a stranger.

You think quickly. The only option you have aside from an ambulance, is to try and help him out to your best ability. You don’t have anything with you that could help, but you do have some rubbing alcohol in your dorm. That could work as a disinfectant. Stitching his wound up is the real challenge.

“Okay, uhm,” you try to think of a way to do this as smoothly as possible. You quickly grab the knife from the ground and shiver at the sight of the blood on the handle. Time is ticking and it won’t be long until the man in front of you loses his consciousness and possibly… dies.

You take off your coat, making haste to do so. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is stammering. You hiss as you tear apart the material of your coat using the sharp knife. The leather should help slow down the bleeding. Even if it’s only for a little bit. That’s all you really need.

“Here,” you quickly replace the scarf with the cut piece of your coat. You wrap it around his waist and fasten it, making sure it doesn’t slip off. The man does not say a word nor does he fight you off. All the resistance is gone from his weary body. That should tell you enough; he’s barely holding on. His heavy yet faint breathing is the only sign that reassures you that he’s not fallen unconscious.

You collect your bag and all the other things scattered on the dirty ground of the alleyway. You don’t want to leave any evidence of you being here, helping an alleged killer with getting away. Your heart tells you it’s fine, but your body is telling you that you’ll regret all of it. Time will tell which is the truth.

You stand up. Barely. Your knees are nearly giving out on you because of the stress and anxiety, though the adrenaline pumping through your blood is helping you stay composed. Your eyes follow the flow of the man’s blood as it mixes with the rainwater on the concrete. You can’t clean that up. The only thing you can do about it is pray—pray that the rain will wash all of it away. Down the drains.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, checking in on the stranger. He doesn’t answer. You crouch down in front of him, a worried expression on your face as you carefully move the hair from his eyes. They’re closed. You freak out and your initial reaction is to gently tap his cheek for any sign of life, “sir? Sir? Don’t tell me he’s—"

“Shut up,” his gruff voice echoes in your ears. It seems like he still wants you gone, though is not trying to actively shoo you away anymore. Not like he can in the awful state he is in.

The stranger coughs again, his eyelids opening just halfway before closing again. You sigh in relief and move next to him. You lift his arm so that it loosely sits on your shoulders. You grunt softly—the muscles in them makes it a tough job. You try asking him for his compliance, “I’ll help you stand up, okay?”

As expected, you’re met with silence. You take it as an agreement and use all the strength left in your limbs to get up on your feet. It’s a struggle, with you nearly toppling over thrice, but you eventually get the co-operation you’re looking for. The bloodied stranger slowly but surely manages to stand up straight with your aid.

You’re shocked by his large stature. He was intimidating enough when seated, but now that he’s towering over you, his aura is reaching high levels of unsettling. You hope he’s got enough drive left to move his feet. You can’t expect your frail arms to half carry a six-foot-something man.

“Hang in there,” you mutter, trying to cover the anxiety you’re internally facing. You look ahead and move forward in small strides, the steps you’re making are wobbly, as are his. You look up and try to gauge the man’s reactions, though his eyes are once again covered by his wet bangs. All you can make out is the slight twitch of his scarred lips. He’s in pain.

You manage to escape that damned back alley. Your bag is soaked, as are your clothes. You take one quick glance back before you turn the corner and once again pray that the rain washes the blood away. You take the quietest and fastest route back to your dorm.

A couple people pass you by. They don’t look at you funny nor do they bat an eye to the man you’re helping keep balance. They have their own lives that they need to take care of first. The pouring rain makes it harder for them to concentrate on anything else as well. Besides, the material of your coat wrapped around the man’s waist covers up most of the blood. It’s not visible to others.

If someone were to describe the image of the stranger and you from an outsider’s perspective, they’d think you’re just helping your drunk partner back home. It’s not an uncommon sight in the busy streets of Tokyo, especially in the evening.

“Where...” The stranger speaks up, his deep voice hoarser than before. He unexpectedly grips your shoulder. His meaty fingers digging into your flesh makes you wince. He’s only using a small bit of his actual strength and you’re already in pain. You push through and continue helping him forward. “Fuck,” He cusses. He’s starting to become deluded due to the blood loss and pain, “where ‘re—”

The tall man coughs, interrupting himself. You cringe at the sound of that excruciating sound. You could see the lights in the distance. The ones you’re used to seeing when coming back to campus after a night out with your friend. Now, you’re coming back with an unknown man. An alleged killer that you’re bringing into the building. You don’t even want to think about all the lives you could potentially put in danger.

You try to avert your attention. Now is not the time for that. Your gut feeling says so. You need to figure out a way to sneak this man inside your room without anyone finding out. Not the security guards, hall monitors or students: No one can know. You answer his question with clear doubt in your voice, not knowing if you’ll both even make it, “safety. To safety.”

All the thoughts about your poor life decisions get pushed to the side. You grunt and try to increase your speed, having difficulty dragging the man with you. You’re sweating. The amount of strength you need to put in to take only one step is severely draining. You remember that there is one path that doesn’t have much surveillance cameras hanging around. It’s the one you and a couple others use to sneak back into your dorms very late at night.

“Almost,” you try to encourage the stranger, whose silence is quite eerie. You hope he’s holding on. The way he’s dragging his feet over the bricks tells you that he’s trying to keep conscious. You hurry up and get to the hidden exit at the back.

It’s locked on some days, so you let out a breath of relief when you manage to push it open. That spares you the trouble of having to go through the main entrance and risk getting caught. Plus, you don’t have to use and show your student card now that you’ve infiltrated the building. You hope that there aren’t many people around this side, praying that they’re all eating dinner somewhere.

The creaking of the door is ten times louder than it is usually. Or it could be the fear in your body restructuring your thoughts. Luckily, your dorm room is only one flight of stairs up. You can’t take the elevator because of the cameras in it. You look over at the man leaning against your shoulder, his head tilting to the side in exhaustion.

“Christ,” The stranger grunts. His head sways a little closer to yours unintentionally and your breath hitches. For a split second, he rests the side of his head against yours, too tired to move away. It makes your heart stammer for a moment. To have this coldhearted man lean on you, depend on you, and lay his life in your hands.

You’re filled with another rush of adrenaline. “Are you still holding up okay?” your quiet voice snaps the man out of his disoriented state. He only then realizes that he’s leaning his heavy weight on your small stature. He grumbles and tilts his head the other way again, away from yours. He clearly hates to be vulnerable. Especially around a random girl he does not have any business with.

Without getting an answer back, you carefully make haste to your dorm room. Your room is the first one in the entire row, located the surveillance camera's dead zone, which works out in your favor again.

You hold in your breath and try to fish the keys out of your pocket. Your fingers move the old and now wet receipts and garbage to the sides, pulling the desired object out from between them. You fumble with the keys, your fingers trembling as you try to grab the right one.

The intimidating stranger looks down at your hand through a blurry vision. You’re in a hurry to open the door and avoid being caught. Someone could turn the corner right now and you’d be busted. He huffs in annoyance, though voices no audible complaints. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he knows you’re helping him and that you have zero ill intent.

“Sorry,” you whimper before finally unlocking your door. You hurriedly get in an shut it behind you. It feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Figuratively in this case, since you still have a whole man leaning on you. You help him over to your bed and carefully assist him down.

You’re ignoring your own boundaries for the nth time. The ones you are so adamant to follow in any other situation. You would never let someone sit on your bed with their outside clothes still on, especially not if they’re dirtied and wet. You’re tolerating it for now. All for this man that you have a sudden, unfathomable attraction to.

You don’t have time to think. You rush to your wardrobe and pull the drawer open. You search for a first aid kit. You had it laying somewhere—though never used. Your parents had given you it in case of an emergency. Which is right now.

You find a whole bunch of gauze rolls and a bottle of antiseptic liquid along with bandages, scissors, and pain killers. You have zero clue on how to treat a wound. You only saw such stuff in action movies and cartoons. You grab a needle and thread that you had laying around. A towel and a tissue box as well. Just anything that’s redeemed relevant for the situation.

You drop everything on your bed and fiddle around on what to use first. You’re tempted to grab your phone and look up some instructions on the internet, but you quickly get interrupted by a bloody hand reaching out for the disinfectant. You watch with worry as the man gets to work—not expecting any help from an oblivious girl like you. He’s gone through this before.

“Get some water.” The man huffs, undoing the coat around his waist slowly. You only have a few seconds to act. You look around frantically and find an old water bottle on your nightstand. You hand it to him, and he nearly yanks it from your hand, still showing that stubborn reluctance around you. There’s not a thank you in sight as he gets to work.

You can tell that the stranger has stitched up his own wounds many times before. It makes you think back to your initial thoughts. The thoughts about his occupation. His skills would be self-explanatory if he were to be an actual murderer. Having to deal with these types of wounds would be an everyday experience.

Yet, instead of being alarmed at the possibility, you manage to feel bad for his situation. You helplessly watch as he pours nearly the entire bottle on his wound, getting rid of any debris that’s got on it. He clearly does not care about the wet stains it’s created on your sheets. They’re messy anyway. “Give me that,” the injured man comments and nods at the needle and thread with his head.

You do as told, staying silent as you let the professional do what he knows is best. He cleans the needle with the antiseptic fluid and prepares the wound some more. You want to advise him to at least use some pain killers before he goes to work on it, however they’d take too long to take effect. There is no time to do all of that.

“Ah,” you hiss, like you’re the one experiencing the pain, as you notice how he’s starting the suture near the edge of his wound. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, not wanting to witness the gruesome scene. A few occasional grunts and groans sounding from the man leave you nauseous. You can’t imagine what he’s going through at the moment, cleaning and stitching up his own injury. He seemed to know what he was doing, so you don’t comment on it any further.

After a couple seconds pass, you hear another pained hiss. You can’t stand it. You’re just sitting at the edge of your bed, hoping for the best. Hoping that he could make use of all that you provided him with. “Can I help somehow?” You breathlessly ask, your voice a quiet whisper.

“Yeah, by shutting up,” The older man answers bluntly. He’s fixated on healing his wound the best he could, and your voice is disrupting that focus. He’s made some progress with the suture. It isn’t done under perfect circumstances, but he’s used to it. His body has been through enough since childhood to have built up a resilience to most things. The pain and discomfort are nothing he isn’t familiar with.

You bite your lip and apologize for asking him something, “sorry.” His deep voice makes you shiver. It only reminds you of the fact that you have a grown man in your room. A possible killer on the loose. You don’t push your luck and just remain silent. You don’t want to end up as another victim.

Though you have a feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. Where that feeling came from, you have no idea. It could be your delusions, however you’re sure he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head. Maybe it’s due to that little moment of vulnerability he showed in the halls moments ago. Your body warms up at the memory of how his head laid against yours for a split second.

The man finishes off the suture with a firm surgeon knot. He cleans the remaining blood with the tissues he’s drowned in disinfectant. You look his way again when you hear him shifting in his place. Your baffled as you notice how he’s trying to stand up. You don’t know much about wounds, but you know for certain that someone cannot stand up after getting an injury stitched. It could reopen the wound.

Your hand moves on its own. You firmly grab the man’s wrist and tug him back down on your bed. The stranger lets out a surprised grunt and instinctively slaps your hand away. He wants to leave.

To him, it’s nothing serious. This is just another day in his life. He’s used to ignoring his body’s pleas for rest. Vulnerability does not look good on him. He hates it.

The older man parts his lips to defend himself, yet quickly decides on the opposite. He shuts his mouth once his eyes met your pretty ones. They’re glimmering with tears. He does not realize why you’re suddenly so upset. Nor does he actually care... He thinks.

He just wants to leave before you ask too many questions. It’s best to act like you two have never met. For his sake and yours.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. The silence creates an undeniable tension between you both. You don’t exchange words, though you think he knows what you mean with that look you’re giving him. You’re indirectly begging him to stay still and rest. You know he needs it. He secretly knows he needs it as well, though does not want to acknowledge that weakness.

The stranger sighs in frustration. He looks down at the wound he’s worked hard to patch up. His head hurts. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are unresponsive. He has no other choice but to lay back. He promises himself that he’d leave after an hour or two. He wants to have nothing to do with you.

A college girl helping him. Who would’ve thought that day would come. Did he become that weak? He has always refused the help of others, so what would make this any different? He can leave and deal with the consequences of that poor decision on his own. However, his body doesn’t move an inch.

The man frowns as he realizes that his cold and distant attitude would get him nowhere this time. His body is actively resisting the urges to leave.

You cautiously ascertain his reactions. You notice the way he slumps back against your pillows with a curse word leaving his lips. You can’t help but feel relieved. You don’t know why, but you’re happy that he’s staying with you. Even if it’s just for a little longer. You want to make sure he’s going to be fine.

You nod silently and don’t say a word for a good while. You don’t want to annoy the man more than you already have. You get up, knees buckling as the adrenaline wears you down. You’re glad you haven’t been caught and that the man you saved didn’t die. You’re tired from everything that went down in the last hour or so.

Though, you cannot rest.

You clean up the mess around your bed. The used, bloody tissues. The rain that’s dripped down your clothes and onto the floor, making small puddles on the surface. The piece of leather you had used as a temporary solution for the stranger’s bleeding. After you’ve gotten rid of all that, you finally take off your coat and shoes. You want to take a bath as soon as possible. And dry your hair.

You don’t take your eyes off the man on your bed. He’s starting to stir again, which could mean one of two things. He’s either trying to escape or trying to change his position. To your surprise, you catch him pull his shirt over his head. The older man’s ripped physique comes into view. Faint veins run down his beefy arms, his abs are perfectly defined, and his waist compliments his bulky stature.

You’re staring. You only realize it when your eyes catch the way he’s attempting to wrap some gauze around his lower abdomen. You can tell that he’s struggling, but he does not ask for help. Nor does he even look your way—acting like it’s just him in the room. It’s easy to conclude that he’s never depended on anyone in his life. It saddens you.

You walk over to your bed and sit down at the edge. You wordlessly reach out to grab the roll of gauze from his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm while you do so, and you can feel the rough calluses on his skin. You don’t comment on it but make a mental note of your discovery.

You carefully wrap the gauze around his waist once. You’re as cautious as you could be, not wanting to inflict any more discomfort on the stranger. He doesn’t resist. He’s too tired to do so. Alhough, that doesn’t stop him from showing his complaints about the situation through his distant body language. His eyes are staring at the nearby wall, his expression as stoic as ever.

You go around with the roll of gauze once more. You lean a bit closer to his torso to properly do your job. You can’t help but feel a tiny bit embarrassed by your proximity. Neither of you says anything about it. He doesn’t move away, and you take that as a sign to continue tending to him.

The older man can’t help but feel that urging desire to push you away and leave. He doesn’t want to be involved in any of this. You weren’t supposed to find him. You weren’t supposed to help him. You weren’t supposed to bring him back here. He hates the idea of letting someone – you - get close to him. He hates letting others in his personal space.

 “What’s your name, sir?” Your soothing voice breaks the silence. You’re still visibly nervous, but also a lot less panicky. He finally looks down at you, seeing you put the gauze in place before grabbing a roll of bandages. He hates your touch.

The stranger clenches his jaw. He had to have scared you away in that back alley. He couldn’t and that’s what got him in such a predicament. One that triggers his many internal issues and struggles. He hates having to talk about himself to others. That’s how most bonds form.

“None of your damn business, girl,” The older man growls. His tone is harsh and cold, but you don’t back away nor even flinch. That only serves to irk him more. You’re meant to cower in fear, leave him alone and never turn back, but you do the complete opposite. You don’t know him and yet still choose to take care of him.

You nod, not pushing the matter any further. The injured stranger narrows his eyes for a second. Nothing seems to work on you. His intention is to scare you off, though the more he tries, the more you seem to get closer. It’s got the total opposite effect and he despises it.

He hates it all. Your closeness, your need to help him, your eyes that stare up at him with such worry, your hands bandaging him up. He promised himself, the day his wife died a couple years ago, that he’ll never involve himself with people if it isn’t for business related matters.

He’s managed to live all by himself for all those years and reached a level of independence that others could only dream of. Now it’s shattered. It feels like he’s back to square one because of your choice today. The choice to help a total random stranger.

The older man closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply. It’s foolish of him to think of such unimportant matters. He’ll just use this to his advantage. He’ll use you, your kindness and everything you have to offer for his own sake. He’ll exploit you like he’s done to many other women before. That’s the way he’s used to treating others.

He’ll indulge your need to help him and try to act nice to satisfy those innocent wishes of yours. Just for his sake and his sake only, he promises himself.

The older man eventually speaks up again after you managed to bandage him up properly, “…Toji.”

You raise your eyebrows. You guess that that’s his name. Your lips curl up into a faint smile, feeling thankful that Toji decided to reveal that little detail about him. You grab his bloodied shirt and put it with the rest of your clothes that you need to wash. Your eyes wander over his exposed upper body for a split second, looking for any other possible injuries, only to find none. You nod in satisfaction as you grab a washcloth and wet it with some water, “that’s a nice name.”

That’s a first. Toji didn’t see the significance of complimenting someone’s name. Everyone has one, it’s not special, so why would you tell him it’s nice? Maybe he just doesn’t understand sentimental stuff like that. He’s not made out for such things. “Hm,” he lets out a small hum in acknowledgement and that’s all you get.

You walk towards him again and brush his bangs to the side. Toji holds himself back from moving away from your touch, but then remembers the decision he made mentally just moments ago. He’ll use that kindness of yours to his advantage until he’s all healed up. Then he’ll leave for good.

You place the cold cloth on his forehead. You know he’ll have a fever throughout the night because of the wound he’s suffered. You’re simply preparing him for that. You grab the painkillers that are scattered around the bed and place them on your nightstand, along with the water bottle. If he needs it, he’ll grab it, you think.

“Ah, sorry,” You snap out of it and realise that you haven’t introduced yourself properly. You might as well, considering you’ll be having Toji as your roommate for a couple days. Or at least you hope he stays that long until he’s all healed up. You continue, “my name is..”

“I already know.” Toji cuts you off before you’re able to reveal your name. You’re dumbfounded for a second. What does he mean by ‘he knows’? You tilt your head in confusion. You try to figure out how he could’ve possibly learnt your name but are unable to make any assumptions.

Toji easily notices your bewilderment. He admits that that could’ve come over as extremely creepy. He looks at the nearby wall and points at the decorations with his chin. You follow his gaze and instantly recognize what he’s staring at. It’s a picture with your friends that you have framed. They gifted it to you some time back and had engraved your name in the frame.

Toji must have cautiously examined his new surroundings whilst you were busy finalizing the treatment for his injury. You understand the need for that. Anyone would be wary in a new environment. “Hehe. Right,” he’s quite observant, you think to yourself.

You look outside of your window and close the tiny gap between your curtains. Even if you’re on the second floor, you don’t want to risk anyone finding out about what you did tonight. It still hasn’t properly processed in your brain; the fact that you have smuggled an alleged killer into your dorm. Maybe it will hit once you sleep and wake up tomorrow.

You look down at Toji with great concern. Even if the wound has been taken care of, you’re unsure if it’s even enough. A doctor would’ve been the safest option. But seeing how great Toji is handling the pain, you guess that it’ll be just fine. You glance at your hands. They have some dried blood on them. You also reek of the rain since you’re still uncomfortably soaked from before.

You decide to go take a shower. Before that, you make sure Toji has everything he needs. You give him a towel to dry himself off and make sure he can reach the first aid kit if needed. You stare at the pile of bloodied and wet clothes in the corner of your room. Both his and yours. You’ll take them to the laundry mat tomorrow.

You avert your attention back to Toji. He’s lying on his back, head turned away to the wall so he wouldn’t have to see you or look you in the eyes. It’s like he’s in his own world. You speak up again, this time a little louder, “are you gonna be alright now?”

Silence again. Toji doesn’t face you and keeps his eyes closed for some peace of mind. He sounds indifferent and distant as he answers you, “who knows.”

The ambiguous answer certainly doesn’t help ease your anxiety. You don’t want the older man to regress back to a state of near unconsciousness again. Despite your wishes, you can’t do much about it. Calling an ambulance or asking for help from others is a big no-no. For you as well, since you’ll be dragged into a big mess if anyone were to find out you gave shelter to a murderer.

“Uhm, all right. I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You announce quietly, not expecting a response. You would’ve preferred it if Toji did respond so you could leave your room for a couple minutes in peace. Without worrying about his condition. You know that you’re annoying him with the constant questions and comments, but you can’t help it. You’re worried. Even if he hates the attention and would love to have as less interaction with you as possible.

“D-Don’t move, ‘kay? I’ll be back.” You add quickly. You take a few steps towards the exit and place your hand on the door handle. Your limbs won’t take another step forward. You’re worried sick that Toji’s going to grab his chance and leave the moment you’re gone. You don’t want him to go. On one hand, it’s selfish of you, but on the other hand, it’s out of consideration for his situation.

You turn your head and glance at his still figure on your bed. His bulky stature nearly took up the entirety of it. You can’t help but ramble about your worries to him, hoping it’d convince him to stay, “If they find you, I’ll get in trouble and god knows what will happen to yo—”

“Just go, woman.” Toji’s deep voice rings through your ears. It’s the second time he’s cut you off. You’re pissing him off, clearly. You immediately zip it and do as told. You decide to put your trust in him and believe that he won’t take the opportunity to leave behind your back.

Without another word, you sneak out of your dorm room, making sure to close your door behind you. You act normal in case anyone walks by and finds your behaviour suspicious. You make a beeline towards the communal showers with your toiletry bag and pyjamas in hand.

Meanwhile, Toji is finally experiencing some real peace. He empties his mind, though cannot seem to get rid of your voice. He still can’t comprehend why somebody would be this worried for him. A college student who’d be at risk of being expelled if found out. You’re taking such great risks for a man like him? He doesn’t understand.

Toji rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and groans in aggravation, “unbelievable.” Why he’s thinking it through is also something he cannot grasp. The man decides to enjoy the quiet atmosphere for now. He’s still somewhat disheveled from the entire ordeal and if he were to keep his brain running, he’d lose his mind completely. He drapes an arm over his eyes and lies there silently on the soft mattress.

A couple minutes pass. You feel like you’ve taken the quickest shower ever. You avoid as many students as possible while you make your way back to your dorm. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in. You open the door and peek through the crack. It’s pitch dark in the room. The sun had fully set a while back and your curtains cover any light from outside.

You lock your door and step forward carefully. You squint and wait for your vision to accommodate to the darkness. You approach your bed and finally let out that breath you’ve been holding in. He’s still there. Toji’s still where you left him. His chest is slowly moving up and down, his breathing steady as he rests.

You quietly turn on the nightlamp in your room. It casts a faint shadow over Toji’s face. He seems to be asleep. You can’t quite tell for sure since his bicep is nearly covering the entirety of his face, but you judge based on his breathing patterns. You sit on the edge of your bed and feel tired yourself after that eventful evening. You’re sleepy. The adrenaline has worn off and exhausted you to no end.

You glance down at the bandage around his torso. You’d have to change that for him tomorrow. For now, you’re content with the outcome of it all. You shift in your seat, which causes your hand to brush against Toji’s on the bed. You feel the warmth creep up to your head. His veiny hands still had stains of blood on the skin.

Now that Toji’s asleep, he won’t refuse your help. You grab a spare washcloth from your wardrobe and wet it with some water. You carefully lift Toji’s left hand. His palm touches yours and you find yourself enjoying the physical contact. His hand is heavy—bigger and rougher than yours. There are faint scars on his fingers which reminds you of his unknown identity.

All you’ve discovered until now is his name. His background is a mystery, and you have the feeling that it’s going to stay a mystery. You’ve realized by now that Toji does not open up to just anyone. You diligently clean the crimson stains from his left hand and move to do the same for the right one. You’re as careful as you can be, not wanting to wake the injured man from his well-deserved rest.

Once done, you put the washcloth away. You yawn and look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight already. You can’t sleep on your bed since it’s occupied, and it doesn’t fit two people. You look down at the soft carpet below your feet. That’ll have to do.

You grab an available pillow and a spare blanket, setting up your own little sleeping bag on the carpet right next to the bed. You lay down and stare at the ceiling. The ticking of your clock and the occasional sound of traffic outside of the building are the only loud sounds that distract your mind from any turbulent thoughts.

All you want is to sleep. What’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that is a problem for later. You’re safe for now. For today, you can relax. Your door is locked and the man you saved hadn’t left just yet. You feel a strange form of comfort having him with you. Even if he may be a bad person, his presence somehow soothes your tired body and mind. You feel like you’re safe with him. No harm shall come your way tonight.

And with that decisive thought, you close your eyes and give in to the slumber. You turn to lay on your side, facing the frame of your bed. Facing Toji.

You smile and utter your final words for the day, “good night, Toji. Sleep well.”

You drift into the land of dreams and discard your eventful reality. Little did you know that the man on your bed had been wide awake the entire time and is now left unable to sleep. . .

to be continued !

[starrvsn]

` ִ ꔫ ۫ ⊹ D.HUME ࣪ ˖ VICTORY BLISS.

﹙ MOVIE/FANDOM ⠆THE BOYS IN THE BOAT ﹚

PAIRING ⠆don hume x fem!reader.

CATEGORIES ⠆fluff!, lil bit of angst- drama for no reason.. for the plot HAHA, shy!don, slight ooc with the boys, don going through it, the reader is lovely i swear, the guys being the #1 supporters of don, bobby being his #1 protector, sassy!bobby, bobby’s kinda mean in this but he means well i swear!

WORD COUNT ⠆4,613 (fun!)

star left a message! this was actually my first draft i had of don and i finally came around to finishing it! this came out much longer than i expected but i hope you enjoy~!

𝟒𝟏𝟏. don finally garners the courage to ask out the girl he's had his eyes on since the beginning of the semester.

"don! hey! so how you gon' celebrate?" bobby calls, jogging up next to him. the faint sounds of the other guys’ voices behind them, they had just come back from germany and all still high from the victory bliss. don had just gotten over a horrible fever, thanks to the guys he didn't think he'd be able to row– and be there when winning gold. now that it's over, they want to celebrate as much as they can, take advantage of a golden opportunity.

"er, not sure— sleep it off maybe." don utters, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walk further onto campus— towards their dorms, completely exhausted from traveling. the fact that they won olympic gold hadn't hit him yet and with their victory banquet in a few days time, maybe it would hit him then. the shorter man scoffs jumping in front of the taller, stopping him abruptly in his tracks.

"oh come on don, you gotta celebrate! you know soon enough girls are gonna be at your feet." bobby attests, arms flailing about in attempt to prove his point. don finds it almost comedic at how desperately bobby is trying to get through him, trying to hold back his laugh— he lets out "so?"

bobby squints his eyes looking a don incredulously "so? this time right now is your best shot— its now or never."

don could hardly speak to anyone, let alone girls— it became what he was known for. he didn't hate it because it was true, there was no room to deny it— it was just easier to manage, less to worry about but he could see where bobby was getting at, finally the narrative of seizing the moment getting through his thick skull after the many attempts of the team encouraging him to talk to girls more, so maybe this was it.

“i-i’ll think about it.” don nods, almost unsure of himself, he wasn't sure if he was saying it to satisfy his friend or to give himself some sort of encouragement. digging his hands deeper into his pants pockets. bobby’s face softens and he gives the taller male an optimistic smile, patting him encouragingly on his arm before joining the rest of the group. don heaves a sigh before continuing — his thoughts weigh his options for the rest of his walk to the dorms.

don mulls over what do over the course of a few days, with their banquet in a few days he knew had to do something soon. he had many ideas but one just kept coming back to him so he is putting all his chips in on this, hoping he doesn’t crash and burn.

don was nervous, he tossed and turned in bed just thinking about this. his heart beating loudly in his ears and almost out of his chest— he was sure people in the common room could hear it. he looks down at his feet, counting his steps as he approaches your table—trying not vomit from how on edge he was feeling. the words from bobby echoing in his head "this time is your best shot—its now or never."

taking a deep breath, he takes his gaze from his shoes to you. words couldn't describe how you looked, the sunlight peering through the window reflecting beautifully on your features making you look ethereal. he was enamored.

you were in the same physics lecture, you always sat two rows in front of him. he would catch himself drifting his eyes to the back of you head when the lecture got boring or when you turned to talk to your classmate, showing him your pretty side profile. he knew he was infatuated when you were paired during a lab and while don barely spoke– not even introducing himself. you were polite, nice and smart, a perfect trifecta. you always knew what to say and was so patient with him when you had asked him something and he didn’t respond right away. most times when he wouldn’t respond, people would get impatient or just brush him off; ignoring him completely. it was nice for someone to treat him with respect besides the guys on crew for a change.

breaking from his reverie, he realizes he’s stood before your table longer than he initially wanted to and yet you still haven’t noticed, to absorbed in your studies. don almost feels bad for interrupting and the thought of him just walking away and trying again some other day— or never crosses his mind but before he can even make up his mind, you finally notice.

"don! hi!" a soft smile peering at your lips as you stop writing, looking up at him. don's eyebrows jump in surprise, taken aback that you know him. a lump forms in his throat unsure what to say, awkwardly avoiding your gaze.

"yo-you know me?" letting his thoughts continue the conversation. he watches as you laugh- shaking your head for a moment before collecting yourself.

"it's hard to not know the stroke that won us a gold medal." you respond, voice laced with praise.

dons hand shoots up to the nape of his neck, flustered. "well i wouldn't say it was just me, it was all of us." he immediately denies, a faint blush glowing on his cheeks.

“i must give credit where it’s do, i mean you guys must’ve been amazing! well from what i heard on the radio at least.” you boast. his heart swells with pride hearing you sound so elated with how well they did— how well he did, in berlin. he felt his heart swell as you told him. his mouth runs dry as he tries to find the right words to continue the conversation and he kind of kicks himself for letting silence fall between the two of you. you speak up insisting you join him at your table, closing your books and putting them aside. he sits across from you, taking in your features that he thought about from time to time when he was away. you scoot you chair further in, knocking your foot against his, a shock coursing through him– no has ever made him feel this way.

“tell me about berlin, i heard you were feeling under the weather over there.” you start, quirking your head in curiosity awaiting his response. clearing his throat, don gathers his words.

“uh— yeah, it was an otherworldly experience. i never been out of country, out of state even but it was definitely different. an experience i would never forget” you can see his face brighten from talking about it, he speaks so descriptively about his time there it feel like you were there with him. “i was sick with some kind of bug. it was a grueling few days but was worth it after winning. it was amazing! i would do it all again if i had to.” you offhandedly realize that this was probably the most you’ve ever heard him speak and you find him so endearing as he spoke, he was so expressive when he was talking about something he was so passionate about and you loved it. you watch as he goes on about the olympics and the number of athletes he saw compete, you head rests on your hand watching him with attentive eyes letting him continue with his ventures.

minutes pass from dons tales and he realizes that he got lost in speaking about the olympics and droned on and on about it , he felt selfish for taking such time to talk about the most trivial of things— or so he thought.

“'m so sorry, i must’ve talked your ear off.” don cuts in the middle of a story he was telling, as he realized what he was doing. feeling guilty as he casts his eyes to his hands, falling quiet again. what he doesn't see is the small frown that casts on your face, your heart pangs at the thought of him thinking that what he was talking about wasn’t important, looking so dejected. a moment passes as he fiddles with his hands then he sees your hand coming into view clasping his. he raised his gaze and he sees you looking at him with a comforting smile smile.

“it’s okay, i like hearing your voice. i could listen to you talk all day” the compliment was simple but made his heart skip a beat. it’s now or never don gulps, his calloused hand encasing yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, you can tell he has something on his mind and he could take all the time in the world to say it and you would wait. “would you want to come to the victory banquet with me? it's in a few days.” his voice is timid and small, if the room was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear what he said.

you face brightens at his proposal, accepting without a moment passing “i would love to.”

the next few days passes with a blur as don and the rest of the team were whisked away to do interviews and photoshoots on their ground breaking win. it all happened so fast and before they knew it; it was already the night of the banquet.

you had promised don you’d meet outside of your dormitory so you could walk together to the hall. he gets there a bit earlier than you were promised to meet, he was nervous— maybe that being the reason he didn't want to be late and have you waiting outside for him. a cool summer breeze passing through as he leans against the brick ledge accenting the dorm building, soon moments turn into minutes and it crosses don's mind that you might have stood him up.

the thought makes him feel hopeless, pulling up his sleeve to reveal his art deco watch- a gift from coach ulbrickson, it was 6:40. 10 minutes had passed since your agreed meeting time. soon 10 turns into 20, he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt but you made him feel like a fool— embarrassed that he stood outside of the girls dormitory looking like some kind of perv. he rubs the back of his neck in frustration as he pushes himself off the brick wall, ready to leave. a part of him wants to wait— the part of him that hopes you lost track of time and were rushing out to him but to no avail. even in the moment more he waits, he ends up leaving with his heart heavy and pride wounded.

he thought you weren't like the rest. he was so sure you were different from the people who gave him odd looks or comments on how quiet he was. it makes him wonder if you even meant anything in the library that day, weighing heavy on his mind as he walks to the banquet, alone and dejected.

don was acting quieter than usual.

which, for anyone who wasn't close with don wouldn't have noticed but the guys on crew— who he spent almost everyday with, noticed. it was abundantly clear as they sat around the table at the banquet enjoying their dinner. usually don would laugh along with the jokes being made, react to when someone was telling a story— it was a small tells that he was having a good time but there was none of that. he sat in his seat— eyes casted down on his plate, pushing around his peas. there was something obviously on his mind; the guys could tell. they pass knowing glances around each other, unanimously decided they just had to know what was wrong.

"hey don, you okay?" joe speaks up besides don. he has a blank stare down his plate, lost in his thoughts not paying attention to the current conversation at hand. "don?" joe calls again, nudging his arm against don's, snapping him from his reverie. looking over at joe like a deer caught in headlights.

"i said are you okay?" joe repeats himself, his mates looking at him with concerning gazes awaiting his answer.

"hm, yeah— 'm fine." don lamented, sounding like he was more trying to convince himself rather than his friends. they had wondered where he was before the banquet started and didn't see him until the dinner. bobby raises his worry for don, the other boys agreeing. don continues to deny but they weren't going to let it go. he should be enjoying winning gold at the olympics, something never done before in UW history— they didn't want whatever was on his mind to hinder that.

"come on don, you can trust us— whatever it is we'll understand, even give you advice if you need." roger speaks up this time, his voice laced with comfort. as much as the guys teased and joked, they truly cared about each other— after all the hardships they went through together, they stuck close. the quieter male was heavy with emotion and with a lot of his mind. he confines in them, a reluctant sigh passing through him as he tells them— he wonders what went through your head the day he spoke to you and the days leading up to tonight. he was excited to see you again, talk to you, get to know you even better but it was all thrown out the window when you flaked on him. don tries to not miss any details and by the end of his explanation, the boys were feeling a mix of emotions. some felt bad that don went through all that— going out of his element to ask out a girl he was interested in and other were upset that you'd have the balls to stand up someone with the purest intentions. it's hard to dislike someone who you've never met but after hearing what was weighing heavy on don's mind, bobby had made up his mind that he didn't like you. though he would never tell don but if he were to ever come across you, he'd be sure to give you a piece of his mind.

don doesn't see you as the days pass.

he continued to wonder how you were, what you could be going through. he couldn't bare the thought of something bad happening to you and as much as the guys tried to steer him away; his mind always came back to you. practice helps him take his mind of you for a few hours, he knew better than to slip up during their practices— their tireless efforts to get better never ceasing even after their win.

it was around evening time when practice ends. they’re tired; mentally and physically— it’s been a rough week in general. the last thing don expects is you standing at the entrance of the shell house, rocking on your heels. don stops dead in his tracks, his jaw slacks and heart drops. he doesn't notice bobby almost bumping into his whilst walking closely to catch up to him.

huffing, bobby was about to ask him what was the matter when he follows the line of sight of his friend, before either two of them could say anything— bobby is trudging towards you, don just letting him go, still shocked.

"are you y/n?" a man with cloudy blue eyes glares at you, he stands square; inches away from you. his presence intimidates you— you glower under his gaze unable to stand your ground. you can barely speak up against him.

"y-yes, is don around?" your eyes wander behind him and you see don standing a few feet back. you try to move around the man in front of you but he stops you.

"who the hell do you think you are huh?" he accuses, leaving no room for you to respond as he begins again "you charmed don and lead him on— you made him get his hopes up! you know i'm the one that encouraged him to take advantage of this *pure winners bliss* but you just had to come around and screw it up huh? made his biggest fear come true and for what—? to make don the laughing stock for your friends? he had the best intentions you know, all he wanted was for you to give him a chance and it was just flushed down the drain!” the man was fuming, unable to keep his voice level as his emotions got the best of him. soon the guys who were still getting dressed peeked out to see what all the commotion was about. a heavy silence falls between the two of you, tensions high. you feel small in front of him as he berated you about what happened with don. your eyes cast down, wringing your fingers as you tried to compose yourself.

don heard everything, watched as bobby yelled at you for everyone to hear— he should've stopped him, stopped him from even approaching you in the first place but he couldn't, he froze in his spot the second he saw you, he felt *awful*— what happened a few days ago on the back burner. it wasn't until it was over don suddenly gained feeling in his legs again. he hadn't felt this nervous since their race in the olympics. as he nears the two of you he hears you speak up. voice small and meek.

"i deserved that."

their coxswain huffs– brows furrowed “you know what you don’t deserve? his forgiveness because—“

“that’s enough bobby.” don rests his hand on his friends shoulder, motioning for him to go. bobby was hesitant but reluctantly, he leaves but not before giving you another glare. that leaves you with don, the resting frown on his face as he looks at you– you avoid his eyes, sheepish and feeling embarrassed for what happened. you didn't even know how to begin, you weren't sure if he would even listen to you, give you the time of day but you wouldn't know unless you tried.

“don i–“

“let’s take a walk hm?” he starts past you before you have a chance to reply, following after him as he walks down the port. there’s knots piling in his stomach as he walked ahead, his fists balled so tight in his pockets they began to feel numb, he had no idea how to go about this. he wasn’t even sure if he was ready to forgive you— but after seeing you get yelled at and berated by bobby, something inside him felt off. he couldn’t stay mad at you forever, the least he could do is hear you out.

the water splashing against the wooden beams of the deck fills the silence as don stops at the end, his back facing you. hands stuffed in his pockets and heart heavy. he didn’t say anything as moments pass so you take it as your cue to speak.

“don… i know i have no place in apologizing but i’m sorry and i understand if you never want to talk to me or forgive me for what i did” you pause for moment, watching his back– waiting for him to say something but you’re met with silence so you continue.

“i-i really wanted to go with you, i did! i was looking forward to it all week… i had a dressed picked out and everything! but when the day came—" you fault for a moment, your hands fiddling with your sleeves. eyes cast down "m-my parents called and my sister got into an accident… i went home for a couple of days and the whole time i was there; i just felt horrible for leaving you, and knowing how much i hurt you. i would make it up to you any way i can if you let me…”

the silence was deafening, you try your best from losing composure and crying on the spot. overcome with emotion— the silence was killing you as you waited for don to say something, anything— he could tell you he didn’t want to see you ever again and that would be enough for you.

"is your sister alright?" you let out a sound of surprise when he asked, doe eyes looking at him. he’s turned around now– the sun setting a glow that illuminates against his figure. you eyes focus on his face, nose slightly red from the cold.

"yes, she's perfectly fine now." you nod, wringing your hands. tears threatening to spill as you look at him.

don turns to look at you with a mix of emotions, his eyes filled with hurt and longing. you can see the conflict in his expression as he tries to process what you've said. after a moment of silence, he takes a step closer to you, closing the distance between you.

“you really hurt me you know.” he utters, voice fragile.

“yes and i would do anything to remedy that—” you’re desperate for his forgiveness, your voice sounding aspirated as you tell him. you’d go to the ends of the earth just for him to forgive you.

“and yet no matter how much i felt hurt by you, i couldn’t get you out of my mind.” he confesses, his voice soft and vulnerable. "i was angry and disappointed, but deep down, i still cared about you."

tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his words. the weight of the misunderstandings and missed opportunities of that day feels heavy on your shoulders. you reach out and gently take don's hands in yours, holding them tightly.

"i'm so sorry, don," you whisper, your voice filled with remorse. "i never meant to hurt you, i should’ve told you somehow… i’ve never regretted anything more in my life.”

don's grip on your hands tightens as the other dabs at the tears that fallen on your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours.“i’ve never felt this way about anyone y/n, i hope you realize. you plague my mind day and night, these past few days where i was supposed to be upset with you; i was worrying if something bad happened, how you were feeling, what you were thinking.” he confesses, sorrow and regret lacing his voice “i thought what happened that day would make me loathe and resent you for hurting me… but i could never hate you, i can’t let what happened define our relationship.”

you look up at him with a glimmer of hope. you watch as he takes a deep breath, standing ever so closely.

“i want us to start again.” dons eyes shine a soft amber as he looks down at you, the sun encasing his features with a soft glow. illuminating the freckles that litter his face; imitating a galaxy of stars. he’s a dream come true.

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you feel a sense of relief wash over you. his expression softens as he sees the smile he’s come to adore so much, the tension that had been building between you starts to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and comfort.

“i promise, i will never hurt you like that ever again.” you say, your voice filled with earnest. don feels as if hes back in the common room with you, talking to you for the first time. he’s lovestruck and there was nothing that could happen that would get rid of it. he’s sure you’ll never do anything to break his trust again, your devotion now so clear to him.

“i know.” a crooked grin plastered on his lips, his arms wrapping around you in a soft but tight embrace. as if he were to let go you’d be gone again. he felt content, all the stresses from the week leaving him as he’s in your arms. a feeling he will never tire of.

“so how should we properly start again?” you breathed, your face incredibly close to dons. a soft flush crawling on your neck as you flicker from his lips to his eyes, him doing the same. it feels as if time stops as you share this moment together, drawing closer until your lips touch. the kiss is slow and tender— moving slowly as he relished on the way your lips feel on his. they’re soft and plush, fitting perfectly against his, like a breath of fresh air. he thought about what it would feel like to kiss you but nothing could compare his thoughts to the real thing. it was just you and him. his his hands rest against on your hips pulling you flush against him, your arms around his neck as he slightly dips you back. passion growing ever so slowly as he continues to kiss you, his kisses becoming more heated, the addictive feeling of your lips on his. he couldn’t get enough of you.

you break away from him reluctantly, mirrored heavy breaths as you look at each other with affectionate gazes. he clears his throat, composing himself. he pushes your hips back to create space between you. trying to fight the nerving urge to kiss you again as he looked at your rose tinted lips.

“i propose we properly take advantage of this winners bliss everyone keeps talking about.” a giggle escapes you as you embrace him again, this time he twirls you, in your own little world—happy with a profound adoration for each other. the sun setting behind you, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.

the fact they won gold really hitting him now, considering he had a win of his own.

bonus.

“bobby! what could i do for you?” your brows jump in surprise as you look up from the book you’re reading, you had thought it was don since the spot you were in wasn’t as well known, the last person you expected to see was bobby.

“i just wanted to apologize about what happened… a week ago.” he trails off, looking sheepish in front of you. a stark contrast to the man that defended his friend so willingly against you.

“did don send you here?” you tease, a playful smile on your lips. bobby huffs, denying immediately. no, don did not send him to apologize. he came on his own accord, after what happened that evening. don was lovesick the moment he entered the dorms and bobby felt terrible for what he had did, even if he thought you deserved it at the time. he knows now that you make his friend happy and that’s all he cared about.

“don’t worry bobby, i forgive you. i needed that berating, i deserved it. you’re a really good friend to don you know.” you state matter-a-factly. looking at him with appreciation, bobby’s chest puffs at your praise. he crosses his arms over his chest, proud.

“oh i know, i was the one who encouraged him to go for it remember?” you laugh, nodding.

you guess you have bobby to thank for this, you'd have to mention this to don later... speaking of you'd have to tell you're friends about your new lover... speaking of friends:

“hey you’re not seeing anyone by chance?” you suddenly ask, bobby falters—taken aback from your question.

“uh, no. why?” he responded, his head quirking in curiosity from the sudden and a bit uncalled for question.

“no reason, i just feel like a friend of mine would really like you.” you shrug, returning to your book. bobby takes the book from your hands, resting it on the table.

he takes a seat across from you, his hands laced together. as if in a business meeting “say no more, what’s her name?”

he’s all in.

(this is how you and bobby became bffs btw.)

stars ending-ment! i honestly love how this came out and omg is this a segway to a bobby fic????? who knows... it could be hehe. (lmk if you guys would want that lol)

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

[dragils-wrld]

Street Racer

Pairings: Jenna Ortega x M!Reader

Summary: Jenna has gotten tired of you coming home late. So you show her why

A/N: Thanks for the love on the last post. @letorip and @jacenradio7 thank you guys for the exposure on my last post I wouldn’t have gotten far💀.And thanks guys for 50 likes!!

Getting out your BMW E30 the night was chilly and the stars were shining bright. Your keys jingled on the loop of your cargo pants. As you approached the door to you and Jenna’s house you got your keys and went into the dark house. You quickly and quietly head up the stairs, opening the door to your shared bedroom and closing it behind you. As you closed it, your back to the room, the lights immediately turned on. “Where the fuck were you Y/N?” Jenna looked furious in her pajamas and messy bun. “I-I was nowhere baby”. You tried to hold her into your arms.

She didn’t believe it a single bit though. She shoved you to the door “Don’t give me that shit Y/N.Then why the fuck are you coming home late lately? Are you cheating on me with another bitch!?”. Her face was mixed with both anger and sadness. At the thought of you cheating on her with another woman broke her heart. “What, no never. I would never cheat on you Jenna. You mean way too much to me”. “So then what is it?” She questioned. You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

She raised her eyebrows waiting for an answer. “So are you or are you not cheating on me Y/N?!”. After a few second processing and finding the best response, you finally spoke. “I will show you what I’ve been doing. But promise me you won’t get mad at me okay?”. Jenna calmed down a bit, letting out a huff. “Fine but it better finally explain why you’ve been out so late”. “It will I promise. It will show everything.” And after that argument she headed to bed, while you showed got ready for bed.

It was the next night. You looked to your left while in their car. It was Jenna, you told her to get ready so you could show her what you’ve been up to. “So show me what you’ve been up to since you don’t wanna tell me”. You put the car into gear and back out the drive way. “I will put we have to go there”. You put the car into drive and started speeding, putting Jenna over the edge. “Y/N SLOW DOWN!”. You didn’t listen thought and you ended making it to the spot where you race other for cash in 25 minutes. “Here we are”. A huff of air left your mouth as you parked up and started to get out. There was many cars from different brands and eras, like 80s, 90s , and 2000s. “Is this where you’ve been spending your nights?”. Jenna looked around, seeing people placing bets and tracks being drawn out so people could race around the city.

“Yeah pretty much”. You both walked around until someone asked if you were gonna race again tonight. Jenna looked over to you with a surprised expression. “Hold on wait what? You race?”. Letting your head drop, you looked back at Jenna. “Yes. I didn’t want you to find out and start worrying that I would get arrested or worse. Killed in an accident”. You told the person you weren’t gonna race tonight. But he was very persistent and wouldn’t stop bugging you too. “Fine I will but only one race”. He was overjoyed and placed a bet on you winning the next race. “Why did you agree?”. Jenna looked over to you with a worried face. “It’s not gonna take long Jenna. It’s only about 25 to 30 minutes long if you count the red lights”. The only look on her face was worry. By the way she was biting her lip and fidgeting with her hands you could tell she was nervous.

“Don’t worry I’ve survived every single race I’ve been in. I’m basically a pro”. You shrugged your shoulders at the last sentence. “That won’t calm me down Y/N”. She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s fine cmon lemme show you how it feels. You’ve been actin to much and need to let loose Jenna”. You interwoven your hand with hers and walked back to you car. Jenna still had a nervous look on her face from her new found knowledge, about what you’ve been doing and what your about to do, thinking about all the possibilities that could happen. Some with a layout with a track you are gonna participate in came over and showed what streets your gonna take and where the finish line is.

Once you learned the track you lined up with the other racer’s and with Jenna in the passenger seat. “Y/N please be careful. I do not wanna die right now!”. You take a one of her hands into yours. “It’s gonna be fine. Just trust me”. She nodded her head and took deep breaths. You looked ahead as the race flag was raised, you revved your car a bit. The in an instant the flag was lowered. You sped off, reaching 100 mph in 6 seconds. Jenna yelp and was holding onto you and the handle. You were speeding and swerving in between cars around the streets of LA. Almost getting into multiple crashes and almost running a guy over, it was fun and exhilarating for you but for Jenna it was different.

She was screaming and holding onto dear life. She would yell at you for almost hitting someone or a car, trying to make you go slower. But the rush of the excitement and adrenaline was washing away any other sound or thought in the car. In a sharpe curve turn you slide a bit making you drift. The finish line was right ahead with about 30 to 40 people waiting to see who would finish first. As the people split apart to let you through, you continued making Jenna confused. “Weren’t you supposed to stop back there?”. “Yeah but you looked scared so I’m taking us back home”. She smiled at your response. “So now do you think I’m still cheating?”. You joked with her. “Mmmm I still might have to check your phone when we’re back home”. Her response made you laugh. As you guys pulled up to the house.

When you guys were about to enter bed Jenna looked over to you. “So what else are you hiding from me?”. You shrugged in response. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”. You smirked at her as you went to bed.

A/N: It honestly didn’t turn out how I wanted to bc I was kinda rushing trying to get a post out for you guys. Well anyways hopefully you guys enjoy and hope you have a good day or night whenever you’re reading this

[the-raven-lady]

Closer

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Cato Sicarius x Reader [Fem]

Song Inspiration: Closer - Nine Inch Nails [Youtube] [Spotify]

“You let me violate you / you let me desecrate you /

You let me penetrate you / you let me complicate you /

I broke apart my insides / I’ve got no soul to tell /

The only thing that works for me / Help me get away from myself.”

Warnings: SMUT. Degradation and praise, possessiveness, partial asphyxiation, hair pulling, breeding kink, right into the rough and nasty. 

Word Count: 1.3k

Author’s Note: Raven Lady’s ovulating and it’s bad. I have no excuse. This hit me while I was rocking on the floor like Apollo with the dodgeball and I let the hormones win. Not edited in the slightest.

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty

The rough prickling of his beard rubs against your shoulder, scratching against it uncomfortably, but you cannot bring yourself to care. Obediently you tilt your head to the side to grant Cato more access, which he greedily takes. The captain tangles one of his massive hands into your hair and yanks your head to the side. His lips attack the side of your neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin between rough bites and sucks. You know you’re going to have hickies to cover tomorrow and for the next few weeks, if he’ll allow it. 

The day had started off so innocently with you helping the noblewomen tire out their young ones, the little tykes running about the streets without a care in the world. The sight of the young ones brought a simple joy to your primarch, Guilliman having mentioned that it reminded him of the home he used to remember. Cato had passed by with several of his company on their way to training, and you had made an offhand comment about wondering what it would be to guide your own little one about the grand fortress.

Either the thought of putting one in you or the idea of you growing round and full with his child had completely plagued Sicarius’s mind for the rest of the day, as the next moment you two were well and truly alone, you clothes hadn’t lasted more than a few short seconds. They still lie in tatters on the tiled floor, occasionally getting caught under foot.

“You’re no better than a common– fucking– slut,” Cato pants, punctuating each word with the slam of his hips against yours. 

He has your sore body roughly pinned down to the covers, not allowing you an inch of breathing room as he fucks into you. The wet squelch of him penetrating your tight cunt echoes off of the metal walls of your room, his balls stimulating your clit with each thrust. Cum drips sloppily from between your thighs and down onto linen sheets. Mind clouded and lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, you mewl underneath him for more, more, more.

You cry out as his teeth sink into your neck, adding to the masterwork he’s so carefully crafted. You were his, and until your belly had swelled enough to display it for all to see, Cato swore he would continue to fuck you to exhaustion each day.

Oh, but could he bring himself to stop then with how gorgeous you sounded caged beneath him? Begging and keening beneath him like the good little whore you were? Or would he fall headfirst into his desires, enraptured by the glow of your gravid body as it grew?

He certainly couldn’t fuck you as he was now, shoving your chest down into the bed and forcing you to present so prettily. Cato leans back, pulling you up by the hair with him to arch your back just the way he likes.

“Good girl,” he growls, using the new angle to draw more sounds out of your aching throat and abused cunt, “Taking it like the vile whore you are.” 

The way you clench around his cock has him delirious with pleasure, as if he hadn’t already just flooded your womb twice before. You must be one of Slaanesh’s finest beneath the skin with how your lecherous body always draws him in for more. The sheen of sweat on your skin makes you glitter in the low light like a treasure.

“Can you even hear me in that dumb little head of yours? So stupid, so pretty. Just a hole to be used.” Cato’s free hand snakes around your waist and up to paw at your breasts, tweaking a nipple and pulling a yipe from you. “Would you spread your legs for any common Ultramarine if he promised to put a baby in you?”

You nod your head, cockdrunk and wild, and Cato snarls. He snaps his hips up hard into you, stilling and grinding his cock against your cervix enough to send pleasure and pain alike up your spine. A whimper catches in your throat from the treatment, the pressure almost too much to bear.

“Of course you would. So eager to have your pussy filled.” The hand at your breasts fondles them. “But you won’t. You won’t—” he withdraws almost completely, cockhead nestled just at your pussylips, “—because you’re mine.” The grip in your hair tightens, and Cato yanks you back to meet him as he drives forward, ripping a loud moan from your chest. The brutal pace from before resumes, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.

You will yourself to speak through hiccuped breaths, voice low and breathy. “Are you going to– ah!– put a baby in me, Sicarius?”

The side of your face ungracefully meets the bed again as Cato pushes you back down. A growl rumbles within him.

“Brainless harlot. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Bred so full your abdomen distends?” As if to accentuate his point, the hand at your breast slides down to rest above your abdomen. “Waddling around the Fortress of Hera carrying the child of someone so high above your standing?” 

Despite the venom of his degrading words, the breathiness of his voice betrays how much the idea affects him. He clutches at you in a manner that is all too tender. Protective.

Cato’s steady thrusts begin to falter, and he slows his hips to a steady roll to feel out every inch of himself in you. A satisfied breath puffs against your ear as he leans  back over you, skilled fingers finding your neglected clit and rolling it in tight circles.

“Come for me,” he pleads, fucking that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. The spring within you draws tighter, tighter, making you feel afloat as every little sensation coils it further. 

The gentle press of Cato’s lips against your jawline makes you shudder, the affectionate gesture enough to snap the tension within your belly. With a loud cry, you spasm and clamp down around the Ultramarine’s cock, digging your nails into the sheets of the bed. Your legs shake from the intensity, giving out from under you.

The feeling of your pussy like a vice around him causes Cato to moan, low and desperate as he chases his own orgasm. With a final harsh thrust, he stills, moan breaking into throaty stutters. His balls draw tight against you, cock throbbing inside of you as he pumps your cunt full of his seed for the third and final time. Muscular arms wrap around you firmly, holding you to Cato’s chest as he gently cants his hips against yours to milk the last of his cum into your waiting womb.

The both of you pant as you wind down, barely able to get a full breath as the astartes’ much larger form rests on top of yours. Slick with sweat, you turn your head to the side to look at his handsome face. His eyes crack open to meet yours, and he grants you a rare smile, white teeth peeking out from behind his lips. You reciprocate.

“How do we tell Guilliman if anything does happen?” you ask, resting your head on your arms.

Cato immediately grimaces, looking away with a roll of his eyes. “Can we discuss my genefather when I’m not still inside of you?”

Chuckling, you lean over to press a kiss to his nose. He huffs, but his breath hitches when you clench down around him. Instantly, he freezes, and his eyes are back on yours, darkening and boring into you. The muscles of his jaw tighten.

You meet him with a challenge, purring out, “We might as well make it certain that he’ll have something to worry about.” In invitation, you wiggle your hips.

Fingertips dig harshly into the swell of your ass to hold them steady. “Insatiable woman,” Cato chides, gripping your jaw and pulling you once more into a bruising kiss.

[luvsatorus]

begging megumi to fuck you

summary: you beg megumi to fuck you with just his tip while yujis in the same room

warning: soft dom! megumi, afab! reader, established relationship, cute megumi, choking, slight manipulation (if you squint), semi-public sex, cockwarming, dumbification, praise, unprotected sex (please wrap it kids), breeding kink, marking kink, dacryphilia, more

word count: 1.2k

"please gumi ill be good 'n quiet for you i promise" you writhe against the raven colored boy.

you and megumi were sleeping over at yuji's place after a copious amounts of alcohol. the concerned boy demanded that you two spend the night as you two were unfit to drive back home, and had already begun laying out the blankets on the floor. the two of you managed to get comfort on the empty spot on yuji's floor whereas yuji got couch privileges, his limb hanging from the edges, stating it was wrong to let the two of you sleep alone while he slept in his comfortable bed. the stubborn brat reigned victorious.

"y/n, yuji is literally right there" megumi mutters against your sweet skin, his grip tightening on your hips which never stopped its slow and pain pace against the fabric of megumis loose sweats. you flushed your back to megumi's bare skin, feeling his warmth seep through the thinness of the shirt you were wearing. wanting you to be comfortable, megumi loaned you his shirt so that it could effectively cover you as you wished to sleep comfortable. in this case, that meant wearing nothing but megumis large shirt and your underwear. you felt his hands gently push his shirt up so that they could pool at your waist, the warmth of his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. "please gumi need to feel you 'nside me" you whined as you leaned your head into his shoulder, letting megumi leave wet and sloppy kisses along your neck. "baby i know i miss feeling your cunt around me but it'll be too loud" you aggressively shook your head, "you can go slow baby please promise ill be quiet" you pleaded as you creeped your hand between the two bodies, gently palming megumis hard cock in your hand, "please gumi promise ill make you feel good," megumi shook his head, burying his head into your shoulder, whining at your touch. "we cant, baby" you frown as you start rubbing at the full blown erection under your palms, threatening to pull at the drawstrings at his waist band. "please gumi what if you just put the tip in, just need to feel you" you whine, shoving your hand down his pants now to wrap you warm hand around his cock. a gentle gasp leaves his lips as he buries his head deeper into your shoulder, "shit okay baby but just the tip"

you aggressively nod your head and you smile at your win. as the words leaves his mouth, megumi reaches down to pull his cock out of his sweats. his hands moves to push your soaked underwear aside where he brings his swollen tip to your cunt, dragging your slick across your slit. your arousal quickly coating his tip as you feel it run down your thighs and ass, properly ruining the blankets you two were laying on. "shit youre so wet for me baby" you moaned at his words and you were quickly met with megumi's fingers into your mouth, silencing your sounds, "you said you'd be a quiet girl," you mumbled a muffled "m sorry gumi" as he continued with his movements, painfully slowly rubbing his swollen cock at your slit, staring at the way more and more slick was produced and getting enchanted by your cunt. impatient you wiggle your ass against him and softly push yourself against him, earning a small laugh from the boy, breaking him from his trance, "sorry baby i was just looking at your pretty pussy, ill give you what you want now" gumi said as he slowly shove his tip into your cunt, only pushing in an inch into you but stretching you out. the stretch was teasing and intoxicating as megumi slow rocked his hips into you, effectively fucking you with the tip of his cock. he pushed his forehead into your shoulder trying to control himself from shoving his cock fully inside you and taking you right here.

you felt yourself grow more and more needy as you push yourself closer to megumis warmth. after a few minutes of the painful teasing, you felt megumi stretch you out deeper, unsheathing more of his cock into you. "fuck baby you feel so good around me, so perfect for me" quickly you felt your tight walls completely engulf megumis hard cock. soon, he bottomed out into you, slowly fucking you with his entire cock, softly panting into your ears. "im sorry baby i just cant help myself," you nod in approval as megumis pace quicken against you. soon, megumi was fucking you, forgetting how the pink colored hair boy was peacefully sleeping 10 feet away from the two of you. you felt your eyes rolling back as megumi bit into the softness of your shoulder, attempting to muffle his own moans at that point, his hands gripping so tightly around the plushness of your thighs, you knew they would bruise by the morning. "fuck im gonna cum baby" his lips spoke against your skin, nodding as a response before megumi took his finger out of your mouth to gently wrap around your throat, squeezing at the sides. the familiar lightheaded feeling came rushing to your head as a dumb smile appear on your face, drool slightly escaping from the corners of your mouth. "feel 's good 'gumi, youre filling me up 's well" you breathlessly spoke, megumis cock putting in a a dumb slut haze, "fuck fuck fuck" megumi chanted into your shoulder as the room was filled by the soft wet slops of your cunt and his cock. " 'onna cum on your cock" you threaten, the familiar knot forming in your lower abdomen and your walls squeeze megumis cock harder. with tear pricked eyes, you felt your release rush over you as you came on megumis dick, your arousal spreading along his crouch and soaking everything in the area, "fuckkkkk m cumming m cumming" you whined in sobs as you didnt feel megumis pace falter as he focused on his on high now, "fuck im gonna cum baby, where do you want it pretty girl," his grip on your thighs tightened and he snapped his hips into yours, "'nside oh god please fill my cunt with your pretty cum please gumi" you spoke in stupid chants, officially fucked dumb. "god you get so stupid when my cock is inside of you, pretty girl" he panted into your ears before pushing his forehead back into your shoulder before feeling his own high wave over him. "fuck fuck fuck im cumming" he chanted as he groaned and let his cum shoot deep inside of you, completely letting your walls milk every last drip out of him before you felt his grip on your neck loosen. "good boy gumi" you panted in smiles as megumis pace slowed and the two of your arousal stuck to your bodies. you felt megumi urge to pull out before you quickly put your hand on his thigh, stopping him from doing so. "stay gumi, i wanna feel you in me still" he nodded before fully pushing himself back into your slick as the two of you quietly moaned at the stimulation.

megumi left trails of gentle kisses at the expose site of skin on your neck, making sure leave litters of pretty purple marks that served as memories. you two soon fell asleep like that, with the best sleep you two had in a while.

[lias-writings]

nectar of the gods

pairing: finnick o’dair x girly!victor!reader

warnings: fem!hyperfemme!reader, set somewhere before catching fire, jealous!finnick, finn being a little mean but such a sweetness at the same time<3, fluff, smut, oral f!receiving, fingering, sex, praise, slutty clothes hihi, MDNI

a/n: absolutely love the idea of finnick with a girly!reader. i love finnick period tho. if you like this fic you might like this headcannons i wrote for, it will reflect each other slightly as i was writing it at the same time!! <3 btw thank you all for the love on my previous posts, appreciate it sm <3 (divider by @anitalenia )

word count: 2.8k

finnick as his did every day, woke up early. it was maybe seven am, as he propped himself up on his elbows, breathing in the fresh air from the open window. he run a hand through his bronze hair, before looking to his right side, where his girlfriend was still sleeping. she was never an early bird.

finnick couldn’t help but let his lip corners curl up slightly, even in all the mess going on, she was the only thing keeping him sane and in a hope that maybe one day things will be okay.

he did not spare much time grieving before rising up from the bed heading straight to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and changing his sleepwear pants for a swimsuit. as he did every morning, on his way out he pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, before walking out of the house, heading towards the private beach of district four’s victor’s village, and straight to the ocean.

not even an hour later you were stirring from your sleep, rubbing your eyes as your hand searched for a warm body next to you. when you learned there was no more finnick you whined already needy for some sweet kisses, cuddles and attention.

accepting, even if unwillingly, that your man is not coming back for some time, you put on your pink fluffy slippers, you once found at a store in the capitol. making your way into the bathroom, you brushed your teeth, untangled your hair into a little less of a rat’s nest more into a presentable hairstyle and did some skincare with the adorable little bottles you always bought from the herbalist woman at the market. surprisingly it worked so much better than the chemicals they made at the capitol.

content with your appearance, you walked back to the bedroom, picking out some of the cute clothes you owned, little skirt and a pink top as you shuffled to the kitchen, opening the fridge to get some fruit for breakfast.

you whined again, after finding out there was only some milk left and little to no breakfast appropriate ingredients. looking up at the clock above the kitchen counter seeing it was almost nine am, you knew finnick would come back soon and you wanted to surprise him because he does sweet things for you all the time.

you took the cute basket from the cabinet under the sink, slipped your pink ballerina flats on and walked out of the house, locking behind yourself, walking towards the market in district four.

it wasn’t far away, you walked out of the victors village through the town, greeting few neighbours, smiling at people all the way to the market.

“well, hello there.” a masculine voice echoed in your ear, as you felt a warm hand on your lower back. you turn around only to see your friend from school that has stuck with you till now.

“rowan! hi!” you say excitedly immediately pulling him into a friendly hug. before winning your games, getting to know finnick and all, you’d call rowan your best friend. you weren’t so close anymore because you both had lives now, or you thought so, but you’d still say he’s a loyal friend to you and you are to him.

“hey, hey. how are you? everything okay?” rowan chuckled lightly, not really wanting to pull away but soon enough, even to his disliking, you did and got stared on your rant.

finnick was finally done with his swimming session for today after two hours almost and on his way back home, after slipping on a shirt, covering his muscular chest, he had an idea to bring you something sweet from the market, knowing you had such a sweet tooth.

he walked from the beach, spending time with his thoughts and letting the late spring warm breeze ruffle his bronze hair. he entered the town, waving at few people he knew and then headed towards the market. finnick knew exactly where to go.

he once was told that maybe he should go see an eye doctor, but he’d swear on his life, that there was his girlfriend standing, in her tiny little cute outfit, smiling as bright as the sun was shining, at a dude he only heard about until now.

finnick raised his eyebrow, just looking at them for a second, his face forming into a slight frown as he heard his lover’s giggle.

finnick was never one to be jealous. apart from being confident in himself, he was even more secure in their love for one another. wanting to be a good parter, he put back the smile on his face, nearing the pair.

“hi, sweetheart.” finnick wrapped his arm around you hips, kissing the crown of your head, while starring daggers into the other man.

before you had any chance to greet your boyfriend, rowan spoke up, “finnick ‘o’dair.” sure of his guess.

“and you are?” finnick said, smiling tightly, trying to appear indifferent but it was not easy when someone else tried to get close to his sweet baby angel that was just too nice for her own good sometimes. finnick was protective because he knew how badly men could hurt her.

“rowan corvel. we’ve been friends since pre school.” he said flashing you a smile, but his eyes were full of envy towards finnick.

“oh really?” finnick mused before looking at you with a confident look, “how come you never mentioned him, baby?”

you gave finnick a confused pout before parting your lips to speak.

“i did-“

“i’m so sorry, riven, we have to go.” finnick said with a mocking apologetic tone, already moving you away, before you had any time to protest.

rowan gave him a dirty look in return before shouting after you. “i will see you around!”

“yeah, you sure will.” finnick muttered with a scoff pretending to not see your perplexity.

“finn, what was that?” you said frowning your features subtly.

“don’t know what y’ talking about.” he said looking somewhere at the road as his arm was still around your hips as he looked over his shoulder, seeing that the dark haired younger man was still staring at them. finnick smiled smugly, tugging you gently closer to his side.

once you both got home, finnick let go of you heading straight to the bathroom.

“finnick.” you whined, following after him, not liking being left ignored, it was just making you more needy.

finnick didn’t stop in his tracks, before he was at the very enter of the bathroom then turned on his heel facing her. he placed a hand on her cheek, taking her chin in his thumb and point finger, lifting her head upwards, his other hand flew to her hip, his thumb rubbing soft circles.

“what is it, huh sweet girl? you want somethin’ now?”

“i…”

“i didn’t even touch you and y’ already actin’ so dumb fucked, hm?” finnick cooed at you. you just stare up at him with your big bambi eyes, pouting your lips and before had an opportunity to say anything else, he spoke again. “should’ve asked your great friend rowan to fuck you.”

and just like that, he let go of you, closing the door from the bathroom behind himself to take a shower.

you were left standing there dumbfounded and maybe you’d stand there longer if the sound of water didn’t snap you back.

you made your way back to the bedroom, taking your top of letting your breasts bounce back against your chest, then taking your skirt off revealing your lacy pink panties. from the back of your closet you dug out a pink lacy bodysuit, knowing what kind of effect it had on finnick.

you kneeled on the bed, sitting on your heels waiting for your boyfriend to return. not even twenty minutes later finnick came back, wearing just his pants the waistband of his boxers peaking out at his v line.

he gave you a once over, then walked to the edge of the bed, taking your face into his big hand brushing your lower lip with thumb.

“so sweet, angel. think wearing somethin’ slutty will make me give you what you want?”

you whined again, looking up to his sea green eyes, almost wanting to drown in them, pleading him to drown you, to drown with you.

“finn, please don’t be mad at me..” you whimper almost, pathetically trying to rub your thighs together feeling how your wetness was soaking through the thin material.

“oh, baby. shhh i’m not mad at you, ‘s okay c’mere.” finnick cooed before reaching his hands behind you, resting them there, leaning over and kissing you.

it was sweet and soft at first, then his hand moved to you thigh, holding you close and kissing you harder. hot, messy and needy, that’s how it continued while he rubbed you thigh softly moving upwards in such a slow manner it was killing you.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling on the bronze waves slightly and whining against mouth.

“aw you want me to fuck you dumb, sweet girl, hm? y’ can ask next time no need to make a scene.”

and with those words he gently pushed you back so you laid down on the bed, into the pink soft sheets, and he parted you legs open, kneeling in between them, as he cupped you with his palm first before circling your clothed pussy over the lace, slowly and gently, feeling with his fingers, how soaked you were, he clicked his tongue.

“you’re dripping, pretty girl and i’ve just touched you.” finnick did wanted to be mean, he was thinking about not touching you at all today, but once he saw your pleading he was powerless.

“finn, please..”

“shh, love, i’ll take care of you, i’m here angel.” finnick said, leaning down and planting soft kisses on your left thigh. his arm wrapped around it holding it in the air as you were a whimpering mess underneath him.

finnick left a trail of sloppy kisses, at the way to your core, marking your inner thigh with hickeys, smiling proudly at his artwork before moving to your right thigh doing the exact same thing. by the time his lips reached your center, you were at the verge of crying out loud.

“shhh i’m here, honey. i’ll make y’ feel so fucking good.” finnick hushed you, his skilled long digits undid the buttons holding the bodysuit, as it opened revealing your slick folds.

finnick leaned down, running his tongue in between them, lapping on your wetness, making you arch your back against the mattress in pleasure. you let out shaky moan, holding onto his muscular arms, you nails scraping the subtly tanned skin of his.

“that’s it darling, you’re doing so good.” finnick said in between eating you out. his tongue teased your entrance and his lips kissed and sucked out your clit making your plush thighs shaky and brain go cloudy.

“finn..i’m-”

“you close, sweet girl? yeah? hold it.” you whined in protest but were left with no choice so you tried to close your thighs around his head which earned you a click of finnick’s tongue, the vibration against your sensitive nerve sending shivers through your entire body.

“finn, please!” you whined, loudly. your eyes shutting close, your mouth falling agape as finnick handled your pretty pussy with such care, it was impossible to not cum any second.

“needy girl. ‘s okay baby, you can come f’me.” finnick muttered kissing your fold gently, guiding you through you orgasm, then lapping up all the sweet juices. he leaned up on his forearms looking down at you, his lips and chin glistening with your essence and his eyes were looking at you like you were perfection itself and that sigh could make you cum right again.

when he leaned down once more dipping his head between your thighs against, you pulled at his hair lightly.

“finn-“

“you can give me one more before i fuck you right, can’t you pretty girl?” finnick asked his skilled tongue already running up your folds as he held your gaze with his.

in fact he spent another hour with his face in your pussy and has got three more orgasms out of you, this exact way, leaving you almost overstimulated just before he rested his arms next to your head, howering above you, one hand suddenly moving to your middle as he rubbed your soft tummy gently.

“you gon’ let me take this off, angel?”

you look up at him, your brain still clouded from the ecstasy you experienced just a second ago, lips parted open, before you only nodded in agreement.

“use your words, sweet girl.” he says, his voice soft and comforting.

“y-yeah, you can take it off.” you babble after few seconds and finnick smiled at you softly, before tugging on the straps, slowly peeling the clothing down from your body, while holding eye contact with you. he loved your eyes, they were so lively and innocent even if they had seen so many terrible things.

once you were stripped naked, he kissed you again on the lips. so softly. so gently. so sweetly. he then kissed your cheeks, your forehead, your nose and then moved to your jaw. finnick trailed his lips down your neck, leaving visible hickeys, when he sucked on the sensitive skin there. your collarbones, your chest your breasts, torso, everything was loved by finnick’s mouth before he got just above your navel, leaving the softest kiss there and then coming right up again, pushing his finger inside you without a warning making you moan and instantly your breath shift.

“can you take me, sweetheart? you can, right? you’re soaking baby.” even in this state, you couldn’t had enough of him, so you nod eagerly, wanting him inside you already.

finnick stopped stretching you for a moment reaching down to unbutton his pants, then tugging his boxers down, enough to free his hard, thick cock, already leaking with pre-cum. he palmed himself few times almost groaning at the sensation so desperately needed.

“finnick..” you whine needfully, impatiently squeezing your thighs together.

“shh i got you, doll.” he cooed again, moving the hand, to your thigh, opening your legs, kneeling between them as he then reached somewhere behind you to grab a pillow, without much effort lifting your hips up and placing the pillow beneath them, he finally lined up his tip with your entrance before slamming his hips against you forcefully.

you moaned arching your back, with the first thrust finnick was already hitting all the sweets spots you wouldn’t even know existed, crying out pathetically as he did it again, before steadying his peace, fast but not harsh, more sensual. your fingers were gripping the sheets tightly as his large hands grabbed on the fat of your hips, pushing your body forward, against himself.

“fuck, darling you’re so tight, god you’re doing so good.” finnick groaned, not slowing down, not in the slightest, fucking any thought in your head out. leaving you wordless and more fucked out the closer to the edge he was getting you again.

“mh finn, c-can fewl you in my tummy..” you babble in between soft moans and cries of pleads for him to take you.

finnick continued to take you on his cock, hitting your g spot all over and over again, feeling you tighten around him as you got closer and closer to your fifth orgasm today.

“finny, i’m gon’, mm-” you pout at him as your eye lids fluttered, your hand reaching for his. finnick laced your fingers with his, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand as he fucked you so good, you even forgot your own name.

“me too, angel. ‘s okay, cum f’me. i’m right here with you sweet girl.” finnick cooed, thrusting into you few more times before he stuffed you full with his warm cum, the white creamy liquid streaming down your soft plush thighs.

as you ride from your high, you come with the scream of his name before closing your eyes and breathing heavily, trying to calm down your racing heart, absolutely tired out in the best way possible.

finnick smiled down at you proudly, slowly pulling out before brushing the beads of sweat from your cheek, kissing your forehead lovingly.

“y’ did so good, my love. am so proud of you.” he comforted you before tugging his boxers back up, zipping up his pants and lifting your tired body from the bed into his arms and you held onto him, contently laying against his chest.

“wanna take a bath, sweetheart?”

“yeah.” you nod in agreement smiling at him as well, kissing his cheek.

“aren’t you adorable.” finnick chuckled, kissing your forehead again, before carrying over to the bathroom.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

If your still taking requests, could you do a Clarisse x Fem Child of Aphrodite reader who was a cheerleader before coming to camp and still has her uniform.

She remembers she has it and trys it on, it still fits and she feels nostalgic so she goes somewhere secluded to practice her old cheers. Doing all the tricks and blackflips.

Meanwhile Clarisse wants to see her favorite girl but can't find her so she goes looking and finds reader doing all that stuff?

Thanks! - Marshmellow🤍

- 1! 2! Ready go! -

Pairings - Clarisse Larue x Fem! cheerleader! Reader

An - this is my last request YALL should do totes send more

You had done cheer since you could remember. Elementary, middle school, basketball, competition and football cheer, even to your freshman year of high-school.

That all changed though when you had been claimed by your godly parent. You figured only a summer at camp would be sufficient and you could go back to your old school and continue cheer! That back fired however After a group of monsters attack a cheer camp you went too.

You didn’t mind at first, giving up the sport. But now sitting on your bed holding your old cheer uniform you couldn’t help but miss the sport. Some of your favorite memories were made in it after all.

An idea soon came to you however. If you put it on and did a few tricks it wouldn’t hurt right..?. Only one way to find out.

A little tight around the chest, and the skirt was much smaller than you last remembered, the uniform still fit perfectly. Throwing on a pair of white tennis shoes and pulling your hair back into a signature ponytail with a bow you ran out your cabin.

——

The arena was empty as most campers were off playing capture the flag, conveniently your ‘ankle still hurt’ so you were allowed to sit out.

You let out a deep breath and adjusted your grip on your pompoms. Mentally prepping yourself before counting off. “1-2.. 1234——

“ Go team! Go team!

Who do we mean?

We'll say it loud,

Because we're proud.

P-A-N-T-H-E-R-S!

Panther pride! Panther pride!

We're steppin' up, so step aside!

We're the best; we're here to win

Panther power's here again!”

The feeling of doing an old cheer brought back an old sense of adrenaline. You shook your pompoms above your head with a wide smile.

“V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!

We're gonna win the game

And you wanna know why?

'Cause we've got spirit

And we're riding high, so

V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!”

Tossing the pompoms aside you let out a deep breath. Doing a round off back hand spring while sticking the landing you panted. It had been a while since you had last some the tricks showing you were out of practice.

In the distance you heart a slow clapping. Looking over nervously you saw clarisse sitting on the bench near by you. “Why didn’t you ever tell me I was dating a cheerleader? I mean damn there’s something’s I’d like to brag about” she teased making her way over to you, grabbing your waist and admiring your uniform

“You brag to much as it is you don’t need another thing to add to that list” you gave her a slight unamused look. “And by your good attitude I take it you won?”

Clarisses grin confirmed your suspicions. She kissed you, once again squeezing your waist slightly. “Yeah you definitely won” you smiled.

“Obivously, you really think I was just gonna let annabeth embarrass my cabin again? No fucking way— ” with one final squeeze to your waist Clarisse started to lead you out of the arena.

You tried to stop her mainly because of how exposed you were in your uniform but the other woman didn’t seem to really care.

YN - Clarisse half My Ass is out let me go change

Clarisse - nah it’s fine besides you look cute in your uniform

[nowoyas]

I don't think we can put this in the sports column (NSFW) - karasuno/reader

m.list - read on ao3

A/N: wrote this months ago. didn't edit it for ages bc I thought it would suck to edit. it didn't suck to edit it fucking rocked and I'm never questioning myself again hell yeah

Summary: You infiltrate Karasuno's volleyball club for the university paper and take to bed a few of the rumors you've heard.

Warnings: smut, orgy/gangbang, oral sex, fingering, handjobs, double penetration, spitroasting, creampies, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, uhhhhh marking, exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism, overstimulation, light dom/sub stuff (submissive reader), uhhhhhh there's. there's a lot going on here guys. I wasn't fucking around when I said karasuno gangbang.

Word count: ~7000

It’s the night before your first game since you started this little investigation, and you are pressed flat against the wall outside the gym, a hand firm against your mouth in a desperate attempt to not make a noise.

There’d been rumors, sure. And yeah, you were here to investigate those rumors.

Karasuno is such a good team. They’ve gotta be doing some crazy shit to be that close and play that well, though.

That had been the… family-friendly version of the rumors. The more salacious of them had gone into detail you’d blushed too hard to repeat—images of working out issues with clothes off and loud gasps and—

Okay, chill. You’re a journalist. This is nothing.

(Okay, you’re a journalism major, technically speaking. But you need to get used to these things. It’s not like you’ve never had sex before.)

You had enmeshed yourself in the Karasuno University volleyball team after picking up the scent of those rumors about a month ago. Most of the rumors, you thought, were too stupid to entertain. It’s not like they were actually partaking in witchcraft to win games. That would be completely stupid. You assumed, honestly, that they had just clicked. Yeah, it didn’t really seem like everyone got along—the freshmen were constantly at each other’s throats, the captain had his hands full reigning in half the team comprised of spitfires, and there was at least one guy who seemed to believe his job on the team was to piss off as many of his teammates as possible. The only ones safe seemed to be the seniors and the girls, of which there were three if you counted yourself.

So far, it had seemed to be that there was no version of the rumor that was true—no, there were no blood sacrifices, yes, they did sometimes sleep, no, there were no crazy orgies in place to encourage team bonding, and no, they did not seem to be some sort of micro-cult. Disappointing for your article though it was, they had welcomed you in with almost no resistance, and you had found nothing out of the ordinary. They were just… normal athletes. Maybe a bit more passionate than most, but… normal.

Except. Except.

Here you are, the night before they have a match, listening to wet squelches and distinct slaps and what is undoubtedly moaning, unable to figure out exactly who the moans are coming from except that there’s definitely more than two people involved in whatever’s happening inside that gym, and fighting back the urge to peek through the cracked door and figure out exactly what the fuck is going on. (Or, uh, who the fuck is getting it on.)

Fuck. Are they seriously… seriously fucking in the gym right now?

There’s the burning shame of having caught them. The absolute mortification of knowing that you’re sitting there listening to them have sex with reckless abandon. You should be uncomfortable, but instead, you catch yourself squeezing your thighs together.

A particularly loud moan catches you off guard, and you jerk your finger from your mouth—when had you started biting it to keep quiet?—and flee while you still have the chance.

(As far as anyone else is concerned, when you’re safe within the confines of your single-person dorm room, there’s no proof to say that you snaked a hand down your pants, still thinking of that brightly-lit gym, of the idea of having been caught listening to them, of being pulled inside and—

There’s no proof.)

~

The day-to-day doesn’t change. You don’t let it. The guys played their match, and they won, and it was great. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling as they won, and your report for the sports column of the university paper was more than glowing. They’re a really fun team to watch, more so now that you know them—even if you’re now taking every effort in your head to not act like a total freak around them.

Honestly, you even think you're doing a pretty good job of it. You pretended not to notice the smell in the gym the morning after The Event—faint though it was, there was undeniably the hint of sex still in the air—you forced down any errant thoughts around them, and you didn't breathe so much as a word to anyone about it. What does it matter if they're having orgies or whatever the night before a game? What does it matter at all?

Luckily, you spend more time talking to the girls than anything—Shimizu and Yachi are becoming fast friends with you, you think out of an eagerness to have another girl around in a large group of guys. They're easier to talk to, too, since you don't recall hearing any particularly feminine moans during The Event. It's possible they have no idea. Possible that they, too, think things are normal. (Or else, they're the source of the orgy rumors, but neither seems much like the type.) They tell you innocuous little things about the team, like that time Hinata and Kageyama were so focused on their little rivalry that they ran clear to the next town before realizing they'd lost the rest of the team, and you get caught up in much-needed girl talk when you go out to eat together. Little debates on birth control, on dating, on whether or not that one psych professor can get it.

By the time the next game rolls around, you've nearly re-assimilated into the concept of a normal life. It’s really not a big deal, anyways—people have sex. It’s normal.

“Well, [name],” Daichi says towards the end of practice one day, about a week before. “You were only going to be here for a few weeks, right? How have you liked it?”

You nod, polite smile decorating your lips. “It’s been really enjoyable! It’s a bit sad that I won’t be around after the next game, honestly. You guys are really fun to be around.”

“Hmm?” Tsukishima says, an eyebrow raised your way. At some point, you seem to have captured the attention of everyone in the room, though you’re not quite sure what you did. You can sense their eyes on you though—a few of the more open guys stare, a few of the more polite ones glance out of the corners of their eyes. You’re stuck in the spotlight as Tsukishima takes a step towards you.

Why does one step suddenly feel so dangerous?

“You know, I’m sure no one here would stop you if you decided to stay.”

Yeah, your blood’s running cold. You get a firm grip on your brain in hopes of not horribly misinterpreting everything that’s going on, but—

“You confirmed the information you were looking for, right? Two weeks ago, hanging around outside the gym before the game.”

Ah.

Your face isn’t sure whether it wants to go pale or erupt in a furious blush. You, for your part, scramble for an answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Are you that dense, or are you lying to us?”

A tiny squeak passes from your throat. “W-what’re you—“

“I was expecting something to show up in the school paper by now, but instead we just got a glowing column about how well we played the next day. Not a word of it. Why is that?”

“Oi, Tsukishima, aren’t you laying it on a bit thick?” one of the others says.

“It’s fine,” he replies, looking down at you as you look down at the floor. “Well, [name]? I’m waiting, Miss Reporter.”

The words burn a path down to your crotch, and you are absolutely not losing here, not now. You’ve just decided that. You meet his eye with a determined look. “I run the sports column, not the gossip column, Tsukishima. It hardly matters to me what you guys are getting up to—“

“You’re blushing, though. And you had to have heard before getting wrapped up in this, right? I’m comfortable speaking for everyone here when I say you can really find out the truth, if you want.”

“H-huh?”

He’s boxed you in, your back hitting the wall. Nowhere to run.

“What do you say? Wanna become an honorary member of the volleyball club?”

A sound sort of reminiscent of a boiling kettle leaves you, and you shove him away before you register it. “P-please give me time to think about it!”

A heavy silence.

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s try not to scare the poor girl, yeah?” Suga says. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “If she wants to, she wants to, and if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. [name], if you wanna go for the day, you can.”

“I, um…”

He nods and guides you towards the door. Before you can properly escape, he leans in close: “if you do decide you want to, come see us after practice Friday night and we’ll initiate you. If not, we’ll respect that, okay?”

Initiate.

Friday night.

You swallow, throat feeling suddenly dry.

Just what have you gotten yourself into?

~

You spend the week caught between a rational panic and another emotion you are not willing to put a name to. Yachi had texted you not long after your escape that night, an apology and a really genuine “no one will be mad if you don’t show Friday”. That was relaxing, just slightly, except the little pang as you realized you actually did want to show. You’ve had a text back drafted to her the past three days, glaring back at you as you agonized over your phone screen:

No problem at all! I just had one question about what this “initiation” would entail. You know, to prepare myself!

You’re pretty sure you’ve deleted and re-drafted the exact same text about fifty times. Normally, you’d text a friend, ask them to help you review what you’re saying to make sure it sounds chill, but who the fuck are you going to tell about this? The implication was clear. Freaked out as you are, you’re not exactly interested in spreading the information, either.

Friday morning is when you actually do get the guts to send it, having spend the week pointedly avoiding everyone, volleyball-related or otherwise. The final draft:

Sorry for being a little AWOL! Had some thinking to do, lol. I just wanted to ask what I can expect if I did show up tonight? You know, so I’m prepared?

She’d responded immediately—not with a text, but with an email and a call, the call coming through less than a minute after you’d gotten a notification of an email from her.

Somehow, your morbid curiosity on what you should know before showing up, if you chose to, turns into an hour-long phone conversation turns into sitting down with an open notebook turns into you reviewing the document she’d emailed you, freshly showered while Yachi goes through your closet.

“You wanna wear something sexy, but kinda cheap. Sometimes they get a bit too excited. After the first time, you don’t really have to participate in this stuff, if you’re busy or just not up for it, but especially for this first time, don’t give them the opportunity to wreck any clothes you care about.”

You nod, make a note on your open notebook, thighs squeezing together impatiently. She emerges from your closet, a bright look on her face as she holds up a miniskirt you’d long since relegated to the very back. “This is a cute skirt! It’s a really strong candidate.”

“Do you think so?” you cringe. “Honestly, I’m worried it might be a bit… y’know, short.”

“[full name].” She gives you a flat look. “You do understand what’s happening tonight, right?”

“…right. I’ll wear the skirt.”

She brightens up in an instant. “Good! Now let me find a matching top…”

When she’s satisfied, your outfit laid out and you almost mentally prepared to actually get dressed for this sort of thing, you expect her to leave the room, but she simply waits.

“Uh, Yachi, I need to…”

“I just thought of something,” she says, face blank. “[name], have you ever been with a girl before?”

Ah.

Your cheeks feel hot. You’ve not exactly tried to hide that you’re bisexual—if nothing else, the bi pride flag on your wall would be indicator enough—but as far as actual experience with girls…

“I’ve… thought really hard about it…? I haven’t really had the opportunity.”

She nods to herself. “Right. Before you get ready, it’ll be easier if I do this now.”

Her lips are on yours before you can fully process it, soft and tasting faintly of pineapple chapstick. She kisses you long and slow, lets you relax into it. When she pulls away, she smiles shyly, like she didn’t just kiss you for the purposes of prepping you for an orgy she’ll be involved in later today. “There. Get that first out of the way before we have to make out in front of the volleyball team.”

She waves on her way out of your bedroom. “Get dressed! I wanna make sure that outfit works for today.”

Right. Get dressed.

Well, if nothing else, you’re definitely sure about being bisexual now.

~

If not for Yachi, you would have backed out a hundred times already. As it is, she keeps a gentle, reassuring hand on your back as the two of you enter the gym, a good few minutes after the usual practice officially ends. They’ve already finished cleaning up everything from the day, the air already seemingly charged even before the part where they notice you’ve actually shown up.

Yachi closes the door behind you with a sweet smile. “We got her!” she cheers by way of greeting.

The eyes that suddenly land on you—all fourteen pairs, including Yachi—seem heavier than usual. Hungry. You can’t help the nerves that threaten to make you tremble at the promise of what’s to come.

But there’s Yachi again, ever-sweet and cute as she wraps an arm around your side.

“Oh, I see that!” Daichi is the first to say. “Glad to see you’ve decided to join us, [name]. Here I thought we’d scared you off for good!”

You giggle nervously. “Well, I just… you know me! Always gotta over-think things.” That’s good. That’s casual. You’re managing an almost-even tone while you talk. Almost like you’re a normal, real human person.

“I know the feeling,” Asahi sighs.

Suga sets down a chair near the center of the gym, eyes watching you in silent interest.

“I’m guessing since you came with her that you’ve been coaching her, Yachi?”

She nods. “She’s had the whole rundown. Knows what to expect and everything.” She unwinds herself from you in preparation for whatever’s to come next. You try not to jump at the sound of the lock on the door clicking shut.

“Good. Good.” Daichi nods. “Come sit, [name]. No sense in putting it off, right?”

You nod slowly, timidly stepping forward. Yachi follows close behind.

“Limits?” Daichi asks firmly. “Loud enough so we all hear you.”

Another laugh from you, shaky with nerves as you perch on the chair Suga set out for you. You rattle them off, having memorized the list in order for this exact moment. Knowing you, you’d forget something otherwise, and you nearly do.

“Got it. And Yachi told you about the stoplight system?”

 “She didn’t really need to,” you admit, a bit quieter. “I’ve got it.”

“Good. Shimizu, Yachi, if you’d get her ready? Ladies first, and all.”

Wordlessly, they descend on you. You were expecting… you don’t know. Not the sudden press of lips, familiar from an hour or two prior, against your own, or Shimizu’s arms so quick to drape over your shoulders from behind. You press your lips back against Yachi’s insistently, perhaps a bit excited, perhaps just trying to get yourself into the right headspace before you think too hard about the twelve guys currently watching you be sandwiched between the girls or Shimizu’s delicate fingers unbuttoning your top.

Your head spins with it already—Shimizu’s perfume, Yachi’s chapstick. Shimizu’s hand pushing your hair out of the way, her lips attaching to your neck gently. “You didn’t mention anything about marks in your limits,” she mumbles against your skin as a little whine escapes you. “Can we take that to mean it’s okay to mark you, or should I be careful?”

Yachi pulls away a bit, and you chase her lips. She pushes you back with a giggle. “She asked you a question.”

“Oh. Right.” You blink owlishly as you play back the question in your head. “Uh, yeah. I mean—it’s—it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? A few of the guys are not going to let up if they know that.”

Despite the exhibitionist dream going on right now, you don’t quite have the strength to admit that you quite enjoy the marks, actually, so instead: “I’m sure.”

“Alright.” Then, both pairs of lips are back—suckling your neck, kissing you until you’re out of breath. There’s no hurry, none at all, and you barely notice when your top is discarded completely, barely even notice the chatter of the guys bickering—when you strain, you just barely figure out that they’re deciding something about who gets a turn with you when.

You try not to shudder too hard at the thought.

Yachi slides a hand up to your bra and underneath it, rolls a nipple between her fingers. Shimizu follows up, finds your wrist and guides your hand beneath Yachi’s waistband to palm at her heat. “Have you ever…?”

You part from Yachi again, shake your head, eyes half-lidded and head swimming as you look up into the gym lights. “Hadn’t gotten the chance before—before today,” you admit.

She huffs a gentle laugh in your ear. “I’ll teach you, then.”

Her hand slides up your thigh, up your skirt. Yachi crawls into your lap, arms around your neck for stability as Shimizu’s fingers find your cunt, already wet. “It’s not that different from taking care of yourself,” she murmurs as two delicate fingers, too pretty to be where they are right now, stroke your slit. “Follow my lead, okay?”

You nod, whining when her fingers find your clit.

She teaches you in gentle, fluttery strokes. You lose track of it all quickly—your fingers buried in Yachi, thumb dancing over her clit as she leans over your shoulder to kiss Shimizu. You find it’s not that hard to adjust, and with every breathy gasp you draw from Yachi, you’re well rewarded by the slender fingers pumping into your cunt.

Needy and slipping into the mythical subspace you’ve only had the pleasure of reading about, you lean forward to plant your lips on Yachi’s neck. “No marks,” she sighs to you. You whine and move on, not letting yourself linger long enough to mark her skin. Seeming pleased with your listening, Shimizu slides a third finger inside you, stretches you out carefully.

“You’ll thank me later.”

She works you up so easily. Is it because you’re pressed between two pretty girls? Is it the ravenous eyes raking over this scene? Or—

Her hand retreats too soon, just as your hips had begun to really move with the friction, and you whine.

“I promise you’ll get there. Just hold on for now, okay?”

You nod, pouting at having been edged, and focus on the way Yachi writhes on your lap.

She’s close, too, you realize.

“So pretty,” you whisper in awe at the look on her face: eyes closed, head tilted back, lips parted just slightly. “You’re so pretty.”

Ah. Clearly she likes the praise, because she flutters around you. You work her more urgently, the wet squelches from your fingers buried in her joining the hushed moans and sighs of the team watching. When she cums, it’s a soft, quiet moan that you could honestly get used to hearing. Her walls flutter ceaselessly around your fingers as she leans down and kisses you again, and you’re sure not to stop until she slumps a little, though, truth be told, your wrist is already sore.

When she climbs off your lap, legs a bit shaky and a sweet, dopey smile on her face, she backs away, exiting the fray entirely. You nod in understanding. The goal, as she’d made very clear, is to make everyone cum at least once, and she’s gotten her fill. Shimizu takes your chin in her hand, tilts your face so she can kiss you, too. After a moment, you pull back. “Um—can I… my wrist… I don’t think I can…”

God, you’re already stupid. By the time you’ve gotten to everyone, you’re gonna be completely brainless, aren’t you?

She nods, helps you out of the chair only to sit you on your knees in front of her, having taken her place. She’s sweet and perfect on your tongue when you eat her out, paying careful, deliberate attention to her clit, and she instructs you in a low tone as she pets your head. It’s a blessing to be between her thighs, a blessing for her to be the first girl you’ve ever eaten out, a blessing to be allowed to draw a quiet moan from her when at last she cums on your tongue.

“Good,” she murmurs to you with a smile when you pull away, cheeks and chin wet with her slick. “I think you’re ready for us to pass you off. Will you be good for them, too?”

You nod, smiling dreamily. She looks over your shoulder and nods before standing and straightening herself out.

Three of your loyal watchers step forward. Seems like the seniors get you next.

~

You sit nervously, wait for… orders? Guidance? Anything?

You feel like you’re being circled by sharks, honestly. One of said sharks laughs, angelic, and you yelp when Suga’s hands come to rest on your waist. When had he joined you on the floor?

“You’re already tense again. Come on, relax a bit, [name].” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips. “See, Asahi’s gonna get nervous, too, if you act like that.”

Daichi pushes Asahi forward, a stern look on his face. Suga pushes you forward, too, until you’re nose to Asahi’s crotch and the prominent bulge in his shorts. “Go on. You took such good care of the girls, and it’s our turn now. Go ahead and open for him.”

You let your mouth hang open. You can be obedient. You can be good.

The bulge in Asahi’s shorts jumps a little as he looks down at you. You’re already deep in this, might as well go all-in—you paw at the waistband of his shorts, waiting for his nod of approval. When you receive it, you grab the shorts and his boxers and pull them down in one swift motion, swallowing thickly when you see the size of the thing.

If all the guys on the volleyball team are this hung, you’re going to be very, very sore in the morning.

You close your eyes, lean in. If you just keep your eyes closed, you don’t have to think about the guys watching you with varying levels of interest, don’t have to think about performing. You stroke him at the base, take as much of his cock into your mouth as you can handle. He lets out a soft groan as you begin to bob your head, and again you feel those hands on your hips. You let Suga do whatever it is he’s planning on, which is how you find your legs being spread a bit, your hips lifted just slightly only for someone—Suga, presumably—to slide his head between your thighs.

There’s a huff of a laugh against your pussy, and you try your best to keep up with sucking off Asahi as you’re yanked downwards to rest on his face. Asahi’s hot on your tongue, and Suga’s tongue is hot on you when he finally lathes his tongue over your sex. Your moan comes out muffled, cutting off into a squeak, almost a gag, when Asahi’s hips buck in response.

A murmured apology, a ruffle of your hair. The gentle affection has your heart and your walls fluttering against your will—Suga pulls away to laugh at you. “She liked whatever you just did, Asahi. Just so you know.”

You whine, roll your hips down in hopes of keeping him from saying anything else incriminating. He punishes you with a harsh suck of your clit, and the three of you fall into a nice rhythm—you taking Asahi’s cock as far into your mouth as you can handle, Suga fucking you on his tongue.

“S-so pretty,” Asahi murmurs when you dare a glance up at his face. He’s been watching you work him intently, sighs and groans filling your ears to let you know you’re doing well. You clench around Suga’s tongue at the praise, go back to work as you dip your head deep. When Asahi cums, he’s low and loud, and you greedily drink up the cum that hits the back of your throat. You’re not far behind, thanks to Suga, writhing on top of him as he forces you to stay seated on his face.

Asahi backs away. Suga slides out from underneath you, moves around to your front to kiss you softly. You shudder at the taste of yourself on his lips, shiver when his tongue slips into your mouth. Against your lips, he mumbles: “you could probably use a little rest already. You’re being really good, you know?”

Daichi chuckles darkly. “Oh, come on. She’ll never be done if we keep letting her rest.”

That’s the only warning you get before your skirt is tugged off. You’re left in nothing but a bra as Daichi begins to slide his fingers between your lips. “You’re doing great. Yachi said you were on birth control—I can assure you everyone here is clean, and she also said you’re okay with no condoms, but I want everyone to hear you say it, if that’s true.”

You whimper. You’re too sensitive for this right now, still shaking from your first orgasm of the night, but his fingers won’t stop moving.

“Well? Yes or no? Don’t make me ask you a third time.”

You gasp—his middle finger dips into your hole, just enough to make your hips buck. “P-please, I—I can—no condoms, please,” you nearly sob, hoping in vain that your bowing to his request will get you some respite.

“You’re so mean, Daichi,” Suga tuts.

You let out a sigh of relief when his fingers leave you, but then you’re being bent over and something hot and thick is sliding through your heat.

“S-sensitive,” you whine out.

“I know,” he replies, and then he’s pressing his way inside you, stretching you out, and you’re letting out a loud keen into the gym. He sits inside you a moment, gives you just long enough to adjust to the stretch before he’s moving. “You really worried us, you know. Do you think it’s polite to disappear without a word all week, [name]?”

“N-no, I’m sorry—“

A single harsh thrust. You cry out. Suga, ever-helpful, kneels down in front of you to give you his lap to rest on. Ever-obedient, you reach out and begin to palm the bulge in his shorts. He takes the chance to unclasp your bra as Daichi sets a slow, almost conversational pace.

You pull Suga out of his shorts, rest your head on his thigh. Focus on jerking him off as Daichi’s pace picks up from slow to harsh. “It’s nice of you to apologize. Don’t do it again.”

“I-I won’t—ah—“

The slow, lazy kisses you’ve taken to pressing against Suga’s cock—pretty and long—don’t mesh well with the bruising grip on your hips, the sharp snap of the captain’s cock in your pussy as he fucks you out. You cling desperately to Suga, jerk him off with no real rhythm as you struggle to take the abuse to your still-sensitive cunt.

By the time Suga’s cum shoots in ropes across your cheek, you’re close again, and Daichi isn’t letting up. “You want it inside, pretty girl?”

“Please,” you whine.

“Good girl,” he croons, and that sends you over the edge a second time, too fast—the fluttering of your walls drags him over with you. Suga takes the chance to stroke your hair almost lovingly as you’re filled up with hot cum, and you whimper as Daichi pulls out of you.

Five down. Nine to go.

You think they might kill you before the night’s over.

~

They really don’t let you rest—before you even process the retreat of the seniors, three more have stepped forward, and from the corner of your eye you notice the seniors holding back two guys in particular.

(“Dude, it’s our turn—“

“She can’t handle five at once. We already decided before this that you two get to go after them.”)

Ennoshita’s cock hangs heavy in front of you, and with a whimper, you drag yourself to sit up and take it in your mouth. He laughs softly. “You got used to this quickly. Look at you, you’re a mess.”

You’re not really willing to reply to that. You’re so far past embarrassment—if he’s trying to embarrass you, all you’re getting is a surge of heat low in your stomach all over again, as though your body could possibly handle any more right now.

There’s a nudge at your side, someone’s hand sliding up your arm and bringing you to take another cock in one of your free hands. A glance—Kinoshita is on one side of you, Narita on the other, and you are more than happy to take care of them, lack of coordination be damned.

“Take your time,” Narita says in a low voice. “I get this weird feeling the other two are not going to be very gentle with you when they get a turn.”

You shudder, moan around Ennoshita’s cock at the thought. His hips roll into your mouth, and you shoot him a pleading look. You weren’t particularly trying to send him any hints, but he takes some sort of hint anyway—his hand tangles in your hair, really expertly, actually, and he takes just a little bit of the load off you as he begins to fuck your throat, slow and easy, so you don’t have to keep track of getting off three at once. You relax your jaw, let him work, almost enjoy yourself as you twist your wrists around Kinoshita and Narita’s cocks.

Ennoshita is careful with you. Forceful, sure, but careful. You could gag on him—easily, if that was what he wanted—but he never makes you take him too deeply, simply enjoys the feeling of your mouth, your tongue, the way you’re completely lost in your little initiation. As his pace begins to stutter, you try to bob your head with him, unpermitted by his grip in your hair. You’re fully under now, head caught in a delicious space you’ve never quite experienced. Floating, really.

He pulls you off him firmly. “Color?”

You let out a little half-whine, looking up at him with lidded eyes and a quizzical head tilt as you try to remember what the fuck he’s asking you through the fuzz.

“Mm?”

“Damn, she’s totally lost.”

“Think she’ll be okay? Should we—“

A little panic surges in you, and you jolt forward as you finally process what he’s looking for. “G-green! Green. I’m green.”

He nods. “You’re sure?”

“Mm. Floaty. But green.”

“Good. That’s a good girl. You’re gonna keep being good?”

You reply with a whine, a tug forward in hopes of giving him the message to put his cock back in your mouth right now.

He gets the message.

The two in your hands tumble over the edge first, and you moan as you feel them paint you with their cum. You might like being taken advantage of like this. Ennoshita isn’t too far behind. He spills into your mouth with a groan, untangling fingers from your hair and smoothing it down gently. Before he backs away to let the next guys have their way with you, he leans down, keeps an affectionate hand on top of your head. “Good luck.”

“Mm?”

He backs away without explanation, and before you fully process it, you’re being pushed into a new position on your hands and knees. “Finally,” Noya groans from behind you, hands groping your ass almost reverently. “You’re being so good, it was so hard not to come take you while the others were busy with you.”

A whine. You’re more or less losing your ability to speak, between the soreness building in your jaw and the cotton in your head. Something bumps against your pussy, and you flinch with a whimper.

Tanaka is in front of you, watching your face carefully as Noya’s hands roam your body from behind. “Still good, [name]?”

You nod.

“Good,” he says, and then there’s yet another cock in your mouth. You’re starting to lose count. But, hey, Tanaka’s dick is an effective gag to keep you from getting too loud when Noya slides into you with an obscene squelch.

“There you are,” he groans, grip bruising-tight on your hips. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Tight and sensitive. Noya isn’t particularly thick, but at this angle he’s already pressing against a spot soft and delicious in your cunt. Fuck, he hasn’t even moved yet and you already feel dangerously close.

You rock your hips back against him, desperate even as you take Tanaka’s cock as deep into your mouth as you can manage. You get barely any movement before Noya takes the hint, and then one hand is holding you steady as he snaps his hips, sharp and hard, into you. The other sneaks around, finds your clit with ease and begins to frantically torture it. You cum hard and fast around him, and he lets his head drop backward with a groan, not stopping even as you struggle to hold yourself up and take it.

It’s all so much. So much. So much—

You barely manage to bring a hand up to finish Tanaka in your mouth, desperate to have just one less thing drowning you, and lucky for you, it works—he grits out praises as he spills into your mouth, strokes your hair as you swallow as much of his cum as you can handle.

With your mouth free, Nishinoya pauses just long enough to pull out and flip you onto your back. “Your knees are starting to hurt, right?” he coos, cock throbbing against your entrance again. “But you’re doing so well.”

You whimper. It’s all you still know how to do. He takes in your body, chest heaving and tits shaking from exertion, and slides a hand up your side, pausing to tweak a nipple. Your back arches. “God, you’re perfect. Are your tits always this sensitive, or do you just like being watched?”

“Al-ways,” you moan out, voice broken. His eyes are ravenous as he takes you in, like he doesn’t know where to look.

“Oi, Noya, you’re not the last one that gets her today. Go ahead and fuck her already.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. His arms are shaking as he pins you down by the wrists, shaking as he plunges into you all over again.

Noya is brutal. Dimly, you have the thought that you understand why they held him back as long as possible, though you think it might have made things worse. He leans down, lips against your neck, and groans when you immediately clench around him. “Your neck, too?” he hisses out.

You nod, barely able to catch your breath or un-fuzz your head long enough to talk.

“Fuck,” he breathes, taking the time to suck a few marks into your throat.

“Please,” you whine in reply. That’s all it takes for him to sink his teeth into a soft spot on your neck, and then you’re cumming again with an actual sob as he cums inside you, the second time someone’s cum inside tonight.

Nine… ten? Down. You can’t count anymore. He pulls out of you, lathes his tongue over where he’d bitten you, leaves you laying there to catch your breath.

~

“Need a break?”

You shake your head, not even bothering to check who’s asking you.

A laugh. “You sure? You look a little dead.”

One eye opened lazily. Yamaguchi. “Can take it,” you slur out. You’re utterly boneless. Exhausted, really. But you’ve got… a number more to get through, and fuck it, you’re in way too deep to give up now, and Yamaguchi’s looking kind of delicious, and—

Next thing you know, you’re slumped between him and Tsukki, one in your ass, the other in your cunt, you openly sobbing as Tsukki hisses condescension in your ear, fingers in your mouth to keep it open while they split you in half—

(“How is she even alive right now? I don’t think any of us made it through the whole thing without a real break.”

“We’re keeping her. We have got to keep her.”)

Next thing you know, you’re jerking Kageyama off onto your face, tongue lolling out to catch every drop of cum you can—

(“Genuinely impressive. Are we sure she’s never done this before?”

“Dude, I’m serious, what do we have to do to get her to come every time?”)

Next thing you know, Hinata is thrusting into you at blinding speeds, and you’re cumming again, moans more like broken sobs—

(“I mean, she keeps saying she’s good, and she’s almost through…”

“She’s just having a good time. Probably been dreaming about something like this since before she showed up for her ‘article’.”)

There’s a few expectant looks as you lay there at last, thoroughly fucked out, unable to even think about moving as the TV static in your brain begins to finally fade out.

Holy fuck.

Are you done? That was the last of them, right? You’re done, aren’t you?

“Now, now, [name],” Tsukishima says, and his tone has you whining. That was everyone. You’re done.

“The rule was that you have to make everyone cum before you’re done,” he explains, like you’re five or something.

“D-didn’t… didn’t I…?”

A few slow shakes of the head from a few guys.

“You’re here, too.”

Your blood runs cold.

“Noo,” you whine. “Can’t.”

“You can’t?” Tsukki crouches down beside you. “You’ve made fourteen people cum tonight, and you’re giving up now? What happened to the slut we’ve been watching all night?”

“Can’ttt,” you repeat, new tears already forming. How many times have you cum already?

He sighs. “You’re really not serious about this, are you?”

“No, I am, I-I—“

“Then you can make yourself cum one last time for us to see.”

You whimper, limply bring a hand to rest between your legs. Should’ve brought a damn vibrator.

You work yourself up as fast as you can handle, cup one breast in your off hand to roll your nipple between your fingers. Slide two fingers in and shudder when you find the mix of cum there.

(“It’s just mean making her do it herself after all that.”

“If she can actually cum again after all that, I don’t even know what to say.”)

Technically, you could probably get away with faking it. …probably. But, well…

The little competitive bitch in you wants to prove them wrong, and, hell, you’ve already put on a show for everyone here, right? So you get into it, best you can. Roll your hips weakly against your hand, sigh and whimper at just how much this all is. Rub your clit as fast as your wrist can still handle, actually fucking thrash as you fall over the edge one last time.

~

You blacked out.

That, at least, you can figure out. You’re being held against one of any number of potential muscular bodies, cradled, really. Like you’ll break or something.

“How long do you think she has to be out before we call someone?”

“Don’t,” you groan. “’M alive. Barely.”

Fucking hell, your throat is dry. You open one eye to peek at Suga, who’s already got a water bottle ready for you. It’s Asahi holding you, and he shifts to let you tilt your head back as Suga tips the water bottle into your mouth.

Someone is wiping the worst of the cum off you with a damp rag. You squirm, whine as they clean you up. Drink like you’ve spent the past six months in the desert.

“How’re you feeling?” Yachi asks sweetly. Ah. She’s the one cleaning you up.

“Gooood,” you slur out. “Tired. Sore. Don’t wanna be a good girl for the next twennyfour hours at least.”

She laughs. “You know you could have taken a break, right? You didn’t have to get everyone off in one go.”

You simply groan. In the background, a few of the previously unaccounted-for guys are cleaning up the mess where you’d been laid out on the floor. Someone taps something against your lips. You accept it, mostly out of laziness. Sweet. Crunchy. Chocolate-covered pretzel. You wonder if you can get them to move your jaw for you.

“Do you still want to come back after this, [name]?” Shimizu asks.

You nod. Accept another pretzel. Snuggle into Asahi’s arms. You think they picked him for cuddle duty because he’s got good arms. “’Sgood. ‘Mgood.”

She laughs slightly. Drapes something over your naked body.

A black jacket, reading Karasuno Volleyball Team.

“Welcome to the team, then,” she says, tilting her head with an ethereal smile. You blink blearily. Smile back.

You cannot fucking wait for their next match.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory

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[bitchwitch1981]

It's written in the Cards

@whatsnewalycat 'tis I, your Secret Santa. I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you @sp00kymulderr for organising everything. Thank you to the @dieterbravobrainrotclub for always being amazing.

Thank you @jessthebaker for holding my hand 😆😘

Summary: Dieter asks you for a tarot reading.

Pure fluff

Dieter comes with his own warnings

Word count: 2522

“Who the hell has a tarot reader at a Christmas party?” you grumbled without any real fire, “Halloween party, yeah. New Year's Eve party, why not? But Christmas?” You shuffled around the fortune-telling tent that had been set up out back of Oscar-winning actor Dieter Bravo’s Sherman Oaks home, placing a cloth on the table and moving the chairs into position.

“And he needn't think I'll be wearing this either. No job is worth pneumonia.” You muttered, picking up the barely there, lacy goth costume that had been provided by the party's host, “There's more fabric in my left sock.”

A flustered-looking woman popped her head through the tent opening, phone in one hand and a clipboard in the other. “Hi, I'm Mr Bravo's assistant. How's everything going in here? Do you need anything?”

“I'm good, thanks.” You continued to move around the tent setting things how you wanted them. “Oh, please let your boss know I will not be wearing the costume he provided. I hope that won't be a problem?”

“Costume? I don't know about any costume. Wait, let me see it?” She asked, looking confused.

You picked up the scrap of fabric and handed it over to her, barely containing your giggle as she cursed under her breath.

“I already told him not to put this out. Don't worry, it's not a problem at all.” She placed the garment over her arm preparing to walk away. “If you need anything at all this evening, please let me know.” She turned to leave, then paused, glancing back at you, “Please don't read for Mr Bravo tonight. There's a lot of drugs and alcohol around, and both can make him take things a bit literally. We really don't need a repeat of the time that guy told him he would be a great stripper. He shaved his entire body and doused himself in baby oil. It was like trying to catch a greased seal!”

She shuddered at the memory and walked away, calling to various staff members to do things as she went. Leaving you with a mental image that nobody should have.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The evening went pretty much as you expected. The cream of Tinseltown scattered around the property, getting drunk, getting high, and from the sounds emitting from various windows, getting laid.

You had been doing readings all evening. Churning out multiple variations of “Your next project will be your best yet” and “You will be more popular than ever in the coming year.” No one wanted a real reading, too intent on having a good time and taking advantage of all the illicit substances on offer. You had indulged in a little tequila yourself and were feeling a bit squiffy. You decided to start packing your things away when you heard a voice from the tent entrance.

“Have you got time for one last reading?”

You turned to find the party host, Dieter Bravo, standing before you looking dishevelled in a stretched out t-shirt, pyjama pants and a green bathrobe that looked as if it had seen better days, his hands and shirt covered in what looked like paint. It was dark outside, but he was still wearing sunglasses.

“Erm, I don't know. I was told that I shouldn't read for you. Your assistant explicitly told me not to.” you explained as you continued to move around the tent. “Besides, what could you possibly have to ask the cards? You're rich and famous. You have all the awards, and you can have anyone in your bed with a snap of your fingers. You have it all, what more could you want?”

“Yeah, my life's perfect,” he scoffed. “I have everything. Except real friends, fulfilment, love, artistic inspiration.” he peered at you over his sunglasses. You were surprised by the honesty and the look of genuine sadness in his eyes.

You thought for a moment, mentally scolding yourself for weakening at the sight of a man pouting like a child who's been denied a bowl of ice cream. “I guess a quick 3 card reading couldn't do any real harm” you sighed, pulling your Cozy Witch deck out of your bag where you had just stashed it.

Shuffling the cards thoroughly, you fanned them out on the table, gesturing for him to take the seat opposite you, “have your question firmly in your mind, and choose three cards and place them left to right” you instructed.

He contemplated the cards, as if willing the answers to show themselves to him through divine intervention. He held his hands above the cards and ran them back and forth, almost picking out cards and then changing his mind in favour of others. He made his final choices, laying them out in order, gazing at you with big, soulful, pleading brown eyes.

“So, do they say what I should do?”

Turning the cards over, you try to put the representations into a meaningful narrative that could, hopefully, bring him some comfort and maybe a little insight.

“We start with The Patient Witch, which corresponds to The Hanged Man in a traditional deck” You explain.

Dieter’s hands fly to his neck, “hanged?” he whispers, looking spooked.

“It doesn't mean that you will be hanged, sweetheart”, you say soothingly, remembering what his assistant had said about him taking things literally when he's drunk and stoned. “It means you're feeling trapped, confined. Ironically, it shows you are looking for direction.”

The actor chuckled at that. “Like I don't get enough of that. What else does it mean?”

“It means that in order to move forward, you need to get comfortable with being still. Whether that be physically or mentally. I'm sure you have big goals for yourself, but you need to accept that they may not happen, or maybe they won't happen in the way that you want them to. It could be that something better is waiting for the right time to come to you.” you tell him, turning to the next card.

“OK, next is the Ace of Swords,” you announced as you studied the image.

“Swords?” says Dieter warily, “Swords are pointy and sharp. Swords are bad right?”

You shake your head, “No suit or card is necessarily bad, although there can be potentially negative meanings to cards. The suit of Swords relates to the mind and thinking.” You share, losing yourself in the cards and their imagery. “The Ace has to do with ideas. You've got lots of them running around that pretty head of yours, dontcha?”

You paused, realising what you had just said thanks to the tequila you had enjoyed earlier and cautiously peered at the actor, hoping you hadn't crossed the line.

He was smiling at you coquettishly. “So, you think I'm pretty do you?” he teased with a cheeky glint in his eye, “hey, do you wanna have sex with me?”

Blushing, you looked down at the table, “that's not written in the cards for tonight.”

He threw his head back and laughed. Real laughter, not the forced sound you had heard from him so many times in interviews on TV and YouTube. “I like you, you're funny.” he chuckled.

You realised that he probably didn't get turned down very often, but he took it with a grace that you hadn't expected and you found yourself liking him more for it.

“OK, now for the final card, the Two of Wands.” You pointed at the card. “This is a card of choices. Different paths you can go down, and options to take. We aren't meant to know what the future holds for us, because then we would just sit and wait for it to happen without putting in any effort. But we can create through our actions. And different decisions will lead to different outcomes.”

Dieter peered at the cards as if hoping they would offer more insight or maybe some step-by-step instructions. “Is that it?

“Well, let's put it all together shall we?” you replied.

“The way I see it, to stop feeling confined and directionless, you need to put your ideas and creativity to work to build the future that you want. It won't be easy, but you'll appreciate it more for the effort that you put into it.” you offer. You glance up at him only to find him hanging on your every word.

He took a deep breath and removed his glasses to look at you fully for the first time. “Creativity and effort, huh?” he questioned, “and that will get me where I need to be?”

“It seems that it would help to get you onto the right path.” You gazed at the cards again, hoping that you hadn't made a fool of yourself by reading under the influence. You packed the cards away again while he sat and contemplated your words.

“Can I show you something?” he asked shyly, causing you to look up from your bag. You nodded as he stood up and took your hand. “Come with me.”

You walked towards the house but didn't enter it. Dieter directed you to what you assumed was the pool house. He opened the door and ushered you inside. He followed you in and turned on the lights as he closed the door.

There were paintings everywhere. Some were copies of famous works, others were original pieces. There were bold colourful canvases, and there were works that were dark and had a melancholy to them. In the centre of the room stood an easel with a large blank canvas on it. You turned to find Dieter looking nervously at you.

“Dieter, did you do all of these?” you asked, unable to take everything in. “They're amazing. You're truly talented.”

“Could this be the creativity that gets me the future I want?” he queried, seeming slightly unsure of himself. “Would I need to give up acting to pursue this?”

You were hit with an overwhelming need to comfort the man standing before you, his vulnerability on full display. You moved closer to him and placed your hand on his arm. “Do you want to give it up?”

You could see he was thinking things through. “I don't want to give it up, but I think I need to be more selective with the roles I take. No more big-budget franchises. No more dinosaurs.”

You had seen Beasts of the Bubble when it came out. You had also read about the fallout from his divorce from Anika when she left him to be part of a throuple with her yoga instructor and his girlfriend. Dieter had been through a rough couple of years, so it was understandable that he was looking to make some changes and find some stability.

“There's no reason why you should give up acting. You are incredibly talented, and being more considered in the roles you choose could be a smart move. Your art is something you can take with you on location for downtime.” you mused.

“Maybe you could invite me to your first exhibition,” you quipped.

Dieter gazed at you with wide eyes, “You'll be the guest of honour” he said seriously. “Tell me what you think of this one,” he said excitedly as he moved to one of the larger canvases.

You spent the next couple of hours being shown Dieter’s art and listening to him explain the meaning behind each piece. He called his driver to take you home when you couldn't stop yawning.

“My assistant has your contact details, right? So I can let you know if I have an exhibition.” He asked as he settled you in the car.

You nodded yes, trying to speak but yawning instead.

Dieter chuckled, “All alright sleepyhead, you go get some sleep.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, bringing a smile to your face. You waved goodbye to him as he closed the door and the car pulled away.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Over the next year, you heard from Dieter occasionally. More often than not to ask about the meaning behind different tarot cards. You didn't see him again though, his schedule was taken up with new movie roles, mostly indie films rather than big-budget blockbusters.

So you were surprised to find him waiting for you outside your small house one Saturday in December. You had been Christmas shopping and your arms were loaded with bags of gifts. He rushed forward and started grabbing bags from you, talking at a mile a minute. “Finally, you're back! I was beginning to think you were never coming home. Or that you'd moved. Can we put these inside? I need you to come with me, I have to show you something.”

You followed him, smiling, listening to him yammer away. “Hello Dieter, how have you been?” You unlocked the door and he walked in to put the bags down. You felt a bit self-conscious having the Hollywood superstar in your tiny home, having seen his own luxurious house. If he noticed he didn't let on as he escorted you back out to his car.

He chattered on while he drove. Telling you about the movies he had been making and the things he had done and seen on location. He was a surprisingly good driver, getting you to your destination without issue. When you looked to see where you were you saw you were outside a swanky-looking art gallery. Dieter ran round the car to open your door.

“Dieter, what are we doing here” you asked.

He suddenly looked bashful, gazing down at the sidewalk. “Erm, I wanted you to be the first to see it. Seeing as you are a big part of why I did it,” he said.

“Me? What did I do? What did you do?” you questioned him as he escorted you towards the door to the gallery.

“The grand opening is Monday, but I wanted to show you before anyone else comes in.” He walked you around the space showing you all of his art and telling you the stories behind each piece. “This last piece is dedicated to you, as a thank you for giving me the encouragement I needed to do this. It's my favourite piece in the whole collection.”

You turned around to look at the painting, your hand flying to your mouth as you gasped in shock. In front of you was a large canvas depicting a woman sitting at a table lit by candle reading tarot cards, her face obscured by her hair. You recognised the cards as your favourite Cozy Witch deck that you had used to read for Dieter a year ago.

“She's you,” he said from behind you. “You started me down this path, so I needed to have you be part of the collection.”

You turned to look at him, tears springing to your eyes. “It's beautiful Dieter, thank you,” you whispered, stepping forward to wrap him in a hug.

“Thank you for telling me I could do it.” He squeezed you tightly, rocking you gently from side to side, “will you come to the opening?”

You looked up at him, smiling, “If you play your cards right.”

[smokingsoothesthesoul]

# RAFE CAMERON & POGUES — CHRISTMAS

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ ────୨ৎ──── you spend christmas with your boyfriend, rafe cameron, your family, and your best friends, the pogues (jj, john b, sarah, pope, kie).

ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ — pairing: kook!reader or pogue!reader x rafe cameron

author’s note: soo... this is late asf but i hope y'all will love it because ik i did. enjoy!

word count : 1.9k

the kooks were known for their obnoxious celebration of christmas on the 25th, it was no debate to them. you were either there or you were cast off.

georgia, your mother always made sure, both you and your brother attended, occasionally your sister when she was in the obx.

it wasn’t a hassle to any of you, since you knew that it was tradition for your family to celebrate christmas, on the night of the 24th. this year you’d invited your boyfriend; rafe, his sister and the pogues, your closest friends. it had been a rocky road, but they could at least be cordial with each other, even friends at times.

you’d decided that secret santa would be done, just to make it somewhat more lively. your mom had spent the whole day cooking away in the kitchen, you tried to help but her only answer was for you to leave the kitchen. it wasn’t that you were bad at cooking, your mom just preferred it this way.

you took it upon yourself to decorate the room where the festivities would take place, and make it look christmasy, your brother helped as-well, deciding to make snowflakes. everything was ready.

so when the guests started to arrive, you didn’t bat an eye. you had all decided on wearing pajamas. and you had chosen some snoopy onesies, your favorite.

the first ones to arrive were, sarah wearing a wine the pooh onesie, and rafe wearing some loose red and black checkered pajama pants with a long sleeved red shirt.

jj came in wearing; sullivan from monster inc onesies, john b; a honey onesie, pope; a mike wazowski onesie, kiara; a elf onesie.

safe to say everyone was on some theme. you had bought rafe a onesie to match with you, but you knew it’d take you begging for him to actually put it on.

so you made your way upstairs and hoped he followed, and he did.

“rafe, i bought you something,” you said, handing him the bag.

rafe looked confused, presents weren’t being opened yet, but he still opened the bag and when he saw what was inside, he let out a sigh.

“i’m not putting this on,” he stated simply.

you let out a sheepish smile, before pouting and asking, “please?”

he shook his head, “no.”

you softly asked again, “please rafe?”

the same answer. you held in a sigh of annoyance before giving your best pout and pleading once more, “pretty please? for me?”

he looked reluctant to deny you again, so you took that as a win and clapped cheerily before he could once again refuse.

if you pretended he already agreed maybe he wouldn’t refuse again, so you did. you opened the package, leaving him dumbstruck but at this point he should’ve been used to it. if he even hesitated for a second when you wanted something, you knew you’d got it.

“here, change, and then come downstairs,” you said all giddy, clapping your hands in excitement, leaving the room.

you were all just waiting for rafe to come down now, sarah and john b were on a rocking couch, sarah sprawled over john bs lap. your mom and brother were on another couch, sitting side by side. and jj, pope, and kiara were on the last couch. which meant you and rafe got the lovesac which was a huge comfortable bean bag bed.

as he came downstairs, jj was in a playful mood so he wolf whistled at rafe to annoy him. which rafe returned with a middle finger and an eye roll.

you couldn’t help but laugh at their exchange and patted the spot next to you so rafe could sit next to you.

after he sat down you asked, “so who wants to go first?”

your little brother jumped out of his seat, and raised his hand excitedly, “me me me,” he pleaded.

you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, “yes, you can go first.”

he went to grab the present from under the tree before making his way to the blondie, sarah cameron.

“here you go, i hope you like it,” he said with a hint of nervousness in his tone.

as sarah opened her gift she turned to look at him, surprised to see what he’d gotten her.

“how did you know?,” she asked genuinely, before pulling him into a hug. she had actually really wanted this, she’d been eyeing it but didn’t know if she should get it.

“i remember you were talking about it once with my sister, while you guys took me to get ice cream,” he replied softly.

he had gifted her a gold bracelet with charms on it, and a hand drawn card along with it.

“i love it, thank you,” she said, wanting to tear up. something about little kids and their adorableness always hit her right in the heart.

he smiled happily at the fact she actually liked his present. it was hard for him to actually get her something because he kept overthinking everything.

“and i got pope,” sarah said, handing him a bag. she’d gotten him two gifts not knowing if she would be able to secure the one she wanted.

as he took out the first one, he smiled, it was a candle, mahogany scented. he had a weird candle obsession. they always liked to make jokes about it, but it was the one thing that brought him comfort, in an odd way.

“thank you,” he said before pulling out a piece of paper.

“so i want to clarify that i technically might’ve committed identity fraud but nobody has to know,” sarah explained, even though it didn’t make much sense to the others.

pope wanted to cry on the spot, but somehow he held it in, barely though. in his hand was a certificate of 10,000 dollars from a scholarship.

“i- i don’t know,” he uttered, lost for words before sarah cut in, “no need to say anything.”

he grasped into his chest and let out a huff, trying to control his emotions, gratitude overcoming him.

“my present doesn’t seem that good,” he said playfully while his voice cracked, still filled with emotions.

he handed his gift to kiara, “hope you like it,” he said.

kiara unwrapped the gift, and smiled warmly, in it was a bracelet set, not a bead one no. a specific metal with charms kit. she’d be able to make anklets now. her favorite, better yet they were turtles, waves, seashells, etc charms in it.

“thank you pope,” she said leaning in to side hug him.

she then proceeded to hand her present over to john b, “i think this might help out,” she said.

as he unwrapped the box he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle it was all his clothes that’d been borrowed from the pogues, kiara had gone to everyone’s house and stolen them back.

but that wasn’t the only thing, on the bottom was a license plate, ‘P0GU3S’ it read.

“thank you kie,” he said, smiling at her as he planned when he’d be changing out the plate with the one he had now.

“i got georgia,” he said handing her a small envelope he origami’d out of red card stock paper.

unfolding it, she took out a paper that read, ‘spa day certificate.’

“ohh yess, thank you kiddo,” she exclaimed, in excitement, she'd been meaning to make her way into charleston for a massage soon, and this would be the perfect reason.

as she stood up, she grabbed her gift and handed it to jj. to which he received with a smile, he hoped it was something he wanted or needed.

she’d somehow got him the perfect thing, she’d gotten him an orbeez gun, a nerf gun and given him a monopoly get out of jail card to which he scrunched his nose in confusion.

“the guns, because apparently you’re a bullshiter who for some reason won’t let them go, and the monopoly card, is literal. you want out of jail, make a call,” she explained, knowing he always got himself into trouble and at least with that she hoped he’d call even if he didn’t want to.

jj smiled and got up from his seat and hugged her, she had always been somewhat of a mother figure to him and he really appreciated her.

“thank you,” he said, genuinely.

“i got mr. moody,” jj said, as he handed rafe his present.

rafe was curious as to what was in it, there wasn’t much he could actually want, but at the same time he knew that maybe it’d be meaningful, so far everyone’s was.

as he unwrapped it he found a classic maroon steel car model from the 80’s, he was surprised. jj collected these like his life depended on it. When he visited him, he always looked at this specific one, for some reason he had really taken a liking to it but he was never able to find it. and he always had too much pride to ask jj.

“thanks jj,” he muttered still in awe at his gift, he couldn’t believe jj would give him this.

“you better take care of it,” jj said, slightly threatening, but rafe understood why, so he nodded in understanding before grabbing his gift and handing it to his girlfriend.

you had just received a small box, you wondered what was in it. you knew rafe would give you something meaningful. it wasn’t even about money with you or him, both of you had it so there wasn’t any need. as you opened the box you wanted to cry.

“to be seen is to be loved,” you muttered softly, as you took out the locket from the box. it was a heart shaped silver locket.

inside it was a picture of you and rafe, but the kicker he had engraved the back with ‘kookies’ written across. something you often said you and him were. because you were both kooks but also kooky aka crazy at times. you couldn’t hold back and kissed him but before it went too far you pulled away, jj’s fake throat clearing didn’t help either.

“sorry,” you sheepishly said, before smiling at rafe.

standing up you walked towards a big present and looked at your brother, “this one’s yours,” you said before he ran to it and began tearing it apart excitedly.

“oh em gee, thank you!!!” he exclaimed in joy. he had just unwrapped a truck for him. you had charged it overnight so he could use it tomorrow.

“you can now drive,” she said playfully, knowing the car wouldn’t make it too far, but he was excited and that was enough for her.

“we’re not getting him out of that driver's seat for a while,” your mom commented before standing up, “i bought some gingerbread house kits, if you guys want to partake?” she finished off.

everybody nodded in excitement, this christmas would be one for the books. everyone got something meaningful. it really was the thought that counted. and they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

they were a family, a confused, fucked up family. but a family nonetheless.