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ellecdc · 10 months ago

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Baaaaabe 😫

Ive been sick for the last couple days, and as always, that first day was horrible. Ive had my brain legit decide it wants to inflate bigger than my skull capacity (long story short, pregnancy 🫡) and i got to re-experience that feeling for the first 12 hours 💀

BUT i came back and i was sooo excited for your updates!! They were soo good (please tell me theres a part 2 to that angst....pls 🥺) And i love our discussions in the comments 🫶

I do have another request though if you have the time love. Another possessive!wolfstar buuuttt..... make reader Jamie's sister (twins?)!! Its troublesome enough for James to keep Sirius' hands to himself, but full moon Rem?? He's a brick wall. Like somethings happening between the 2 and Jamie is chasing reader, then she spots Rem and hides behind him. James tries to reach for her and Rem is just kinda like "???? Excuse me, thats mine. Dont touch. James Fleamont Potter. DONT. TOUCH." without even knowing whats going on. James is incredulous (because thats HIS sister) and Siri is chuckling but it looks like Rem might actually bite Jamie's hand off so he moves between them to seperate them but Rem is also like "ExCuSe YOU??? Also mine. *to siri* dont touch him. *to James* dont touch them or you might not have all your fingers when you wake up!!"

And just the repercussions of this where James isnt allowed alone with either until a couple days passed the 🌕

Hope youre looking after yourself darling 🩵

I love James' sister trope - something about it screams fluff and perhaps a little angst but just in all the best ways. I would imagine his sister to be so much like him: mischievous, funny, and full of love. Thanks for requesting!!!

poly!wolfstar x potter sister!reader

There were quite a few perks that came along with being James Potter's twin sister. One said perk was having a built-in best friend from the moment you came into the world. Another was that whilst you were attending school, you had the benefit of no one being willing to mess with you on account of the company you kept - namely, your brother and his infamous friends who called themselves The Marauders.

What being James Potter's twin sister couldn't protect you from? James Potter.

What could protect you from being James Potter's twin sister? Being the girlfriend of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

You and James were leaving Care of Magical Creatures together, heading to meet up with Remus and Sirius near the Greenhouses when one Lily Evans walked by - graciously bestowing James the time of day for quite possibly the first time ever - when you decided that this was the perfect pranking opportunity.

You really couldn't be blamed for what happened next: it truly was a gift bestowed upon you by the great pranking gods, and who were you to deny it?

"Hello, Potter." Lily said, causing James to gasp dramatically.

"Hello, Lily! Beautiful day out today, innit?"

Lily couldn't help but snicker at the sickeningly wide grin that took over James' face.

"Oi, Jamie. I forgot to tell you: mum sent that rash cream you were asking for. She said to remind you it's only safe to put around your anus, not in it." You proclaimed loudly, pretending to read from a 'letter' your mother had sent.

The courtyard became incredibly quiet before what you recognized to be Barty Crouch Junior's laugh echoed the space, triggering the snickering of all those present.

"You are so dead!" James sneered and you didn't hesitate to take off in a sprint - knowing your brother was a mere few paces behind you.

"You slithering little snake! She finally starts coming around - are you kidding me!?" He shouted as you swerved between bodies standing in your way whilst he just barrelled right through them.

Suddenly, you saw salvation in the form of one Remus John Lupin.

Now, granted, Remus didn't always protect you from your squabbles with James. Part of the reason for that was because half of the time you sort of deserved it (much like today), and the other part was that he claimed he didn't know what proper protocol was in sibling relationships on account of him being an only child. Sirius, a brother himself, had no such qualms and always took your side.

However, you knew that the full moon was in a mere two more sleeps, meaning Remus was at his most protective (read: possessive) which did not distinguish James Potter as friend, sibling, nor pack.

Right now: James Potter was only a threat.

And, let's be honest, being James Potter's twin sister, and a girlfriend to Remus Lupin and Sirius black also meant you were mischievous as hell. So you had no trouble using this to your utmost advantage.

You squeaked in terror as you slid behind Remus' lanky frame a moment before James - the bastard - slammed into his form and all but bounced off of Remus. James was admittedly more muscular than Remus, but Remus' height and werewolf strength left him towering above James as the dumb sod picked himself up off the ground.

"What in the buggering hell is going on?" He spat at James as one of his arms wrapped behind him, shielding you from your fuming brother.

"That sneaky little witch just embarrassed me in front of Lily!" James barked, looking like he was still trying to figure out how to get around Remus in order to strangle you.

"Please," Sirius drawled as he walked over casually, "like you need any help in that department Prongs."

You tried to hide your snicker, but from Remus' glance at you through the corner of his eye, you knew he caught it.

"She told the entire courtyard I needed cream for a rash on my anus!"

Sirius doubled over in laughter and you preened when you noticed Remus let out a soft chuckle himself.

"It's not sodding funny you wanker! Lily spoke to me first today! I'm going to kill you!" James snarled, moving his attention from Sirius to you.

As James stepped forward menacingly, Remus grabbed the collar of his shirt. "Prongs, enough." He barked.

Sirius was still laughing when he moved to stand between Remus and James, releasing James' shirt from Remus' fist.

"Okay, down boy." Sirius snarked, patting James' shoulder consolingly.

"Oh, sod off." James muttered, elbowing Sirius as he moved to step away.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding and tried to even out your breathing; lungs still burning from your run.

"You okay, dove?" Remus asked you so gently as he bent down to make eye contact with you. His face screamed love, attentiveness, and care, making you feel slightly guilty for having shoved him in the middle of your tomfoolery.

"I'm fine, Moons. Sorry for causing trouble." You answered solemnly.

His face picked up slightly at your words as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't causing trouble, love."

Your tender moment was interrupted by a yelp, causing the two of you to turn only to notice James and Sirius wrestling. James seemed to have gotten Sirius into a headlock, and the sod wasn't willing to tap out - still kicking and clawing at James in anyway he could.

"Oi!" Remus shouted as he plucked Sirius out of James' grasp and shoved him in the direction of the castle. James used his momentary distraction as an opportunity to set his sights back on you as he lunged, tackling you to the ground.

"Fuckin' hell Jamie! You weight a tonne!" You shouted, kneeing him in the gut. James doubled over and rolled onto his side in the fetal position.

You didn't even get a chance to right yourself before you were thrown over Remus' shoulder who was still shouting at Sirius to "get back to the dorm. The both of you are staying within my sights for the next foreseeable future" as you all left James with the wind knocked out of him, keeled over on the castle grounds.

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cryinginmommyissues · 4 months ago

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But you belong to me...

Five months ago, you got married to Vice-President elect, Victoria Neuman. Victoria didn't really show any interest in you, until someone tried to take what's hers.

MDNI 18+ , smut, not proofread (im sorry if this is awful ive never written smut ever ???? I just had to get this out of my head)

Her wife. You were Victoria Neuman’s wife. The only downside, it’s an arranged marriage. You still don’t understand how it happened, but it did and now you’ve found yourself thrown into the world of politics and lies. Victoria wasn’t mean but she also wasn’t kind. Sure she’d let you continue ur daily routine, didn’t force you into anything you didn’t want to, but it was like living with a ghost. Small conversations would happen but no more than that. In the eye of the public, you’ve been keeping up with the perfect couple image, but in reality you didn’t even share the same bed.

Every week or two, Victoria would have an event or something she’d attend, and you would of course accompany her. This night was just like any other night. You came in hand in hand, smiled and made conversation with some people. At one point you got separated, Victoria talking with some politicians, and you keeping a drink in hand because you hated these kinds of things. Suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around you were faced with a man. He seemed kind enough, wanting to strike a conversation. “I find it hard to believe someone as beautiful as you is standing here alone”. You smiled at him and thanked him, showing him your wedding ring and slowly turning your back to him, hoping he’d take the hint to leave you alone. He didn’t.

Before he could speak up again you felt a pair of arms around your waist. “Good thing she’s not, right honey?” Victoria spoke out in a low and sultry voice. You could feel the heat on your face, her voice always did something to you. “Right excuse me, i’ll leave you two alone” said the man and left in a hurry. Your back was still pressed up against Victoria and she was making small movements on your waist, you had to fight the urge to lean into her touch. “You sure are beautiful tonight, I hope he wasn’t bothering you”. you could feel her smirk on the back of your ear making you shiver. You turned around and looked at her, mesmerized by her brown eyes. “I think he was terrified you were going to pop his head”. “Hmm I could make that happen if that’s what you want” she said in a low tone. Her being a supe was no suprise to you, in fact it kind of turned you on, but in no way were you going to let her know that. “I don’t think we need to take such a drastic measure darling”. The nickname slipping out while you kept looking at her lips. If she wanted to play this game, you were gonna play right back. “I think.. we should probably go home..” said Victoria while keeping a hand around your waist, dragged you two to the car, where her driver waiting.

Once you two were in the car, she didn’t waste any time before crashing her lips on yours. Moaning in surprise, your hands quickly grabbing her biceps and deepened the kiss. She pulls back first, her breath short and her pupils blown. You practically felt her vibrate underneath your touch. You decided to stop and catch your breath as you were approaching your house. As soon as you got out of the car and into the house, Victoria was grabbing you by the waist and kissing you like she was hungry for you. "Upstairs. Now." she said in a raspy voice, turning you on even more. You don’t even know how you made it to her room before she was pushing you to the edge of the bed. You were trying to get her out of that damn blazer, needing to see more of her. "not so fast baby, i want my way with you first." She reached to your back slowly unzipping your dress and watching it fall on the floor. "You are so beautiful… " You could feel her gaze ravaging your body, making you blush. She pushed you back on the bed, her mouth coming up to leave a trail of kisses on your neck, making her way to your breast. You were so glad to have worn that front-clasp bra, watching her take it off in a hurry before taking your right nipple in her mouth. You couldn’t help but arch into her mouth, a low moan escaping from you. You could feel her smirk on your skin, driving you even more crazy. She kept sucking and licking, her other hand playing with your other tit before switching to give each one the same attention. "Victoria…" you rasped out. She continue her trail of kisses all over your stomach, stopping when she reached the band of your underwear. She came up to look at you, seeing red marks all over and smiling at all her work. "My pretty girl, tell me what you want". You almost forgot that for five months, she hadn’t once looked at you with desire but here she was standing between your legs, hands caressing your thighs. She slowly leaned in and whispered in your ear. "Do you know how hard it was to resist you whenever i saw you around the house. All i wanted to do was take you right here right there." You let out a shaky breath at her words, feeling her kiss your jaw and softly squeezing your neck. "Tell me what you want", god the way she was looking at you, you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper. "c’mon now, don’t be shy baby". "Victoria, please" she chuckled at the way you were pleading for her, her right hand toying with your underwear. "Please what? Use your words" her hand was trailing closer to your center, almost bucking into her hand. "Just touch me please!"

Not needing to be told twice, she quickly got rid of your underwear and sank to her knees, coming face to face with your dripping cunt. "Are you always this wet for me baby? Do you walk around the house waiting for me to fuck you hm?" Her voice was driving you crazy and she knew it. You sit up on your elbow as she slowly licks up to your clit, applying pressure, making your head fall back in a moan. She starts sucking and licking at you until your a panting mess under her. She comes up to your face and you groan at the loss of contact. Before you could even speak, you felt her fingers teasing your entrance. "Stop… teasing" your voice was breathy and filled with want. You needed her. She finally slid her fingers into you, making you grab the sheets, feeling her other hand grip your hips in a possessive manner. Victoria let out a small fuck at feeling you around her fingers. She picked up her pace while kissing your chest again and then your stomach. "Victoria, oh my god" you let out a chocked moan at what she was doing to you. She lifted your left leg over her shoulder before dipping her mouth on your core. The feeling of her tongue and her fingers were driving you so close to the edge. You felt her knuckles deep inside you, the tip of her fingers pressing on that spot. She knew you were close, she could feel it in the way you were practically riding her face and gripping her hair. She pulled her mouth away from you and you felt her breath on your clit "Let go baby, won't you be good and cum for me?" before latching at you again. You couldn’t take it anymore, the tension in your lower abdomen getting stronger with your climax building. "Victoria, don’t stop". You were pleading, not even trying to keep your moans to yourself, feeling her everywhere. Victoria’s fingers moved faster, her thrusts becoming more urgent. Her tongue was doing tricks on you. "imgonnacumohmygod" and there you were coming undone on her fingers and she was lapping up at you, not letting any drop go to waste. Her fingers came to a slow, letting you ride your high before stopping completely and slowly pulling out. You felt empty at the loss of her. "Open your eyes baby", you tried but your vision was still blurry. After a few try, you saw Victoria hovering over you, sucking her finger dry of you, and that alone made you almost cum again.

She helped you up, making you straddle her. Her hands ran up and down on your sides, sending a shiver down your spine. "You know you’re mine. My wife." "You belong to me, and i’m gonna make sure you don’t forget it". Her voice was dripping in possessiveness, pulling you down for a kiss. The night was going to be long.

#victoria neuman #victoria neuman x reader #Victoria neuman fanfic #Victoria neuman smut #lesbian smut #smut #the boys

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vyzz-undercover · 4 months ago

Text

the voices have made this happen

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(5,900ish words) (OUUGHHHHH)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon

•hints of size kink [obligatory]

•vaginal fingering

•oral [f receiving]

•mild possessive behaviour

•the consequences of ignoring important medical devices

•mentions of (hypothetical) torture

•tumblrs recurringly cancerous formatting

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im back on my bullshit after having to do overnights so as payment to the dark gods of whoring and degeneracy i humbly offer this taglist of sweet darling who've indulged my insanity: @the-raven-lady, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @bispecsual, @lemon-russ, @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @egrets-not-regrets, @moodymisty, @sinistermojo, @justeverythingnothingelse, @pluvio-tea, @thevoidscreams, @beckyninja, @yestheantichrist!!! if you wanna be tagged (or not) in the next let me know!!! also it may take me longer to do a part four to this namely because ive got more wageslaving ahead of me soon but alas i'll definitely have rowboat girlyman catch em. also maybe give cato some top. myehehehehe,,, AND THANK YOU FOR READING AS USUAL ILY ALL!!! :3

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Cato is just about leaving.

After having spent the better part of an hour discussing the predicted destruction pathway of a hive-fleet on the system's rim with his Father; it sends his balls into his throat when you nearly run into him in the chamber's huge archway.

It only takes a fraction of a second to catalogue your presence.

You're wearing the same utilitarian blue robe as you had been last week again.

Last week, when he'd been pounding you insensible on a lounge in the library—Cato promptly quashes the insidious memory, smothering down any sort of reaction. But there is a change in comparison to the dizzying reminder: there's a new addition to the reoccurring outfit.

You've brought a navy, high-collared turtleneck into the mix, layered below your lapels.

So, the efforts of his mouth hadn't gone unheeded, then.

Throne, if he's not smug, he's got no bloody clue what he is.

Cato steps aside and turns to allow you entrance first before his exit.

"Commander Sicarius," you lilt with a soft voice and a small downward tip of your chin, all while holding his gaze.

He's transfixed periodically at the honeyed sort of warmth in your eyes.

Despite himself, he lingers and greets you with a slow, "Lady Ambassador."

The left side of his mouth twitches upward in a half-aborted smirk that he quickly tries to mask as a stern, frown-nod combination.

You break the staring match and Cato's confident he's salvaged his slip-up without detection.

Or not—because oh, fuck—if he doesn't feel the burning focus of a Primarch's eyes boring a hole into the side of his head like a brand.

It only lasts an instant, but the second is an eternity to him.

Of course, you're oblivious to this subtle exchange—and promptly trot past him to his Father's vast desk.

"My Lord Primarch," you say with a curt little bow; and then Guilliman's attention is solely on you, his favourite little pet project. "I read the data-drives you instructed from the preceding article logging. I've arranged them back to the most recent mark counts."

You're looking for an empty spot to lay them on his table, but with all the meticulously arranged stacks, it's none too easy to find one.

"Perfect," the Primarch breaths, "Just on the side there is fine, don't worry."

Obligingly, you lay them atop a small mountain of paperwork.

"Do you need anything else of me, my Lord?" You chirp brightly, the tone of your voice so very painfully sweet—Cato is nearly overwhelmed fighting a pitched battle against the urge to run over, pick you up and shake you around suddenly.

Guilliman chuckles, waving one massive hand about vaguely, "You've done more than enough for me today, why don't we leave it at that for now, hm? Go on."

"Of course; thank you, and have a good evening, my Lord," You say, bow once more, and turn on your heel from the Primarch, and—and smile at Cato as you walk back towards the exit. That's—that's the first time you've smiled at him. His twin hearts lurch, slamming forward against the inside of his fused chest cavity. It's perfect abominable. You rotten temptress, he's—he's going to rectify that audacity later. Or now, if you're... possibly heading the same direction he is. Which is whatever direction you're going, purely by chance.

It's merely coincidence, he swears.

He's certainly not planning on hounding after you like a dog tailing a bitch in heat.

He's certainly not going to drag you into a side room the second he's sure no-one with a credible opinion's around.

He's certainly not going to indulge in anything heretical, like bending you bare over his knee for daring to taunt him.

Cato makes as if to fall in step behind you as you pass the threshold before him, but is quickly halted by his Father's curt, "I do not believe you have been dismissed, Cato."

He's never been subjected to such sinking dread quite so nonchalantly.

"Approach."

Cato complies stuffily, sparing a glance at your figure disappearing down the corridor before acquiescing. He's practically dragging his ceramite boots across the intricate rugs as he nears the Primarch's seated but colossal form.

Guilliman isn't looking at him, having had returned to notating a miscellaneous form.

The scritch-scratch of his gene-sire's preferred, yet archaic method of manually writing on the parchment is like someone grating a plate with a fork to his ears right now.

"You've gotten over your petty grievances regarding the Ambassador at last, I take it?" Guilliman asks, without looking up.

It is not Cato's duty to like or dislike. Nor is it to be biased without reason—his opinions are to be intellectual, not emotional. His duty is to assess, analyse and provide feedback, so that his Primarch can take it into account when making rulings and decisions.

Cato swallows around the proverbial hunk of drywall lodged in his throat and answers, "She has proven herself... useful, yes, sire."

Guilliman finally meets his eyes but says nothing for a short while. There's dark bags under his Primarch's eyes, and the deep, stern crease permanently between his dark blonde brows is a slight bit harsher, but the only thing Cato can parse out of the expression's intent is a vague sense of knowing. Because, insofar, he's thought himself quite adept at reading his Primarch; and rather well versed in deciphering the intricacies of his moods.

And right now, he feels like he's being read like an open manuscript.

The daunting prospect Cato's caught sinks it's teeth in his gullet. It's impossible, he's not left any room for suspicion, he's covered his tracks—there's no logical reason why he should be getting raked with such a look.

His gene-sire isn't a psyker nor omniscient, just impossibly intelligent—and so absurdly good at the mathematics of plotting and planning that it only appears superficially as if he is all-seeing. He can't possibly know what Cato has been doing—or rather, who he's been doing.

"It's about time," his Father hums abruptly, suddenly disinterested. "Now you're dismissed."

Cato nods, turns on his boot heel, and nigh bolts marches out the room. His proverbial tail definitely not between his legs.

The hall outside Guilliman's apartments is a central domed area that functions as a meeting area, where people go to one of six looming hallways. It's the bottom of a series of levels; and above, three echelons encircled by arcades and balustrades, framed on the exterior by engaged columns.

But the structure itself is immense and ancient, even by Imperial standards. One of the few still-original, unaltered parts of the great Gloriana-class warship's innards. It is doused in long swathes of red carpet and great standards of Magcraggian note, alongside glorious, heroic frescoes depicting Legiones Astartes in their thousands, crusading across the heavens with the Emperor their head.

Cato keeps his head down as he passes them, uneasy with guilt. Feeling as if their lenses are following him—intent on venturing into the lower layers to brood.

Several Astartes are hovering about amongst the personnel and serfs. The baselines look up at him in awe, and his Brothers nod in respect, but he pays them all no mind.

The furthest corridor beckons him, and so he goes; down the complex system of broad walks with high, barrel vault ceilings, mazing through the vessel's higher clearance reaches like arteries through a body.

Cato is seething, and self-admittedly itching to take a howler of a swing at the next thing that speaks to him.

He cuts down the southern channel and sees one of his subordinate Victrix Guard lingering in the middle of a groin vault intersection.

The younger Astartes is about to continue straight, yet he pauses.

Brother Marcellus meets Cato's eyes for a second, clearly notes his Commander's absolutely stinking mood from a hundred meters off; nods, swallows, takes a step backward—and changes direction to go left rather than pass him.

Cato's too pissed to even linger on the strangeness of the action.

Still, he doesn't rightly blame him.

Cato strides on, back straight, chin up—the red shawl pinned beneath his pauldrons swirling behind him.

His thoughts are eating at him the whole while.

He's sure his Primarch is just trying to innocently divine his sudden change of mind regarding you. There's no way his Father's aware of why. And yet, guilt is a big black wolf nipping at his ankles, making him hasten; and unease clouds about his heart. He's mortified, for lack of a better word.

The full implications of the situation are too enormous to be faced all at once; so he picks the smallest, most banal facet he can think of.

That being, you.

You, who he'll never see again if his Primarch finds out.

You, who's practically damned him without knowing it.

You, who he's now valiantly trying not to imagine in a hundred different circumstances where he gets away with it all. Each one more heretical than the last—it's like it was before he'd managed a hand on you: his body giving in to suffocating delusions, sleepless in his cot; lapping at whatever scant, lust-soaked morsels his mind offers up.

One of his favourites remains you scantily clad beneath a moonlit night sky, on the parapet of his ancestral fortress on the coastal edge of Perusia.

He likes to fantasise you like it there.

He suspects you would.

He knows just about all there is to know about you on paper, and wonders if you know much of Talassar. Or if you've read about Castra Tanagra. He assumes Guilliman would share the tale of that famed old battle with you as a part of your readings.

Each impossible reverie is a new shiny nail in his coffin, or dreadnaut—it depends where and how he dies, and if there's anything scrape up of him when he eventually goes down in a blaze of glory and duty, and honour.

If his Primarch catches him, there's going to be none of that.

He'll be struck from living record, like Titus had been. Cato would be lucky to get a little plaque in the deepest pits of the Fortress of Hera. Reduced to a whispered memory of his achievements passed solemnly between Captains, followed up with words of disappointment. Of waste. Until his memory dies with them and his deeds fade into obscurity, lost to any new brothers.

The fate that awaits you would somehow be worse. Cato was always going to die in war, as was his right—but you—you were not fashioned for such things. Yes, Guilliman enjoys you, but that fact won't save you. Just like it won't save Cato for all his usefulness. You'd be tried as a heretic, as a source of corruption upon the Legiones, and you'd be made to suffer; because torture ever comes before execution. You're so very soft weak in so very many ways. Your life lived in a gilded cage, without pain nor discomfort that extends further than grating professional grievances—he doesn't want to imagine the sound of you screaming, but he does.

He cannot stand the thought.

The sudden urge to barricade you in his chambers for permanent safe keeping is all-consuming.

It's suddenly all he can think about.

He has to find you.

The amount of serfs passing and parting to allow his passage thin out to nothing.

Even from the sterile confines of one of the many winding hallways, Cato abruptly swears he can hear the echoed rush of sandals—your sandals—reverberating off the floor.

He hadn't notice you following behind immediately because, damn it, he's spiralling thinking.

He chances a confrontation, and rounds about-face.

You stand there in the middle of the empty hallway like you've got a bolter aimed at you, frozen.

"Come here," he says, clipped.

You do not.

"Come here."

Again, no compliance.

"Do you pride yourself on being a idiot?" His voice is scathing now, taking a heavy step into your space and being met by you staying stock stiff, still. "Do you have any idea what that stunt of yours earlier might incur?"

"What?" You blink, finally animating. "I didn't do anything—"

"You know what you did," he hisses, accusatory. "You're hollow between the ears, but you're not blind."

Lips pursing tightly in mental deliberation, you make a fey noise of annoyance as a little frown graces your features, apparently not deigning to offer a comment back.

"Do you not understand that... this," he gesticulates between you both and his voice falls to a whisper. "This... is not common allowance?"

"It's not?"

Are you being intentionally dense at this point, or is it just second nature?

Cato raises a hand to knead the crease between his brows, "No."

"That explains a lot, actually," you say, seemingly without any real comprehension on the gravity of the matter. "I couldn't find any notes or references on it."

He's genuinely stunned, "Is that what you were doing when—"

"When I was rudely interrupted," you cut in, the comment is nigh a spat insult.

Cato isn't sure what to say to that sudden display of spine, and grumbles.

He surmises the optimal action is complete disregard.

Therefore, he has no problem turning on the heel of his sabatons and starting his pace on again.

"So... this isn't normal by Astartes standards?"

He's taken aback at your abrupt want for conversation after all that. Namely because it's atypical. You never attempted small talk with him. You never do anything but scurry off when he's accosted you for you flagrant overstepping—wait.

He feels as if the paradigm between you both has shifted again since the last time for some reason. More than last time, actually. More than you just simply having the audacity to backtalk him.

It's like some symptom of a deeper sickness rising to the surface.

It makes him unreasonably curious suspicious.

He wants to see just how much ground you'll give, so he plays along and answers, "Not as far as I am aware, no."

You hum, and immediately are at it again, posturing, "Surely you have heard of cases of it happening?"

"I have not," Cato says, and you hum in consideration.

You're satisfied at that information for a brief while, but then he remembers you cannot shut your mouth for more than five minutes, and purses his lips. He's already tiring of your incessant questioning.

"But you'd done it before?"

And that's just great.

You've expertly found an exposed nerve.

More kindling on the bonfire of him having an aneurysm before the cycle's end.

Cato can feel the hint of pressure behind his eyes as he begins increasing his walking speed. "I don't think that is a relevant question."

You haste to stay in step, "It definitely is."

"You ought to learn a civil fucking tongue when you're addressing me, woman," he bites out, nose crinkling into a sneer.

Unperturbed by his short-tempered comment, another thoughtful little 'hmm' slips out of you.

"So, to conclude... you were as inexperienced as I was at the start, and all those gloating insults back then were just projection?" You suddenly blurt out at rather impressive speed, like a politician possessed—before finishing with, "Sorry, 'all those gloating insults back then were just projection,' Commander Sicarius."

Cato grits his teeth and feels his eye twitch.

He stops, turns to look over his pauldron, and stares bloody murder.

He can't even imagine the idiocy in your brain that gave you the imprimatur to say that aloud.

But Throne, the sly little glint in your pretty eyes suddenly has his face thudding with heat.

Then you smile at him for the second time ever.

Cato bites back the urge to ogle you dumbly, and actually feels himself thicken in his body-glove in real time, because oh, fuck—his hind brain practically pelts him across the jaw with the mental pict of that sweet mouth lathing up the side of his cock.

Mentally unseated for a moment, his brows furrow; and he quickly turns away, applying himself entirely to the task of trudging down the stagings.

The silence is a breath of fresh air.

Even if he can still hear your laboured breathing a few steps back him from him. You're straining to keep up with his pace, and it's an excellent punishment for you. His heavy sabatons clank-clank-clank on the steel decking, and your little shoes practically pitter-patter in contrast. It's a syncopated rhythm that he's absentmindedly trying to match—and when he lingers for a step he manages to even the beat out.

He hangs a left, and scales the wide stairs to the open intersection platform above two at a time; trying not to snort amusedly at the little groan you let out as you hurry up them behind him, heaving.

Cato realises abruptly that you're actually, really, seriously following him—and pretending you're not.

He makes a right at the top and then waits for you to fall in step.

And, pointedly, he then turns and doubles back around.

You stand there stupefied for a moment, before grumbling softly and continuing down the thoroughfare without him.

If his observation skills hold any weight, he heads straight into the nearest open room and waits for you to follow.

He doesn't activate the locking mechanism on the other side on purpose when he strides in, and lets the sliding door close behind him.

This particular room is forgettable in its ubiquitousness, though unusual. He has no idea of it's actual intended purpose. It's fitted with screens and database terminals as if it's for debriefing purposes, but he has no real way of confirming. What he can catalogue is that there's wraparound surfaces littered with candles. A few strips of harsh lighting and scant furniture—a tallish counter and a few long benches. They're thankfully Astartes sized.

Which means he can sit down and pray for you to walk right into the metaphorical snare he's just laid.

Not a minute later, the door's sliding mechanism triggers and you scurry through—only to promptly go stiff.

You stare at him like a rat he's just found by lifting a crate.

The mechanism shuts automatically behind you and it apparently spooks you enough to jump a little.

"You're disgustingly predictable," he harrumphs, unimpressed.

A flush rises to your face as you scowl, "You're disgustingly predictable," you shoot back, echoing his words.

Of course, that audacity of yours leads to a short stalemate.

He huffs out a sigh as he concedes out of sheer frustration and says, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one."

You blink dumbly at him, "...what?"

"It's my locking code," he growls, and Throne, you must be acting stupid just to grate him; because there's no way your brain is so smooth as to not connect the dots. "It's for the door, moron."

A soft 'ohh' leaves you as you turn and step aside to the key pad fixed into the frame.

"Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," he's agonisingly forced to say once again.

"Three-nine-five-eight-eight-two-seven-one..." you mumble to yourself.

Cato hears an angry beep and suddenly wants to smash his head into a wall repeatedly.

Grinding his molars, he snarls, "Three-seven-five-eight-eight-two-nine-one," and then adds, "If I have to repeat that one more time, I'm going to throw you out of the nearest airlock."

And it seems the threat of violence works wonders, because you don't bungle the input this time.

Cato sighs, exasperated, and leans back against the lip of the table behind the bench.

He ought to start carrying around a correctional stun rod. Just for whenever you annoy him. If it's good enough for a Neophyte to suffer, it's good enough for you, he supposes.

Or it'll send you into a seizing fit.

He's not to sure of the maximum voltage a baseline can take without their singular, puny little heart giving out.

One disciplinary option scratched out, then.

But he can think of many, many more to make a model Ambassador out of you. The wonders of carefully applied violence are plentiful. A little roughing up never hurts, or at least, not for long. And fuck, do you need some lessons on proper manners. He could have you smacked into shape like a show pony in no time—even if it'd be more like teaching a grox to trot lateral movements. Then again, he also believes if he stuck a frag far enough up a Carnifex's ass, he could probably get it to play Regicide.

And then pointedly, he starts thinking about your ass.

Cato is so utterly lost on the tangent of hypotheticals that he's flabbergasted when a small mouth lands on his own.

He hadn't even been paying attention.

He hadn't even noticed you'd neared.

It feels like the breath has been knocked out him at the sheer unexpectedness of it.

The kiss is hasty, your eyes scrunched shut and cheeks flushed, scowling with focus.

All the while, his mind reels because Throne, the contact of his lips to yours doesn't really feel particularly profound aside from how soft your skin is—but the intention of it is the real reward.

Cato's genuinely infuriated when you pull away.

You blink owlishly at him, giving him a cautious look like you're trying to gauge his reaction.

There are a thousand things he wants to ask, to say, but the foremost among them is but one.

"Again," he huffs, lessening the distance between you just enough to invite you back.

And he thinks that perhaps he’s abusing his station over you, but when you tentatively find a hold on his gorget to steady yourself to give him another kiss—those thoughts are all but erased from his mind. It's a curious weight off his shoulders to have you initiate and to show you want him in return, especially since it's as new to you as it is for him.

Nonetheless, he can't even imagine finding a reason to stop you, so he starts blindly mouthing; trying to coordinate around the fact he's so much larger than you.

The angle is difficult, but he's willing to follow your lead. Your body is even more fragile when he's in full armour. The risk of actually hurting you is realer than ever, but he can't help the desire to wrap an gauntlet around your waist and pull you closer to him. Thankfully, you let him when he urges you to, trembling hands flitting across his chestplate like you're unsure of what, exactly, you should be holding—and he catches the tiny line between your brows smoothing out as you risk a peek. Only for you to yelp, nervously wrenching yourself back in flustered surprise upon meeting his unwavering stare.

It's as if you expected something else.

He senses he's made a mistake of some kind.

Then he remembers from the motion-picts he's not supposed to keep glaring at you when kissing.

Regardless, he studies your face, memorising the lingering want still clearly there like his life depends on it.

He pulls you in and kisses you again, just because he can, this time brief and chaste. And then he goes for a third, fourth—fifth, each time slightly longer, until finally he rears back; and when he does you push up on your toes just a little, trying to chase him, but lose the nerve; although to Cato the reason for your faltering is, frankly, irrelevant. Because just like him, you lack the practical capacity to really know what next step you should take. Still, you look down at his armour, as if there's a latch to pull that magically undoes all his wargear.

He knows he's not going to get himself out of his armour in any reasonable way or amount of time.

There's no way he's getting the satisfaction of having you on him right now—but he still wants to keep you near.

He thinks he hears you ask for something, but he's too distracted to catch it in time.

"What?" Cato scowls, "What do you want now?"

It's clear you've been struck by your own embarrassment, strung up somewhere between shy and wanton, "I.. uh..."

"Spit it out," he rumbles.

You wince, hesitant as you mumble, "You, uh... i-in me."

Cato's brain skids to a halt. And it's the gall of that request alone that has him sweeping you up off the ground and spinning you around to sit in his lap.

It's obvious you're overwhelmed at being held to the formidably larger size of himself in full-plate. But as usual, you're yet to actively complain. Using his vambrace as a leg-bar to scoop under your thighs, he folds you in his grasp—your knees pressed to your chest as you're tucked back against his pauldron and chestplate.

The angle forces the hems of your robe aside, and he can see the underside curve of your ass; along with the plump mound of your vulva under the white of your small-clothes.

Cato's suddenly offended by their existence. You didn't wear any last time, so why now? The irritation of there being one more thing between you and him is enough justification to yank at them, tearing them loose—before throwing them aside.

You grumble sourly, which he chooses to ignore.

The palm of his gauntlet smooths across your hip, and you make a small huff as you shiver, goose-bumps suddenly covering your exposed flesh.

Cato lets the pads graze closer and closer to your sex, content to watch you impatiently glare at his armoured fingers from between the gap of your thighs.

With little preamble, he's stuffing his middle in. You're already so wet it's practically a cake-walk. Your cunt swallows down each articulating segment of his armoured finger down to the knuckle. The fact he's going to have to personally scrub your slick out from between the joints, instead of a lowly serf, is infinitely worth the shrill whine he receives as tribute.

"Would that my wargear had a zipper," he breathes, and fuck, he grins behind the obscurity of his gorget at the mournful mewl that remark earns. "I'd have you on your knees sucking for all the cunted trouble you've caused me."

You're making a warp-awful attempt at keeping yourself together, high-strung as you evidently are. Little more than a minute of him pumping his finger in and out of you has you red-faced and panting. All it takes to get those heavy breaths of yours to change into proper whines is his large thumb-pad adjusting to rest on your clit, applying pressure. You jerk, reflexively trying to buck into every motion. Fighting and failing to withhold the stuffy little moans escaping you—trying to stave off the inevitable by scrambling at the thigh plating of his power armour with one hand and tugging at his couter with the other.

Some part of Cato wants to stop solely out of spite for you being so grating earlier, or some other stupid mercurial justification of his; but instead, he simply continues, letting you squirm on his fingers.

And squirm you do.

It's clear to him the tide of it all is becoming too much for you to resist. Your sandal'd feet kick out where he's got your legs secured, joining in on the struggling as it begins anew when his thumb starts circling. It's a good sign, so he adds his pointer into you to bolster the stretch, curling in; before letting his fingers fan out inside you, stretching rather than stabbing. Your hips try to stutter forward in time with the quick thrusting of his digits, broken whimpers resonating off the room's walls. He promptly stuffs down to the knuckle and curls them again—and you all but bleat his surname as you're dragged into a fast and apparently exhausting orgasm. Just knowing he's you got you beat has his erection ache where it's trapped under the suiting and plating of his navel.

Cato can't feel you clenching through all the layers separating his skin from yours, but he knows from experience that you're seizing in fits internally—tight little cunt trying to milk a load out of an Astartes cock that should've been stuffed in you.

Just to allow himself one last bit of smugness, he scissors his fingers; giving a final swirl for good measure.

The shivered sob is worth every possible future disciplinary action he'll receive.

He pulls his gauntlet away slowly, and the wet shlick of it leaving you is almost amusingly alike pulling a blade from sinew. It's a degenerate comparison, he knows, but it's true.

Nonetheless, he splays out his hand and swallows dryly, eyeing the sticky, clear liquid webbing out and thinning between each ridge of his gauntlet'd digits.

Suddenly focused entirely on the fluid on his fingers, he pulls his vambrace barring under your knees up away. Now limp, and without the support, you slide off his lap and onto the floor in a slow slump.

"Nn-ngh," You groan weakly, face-down, legs still juddering a little.

Seeing as you're preoccupied, Cato doesn't even dignify the concept of hesitation, and promptly jams his fingers in his mouth—lathing the aftermath of your orgasm from them. And Throne, the taste of your hormones make him groan. He's absolutely stunned, unsure of how to act. He's so fucking stupid, why didn't he do this earlier? He's practically drugged by the omophagic aftereffect—getting off on your second hand bliss. Some sort of fey feedback loop in his brain catalysing his next decision solely on instinct.

He clambers to the floor and gets to his knees guards, securing a mitt on your bared thigh to roll you onto your back.

Apparently boneless with afterglow, you're easy to manhandle.

You barely have the strength to do much more than crane your head up at him and whine as he arranges your thighs apart, settling on his front between them with a warp-awful clank; before lifting your legs up to rest onto either lip of his gorget.

You try to scud back on your ass suddenly, but are quickly halted when he holds you fast by the hip.

He raises a confused brow.

"I-Isn't—" you start, still gathering the scraps of your brain together so soon post-orgasm, "Isn't y-your saliva acid?"

Cato suddenly wants to cuff you on the ear, "Who the hell told you that?"

"M-Master Calgar," you mumble.

Oh, of course, the gossiping hen.

He's going to have words with the Lord Defender of Greater Ultramar the next time they meet—words like 'for fuck sakes, stop scaring the woman he's trying to eat out with talk of Betcher's gland, Marneus,' come to mind, but then Cato realises that doesn't sound like he's not fucking you, so he quickly settles on: 'stop dignifying the Ambassador's hundred-and-one insane questions.'

"Not Ultramarines," Cato manages not to snarl, "It's a vestigial organ in most of us."

Your voice is shaky as you parrot, "Most of us?"

"Yes," He grunts, and promptly buries his face in your cunt.

The disproportion in size is painfully apparent when he realises his whole damned tongue is able to drag a stripe up the entire splay of you with minimal effort.

The pitched gasp he wins out of you is pure sin, and he's on the brink of swooning; but then you're running your trap again.

"Please, d-don't tell me you're one that can spit acid—" you manage to warble, seemingly still stuck on the topic.

Cato sighs as he's forced to pull away from your vulva, "I think you're forgetting I had my tongue on your tonsils in the library."

"Th-that's different," you stammer. "That's not as sensitive."

A long, unimpressed deadpan paints itself on his face.

"So," he starts with a bated hiss, "And let me be perfectly clear in this—you believe your vagina is more susceptible to burns than your mouth?"

Your face transforms into a strange mix of embarrassed and angry.

"I didn't say that—"

"Yes, you did," Cato grumbles.

"Did not," you huff.

"You—you just fucking did," he snaps, frustrated enough that he can feel one of the veins at his temple bulge. "The implication is obvious, you insufferable little whore."

You snort, but stay silent.

The argument appears, for all intents and purposes, to be finished.

"Did not," you say abruptly once more, pouting.

Cato's eyes roll back in his skull as he grits his teeth.

"Throne of Terra, if you don't drop the subject, acid in your cunt will be the least of your worries," he all but snarls, and that apparently quietens you enough that he can get back to lapping at you—the flat of his tongue running over your clit and earning a jolt.

He wraps his lips around the pink little nub and sucks. And that's all it apparently takes to make up for his amateur career in the practice.

You siphon down a sharp breath and let out a garbled cry, hips canting forward into his mouth—to which he obligingly stuffs his tongue into your slick entrance.

There's a satisfaction well beyond simple pleasure that swamps him at the way your thighs shake either side of his head. His own breath is hot about him, stuffy and dizzying; and the skin pressed against his cheeks is warm and smooth.

You're panting when he goes back to lapping over your clit, perching yourself up on a bent elbow and reaching out a hand.

Your fingers card through the messed brown hair atop his head. And he stiffens without realising—but he realises something: like this, the touch is ecstasy—pure, golden ecstasy. Every bit of higher thought in his head evaporates when you stroke him again.

A long, rumbling subvocal moan tears from him.

The infrasound vibration makes you buck weakly into his mouth again, teary eyed afore him as he adjusts his grip on you and crawls closer.

He's suddenly acutely aware that in this new, much more prone position, he's able to grind his body armour into his groin guard pressed on the floor. And as soon as the action bears results—namely a scorching burr of pleasure racing up his spine—he's deadset on rutting against the ground like a slavering beast.

He's frotting himself at a pace so rabid it'd be cruel to subject your cunt to. It's brutal, and the harsh scraping sound of plasteel on steel only further proves that. It's just frantic lust—he's desperate.

It's complete insanity how close to finishing he is so quickly.

Not as close as you, though.

He can feel how your legs jump with each pass of his tongue; and then you're unraveling in front of his very eyes.

"I-I can't—I can't, S-Sicarius, I-I—" You ramble, dazed, trying to get away as he works you right through it, sobbing and oversensitive while he's rutting himself closer and closer to his own end.

It all comes to a head when your fingers dig into his hair, tugging—and his brain is overrun with static. A drawn out groan scathes from his maw as any sense of rhythm scatters like light through a prism. For a fraction of a second, the pleasure is serene.

Then it's abject agony, he feels—he feels like Roboute Guilliman himself has just taken a running start and kicked him in the balls.

"F-Fuck–ing—gh—" he chokes, vision swimming, straining against the tide of the torment. His back arches up, and he curls inward on himself; white-hot pain clocking his nervous system into overdrive. Every muscle in his abdomen is doused in acid. He's tolerated being shot, stabbed, burnt without so much as blinking—but this is an entirely new and entirely different sort of wound. It's like he's pissing promethium. It's—it's the catheter, he realises. He'd forgotten about the bloody catheter jammed up his cock.

Through the searing ordeal, he manages to force his armour's facilities to finally abide his impulses and dose him with a pain dampener.

And then everything's fine.

He opens eyes he wasn't aware he'd closed and finds your face has suddenly gotten far closer to his.

"S-Sicarius?" You stammer, and there's an honest panic in your voice. "Sicarius, p-please, please—a-are you okay?"

He realises he's on his back, and you're sitting beside him, half draped on his chestplate, frantically trying to figure out what's wrong with him to no avail.

You've leaned in so close he can feel your rushed breathing.

"I'm fine," Cato groans, and you sputter out a sigh.

"I-I don't know what happened, I-I—" you're still wildly confused and raving, and he inhales deeply; only to be greeted by the sour animal stink of fear practically dripping from you.

Cato rolls his tongue around inside his mouth and cringes knowingly at the foaming side-effect of the chem he'd self-administered, the acrid taste mixed with your slick is certainly not an ideal cocktail.

The sincerity of concern behind your reaction is baffling. He's not made of glass, for fuck sakes—and he's a bit pissy about the fact you'd actually fallen victim to the idea of him suffering some grievous injury so easily. But he supposes where there's a will of baseline overreaction, there's a way.

"You're acting like a child, woman. Pull yourself together," he sighs hoarsely, hoping the comment jars you out of your hysteria—or at the very least scares you off.

It does exactly neither, and you sidle in closer and rest your cheek on his jaw.

It’s an action so overwhelmingly horribly affectionate that it would’ve been a crime to not press into it with a lean of his head. Or, at least, that's the half-assed justification he tells himself.

Because he's loving enduring your attention, not seeking it; and therefore only humouring you when he lifts a hand and settles the wide splay of it on your flank as a comfort.

He shouldn't be, but he is.

#warhammer 40k x reader #warhammer 40k #reader insert #warhammer fanfic #cato sicarius #space marine x reader #cato sicarius x reader #writing #ultramarines #cato 'im going to kill the next person i fucking see' sicarius #*squeaky noise*#ambassador 'omg hiiiii'#FUCKKK #anyways #roboute guilliman #i am so fucking sorry you have to deal with this shit baby girl #also LMFAO I DO THINK CALGAR LOOOOVES A GOOD BITCHING SESSION

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wholoveseggs · 3 months ago

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Kinktober - {Day Fifteen} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Rebekah Mikaelson x F!Reader} Request {Anon}:hiii love !!! ive got a request for kinktober :) For Rebekah mikaelson, that reader suprises her (on a special day maybe) in their bedroom with lingerie. Preferably with praise kink, overstimulation and blood sharing / drinking 🤭🤭

♡♡♡ Rebekah is a sapphic vampire dream ♡♡♡

1.1k words - Kinks: Rebekah's birthday surprise, pillowprincess!Reader {lol ~ I don't know any other way.... regardless of gender}, lingerie, praise, overstim && blood sharing...

Soft twinkle lights were strung across the dark ceiling, the glow illuminating the dimly lit room. The curtains were drawn closed, the air filled with the subtle scent of roses and candles. Rebekah's favorite songs were playing quietly through the speaker system.Everything was perfect, just how you planned it.

You had made sure that Rebekah would be out of the house long enough for you to set up the room. And when you sent her the text, telling her that she needed to come home, she didn't know what she would find waiting for her.

Rebekah opened the door to the bedroom, her eyes widening when she saw you.

"Hi, my love." You smiled, sitting up a bit on the bed. You were wearing a new baby pink lace bra and panty set, with thigh high white socks and matching garter belts.

Rebekah stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind her. She was smiling widely, her eyes looking you up and down. "Hello, darling. This is quite a surprise."

"Happy birthday, Bekah." You stood up, wrapping your arms around her neck and kissing her deeply. "I wanted to do something special for you."

"Well, this is certainly something." Rebekah smirked, her hands going to your hips and squeezing lightly. "You look absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank you." You smiled. "Do you want some champagne? Or... maybe we could just skip to dessert?"

Rebekah bit her lip, her hand caressing your cheek. "Champagne first, I think. We have all night to celebrate, darling."

You grinned, reaching over and grabbing the bottle of champagne. You took a sip before handing it to her.

"What kind is it?" Rebekah asked, taking the bottle from you.

"I don't know, Elijah picked it out." You replied, sitting back down on the bed.

"He has great taste when it comes to alcohol." Rebekah smirked, taking a big drink of the champagne. "Delicious."

"Mhm, it tastes better on your lips." You said, pulling her in for another kiss.

The two of you spent the next hour talking, laughing, and drinking the champagne. By the time the bottle was empty, Rebekah had you pinned beneath her on the bed. Her lips were hot on yours, her hands wandering over every inch of skin she could reach.

"I love this little outfit you have on." She whispered against your mouth, her fingers playing with the edge of your panties. "So pretty and delicate. Just like you."

You moaned softly as she trailed kisses along your jaw, down your neck and onto your collarbone.

"But I bet it would look even better on the floor."

You chuckled, pushing her off of you slightly so you could reach behind and unhook your bra.

"Better?" You asked, letting the bra fall to the floor.

Her eyes darkened with lust as she looked at your bare breasts, her hands quickly cupping them and squeezing gently. "Much better."

She lowered her head, flicking her tongue over one of your nipples. She sucked gently, eliciting a moan from you. Her other hand was trailing up your thigh, teasingly brushing against your panties.

"Bekah, please." You whined, bucking your hips up, desperate for friction.

"Please what, my love?" Rebekah smirked, moving lower and pressing kisses along your stomach.

She loved to tease you, but she was running out of patience herself.

"I need you." You panted, your fingers tangling in her blonde hair.

"How bad do you want me?" Rebekah purred, her fingers finally sliding under your panties. She traced your slit with her finger, her eyes never leaving yours.

She didn't need a response from you. She could tell exactly how bad you wanted her, just by looking at your flushed cheeks and the way you were squirming underneath her.

She hooked her fingers into the sides of your panties and tugged them down, tossing them aside. She kissed along your inner thighs, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your back arched, a loud moan escaping your lips as her mouth finally made contact with your clit. She sucked gently, teasing you. She knew exactly what you liked, and how to make you beg.

"Bekah," You moaned, grinding against her face.

She continued to suck, her tongue circling your clit slowly.

"Oh fuck," You groaned, your grip on her hair tightening.

Her fingers entered you, pumping in and out slowly, curling and hitting the spot that made you see stars.

You came undone beneath her, her name spilling from your lips over and over again. She hummed against your clit, lapping up every drop. You pulled her head away from your core, her lips shiny with your wetness.

"I love the sounds you make when you come, darling." She murmured, pressing kisses along your thighs. "Such a pretty little thing."

You sat up, pulling her into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue.

"That was amazing." You said, panting softly, tugging on her dress, wanting to feel her bare skin. "But you're overdressed."

"Well then, why don't you do something about it?" Rebekah smirked, sitting back and watching as you eagerly tugged her dress over her head.

As soon as her clothes were off she pulled you into her lap, kissing you hungrily. Your hands ran along her curves, her smooth skin feeling like velvet under your touch.

She kissed your neck, biting down and making you gasp.

"You are mine, darling. Every inch of you." She whispered, her voice low and husky.

"Yours." You breathed, shivering in pleasure as she sank her fangs into your neck.

You loved when she drank from you, it felt better than anything you had ever experienced. It was intoxicating, her fangs sending shocks of pleasure throughout your entire body.

She moaned as she drank, her hand moving down between you. Her fingers teased your entrance, making you buck against her.

"Fuck," She panted, pulling away from your neck and licking the remaining blood off her lips.

She pushed her fingers inside you, her thumb circling your clit. You watched her bite down on her own wrist, presenting her blood to you.

You wrapped your lips around her wrist, sucking greedily. The sweet taste of her blood sent waves of pleasure through you, your orgasm building quickly.

"There we go, my love, we are one." Rebekah said, watching your face as you came, your body trembling with ecstasy.

"Fuck, I love you." You panted, holding onto her tightly as you came down from your high.

"I love you too, darling." Rebekah smiled, kissing your forehead. "That was quite the gift. Thank you."

"Oh, I'm not done," You said, pulling her back down to the bed and on top of you. "We're just getting started."

"Is that so?" Rebekah chuckled, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Oh yeah." You smirked, rolling her over onto her back. "It's your birthday, after all."

{<- kinktober masterlist}

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 7 months ago

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Offerings

a/n I would say don’t ask cause my brain works on its own accord. Thanks to @twilighttowayvision for listening to me yap and making me write this. 🤍✨🫧🤝🏻🙂‍↕️

summary: this is loosely based on worship. Our oc is a back vocalist for ST and her and the boys aren’t afraid to get handsy on stage. The problem however is that she catches an eye of another band. So when Noah from bad omen wants her to be the guest act in one of his shows emotions run high. Jealousy bubbles. Pretty white jaws get bloody.

warning: sexual tension, sexual behavior implications, brat goodness.

Sleep token boys x reader

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The pre-show prep had been slow today. Mostly because you had enough time to get most of the stuff up and running in the couple of days that you’ve spent here. Meaning that there had been no running around, no packed sound checking, and no feeling of needing to be at four places at one time. So you had made yourself comfortable on one of the backstage sofas. Scrolling through different group chats you had going on with the whole sleep token crew.

That’s when you came across the endless links Espera had sent you. “Tell me that you’ve seen this," the message read, followed by heaps of emoji that made no sense. You frowned slightly, clicking on the first link. And it’s not what you expected. A moment of confusion turned into shock before a grin spread onto your face. You quickly sat up, pressing on another link. A video after video played on and on until you were biting your lip.

“What are you smiling at?”, the sound of a iii’s voice nearly made you drop your phone.“Nothing," you answered a tad bit too enthusiastically, instantly making your bandmate narrow his eyes at you. “Yeah, right. You look like a Christmas tree," iv he huffed, pulling a towel from over his head as he dried his curls. You could lie. You couldn’t if you were being realistic. Their bullshit radar was too good for that. A half-truth might do the trick. Might… “Girls sent over this video," you shrugged, glancing back at your phone and trying really hard not to let your cheeks flame.

“Oh, no… another thirst trap of us," ii grinned as he too stepped into the room, reaching for the beverage fridge. “You don’t need to drool over us via screen, baby girl," iii he cackled, wiggling his eyebrows. Striking one pose after another. He flexed his muscles as if he was indeed attending a competition of sorts. You couldn’t help but cackle at him.

“Got the real deal in blood and flesh right in front of you, darling," iv plopped down on the sofa, next to you, leaning in suggestively. You pushed back at his chest. “Not self-obsessed one bit," he simply shrugged, that shit-eating grin shining bright. “Give me that." You didn’t even notice ii coming to your other side before your phone was in his hands, fingers flying over the numbers on your lock screen. “Hey, no." You moved to stand up, but iv wrapped his arms around your middle, bringing you back down. This time onto his lap. Arms snacking over your middle. “You all suck," you growled, knowing full well that they were going to be met with.

“Yeah, if I could, I would steal the Siren," the voice on the screen filled the room and you don’t have to know it all to notice the way the three of them instantly looked at one another. Piecing together everything that had been happening. “Have you seen her? Her vocals would fit into most of our songs." A light groan left IV's lips as Noah’s voice continued to bleed into the background. iii’s arms were crossed over his chest. There was no gleam of amusement in his eyes. It’s ii who seemed delighted with this. But not in a you-go-girl kind of way. Oh no, he knew what shitstorm this was going to cause. And to help with your matters, Vessel and Esperas casually stroll backstage as well.

“We’re working on getting her on our side; I’d die a happy man if she brought her worshiping to our stage." That was enough to make Vess halt. “What the fuck was that?”, he huffed, walking towards ii, glancing at the phone in his hands. “Bullshit, that’s what that was," iii said, shaking his head, leaning back against the wall in frustration. "Oh, come on," the girls laughed in unison, “a boy has a crush." Your eyes grew big as you shook your head with a hiss, “Girls.”

“Has a crush, my ass!", iv practically growled, hands tightening on your thighs, but you were quick to peel his hands off you. “Now who’s being hypocritical?" You stood up, narrowing your eyes at him. He was annoying when he wanted to be. You knew that first hand “What is that supposed to mean?” Iv is quick to jump up too. You knew he was harmless, but his quick movement still made you step back slightly. “You go off to play with Oli, and no one says a peep about it," you wheezed through gritted teeth. “That is different," ii cut in, and you couldn’t help but gape at him. Of course, his shit-stirring ass would side with them. “Last time I checked, he can also grab iv dick, no NDA about that?" you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Just made the mistake of glancing at iv, who was practically red with anger now, “You fucking...", but he didn’t get to finish the sentence before iii draped an arm around his shoulder, turning him around. “Cool off," he muttered, tapping a hand on iv’s chest.

“Breather. Outside. Now”, Vessel pointed towards the door. And as much as you hated the pre-concert arguments, you didn’t want to drop this now. “Bark while you’re at it," you raised both middle fingers at iv, but the sight was short-lived as Vess stepped in front of you, gripping your jaw and pulling your face to meet his. "Y/n," it was barely a whisper, but the tone shift said it all. “We’ll talk about this after." You want to fight back, but instead, you just nodded. Pushing past him to go get ready. Simply out of spite moving to quickly typed out a message to Bad Omen’s Instagram account. The likelihood of them seeing it, however, was low. Right…?

The concert ended up being only mid. The tension that usually had everyone grinding against one another. Pushing the possible limits had turned into a cold war. In moments like this, iv pride was bigger than him. You knew he wouldn’t blow off before the show started, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise that he pretty much avoided you like the plague. Leaving you at the mercy of iii and Vessel for the most part. So it was Vess who had you press against his chest until the black paint was smudging all over your back. Hand on your throat as he sang the lyrics of the songs straight into your bloodstream. Even the kiss that iii leaned in for felt off, so you didn’t push him. Didn’t push any of them. Not when your attempts of luring them out of their pissy mood was cut with a cold shoulder. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t frustrated about it.

"Here," warmth spreads through your body as a familiar scent filled your senses. You welcomed it on most days, but today it only made your frown deepen. So with a shrug of the hand, you pushed the leather jacket off. “Don’t be a brat; you’ll catch a cold," iii grunted, forcefully wrapping you up in iv’s jacket.

“Who knew you would be the one mending the bridges", you hissed out, taking another drag from your cigarette. iii tapped at his lips, and you quickly held the same cigarette out for him, letting him take a couple of drags in. “He’s pissed because he cares," iii said after blowing out the smoke. “We both know that he’s fiercely protective over people he lets in close." And you knew that. Knew that from all the tines his steal mask would slip. And you would be left with nothing but a needy man. One that’s constantly leaning into you or falling asleep on your shoulder. “You remember him after people started talking shit about Vess dancing”, iii pointed out, “He yapped about it for the rest of the night. I throw punches, iv talks, that’s his weapon”.

“You are all acting as if I’m about to sell my body on the highway," you huffed, shaking your head in frustration. “We found you first," iii nearly sang, snatching the cigarette from between your fingers. “Oh Jesus, it’s that fucking male ego," you growled, wrapping the iv’s jacket tighter around your body. iii extended one of his arms out. You didn’t need to be told twice, as you buried your face in his chest. “You are a whole package," he muttered under his breath, pressing his lips to the top of his head. “We don’t want you jumping ships." You pulled back slightly. “I’m not leaving you; it’s one concert from what I understood," you whispered, knowing full well that if they said no, you wouldn’t go. After all, they were your people. And the last thing you wanted was for them to feel as if you were replacing them in some way. “One too many, baby," he let out a sigh, “One too fucking many”, killing the cigarette with his foot before pulling you back into the warmth of the back room.

The topic of those videos was dropped without bringing it up ever again. They don’t bring it up, so you did just the same. Until one night, your phone pings, and you couldn’t help the grin that spreads over your face. “Tell me that I can see your cute face tonight”, it read. Making you fall back onto your bed, as you silently screamed into your screen. You keep it to yourself this time. The least ears heard about the less hearts would break, but even as you were getting ready to leave, you knew that there was no way you could leave the apartment you all rented out without the boys noticing you walking down the stairs, and from the sound coming from lower floor, they were in the living room. In conclusion right by the staircase. But what was bitting another bullet after all?

"Okay, style icon," iii whistled as the sound of your heels made them all turn your way. You shot him a smile, “You like?" Twistling, you gave them all a look at your head-to-toe black outfit, only a baby pink mini dress bringing contrast to the whole outfit. “Are you sure you girls don’t want us tagging along?”, Vessel asked, tilting his beer bottle your way. And here you were. Screwed all over. You had forgotten about girls going out tonight. Well, you were going out with them until you got that message, and then your brain blanked. “She’s not going with the girls," iv muttered, his jaw clenched as his eyes looked you up and down. Not the gentle kind of look. Oh, no. He was eating you with his gaze. Burning through your skin. Seeing into part of you, you didn’t want him to. Sending a shiver down your spine. “IV is right, I’m not." You held your head up; you owned them nothing. Well, not fully true, but still. You were your own person. “Tell me that it’s not what I think it is," ii chuckled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Wipe that grin off your face," you grunted.

Silence fell over the room. ii kept his eyes on you challenging you to break first. But when you didn’t back away he leaned forward. Both inked palms firmly placed on the table. “Careful, or you’ll be whipping something else off your face and legs," he said, leaning forward. His blunt answer and forwardness took you off-hand because to get through the impenetrable wall of calmness that ii had built was impossible. It had been impossible. “Not yours to paint tonight," you shot them a smile, reaching for the bottle iii was holding before downing the last remaining liquid. “But I’ll send Noah your hellos," you smiled at them right as the sound of a car signaling outside of the window echoed, “Don’t wait up, boys." You waved them off over your shoulder. Feeling your heart hammer against your ribcage. The dizziness clouding your eyes. But you couldn’t turn back now. You couldn’t go there now when you knew they were boiling. This was good. This would give them time. Right…?

#sleep token imagine #sleep token x reader #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token x you #sleep token ii x reader #sleep token iii x reader #sleep token vessel x reader #sleep token iv x reader #sleep token iii imagine #sleep token ii imagine #sleep token iv imagine #sleep token vessel imagine

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buckleyx · 2 years ago

Note

hii! first off I love your blog ♡ you’re so talented and soo kind and your blog just gives such a welcoming vibe <33

If you’re looking for a request, I would love a angsty with a fluffy ending imagine with eddie diaz x reader if you’d like..? maybe like reader gets hurt somehow and eddie is all worried and sad (the 118 is too of course), cause I love me some eddie angst ♡ thank you sm <33

STAY AWAKE FOR ME E.D

the gif i used is not mine! all credit goes to the owner!

Author’s note: AWHHH YOU'RE SO KIND DJFBBF. The way i started giggling when i read this, thank you so much darling !! (Also ur pfp is so cute) <33

I'm also such a sucker for Eddie angst hehe, aren't we all tbh

Eddie Diaz x gender!neutral reader

Warnings: major injuries, explosions, blood loss, car crash and ANGSTTT

masterlist

"Noo not now!" Buck whined at the ringing alarm bell. The food on his spoon almost close enough to touch his lips. You giggled, grabbing a piece of bread and putting it in your mouth before running off to get your uniform on. Eddie waited for you at the truck, your helmet already in his hands, leaning against the red door so you can get in first. "Hello handsome." You teased as you climbed in. His cheeks flushed, playfully rolling his eyes as he gave you the helmet with your name on. The door closed behind him and at a fast speed the truck started moving.

"What are we looking at, cap?" Eddie asked throught the combs. His eyes landed on you. You were sitting in front of him, your seatbelt thigtend against your chest, your hand resting on the mental part so that when you arrived you would be quick to unbuckle it.

"Car accident." Bobby replied, looking at his team throught the rearview mirror. "It's not gonna be pretty."

You took a deep breath as you caught Buck nervously shuffling in his seat. Calls like these almost always meant a heavy outcome.

Eddie brushed his foot against yours, a wordless gesture of asking if your were okay. You nodded, smiling at his concern. "I can't wait when we are finished with this shift." You admitted. "I wanna finally eat."

"Oh, same here y/n." Buck agreed. "I'm starving." Eddie's mouth curled up in a small smile, refusing to keep his eyes of you. He admired your succesfull attempt to make the mood a bit lighter since he knows you aren't keen on heavy silences.

Once you arrived at the scene, you patiently awaited captain's orders. Two cars where smashed into each other as the third laid further down on it's back. Four people where involved with one victim who's injuries were already fatal. The team moved quickly as you were the first to arrive at the scene.

"Eddie, Y/n?" Bobby yelled. "Go look at the car further down and give me an update."

You quickly sprinted over to the upsidedown car, gear in hand and Eddie next to you. A man, about 30, layed unconscious in his car seat. The seatbelt stopping him from completely falling to the ground. You tried your best to examine him in his current situation. But the door had blocked all your access, luckily the man had his window open. You kneeled down so you could feel for a heartbeat. "I got a pulse!" You yelled, feeling the skin under your finger move in a slow pace. "We'll need a neck brace and an IVE. Can you call for extra backup to get him out?"

Eddie nodded, rushing to the truck while updating dispatch and Bobby on the current situation.

Your brain was looking at all the different options to get the man safely out. In your head you had already sawn off the door and got the backup to help you get him back down. But in reality it would be taking a bit longer so you had to find a way to keep him alive until then.

You were deep in thought until Eddie's screams pulled you back out. You looked over at him. He was running towards you but yelling for you to get back. In a split second your brain switched and you were hearing clearly what he was saying. "The motor!" He yelled. "It's gonna explode."

You were still positioned on the ground, you tried crawling back but a hand suddenly grabbed your uniform, stopping you from moving. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You cried, looking at the passenger who had just woken up. His grip was ferm and before you knew it there was an explosion. Your body flew to the side. A stabbing pain in your side and a pounding headache made it unable for you to get back up.

Oh no. You though, seeing the ground underneath you turn into a puddle of blood.

"Y/n? Y/n!" Eddie cried, falling to his knees, his hands shaking. He tried whiping away the blood from your face, stroking some hair behind your ear before grabbing your cheeks in his hands. "Oh honey. Oh god."

"Eddie?" You breathed weakly, noticing the blood on his clothes. "Are you okay."

The firefighter tried to staunch the blood on your side while panicked breaths left his lips. His eyes were red and full of terror. "Eddie, I'm fine. I promise." You mumbled, not fully processing how bad it was. You weakly grabbed onto the hem of his shirt. The blood on your hands left a red stain the shape of you fingerprints. Oh. It isn't his blood that he was covered in. Your vision started to blurry, breathing started to hurt, your ears were ringing and your head was pounding so hard you were afraid your heart was gonna burst out of your body.

"Just look at me." Eddie assured. As he watched the rest of the team help him out with stopping the blood from leaving your body. You looked down at the nagging pain. A sharp piece of metal was struck right through your side. Looking at it made it worse. The pain was stronger then ever. "Hey look at me. You're alright." Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing it as hard as he could. He was trembling over his words but you didn't care. All you could think about was him. His eyes. His beautiful eyes being filled with worry. "I'm sorry." You cried. "I'm so sorry." You sobbed, your free hand grabbed his shirt again. You where terrified, completely terrified and all you wanted to do was sink into his arms and never let go. "I'm so tired, Eddie."

"I know baby. I know. But you gotta keep looking at me. Let me see those pretty eyes." You couldn't help the hot tears streaming down your face. Your breathing became more shallow and your eyelids more heavy. It was getting harder to stay awake. You tried. You really tried. Eddie was mumbling to keep you awake but you couldn't hear anything cleary at this point. Hen secured the piece of metal that was crushed into your side. She and the team helped you on a curney while Eddie kept by your side. Your hands still locked into each other.

You felt so weak and in so much pain. You saw the sky moving above you as they rolled you to the ambulance. You vaguely heard your panicked colleges and conversations over dispatch but it was all too foggy to clearly hear what they were saying.

The sky looked pretty that night. The stars seemed to be perfect. But you were tired. And ready to go to sleep.

You were awoken by a soft buzzing sound and some distant chatter that you couldn't make out. Opening your eyes seemed harder then you rememberd. Your eyelids felt heavy. You started flickering them until you were used to the white light that the room illuminated.

Your throat felt afwul and there was still a sharp pain on your side but this time more bearable. Your eyes closed shut a few times again and here and there you drifted back into a deep slumber.

Once you slept off your anesthesia you were able to think again. You opened your eyes and tried to locate were you where. You fell a soft hand touching yours and after you carefully tilted your head, you saw your tired boyfriend sitting next to you. His hair was a mess and his head was resting on your bed. He was snorring a little and you smiled at the peaceful state he looked in. A nurse walked into the room. He greeted you but lowered his voice once he saw Eddie sleeping.

"He has been here quite a while." The nurse admitted while they checked your obs. "How are you feeling?"

You carefully nodded your head. "I'm fine. Could be better though." The nurse smiled sympathetically. Once he was done checking your vitals the doctor wandered in.

She told you they were able to successfully remove the metal and that you should be able to make a full recovery. "You did lost a lot of blood and suffered some head trauma so you'll have to take it very easy, y/n." The doctor warned. "Lot's of rest and taking it very easy. I'll let a chiropractor come and visit you once you're feeling better so they can discuss further treatment with you. For now I'll give you something more for the pain and some ice for your throat. You're very lucky, y/n. This could have taken a very different turn." She said before leaving the room to let you rest.

You took a deep breath. Your hand softly combed through the messy brown hair of the Diaz sleeping next to you. He stirred in his sleep, muttering your name a few times before realizing what was happening.

His head abruptly perked up. "You're awake." He whispered, almost not believing his eyes. He immediately sat up straight, his right hand holding yours.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I'm alive." You smiled. "But I'm still starving."

Eddie let out a soft laugh, he tried his best to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes.

"You scared me y/n." He admitted. "You really did."

"I know."

Eddie leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He brushed some hair away, his fingers following the soft skin of your cheeck. "You're going to be okay." You were afraid and in pain but seeing him here made it for some reason go all away a little. "And once we're home I'm gonna cook you the best meal you ever had." He laughed, trying to see you crack a smile in which he succeeded.

My requests are open! :)

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darkmoonchild · 2 months ago

Text

Happy Halloween

•This was supposed to be a cute little installment for my Daddy Vessel series for Halloween, but I didn’t get to post it because *cardi b voice* coronavirus hit my household and I’ve been down for the count. I still wanted to post this though and just pretend that it’s still Halloween (even though technically it was three days ago but no one pay attention to that, please?). But anyways…uh…here we goooo!•

~Vessel x Fem!Reader (pretty much a given atp).

~Emma’s age in this fic is 5 years old. (Also there is a use of her full name which is Emma-Leigh. Just throwing that out there.)

•Warnings: There is slight sexual content in this story, but nothing goes too too far. This is mainly just a fluff fic.

•Story circa 2018•

———————————————————————————

You stood in the kitchen at the sink humming to yourself, washing the dishes from lunch. A smile formed on your face as you looked out the window, seeing the grey cloud covered sky and the beautiful autumn leaves. You laughed a little seeing the remnants of yesterday fun of jumping in the fallen leaves after hours of raking them up to place them in trash bags. You and your boyfriend of a full year, Vessel, had III to thank for that. One jump into the pile of leaves and it did not take long for your five-year-old daughter Emma to follow suit, then followed by everyone else—you, Vessel, IV, II and IV’s girlfriend Viola.

You had just finished loading the dishes into the dish washer when the front door to the flat opened and then closed, you looked over your shoulder to see Vessel making his way into the kitchen. You eyed him slowly from head to toe, taking in the sight of his shaggy hair underneath his black beanie, the way his grey t-shirt rode up over his stomach and showing his abs after he removed his favored Alpha Wold hoodie off before laying in on the back of a kitchen chair, and the way his jeans fit him just right. It was enough to make your mouth water but you refrained.

“Hello there handsome,” You greeted him with a smile. Vessel looked at you with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. He came over and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Hello my darling,” he said lovingly, kissing the top of your head. You two staid like that a few minutes longer before you could feel him shifting a bit from where your head rested on his chest. He was obviously looking around. “Where’s Bug?”

Bug. An affectionate nickname Vessel has been calling your daughter since the two of you got together. Everyone else usually called her Emmie but Vessel liked Bug more. It had something to do with the butterfly dress and headband she was wearing the day you finally introduced the two of them together. And that little meeting sealed everything because it was an instant connection between the two of them, which you were extremely grateful for.

“She’s taking a nap,” You said with a smile as you looked up at him. You reached up on your tiptoes to give his check a quick kiss before pulling away from his embrace. “I’m going to wake her up soon so I can start getting her ready for tonight.”

Vessel smiled at that. “Our first family Halloween outing.”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t swoon a little bit at that comment. This was the first official “family Halloween outing” you three would have, and there were hopefully many more to come until Emma deemed herself too old for trick-or-treating.

“I know I can’t wait.”

You took his hand and the both of you walked into the living room. Vessel sat on the couch and before you could even move past him to sit beside him, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you to sit down on his lap. A tiny squeak left your mouth at the sudden action, only for giggles to come out next when Vessie began peppering light kisses to your cheeks, your nose and neck. You turned in his lap facing him, both your legs on either side of his hips as you straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

The both of you stared at each other lovingly, soft smiles on your faces before you leaned down and captured his lips with yours. You both kissed each other slowly, the kiss deepening as Vessel’s large hands soon moved down from your waist to your hips, squeezing them lightly. As if on instant your hips began to move against him, earning a deep groan from his throat as you continued to kiss.

“How much time do you think we have before Emma wakes up?” Vessel asked you, a bit breathless when he broke away from the kiss. His hands left your hips to cup your ass, helping you grind back and forth on his hardening member inside his jeans.

You opened your mouth to give your reply but was cut off when you heard Emma calling you from upstairs, her little voice still full of sleep.

“I guess that answers our question,” You reply. A laugh fell from your lips as Vessel laid his forehead on your shoulder, groaning some. You knew there was a pout on his face. You raised his head up and held his face in both of your hands, revealing indeed a pout on his lips. You kisses them. “We’ll continue this later.”

Vessel smiled and nodded and allowed you to get off of his lap to go and retrieve Emma, and he placed one of the throw pillows on his lap to hide the tent in his pants. It was going down but not fast enough for his liking. A moment later you came down with Emma in your arms, dressed in her little blue nightgown with Gengar, Haunter and Ghastly on it. II had found that for her one day when he was out and Vessel still was unsure where he found it, the drummer would never open his mouth to reveal it. Apparently he was trying to stay on top of III as the favorite but honestly other than him and you, IV was Emma’s favorite. II and III just refused to accept that fact.

“Hey, my sweet Bug,” Vessel greeted the small girl softly as you brought her over to the couch. You sat down with her on your lap, rubbing her hair and back as Emma rested against you. She was still tired but was trying to wake herself up. Vessel reached over and rubbed his index finger up and down her chubby little cheek. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Mhm,” Emma answered with a little head nod. A yawn escaped from her mouth and she rubbed her eyes with her little fist. She blinked a few times before reaching her arms out for Vessel, making sure to mimic her mother with the grabby hands. “Can you hold me now Vessie?”

Vessie. The little nickname Emma calls your boyfriend. You think it was an easier way for her to actual say Vessel, but who really knows when it comes to children. Either way Vessel wears it like a badge of honor. He refuses to allow anyone other than Emma to call him that.

Vessel gave you a quick look and you raised a brow, a silent question forming as your eyes slowly trailed to the pillow sitting on his lap. Vessel cleared his throat.

“Now right now, Bug,” he spoke softly to the child. A pout began forming on Emma’s face and the large puppy eyes came out, the grabby hands continuing in his direction. He knew she’d keep this up until he reached for her, so he had to come up with something. He smiled. “How about you and mama get ready for tonight and Vessie will hold you while we’re out? That sound good?”

Emma thought for a moment—well, really a few seconds before a large smile spread across her face, replacing the precious pout and puppy eyes as she nodded enthusiastically. Both you and Vessel watched as she squirmed out of your hold and grabbed your hand in hers, instantly attempting to pull you from your seat on the couch.

“Come on, mama, come on!” Emma exclaimed, her voice high pitched as she continued to “pull” you up from the couch. You laughed and humored her, allowing her to believe she pulled you up all by her little mighty self.

🎃🎃🎃

“You didn’t have to put the costume on, Vess, you know that right?”

When the idea of having all three of you in matching Halloween costumes came to your head weeks ago, it seemed like the cutest—and greatest—plan. Emma had recently gotten into older, classic Disney movies and Peter Pan was her favorite at the moment. You had to order the costumes off of Amazon since none of the local shops carried the specific ones you wanted—or need.

You would be Wendy, Emma was Tinkerbell and Vessel…

“Why wouldn’t I want to wear the costume?” Vessel questioned, turning his head to look at you. Emma was in front of the two of you, among a bunch of other children, waiting patiently as the elderly lady filled their bags with candy. Vessel looked down at his attire—a green cap with a red feather sticking out of it, a green tunic, cloth tights, a fake golden sword wrapped around his waist and his doc martens. His shoes were the only none costume related thing on him. Vessel said since you three would be walking, his reliable shoes seemed a bit better than the soft brown things that came with the Peter Pan get up. Vessel opened his arms out wide, head tilting to the side looking at you. “I don’t mind it. And it made you and Bug happy to see me in it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged. “I just thought maybe you would have been happier in your normal clothes,” You replied. You watched as Emma and a few kids squeal in happiness as they got their trick-or-treat bags filled with delicious sweets. You already knew you were going to have to limit how much Emma consumed tonight. And you knew that went double for Vessel as well. You sighed, “Even before we had her, Emma’s dad thought the whole matching costumes thing was stupid. He shot down every attempt I tried every single year. And I had this cutest idea thought out for Emma’s first Halloween, got us matching suits and everything, thought that maybe he’d give it a chance since it was for our daughter but he…he told me I wasted money on something he wasn’t even going to wear or something Emma wasn’t even going to remember. Mentioned how he’d be the laughing stock of his buddies and the guys he worked with if they just so happened to be put with their kids or fucking out in general. He wanted me to take them back but I didn’t. My brother-in-law Rowan got his costume, I wore mine, my sister Claudia aomehow found a matching costume of her own within an hour and Emma had hers. He missed out on his own daughter’s first big holiday because he didn’t want to be embarrassed being seen dressed up with us.”

Vessel smiled softly at you. “And you thought I’d be embarrassed too?” He asked. You said nothing, feeling your cheeks burn with a blush as you refused to look at him. You knew Vessel was nothing like your ex but it was hard to erase the bad memories sometimes, and every now and again they would seep in through the tiny cracks that were beginning to heal, and bleed into this relationship. Vessel was always thankfully so patient.

The next thing you knew, long and strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into a firm chest. You turned in Vessel’s embrace and wrapped your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest. Vessel squeezed you tightly, placing a kiss on top of your hair. “I’ll never be embarrassed doing anything with you two,” Vessel said softly. “I missed a lot of firsts in Emma’s little life, but I’m so happy I get to be apart of the next big things to come moving forward. And if that means I have to dress up as Peter Pan, or Steve from Blue’s Clues, or Tickle Me Elmo, or even that Godforsaken big purple dinosaur, I will if it means I get to make my girls happy. I will, Y/N. I love you and I love Emma-Leigh more than either of you will ever know.”

Everything seemed to stopped for what seemed like hours and hours as you looked up at Vessel, eyes wide and mouth opened slightly. He only smiled down at you, not phased by your expression at all. Did he…?

“You just said you loved me,” You spoke after a long pause. “I mean, you also said you loved Emma…but that’s the first time you ever told me you loved me, Vess.”

“Well, I thought maybe tonight would be the night I did,” Vessel said with a chuckle. He kisses the crown of your head. “Because I do, Y/N. I love you. My world was black and white before I met you and Emma. You two made everything colorful for me.”

You hugged Vessel tighter, feeling tears pricking your eyes and it took everything you had to force them down. You knew they were happy tears, but dammit you were not going to be seen crying in front of neighbors houses and random people you didn’t know that well. Plus, tonight was about Emma and making sure she had a great Halloween..

“I love you, too, Vessel,” You admitted. You voice soft and a smile on your face. “I love you so much. But I do hate to inform you, you have now given me a great idea for our Halloween costumes next year with bringing Barney into the equation.”

“Y/N,” Vessel warned. His voice was still playful, even if he tried to sound serious. You could hear the smile in his tone. He had made it clear Barney was not his favorite growing up but he tolerated it because you grew up on the thing, and Emma was following close in your footsteps. You couldn’t do anything but laugh.

A moment later an excited Emma came running back to the two of you, her pink jack-o-lantern pail bouncing as she did. It was a wonder that none of her candy she had collected within the few hours you three had been out flew out from the opening, and a part of you was glad it did. You really didn’t feel like picking pieces of candy up out of someone’s yard, yet for Emma you knew that you would in a heartbeat. She reached into her pail and pulled out two full size chocolate bars, a wide smile on her face that causes her eyes to sparkle brightly even in the light of dusk.

“Look look look look!” Emma bounced on her tiptoes excitedly. “I got full bars!”

“Wow, Bug, that’s awesome!” Vessel beamed down at her. He crouched down to be eye level with her. “You know where else you’re probably gonna get a full size bar? Maybe even three bars?”

Emma tilted her head, her smiling fading in her curious confusion. “Where Vessie?”

“Uncle Ivy and Auntie Vi’s place,” Vessel answered. He watched as the little girl’s smile grew wide once more and the excitement came back. Emma placed her candy bars back into her pail and grabbed Vessel’s hand after he had risen back to his full height. Vessel chuckled down at her. “I guess you’re ready to go then, huh?”

“Yes yes yes yes!” Emma beamed excitedly. “I’m ready to get some more yummy candy and ready to let Uncle Ivy and Aunt Vi see my costume!”

You giggled at your daughter’s enthusiasm in seeing IV and Viola. You took Emma’s candy pail in one hand and grabbed her other little hand with your free one, allowing you and Vessel both to hold her hand as you three walked down the street. Occasionally you and Vessel would swing Emma back and forth between the two of you, reciting the phrase “faith, trust and pixie dust” as you did so. Emma used the pixie dust part to raise her little legs up, letting you and Vessel swing her easily. Her little giggles was the music to both yours and your boyfriend’s ears.

“You know there’s a possibility III is going to be there, too, right?” You asked Vessel a bit later as you three got closer towards IV and Viola’s flat.

Like IV, III was a long time friend of Vessel’s and another member to their band Sleep Token. By the time you and Vessel had gotten together, they had released two albums at that point. They were working on releasing another one now, after they made sure everything was perfect after what had been a two year break since their Two album.

It was four of them; Vessel the lead vocalist but also provides helps with other musical instruments, II the drummer, III the bassist and IV the guitarist who also lends a hand on backup vocals (mainly screams) when he is needed. They were four guys making a name for themselves but to you, they were just…the guys. One your dear, darling boyfriend and the other three the craziest nut jobs you’ve been so lucky to call your friends for the past year, and who you were grateful they accepted you and Emma into their lives as fast as they did.

“And if he decides to laugh at me and this costume…” Vessel began but trailed off, looking down at Emma between the two of you. You could see he was mauling over the exact words he should use next, not really wanting Emma to hear him say something and then think it was okay to say it as also. He cleared his throat some before looking back at you, his voice low and he was trying to give off a serious look. “Well, let’s just say this sword is going to be shoved so far up somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. The guys loved to mess with one another, III more than most. He was a lovable jokester but sometimes he did manage to get up under the others skin just right and it usually lead to having full grown me running around chasing one another, threatening to beat one another to a pulp. Usually it never actually got to that point but there were times it did. Apparently rough housing was a big part on their friendship, which was always an odd and stark comparison to how professional and put together they all four could be. Yet, with knowing all of that, you knew Vessel meant what he said about that sword on his side being shoved somewhere if III was there at IV’s and decided to open his big mouth.

🎃🎃🎃

True to his word, Vessel chased III around the front yard of IV and Viola’s flat the minute words of jest left the bassist’s mouth. Vessel wasn’t able to actually shove the sword where the sun didn’t shine, mainly because II and IV broke them apart before the playful rough housing could escalate. Not that you believe Vessel would go that far with Emma present but nothing was certain when it came to these four knuckleheads.

IV and Viola had full size candy bars for Emma, in fact they had four full size candy bars waiting and stashed away just for their favorite fairy. Vessel couldn’t help but throw in a comment about how IV was Emma’s favorite to III, which caused the bassist to start chasing your boyfriend around the front yard again, complete role reversal than earlier. II shook his head and took his seat once again on the front step of the flat, reaching into a bag beside him, the drummer pulled out a stuffed brown teddy bear.

“I figured she’d have an assload of sweets already, so I figured I’d do something a little different.” II held the bear out to Emma. He held his gaze with the child as he spoke to you again. “I figured you wouldn’t mind it as much.”

Emma gasp lightly and placed her pail down before taking the offered bear, and bringing it to her chest for a hug. She swayed side to side before looking at II and going to him before the drummer could blink, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as she leaped into his arms. The bear made a light thump on his back as Emma held it tightly in her grip. II instinctively wrapped his arms around her tiny body, holding her to him.

It had taken a bit for Emma to get more affectionate towards IV, III and II. II being the one she somehow took the longest to get used to oddly enough. But the minute she was comfortable around her new uncles, the gloves were off and the three men got to know the love and the personality of little Emma. They somewhat now understood why you say the world is Emma’s and everyone else is just living in it. They loved your daughter and in turn Emma loved them, and loved her Auntie Viola as well.

“Thank you, Uncle II!” Emma beamed loudly, her little arms still around the drummer’s neck. “I love him!”

“I’m glad you love him, Emmie,” II said with a smile. He hugged Emma one more time before letting her go and watched her run off back to you. He watched as the little girl excitedly held the bear up to house, bouncing on her tip toes. He chuckled, “I guess I did good.”

“You sure did, II,” You replied back to him. A smile on your face as Emma soon began speaking to her new bear, talking about all the fun they were going to have together and her trying to figure out what his name was going to be. It was pretty cute. “She’s going to take such good care of it.”

“Speaking of things that need to be taken care of,” Viola spoke next, her thick Scottish accent causing everyone—except Emma and her new bear, Mister Bear—to look at her. Viola sat in IV’s lap in the lawn chair they had brought out to hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters, and she pointed a thumb into the direction of where a Peter Pan wearing Vessel and a Deadpool wearing III were still running around the front yard. She raised a pierced eyebrow. “Are we going to stop them anytime soon or are we going to let them keep going? Because I don’t think the remaining treaters are going to be enjoying dodging two fully grown men in Halloween costumes in such a small yard.”

“I got them!” Emma exclaimed before you could tell her to hold on, she took off running after her Vessie and her Uncle III, giggling as she joined in on what she thought was a game. The bear still in her hand.

“Well I suppose all that running will do the trick,” Viola said with a sigh, a laugh soon escaping as she shook her head. “Gonna go from fully energized to chugging along like The Little Engine That Could.”

You laughed and took a seat beside II on the front steps. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a sideways hug as you all watched two grown men in costume chasing after each other, a small little girl in a lime green fairy costume running right behind them.

“Do you mean the two large knuckle heads or Emma?” You asked looking at Viola.

“I say the two dumbasses,” II remarked with a smirk. “No way they’re going to be able to keep this up with their old asses and all. Might break a hip or some shit.”

“Aren’t you guys the same age?” Viola questioned looking over her shoulder at the drummer. She furrowed her pierced brows together. “Aren’t you technically calling yourself old, II?”

II shrugged. “We’re all a few months apart from each other.” He pointed towards Vessel and III, a giggling Emma still following closely behind them. “Those two fuckwits are older. So, they’re more likely to break a hip or just all together go down first before Emma-Leigh does.”

“I second that,” IV spoke up next, taking a hit off of his vape before blowing the scented smoke out into the air. He turned his eyes on you, a playful smile on his face. “But I’m sure Emmie girl won’t be too far behind them.”

You shook your head with a laugh. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

And see you four did.

After another few minutes of them chasing each other, III lost his footing and fell to the ground. Vessel took the chance and jumped on top of his fallen friend, Emma followed right after. Although she had more innocent intent for III than Vessel did.

Soon, you and your little family were leaving to head back home, seeing Halloween night coming to an end. You held one of Vessel’s hands in yours, Emma’s candy pail in your other and with his free arm Vessel was holding a sleeping Emma on his side. Her tiny arms was wrapped around his neck, her head laying on his shoulder and she breathed in and out softly. Her teddy bear rested carefully in the pail you held in your hand.

“I say she had a great Halloween,” Vessel said before placing a kiss on the crown of Emma’s head. You nodded your head.

“I’d say she did.”

Once you had made it back home, you watched from the doorway of Emma’s room as Vessel laid her down in her bed. You both agreed since she was so tired that she could sleep in her costume tonight, having removed the fairy wings from her back, and you’d give her a shower in the morning.

Vessel carefully got up from where he laid a few extra minutes with Emma, smoothing her hair down and just letting her know his presence was there. It was something he had seen you do a hundred times by now and as he was doing it, he got it. The feeling of being that tiny comfort for her and for you yourself to have that tiny little moment with them, where you got to study every little thing about them. And honestly, now he understands why his mother hated everything about him growing up, her one and only boy. He was going through that now, watching the little girl that stole his heart growing up before his eyes.

It had only been a year he and you had been together, yet in that year he sees where Emma was slowly changing. She was a few inches taller, her hair had gotten a little bit longer and was slowly turning a darker shade, her feet were growing because she had went up a shoe size and she did the same with her clothes. Emma was also starting to want to be more independent. Brushing her own hair (even though you both still had to help), brushing her own teeth (both of you allowed her while you just stood off to the side) and then she also wanted to dress herself (some of the outfits she came up with were adorable in a way, but blue jeans did not go with her yellow dress and the sandals she insisted on wearing from time to time—so that would have to wait).

Emma was growing up before his eyes. A part of him hated she had to grow up, but the other half was excited he was going to get to be a part of it. Vessel would never begin to understand how her biological father could just choose to not be involved with a child like Emma, or just deny her existence until it was convenient for him. If the day came where you and him got to the discussion of your own children, Vessel would make it clear he was there for everything. He wouldn’t jump ship, take on the responsibility that was also his and not abandon you or his children.

Vessel pulled the blankets over Emma’s sleeping form, placing her new teddy bear right beside her before making his way back to you. You and Vessel both walked out of Emma’s room, Vessel gently closing the door of her bedroom behind him, not all the way so it would be open just a crack. You and him made your way up the stairs to your shared bedroom, both ready to change and lay on your comfortable mattress. And that was what you did.

Vessel had changed out of his Peter Pan suit and wore only a pair of black sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and since he decided to wear no shirt you were able to admire his toned and lean body. You trailed your eyes down his chest to his faint lining of the abs he had been working hard on, and thanks to the low hanging sweats you were gifted the sight of the V of his hips. You were sitting on the bed, hanging already changed out of your Wendy costume into one of Vessel’s many black t-shirts, which was long on your shorter frame and wore nothing underneath but a pair of black panties, and you could feel Vessel’s eyes scanning over your body like yours were him.

The minute your boyfriend came to lay down in the bed, you gave him time to get settled on his back before you turned and threw a leg over his waist, straddling him. Your hands found his chest as his grabbed onto the fat of your plush hips. You stared down at him and he stared up at you, his eyes darkening with the same desire as earlier.

“I meant what I said earlier,” You said to your boyfriend, running your nails up and down his chest. You could see the goosebumps that littered his flesh from that action.

“And what was that, love?” Vessel asked, his deep voice all but sounding as a purr as he looked up at you from underneath you. He could feel himself begin to grow inside his sweat pants, and he knew you could as well from where you began moving your hips back and forth, grinding down on him.

“That we were going to finish what we started earlier on the couch,” You said as you leaned down, still moving your hips and grinding your cloth center against Vessel’s growing erection. Vessel tilted his head back as a deep groan left him, giving you access to his neck. You planted kisses on the skin, switching between sweet kisses, light nibbles and sucking the skin of his neck wherever you sunk your teeth down into. You raised your mouth to his ear and you knew he could feel your breath against the shell of it. “Consider this your Halloween treat, baby.”

You have out a squeak when the next thing you knew Vessel flipped the both of you, pinning you underneath him. Now it was your turn to look up at him, feeling the weight of his darken and lustful stare.

A sexy smirk spread across Vessel’s face. And he leaned down close enough to your face, having his lips hovering mere inches above yours. And in a husky tone that always made your knees weak, he said, “well happy fucking Halloween to me then.”

And at that, he crashed his lips against yours in a heated kiss. And the two of you entered a night of passion and bliss.

———————————————————————————

I wasn’t planning on making this as long as I did but here it is. Another adventure of Daddy Vessel, little Emma and you, the oh so lovely reader.

Well, everyone take care now. Bye bye!

🖤🖤🖤

#sleep token #sleep token iii #sleep token fanfiction #vessel sleep token #sleep token ii #sleep token iv #sleep token imagine #vessel x you #vessel x reader #daddy vessel

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vivid-ink · 1 year ago

Text

'The Love Shack'

Part V - The Fault Is Ours (Teaser Snippet)

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Series warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Part V Summary:

You'd prepared for Neteyam's upset, prepared for his anger, but what you hadn't prepared for or even anticipated was his complete and total disregard for you...

Read Part I, II, III and IV in my Masterlist HERE

Author's Note:

Hello, my darlings. Here is an angsty teaser snippet for Part V, as promised. This will be the final part of this series and this chapter is all about the EMOTION. Don't get me wrong, there will be spice too, but this is all about Neteyam & Neyomi's (reader) journey coming to a final head. Thank you to all of you precious people who are still following this & supporting me with all your reactions. You mean the world to me. 😘

“Thanks for everything today. Thanks for listening.” You shot your best friend an appreciative smile, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tula’s answer was a smile and a wink, but her face twisted into an unimpressed grimace when she looked to the front of the platform again, “Better work fast, babe. Silwey looks like she’s got dessert on her mind tonight.”

Sure enough, you saw Silwey whispering into Neteyam’s ear when you cast another glance over your shoulder. It was now or never. You needed to get Neteyam alone tonight and you were going to swallow your pride and tell him everything; tell him you were in love with him...

Dusting your hands off, you rose to your feet, intent for the throng of people gathered at the front. With a deep breath, you focused on your objective.

Neteyam was speaking to four women, all smiles and laughter as they conversed. You managed to place yourself in a gap between two of them, just big enough for you to slip into without needing to push anyone. It placed you directly in his line of sight, but if you thought he was going to acknowledge you, even out of courtesy, given there were others surrounding him, watching him, you were wrong.

Mild irritation flared in your gut and you continued to look at him, trying to catch his eye. However, Neteyam’s gaze studiously avoided yours while he spoke in turn to the others, even quirking a small smile at Silwey when she leant her cheek against his shoulder. Your distress was sharp behind your sternum at the sight, but you were determined.

You cleared your throat audibly, causing a lull in the conversation as the women turned to look at you. You seized the opportunity, “Excuse me. Neteyam can I have a moment? I need to speak to you.”

Finally, for the first time that day, his amber orbs clashed with your own. There was no warmth in them though, no emotion. Just pure impassiveness that sent a dreadful shudder through you.

“If it’s about work, it can wait until tomorrow morning.” Neteyam’s response was clipped.

His icy demeanour was cutting. You’d expected him to be upset, but not like this, not cold and unfeeling. “It’s not work-related, but it’s important.”

“Sorry. I’ve got plans tonight. I’ll catch you another time.” More callous brusqueness.

This was an unexpected hurdle. You hadn’t expected his refusal to speak to you. You’d prepared for his upset and for his anger, but not for his complete disregard. A painful lump was forming in your throat and you swallowed it down tightly.

Keeping a tight rein on the brewing storm of your emotions beneath the surface, you maintained your careful mask of composure and tried again, “Neteyam, please. I only need a few moments.”

“No. I’ve got other plans.” It was a clear dismissal.

You weren’t going to beg, not in front of everyone. You would swallow your pride, but not to that extent.

Silwey was frowning at you, displeasure colouring her features, and the other women appeared uncomfortable at the awkward exchange. The telltale hot flush of humiliation was beginning to tingle and burn on the skin of your face and you regarded Neteyam’s hard gaze one final time before you turned and excused yourself from the group.

The world around you turned surreal, the noise of the gathered clan becoming a dull hum as you padded on numb feet back the way you came. You could feel your composure beginning to fracture, the storm within you threatening to spill, and with the first breath that hitched painfully in your chest, you broke into a sprint in the direction of your home shelter.

You needed somewhere safe and away from prying eyes for the dam to burst…

Your eyes stung and your vision blurred with the arrival of your tears. An onslaught of sobs came next and you tore the sun lily blooms from your hair as you ran, pawing at the wetness streaming from your eyes.

Evidently what had happened last night at the shack had been the last straw for Neteyam. You cried at the unfairness of it all.

You finally had a chance to love him, but it now seemed that Neteyam was unwilling to grant it to you…

Author's Note:

😭 I promise there's light at the end of the tunnel, but first we're all gonna cry and suffer the angst, ok?? 😭 Poor Neyomi.

Tag list:

@teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt @swaggygurlbae @ntymavtr @c-h-i-l

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lookoutjoe · 3 months ago

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youtube

now this is a song for all of yall that ever had one of them days you know where you wake up with a b52 hangover and your woman is whopping you on the side of your head with a pillow that feels like a baseball bat and she's saying IF YOU STAY OUT DRUNK WITH THOSE PEOPLE YOU CALL YOUR FRIENDS UNTIL FIVE O CLOCK IN THE MORNING ONE MORE TIME I AM GOING HIT MY ASS ON DOWN THE ROAD. yes good morning dear. so you go into the backyard and put the garden hose over the top of your head. going oh god oh god. and you look over and your dog… has died. and i mean, this is a fine bird, man, he can find birds (idk what he's saying here sorry) he can find birds in queens, you know? so you hop in your short (?) and you're beating it for the welfare office right and you see in the rear view window the repro man coming. thats going to cop your car. you just lucked out of that. anyways, down at the place where you get your cheque you got to face one of them poverty pimps right. and she's saying (incoherent mumbling) yes m'am of course oh no of course i would never do anything like that yes thank you very much. bitch. i mean its bad enough that you got to go ask(?) someone 'cause you can't find no job least ways they could teach you to put a little dignity you know what i mean? anyway you figure its time to go back to the house and make things right with your woman. well. in front of your house is a sheriff's car. and there is a man who says. so. andrew j thompson is that you? yes, uh, i have a writ here from shelby county tennessee says you owe three and a half months back alimony on your first wife plus uh penalties and child support. uh. you have ten days to give me, uh… yeah uh 27 hundred thousand dollars or you're going to jail. OW! i mean that's some RUDE SHIT you know what i'm saying? so about this time you just say FUCK IT. and go on down to your favourite watering hole and you crawl up the side of and down into the middle of. and proceed to drown in a bottle of OLD. CROW. BOURBON. DRINKING. WHISKEY. YES. i mean we don't want the fancy stuff man we want to get the job done. you ain't carrying no weapons so you know you ain't gonna get into any trouble, right? as long as you remember how to RUN. it only takes you an hour and half before you start seriously going (slurring) ahhh can i have another one? i dont have i think ive had too much drink… what do you. mannnn. what do you mean man. mannnnn. i had a terrible day! (returns to normal voice) bartender's saying "i dont care if its only ten oclock its last call for you". about this time, this fine, i mean super fine foxy looking woman with the long legs and the hair down to here, flapping her baby blues comes STROLLING by. and you say, OW! and you sobers right quick, right. but having failed the third grade you say something to the effect of: "Are, uh, um. You, uh?" what you really wanna say is, uh, "hey baby. hey why dont you come over and have a drink with me. you alright? yeah, ain't nothing to it. oh, you're just passing through town? mhm. oh, he did? with twenty dollars? in las vegas? well how did you get- no, i ain't gonna ask that. uh, i'm just passing through myself, you know. anyway. sit down and lets you know get right. yo, okay. my, youre fine looking darling. ohh. ohh! hey what'd you say your name was again, yeah?" and this is the song that you wish was playing on the jukebox. cause it's got your whole story. ♬ I was lonesome as I could be...

#🗣️ speakin' out #Youtube #long post

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blushedfemmes · 2 months ago

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Currently 5 shots and a tallboy deep. Just enough to be adoring (and maybe a little pathetic), sadly not enough to want to be rough and impulsive. Still, i hope you'll enjoy my little fantasy.

You invite me over, maybe to watch a movie or have a meal or to help you fix something. Really the reason doesn't matter because it was a front anyways. You invited me over to get me drunk, not that you'd ever tell me that.

I got so excited at the invitation to see you that i couldn't help but doll myself up. I polished my boots and ironed out my favorite shirt, thinking of you the whole time. I sprayed my cologne on and prayed that by the end of the night I'd know what your hands felt like on my skin, and that I'd never forget.

I show up and you greet me with a syrupy sweet smile, like you have no plans outside of just spending time with me. Its finally cold outside so you offer me a drink to warm me back up. Cocoa or maybe apple cider. Whatever it is, its already spiked and i cant help but say yes. The mug warms my hands and the thought that you made it just for me warms everything else. We sit and drink and talk about our days, our jobs, or whatever else finds its way out of our mouths. You give me refills without me having to ask, heavier pours with each new drink. You keep touching me when i talk. They're short and soft but i promise i notice every single one of them. Everytime you do it i feel a little warmer.

By the time the drinks hit, im too entranced by you to realize its the alcohol warming my skin now and not the way you're touching me. You know im drunk from the smile that seems plastered to my face and the compliments i cant stop myself from giving you. Your nails, your hair, your outfit, your nails. I only notice you've been inching closer to me when you decide to climb on top of me.

Im not quite sure whats going on anymore so you reassure me, tell me everythings okay and that its just comfier for you to sit on my lap. I cant complain, ive always liked looking up at pretty girls anyway. The way the light shines over you is mesmerizing and i tell you "you look like an angel". The "thank you, darling" you whisper right in my ear does nothing but pull the blood from my brain.

I tell you that you make me feel dizzy, make my head spin. You tell me its the alcohol you been giving me for the past hour. You push up my glasses and kiss me before i have a chance to respond, all i can do is melt into you. I cant think about anything and all i can feel is your nails dragging up my arms onto my shoulders. You say you can tell Ive been working out. I slur out a "juss for you" and my entire world narrows down to only you.

Drunk as i may be, i still know what i want to do and of course i have the wherewithal ask (beg). I tell you I just want to feel your body under my hands, want to know how your skin tastes, want to make you feel as adored are you are. Its far less eloquent coming out of my drunk mouth but you agree and you tell me to "be a good boy use your mouth for the only thing its good for".

I spend the next few hours completely unaware of the world around me, the only thing that matters to me anymore is you. I kiss, lick, bite, and mark any part of you that finds it way to my mouth. The taste of your skin is cemented in my brain and theres nothing i could do to remove it if i even wanted to. The only thing keeping me upright is your soft moans and your nails tracing over my skin.

By the end of the night we're sprawled out on the couch and im falling asleep still latched onto your tits. The last thing i feel before passing out is your nails on my scalp and the way your heartbeat reverberates my head.

I wake up to you moving dishes from the coffee table while you're wearing my shirt. You tell me it looks better on you anyway and i couldn't agree more.

(Ive never written anything like this before so my apologies if its no good)

-🫀

hi are you kidding this is fucking incredible i’m 🥵😵‍💫💗💞 the fact that you wrote this after five (5) shots *and* a tallboy is extremely impressive i wouldn’t be able to write a grocery list lmaoo

so um anyways…… thinking about inviting you over to test that high tolerance of yours 🙈

#clarke answers #🫀 anon #OH MY GODDDDD ohmygod this is soooooo 🙊💕#intox #intox tw #cnc tw #dubcon tw #hiiii new anon what an entrance… phew. bravo

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httpiastri · 1 year ago

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Jackieeee my most favourite-est person ever <33333

i was having a look-see through your prompts for your 1.5k celly (ive forgotten if i’ve said congrats already but if i haven’t, CONGRATULATIONS MY LOVE YOU DESERVE IT SO SO MUCH) and i was wondering if you’d do a Santa Tell Me with Clement and a combination of “you don’t have to be so gentle. i won’t break, you know” and - moving hair away from their face.

i think it’d be really cute idk 🥰

MUAH<3

- shy little embrose from the discord lmao

embrose! my darling!! 🥺💘 thank you so much for your kind words, you're so sweet omg :(( and thank you for requesting! i altered the prompt a little, hope that's okay <3 have a good day sweetheart! and happy new year!!!

‎‎ ‎

"i have never seen a worse dancer than marcus," lissie says from next to you, nodding off towards the dance floor. when your eyes follow hers, you can barely hold back the laughter that wants to slip past your lips. it's quite clear that marcus and clement are racing drivers, and james is an insurance broker, not professional dancers.

it's easy to tell that none of them are exactly sober, though you're not sure if their moves would've been that much better if they hadn't been as intoxicated. at least they're enjoying themselves, you think to yourself, taking a small sip out of the glass in your hand.

"i wouldn't say either one of them is better than the other," alice pipes up, nudging lissie's shoulder with her own. "doesn't marcus want to join dancing with the stars, though?"

"yeah, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't get voted off instantly."

as if they heard about your discussions, the boys soon stumble back to your table. they're all cackling about something james just said, and clement has a big grin plastered on his face when he flops down in the seat next to you. you cock a questioning eyebrow to him, but he merely shakes his head, one of his hands reaching down to take one of yours. he gives you a gentle squeeze, eyes shifting back to james who's suddenly in the middle of telling some kind of story about a guy on the dance floor.

clement's touch is innocent, and he means no harm. as always, he has good intentions; he wants you to feel comfortable at all times. the thing is, you do feel comfortable – but his soft touches and gentle caresses are not enough.

it's especially easy to feel jealous when his friends and their girlfriends are around, showing off how comfortable they are in public. james and alice have been going out for ages, so pda is never a big deal for them. even marcus and lissie will disappear into a dark corner of a club every once in a while, only to reappear with swollen lips and occasionally a few poorly covered lovebites on their skin.

but clement? always so soft, always so delicate. too soft, too delicate.

behind closed doors, it's a different story. when it's just him and you, he's got no problems being rougher and showing you just how much he wants you. but when you're out in public, even a tiny kiss on your lips is highly uncommon. it all originates in his need to take care of you, to make sure he never does anything wrong – he would hate himself if he ever did something you disapproved of in public. so instead, he always holds back, even though he sometimes wishes he didn't.

the thought is sweet, and you're so grateful to be dating a man who cares so much about your feelings. but you do wish he would... do more.

you aren't sure how to tell him about this, though. it's something you've thought about a lot, but a good time for the conversation just never seems to appear.

when clement looks over at you from james, he notices how your expression has changed. from the bubbly exterior you usually show off to a slightly more gloomy look, and he frowns. he leans down towards you, his mouth brushing your ear as he whispers. "everything okay?"

when he leans back and sees you nodding, a soft smile spreads over his lips. his hand reaches for your face, taking it in his palm and letting his thumb run over the skin of your cheek. his other hand brushes away a few stray hairs that have fallen into your face, and...

there it is again. that light touch, the gentleness.

now or never, you think to yourself.

"hey," you say, catching him off guard. he raises his eyebrows. "you don't have to be so gentle just because we're with friends, you know."

clement's mouth drops open, and then he closes it again. and then opens and drops again. his eyebrows furrow and he looks deep in thought, blinking a few times before finally speaking. "what?"

you let out a groan. "just kiss me properly, you muppet."

he doesn't need to hear anything else. he captures your lips instantly, kissing you like his life depends on it. the hand that was on your cheek just seconds ago has reached down to the back of your neck, pushing you further into him as his thumb runs along the front of your throat. a sound escapes from your mouth and he feels the vibrations as he swallows it, hearing it loud and clear in his head despite the loud music. it's like you're in your own bubble now, completely unknowing of the dancing and music around you, and of how your friends have all stopped to watch you with raised eyebrows.

it's nothing unique per se – you've gone much further than this before – but in this context, it's new. out in the wild, in front of strangers, right before your friends. it's strange, but exciting.

when you eventually pull away, your arms have draped over his shoulders and you've moved so close that your legs are practically on top of his. your eyes flutter closed again when clement's hot breath fans over your face, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

suddenly, a loud cheer erupts from your side as james starts hollering and clapping his hands. marcus soon joins in, his wolf-whistles loud enough to probably be heard all the way across the club, and you lean forward to hide your reddening face in clement's shoulder. you forgot that this would be the consequence of your actions...

but then again, it was worth it. definitely.

clement wraps his arms around your waist, chest bouncing with laughter. "good on you, mate," james yells, and you can practically hear the smirk on his lips. "is this the first time you guys have kissed, or-"

"shut up."

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littledollll · 2 years ago

Note

You can in fact get me something I desire my lovely, can I request a Larissa x fem reader fic? Your agere inagines are so cute and I was wondering if you'd write a caregiver Larissa fic, I feel like she'd be the sweetest ever and would constantly bring her little snacks and sit them on her knee, if you're comfortable with it, maybe reader is having a bit of a meltdown and needs some help calming down? ...and some snacks ofcs

Mommas here

Larissa Weems x little!reader

A/n: IVE BEEN WAITING!! Cg Larissa brainrot.

Warnings: snacks/eating, little anxiety, idk what else

You didn’t understand why you felt this way, a random pressure on your chest making your heart speed up and your mind run rampant and your breathing quicken. You started around looking for a distraction, something to get you out of this horrid feeling, it didn’t work. You needed her.

As you made your way into her office quietly you resisted the urge to run to her. What if she was too busy? Or simply didn’t want to deal with whatever you had? You quietly approached her, anxiously waiting for her to look up and take you into her arms.

The second she saw you Larissa knew something was wrong, not only did you usually try not to “bother” her at work, you looked about to cry, “Whats wrong, precious?” She immediately ushered you closer and pull you into a hug.

“I d-don’t know, I-“ talking started crying, words felt too heavy but you wanted to somehow explain, you didn’t know how. You simply clung to her as she drew patterns on your back. It was distracting, soothing and after a moment of your silence Larissa allowed herself to talk.

“Don’t force yourself to explain if you can’t. We’re okay my little darling, I want you to try and follow my breathing, focus on my hand as well.” She pulled you into her lap and you wrapped around her instantly, making her chuckle and kiss your temple.

Your cries turned into sniffles, and you rubbed your eyes hiding into her chest. “Mommas here, little one, it’s alright. Maybe we can try to talk later and figure out what happened to my precious little one, yeah?”

Her sweet words made you feel shy, “her precious little one” you giggled as you replayed them. “What’s got you so giddy all of a sudden?” Larissa’s smile was evident through her voice. “momma” simple enough reply, she responded with an exaggerated gasp. “Momma made her baby this happy? Oh my, what an honor!”

Giggling, you turned to face her desk, grabbing random things to fidget with. “Anything but the papers, darling.” You gave her a nod, grabbing one of her pens and taking her hand, laying it flat on the desk. You drew little shapes, the sun, some clouds, basically anything you could think off and was simple enough, Larissa allowed you.

“These are wonderful, my love! how about we get you something to eat and then you can go right back to drawing, little one?” You practically squealed at the mention of snacks, she allowed you to pick what you wanted from her stash. You happily munched on your food, completely oblivious to Larissa’s adoring gaze.

“Very good sweetheart, how about you stay with momma for the rest of the day?” She said as she played with your hair. “No bother?” You paused for a second, looking at her for confirmation, she gave you a reassuring smile.

“Of course not, my love. In fact it can get a little lonely here without you.” “I stay?” She nodded, stealing a piece of your snack making you gasp, offended. “How dares! my snack.” You huffed, crossing your arms. “Careful you don’t wanna drop it!”

“I’m very very sorry little one, I’ll get my own snack.” You shook your head offering yours. “Share!” She tilted her head at you. “Oh you wanna share? Thank you sweetheart.” “Mhm mhm, me n momma shares” Larissa kissed your cheek, holding you close. “I’ve got the sweetest little love ever, don’t I?” You very proudly nodded.

#larissa weems #cg!larissa weems #wednesday agere #larissa weems fluff #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #principal weems #wednesday weems #wednesday nevermore

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loversj0y · 2 years ago

Text

loves me (like im brand new)

TW: this fic deals with sensitive topics, specifically referencing sexual assault, as well as the recovery process, including mentions of flashbacks and references to dissociation. read at your own discretion

hey so this is entirely self-indulgent. ive been having a rough week (and im sure based on the content you could probably understand why) so yeah, it's not much. but take this as i try to cope (and finish the ttds au)

title is taken from call it what you want by taylor swift

wilbur soot x gn! reader

word count: 1.9k

The floor of the bathtub seemed to become your best friend during trying times. There was something about it that just became comforting when you felt like reaching out to anyone wouldn’t help. And it would help to reach out, but you couldn’t help preferring to spill your secrets to the bathroom floor.

It was too late at night for most people to be taking a shower, and you knew that. You’d been in here god knows how long, your phone left forgotten in your bedroom. The water was turned as hot as it would go, your skin left a blazing red in response. You didn’t know what triggered the episode, maybe the date was a little too close to the anniversary, or maybe you’d thought for a second that you saw the guy who assaulted you a few years back. In reality, it was a combination, you were always much more aware of your trauma this time of year, when memories of abuse and unmeaningful “i love yous” went rampant in your brain. There wasn’t much you felt you could do at times like this. The water helped, though. It hurt slightly, but the burn of the water was stronger than the memory of his hands on you. Everytime you did this, you hoped the water would allow you to scrub the hands off of you, but each time you could never feel clean. Your body wouldn’t feel like yours fully. You tried to stave off flashbacks and memories, forcing yourself to be grounded by focusing on tiny details in your apartment’s bathroom, the grout of the tile, the stains at the bottom of the shower curtain, the way the lightbulb would occasionally flicker. That lightbulb usually annoyed you, but now, you felt thankful for it as it’s random flicker would pull you out of your thoughts when you slipped into them.

You wanted to leave the shower, part of you wanting to go curl up in bed and put on so many layers until you felt like your body didn’t exist. But any attempts at moving made your brain yell at you once more, leaving you stuck in place.

A knock on the door startled you, your heart rate spiking, you didn’t have roommates, who-.

You question was cut off before you could even finish it.

“Darling?! Are you in there?” Wilbur, your boyfriend, sounded alarmed. He wasn’t supposed to stop by tonight, he was supposed to go hang out with Tommy, so why was he here?

“Wilbur?”

He seemed to let out a relieved sigh. “Are you alright? Can I come in?”

“I- yeah, you can come in,” you spoke, just loud enough for him to hear. He opened the door, quickly moving over to where you were, kneeling down next to the shower.

“What are you doing here, Wilbur?” I asked softly.

“You weren’t answering, I got scared.”

“I told you I was going to take a shower, didn’t I?”

“Darling, that was almost four hours ago,” He frowned, reaching a hand into the water to fix your hair, but pulling back once he felt the temperature. He looked at you, getting a better look now that some of the steam had left the bathroom. “Love, your skin is burning red, that cannot feel good. Come on, let’s get you out of there.”

You groaned lightly, leaning your head against the side of the tub, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean, love?”

“I just- I can’t, I feel…” trapped, haunted, exhausted, stuck, “frozen.”

He nodded, even though he didn’t fully understand. “Are you okay with me touching you?”

You thought about it for a moment. Anyone else and it would’ve been a no, anyone else and it would’ve set your brain into overdrive, but Wilbur never made you feel anything but safe and loved. You nodded after a moment.

He stood, leaning forward and turning off the shower. He got into the tub behind you, carefully lifting you and helping you stand.

“You’re gonna get wet,” you complained softly.

He just shrugged, “I don’t mind. I’m sure I’ve left enough clothes here that I can find something if it bothers me.”

You sniffled a bit and nodded. He carefully got you out of the tub, grabbing your towel and wrapping it around you gently. He pressed a gentle kiss to your head.

“Let me grab your pajamas, okay?” He went to grab them, but you reached a hand out and stopped him.

“Wait, I-” you paused, looking down a bit shyly, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He gave you an encouraging smile, nodding, “That’s alright. I’ll stay with you until you’re dry, and then we’ll go together. Sounds good?”

You nodded softly at him, taking a seat on top of the closed toilet seat cover. You looked down at his jumper, “Sorry again about your jumper.”

He shrugged, pulling the jumper off and tossing it out of the bathroom, wearing a simple white shirt underneath, “Doesn’t matter. Not as much as you do.”

You looked at the ground after he spoke. You didn’t feel like you mattered right now. It had nothing to do with your boyfriend, he was being so incredibly kind, and you couldn’t ask for anything better. But your head fought back and forth between feeling Wilbur’s love and feeling like you were back in that room from so many years ago. You pulled the towel tighter around yourself, and it was like you could feel Wilbur’s frown. He knew you too well, knowing your tells whenever you retreated into your own head.

“Darling, look at me,” He spoke softly, kneeling down in front of you.

You slowly looked up at him, met with nothing but kindness in his gaze.

“There you are,” he smiled softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head violently, “No- I… not now.”

He nodded, rubbing your back gently, “That’s alright. Are you ready to get dressed?”

You nodded, and he carefully leaned down to pick you up, walking to your closet. He set you down once you were there, keeping his hand at your back. He looked around for a moment before grabbing one of his sweaters and a pair of old sweatpants, “Here.”

You took them, and he helped you get dressed, the both of you taking your time. Once you were dressed, he took your hand, walking you to bed.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asked softly as you sat down on the bed.

“Could you hand me my water bottle?” You asked softly, pointing at the bottle sitting on your desk. He did so quickly, and you drank from it quickly before setting it on your nightstand.

You didn’t quite know how to get the words out to ask him the next part, so you just patted the bed. He understood, sitting against the headboard. You came over, laying down against him gently, and his arms were quick to fall around you, holding you close.

He kissed the top of your head, humming a soft tune. Once you’d relaxed enough, you spoke quietly.

“I thought you were going to Tommy’s tonight?”

He shrugged, “You weren’t responding, so I got worried. His girlfriend is there anyways, so he wouldn’t notice if I was there or not anyway.”

“Still, you didn’t have to come here,” you spoke softly, and he scoffed.

“I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

You nodded, burying your face against him lightly. You wanted to tell him what happened, it just took a few minutes to actually get the words out. “Today sucked.” You spoke quietly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I just… it’s around this time a few years ago that I was- I,” it hurt to say, and Wilbur knew, piping up softly, “I know.”

You nodded once more, continuing, “it’s just… it feels so much more real around now, and so I just feel so much more sensitive to everything. The tiniest thing sets me off into a flashback, and it’s like I can still feel those hands on me sometimes, and it’s just- it’s overwhelming.” You sniffled softly, “The hot water helps, I can feel it more than the stupid fucking hands, but I just- I’ve rubbed my skin raw so many times, and I can still feel it. I’ve never felt clean since then, but it gets so much worse around this time, and I just can’t help but feel gross,” you sobbed softly, burying your face further against his chest.

Wilbur held you close, rubbing your back gently, “I don’t think you’re gross.” He spoke, “I know that it might not mean much coming from me, but I don’t think you’re gross, or unclean, or anything like that. I think you went through something shitty, and that you survived. And I also know that I adore you, and I adore learning more about you. Everything about you is new to me. Each piece makes you up, and I feel honored to learn about all of it, even if it feels like a curse, because I know that it all brought you to me, the same way I know the stuff I went through brought me to you.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes, “Thank you,” You whispered. It meant more than he’d probably ever know to hear him describe you as new.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead gently. “Of course, love. Your past is not you, it’s like a piece of clay, you know? You can’t change it fundamentally, but you can change how it looks and how you use it. It doesn’t define you, it just makes up part of you.”

You sighed softly, “I wish it didn’t, though. I’d rather it have never happened.”

He frowned, “I understand. If I could change the past, I would, just for you. But since I can’t, I’ll do anything you need me to because I want to make sure you are okay. It’s what I’m here for.”

You nodded, and he carefully wiped at your eyes. After a moment of trying to calm your tears, you, strangely enough, started laughing.

Wilbur smiled, giving you an incredulous look. “What is it?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “Just feel a bit stupid.”

“Why?”

“For not telling you earlier. I’ve felt like shit since like 2P.M., I just didn’t want you to worry”

He smiled, brushing a bit of your hair back, “Darling, I’m constantly worrying about you. I mean this lovingly when I say you stress me out every day, especially when you text me in the middle of the night to show me the bugs you see when you walk around town at night.”

“It’s always fun doing that, though. Plus, you know I’m always heading to see you.”

He flushed a bit, chuckling softly, “I know. But it does make me worry.”

You smiled, gently taking his hand in yours. “Thank you for showing up.”

He squeezed your hand gently, “Of course. I’ll always show up for you, darling.”

You closed your eyes, curling into his side and yawning out slowly. The dark feeling in your chest was still there, but it felt smaller with Wilbur around. It was much more bearable with him there.

“Goodnight, love,” He gently pecked your lips, holding you lightly.

“Goodnight, Wilbur.” With him by your side, everything felt lighter. You could breathe, with him by your side, and you were able to fall into a quiet slumber.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mar writes #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur my beloved #this is very Me specific i apologize

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echoingbirdsofprey · 2 months ago

Text

Take Me Back To Eden

One - When We Were Made

Pairing: ii x OC Violetta Kastor

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: swearing as usual for anything I write and this is not a slow burn, so there's immediately flirting and talk of an ex

A/N: Out of respect for the band and their crew, I've decided to use made up names, as it gets a little taxing writing the Roman numerals over and over. It is clearly explained who everyone is. I've also made up physical details if needed, some true (eyes that we know of), some not. The actual plot and storyline is entirely fictional except maybe some of the tour dates but those are also mostly rough estimates so don't come after me! Enjoy!

Violetta had no idea that the first thing she was about to do at her new job was tech for a ritual. Fresh out of school, she'd been hired on a recommendation by her favorite band, which was the craziest shit that could've happened to her. What band, you ask? Well, Sleep Token of course. Yes, the masked and mysterious collective hired Violetta to be a guitar tech. And she could tech with the best of them. She'd majored in music production and recording and she was top of her class. Her professor knew the record label owner and sent him a message because she wanted Violetta to be successful.

Well, what a way to start. She'd been thrown to the fucking wolves the very first ritual. Theo, their tour manager and lead on the soundboard met her and immediately pulled her toward the stage during soundcheck. He went over everything quickly and concisely as the sultry sound of Vessel's voice was overheard through the microphone.

"You're gonna hang with Jack tonight and he'll show you how everything works. We've got in-ears. We'll get you a pair to use for now and then the boys will want you to have a custom pair once we've decided to let you stay." Theo explained, placing a hand on her shoulder and smiling. Violetta knew this was her audition for the rest of her career. She was used to pressure but she couldn't have imagined the amount put on her in that first night.

Luckily, everything ran so smoothly that instead of coming out in a state of panic thinking she wasn't good enough, she'd been congratulated so many times she couldn't even count. She hadn't done much but noticed the mics sounded off just before the set, then restringing IV's 8-string Jackson when the top two strings gave way, faster than she'd ever restrung and tuned a guitar, and that made it all worthwhile.

The funniest thing that had happened that night was her becoming fast friends with Jack. He was just like her friend at home, Brian, except Jack wasn't gay as fuck. Not that she had a problem with that, but it could be a lot for people just meeting him. Jack was nice, down to earth, could joke about anything, and would take a selfie at the best moments. She really liked Jack.

Everyone had been stupid nice to her. It was later on, after the ritual, that she had her second dose of reality dished to her when she headed backstage. She'd helped pack away all the gear, and mind you, getting to help put II's drums away was the highlight of her life until she entered that green room. There, sitting and looking very normal, with a water bottle in one hand, phone in the other, was Vessel.

"Hi, you must be Violetta. You were top-notch tonight, darling." He said, the rumble and rasp in his voice so evident after singing. He looked like a dang noodle of a man, floppy brown hair and a clean shaven face, with crystal blue eyes that wrinkled at the corners with happiness. She smiled and thanked him, going to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. She kneeled down, taking one from the bottom rack and surveyed what else was in the fridge. Fruit, lots of energy drinks, cans of soda, sushi, and finger sandwiches of all different kinds. "Feel free to eat anything too, hun, that's all for us and the crew."

She wasn't terribly hungry, but she thanked him again and sat across the room from him at a foldable table that was set with several folding chairs. She took a few sips from her bottle and took out her phone. She scrolled through the pictures that had been taken that night by their photographer, Alex. One in particular she quite liked was of II, the drummer. He was for sure in the moment, sticks blurred in the air, and his head thrown back as if in ecstasy. Speaking of the drummer, that was who came through the door next, taking a can of Coke and a bottle of water out of the fridge. He took up residence on the couch that was facing where Violetta was sitting. He glanced over and smiled.

"You must be Violetta." He said, soft spoken and slightly higher timbre than Vessel. She nodded and he smiled again, his deeper blue eyes lighting up. He looked tired and still fairly sweaty, even though she was sure they'd cleaned up, but maybe he hadn't just yet. He was the shortest member of the band, but still taller than Violetta as she was a short five feet tall. He popped the Coke open, placed it on the floor by his feet, then unscrewed the cap from the bottle of water and chugged half of it before putting the cap back on.

Jack swooped in, gave Violetta a bear hug, then swooped out with water and some food on a plate. He poked his head in again, realizing he'd forgotten to tell Violetta something.

"I think you're rooming with one of the guys tonight, if that's okay? They're not too annoying." He said, a lilt of humor in his tone as he smirked at Vessel and II. "But ask Theo again, he'll be able to tell you." He said and then he was off.

She glanced down at her phone just as she received a text.

Unknown Number: hey 👋

She tilted her head and sneakily looked over at Vessel, then II. They were both on their phones. The timing of the text was rather conspicuous.

Vi: hi, who you?

Unknown: wouldn't you like to know 😏

Vi: yes. I would in fact

Unknown: who do you think I am?

Vi: honestly, don't know, but you're timing is awful fuckin weird

Unknown: is it?

Vi: yeah 🙃

Unknown: Oh c'mon, just guess

Vi: are we using real names or the numbers that Sleep gave you?

Unknown: clever girl

Vi: you're in this room with me, you have to be, otherwise you're standing out in the hallway

There was a pause in messages. She hadn't thought to listen for a text tone, but she looked up just as IV walked into the room. He didn't have his phone out.

"Hey, I really appreciate how quick you restrung my guitar. You did a great job, babes ." He said and she couldn't help but smirk at his use of very British slang. He walked to the fridge and stood in front of it, surveying the food and drinks available for a few moments before grabbing a few things on a plate and sitting down at the table next to her, but sort of across from her.

Unknown: well?

She didn't hear a text tone. She glanced at Vessel, and typed a message back.

Vi: you all have blue eyes

Unknown: okay?

Vi: is it a requirement to be in Sleep Token? Have pretty blue eyes?

Unknown: possibly, you think my eyes are pretty?

Vessel and IV hadn't typed anything. Vessel was scrolling. IV had just sat down. She averted her eyes to II, who was also scrolling.

Vi: floor tom

Unknown: kick drum

She watched as II's thumbs typed fast as fuck.

Vi: snare

Unknown: you like?

Vi: I have questions

Unknown: shoot

Vi: how the fuck did you get my number

Unknown: Theo

Vi: are you flirting with me?

Unknown: are you?

She looked up and straight at II. He smirked but didn't look at her. He typed something back.

Unknown: hi, I'm Cal, am I your favorite?

She stood, going to throw her empty bottle of water away.

Vi: it's always the quiet ones

She clicked the number and saved it as "Cal" with a little drum emote in the notes. She received a text.

Cal: ✨️

Vi: did you just use a sparkle ✨️ emote?

Cal: I did, yes

Cal: im your roommate by the way

Her heartbeat picked up and she full-on stared at him, lips parted for a split second, then she bit her bottom lip and took a breath.

Fuck .

Cal: is that okay?

This time, he turned and she gazed deep into the ocean blue of his eyes, her very emerald ones seemingly lit with fire behind them. And not a rageful fire, but a very lust filled one.

Vi: how'd you know you were my favorite?

Cal: im good at guessing

Vi: guess my next move then

Cal: why don't you guess mine?

Vi: nope

She grabbed another bottle of water, a can of Coke, said "good night" to the guys, then headed out into the hallway, running into Theo. Cal stayed seated for a few moments before deciding to do the same and try to catch up with Violetta. Theo stopped her for a moment.

"Hey! You were awesome tonight. I meant to tell you earlier, Cal's your roomy for tonight. I figured that might work for you since he's pretty quiet and easy to get along with. I gave him your number so you could get the room key from him when you were ready for it." He explained and Violetta nodded and thanked him. He pulled her in for a hug. "Welcome to the crew."

She smiled wide and then headed down the hallway. She became aware very quickly of the drummer's footsteps behind her. He caught up to her, grabbing for her hand.

"Hi." He said, same soft tone as before. Violetta smiled and she could feel her cheeks getting redder by the second. He was...cute...no...he was hot. He was both. He had a little bit of facial hair, matching dirty blond hair on his head and through his white t-shirt she could see some of the dark, traditional, and colored tattoos that painted his chest. He had two full sleeves of tattoos as well that crawled their way onto his hands. The black body paint really did a great job of hiding it all. She glanced down at his hand that was still holding hers.

"Sorry." He said, going to pull away but she stopped him.

"Still flirting with me?" She asked, intertwining her fingers with his. She felt him twitch like he was going to pull his hand away but he stopped himself, mesmerized by the way his hand fit in hers and the tattoos on her arms.

"Do you...want me to?" He asked sheepishly. His heart was pounding out of his chest just being by himself with her.

"I was kind of enjoying our little text dialogue. Never had that happen before." She said, a wide smile forming on her lips.

He studied her for a few moments, before bowing his head and pulling her toward the exit door. The hotel was just across the street, so they walked, acting like a normal couple, but she could tell he was slightly on edge, by how his grip on her hand tightened slightly. He didn't want to be recognized, she surmised.

He led Violetta to the elevator, going up a few floors before they exited and walked down the hall to room 409. He fished in the pocket of his shorts, tapped the card on the sensor, and the door clicked open and he allowed her in first. He flicked on the light. To her surprise, someone had thoughtfully brought her bags up and placed them on the single bed.

There's only one bed. Fuck. Oh, wait, there's a couch.

"You can have the bed, sweetheart . I'll take the couch." He said, touching the small of her back before taking a pillow from the bed, saluting, and diving onto the couch with an audible " fuckin' hell".

She felt her temperature rise again at the use of the pet name. She wondered what III's nickname for her was going to be, since he was the only one of the boys she hadn't met yet.

She sat on the bed and glanced over at II...or Cal. She placed the can of Coke and her bottle of water on the night stand that filled the space between the couch and the bed. He was laying down, arms behind his head, his phone on his chest, and his eyes closed. He'd kicked off his shoes and his legs were propped up on the arm of the couch. Violetta leaned back against the pillows, turned the light off and took out her phone, setting the brightness as low as possible.

Vi: you don't have to sleep on the couch, it looks uncomfortable

Vi: also that can of Coke is for you

She waited and glanced over as she saw his phone light up. He took a second, opening one eye, typing a slow response then sending it.

Cal: really?

Vi: really what?

Cal: you can't just talk to me?

Cal: also thanks, how'd you know?

Vi: I can, I just kind of though this was cute

Vi: I guessed

Cal: very cute...sweetheart, if I come in that bed, we're not sleeping

Vi: is that a threat?

Cal: it's a fuckin promise

She sat up, her heart racing. What a fucking player. She didn't think he was like that. She responded back.

Vi: that's awful forward of you

He shifted, turning on his side with a loud sigh, then typed back to her.

Cal: im staying on the couch...not a good look for your first day if we fuck around

He'd been able to relax a little and feel confident in his words, as he wasn't saying them out loud. If he'd had to, he wouldn't be saying any of this.

Vi: maybe my second? 🤭

Cal: you're fuckin adorable

Violetta smiled and closed her eyes. Her phone vibrated again.

Cal: let's get to know each other first...not saying I'm not interested... I'd just like to know you better ...makes the sex better

Violetta let out a little squeak and laughed quietly. She kind of hoped he didn't hear her, but he probably did. She put her phone down next to her and rolled onto her side, letting her dreams take her to places she'd never been before, with the drummer hot and heavy in her thoughts.

¤ ¤ ¤

Conveniently enough, the next morning was not a show day, so the boys and the crew could relax. Violetta was still a little in college mode, so even though she'd gone to sleep past one in the morning, she still woke up at six a.m. her body ready to go for a walk like she did every morning for the past four years. She opened her eyes and it wasn't as bright as she'd thought. She certainly wasn't going to go for a walk in a country that she didn't know, without people she knew, so she looked over to the couch. Cal was gone. She looked down at her phone, which had two texts.

Cal: left you the key, text me when you're awake

The other was another unknown number.

Unknown: mornin, girlypop, waiting in the next room for you when you wake up

Violetta shook her head and smiled. This kept getting weirder, but more exciting. She dressed quickly, black leggings today, and a maroon Sleep Token sweatshirt over a navy Northlane tank top. She tousled her hair, putting it up in a claw clip, letting her bangs fall over her eyes. Now she knew III's nickname for her.

She took her phone and the key card, and headed out into the hallway. She texted the unknown number, who she was pretty sure she knew who it was.

Vi: uh, which next room?

She only had to wait a few seconds before she heard a door click to the right. A short girl with black long hair had stepped out, followed by the tallest, lankiest, most British looking guy she'd ever seen.

"Hi, Violetta. I'm Piper. I'm the merch manager. This is Steve." She outstretched her hand for Violetta to shake and then she shook Steve's hand after. He smiled wide, the smile reaching all the way up to his eyes, making the corners wrinkle.

" Girlypop , huh?" Violetta said with a smirk. Steve's laugh bellowed through the hall and Piper smacked him on the arm.

"You're so loud." She said and he grabbed her around the waist and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Yeah but you like it. C'mon. Girlypop , breakfast time." Steve said, gently pushing Piper toward the elevator and making a come here motion with his hand at Violetta. When they stepped inside the elevator, Violetta took out her phone and texted Cal.

Vi: you didn't sleep much

It didn't take him long at all to respond.

Cal: mornin sweetheart, I'll meet you at breakfast

Vi: how do you know where we'll be?

Cal: you're not hard to find 😉

Violetta smiled as they left the elevator. They walked down a short hallway and entered a large dining room with several buffet tables set up. There were a lot of bands playing last night and a lot of them had stayed at this hotel. She followed Piper and Steve as they went through the line and grabbed food. Violetta wondered if she should get a plate for Cal.

Vi: food?

She waited a moment before scooping some scrambled eggs onto her plate, then bacon, some sort of sausage patties, and two muffins.

Cal: I'll share with you

She loaded the plate up with a few more things and saw that there were the big ass cans of Redbull. She took one of those and a big water bottle also. She followed Steve to a table, where Piper was already seated. Steve scooted in as close as he could to her and put an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Vessel and IV showed up. Vessel sat on the other side of Piper with a muffin and a bottle of water, certainly not as close as Steve. IV sat next to Violetta with a full plate. He began devouring his food, glancing at Violetta every so often as she was slow to begin picking at her food.

Then she felt a presence beside her, a warm body touching hers. A tattooed hand reached out, stealing a piece of bacon from her plate to eat. He chewed happily and then placed one arm around Violetta's shoulders.

"Hi, sweetheart ." He said, low enough that only she heard it. No one seemed to notice him sitting, or putting his arm around her. Or eating from her plate the whole time. He even drank from the same can of Redbull as her, which made her chuckle a little the first time he took a sip, because he took it out of her hand and took a long sip right after her, then placed it back down.

Once everyone had finished, Vessel had volunteered to clear everyone's plates. Steve and Piper decided they were going to go down to the festival so they headed out soon after finishing. Violetta made sure she saved his number in her phone as "Steve" and put " Girlypop " in the notes. Cal still had his arm around her when IV sat back down.

"Sorry. I didn't actually introduce myself yesterday. I was so fuckin' tired. I'm Jesse." He said, offering his hand for Violetta to shake. She did and he smiled warmly back at her. Cal leaned forward and raised a brow at him. Jesse took Violetta's phone and put his number in by himself, then texted her.

Jesse: hey babes

She smiled and shook her head, then checked the little note next to his name. It was a winky face emoji. She immediately texted him back.

Vi: hi flirty

Jesse: you bet I am

Violetta raised her brows at him and he gently touched her shoulder before leaving the table, leaving her and Cal together. He leaned back again and took the last sip of the can of Redbull. Vessel sat down across from them.

"You can call me Roman if you want...instead of Vessel. Or call me Vessel. Or Ves. Doesn't really matter to me." He said, catching Violetta's eyes immediately.

"How are you going to give me your phone number, because everyone else's attempt has been an experience." She said with a grin. He also smiled and held his hand out. She put her phone in it, and he typed his number in the box at the top then gave it back. He'd left the name part blank.

"I leave that up to you, darling." He said, his super low baritone sending a shiver down her spine. She now had all four of the boys' numbers. She saved his as "Roman" but put "Vessel" in the notes.

"Anyone ever gets my phone they're gonna know all yalls identities." She said and glanced at Cal. He was scrolling on his phone, not paying much attention to their conversation, but his arm was still around her. It had fallen slightly and was more situated near the middle of her back now. He'd unconsciously begun drawing small circles there, which she had not realized until now. Her cheeks heated and she sighed, trying to put away any unwanted horny thoughts, but they just wouldn't stop.

"That's alright. We're on our way to revealing ourselves anyway." Roman said, finishing up the water he had grabbed.

"You are?" Violetta asked and he just nodded.

"We're healing. We've become something new." Roman said, then gently reached for her hand, placing his on hers for a moment before leaving her and Cal to each other again. She turned to him and he looked up from his phone immediately.

"You're healing?" She asked, brows knitting in concern.

"That's why I said I want us to get to know each other first. I have...some baggage...and I want you to be sure you wanna deal with my shit." He said, reaching for her other hand. He put it on his chest and she could feel his heartbeat was fast. Faster than it should be for sure. "This..." He motioned between her and himself, "is so unbelievably fuckin' nerve-wracking for me right now."

"Why?" She asked softly, spreading her fingers under his. He took a deep breath and she felt his heart kick up a notch more and his breathing quicken slightly as well.

"I had...an ex...batshit crazy. Trying to out us all among other things...which I want to tell you but I can't right now...but...she fucked us all up." He explained, trying to stay calm and not trip over his words.

"You don't have to tell me anymore right now." Violetta said, feeling his grip on her hand tighten. She saw hesitation in those ocean blue eyes of his. She could even catch a twinge of fear. "I won't pretend to understand what you went through...but I'll be here for you if you want to talk about it...and if you don't...we don't have to."

He smiled warmly at her admission and pulled her close for a hug to show that he appreciated it. When he pulled away, he caught a glimpse of her emerald eyes and he could've melted at how pretty they were in the morning light. Violetta leaned closer, the tip of her nose touching his and he closed the last few centimeters, letting his lips just graze hers, a ghost of a kiss. When they parted, Violetta noticed he was shaking slightly and she embraced him once again.

"What the fuck did she do to you?" She asked softly, not necessarily at him but just in anger toward his ex. She'd beat the shit out of the girl if she ever met her.

#sleep token #sleep token fic #sleep token ii #vessel sleep token #sleep token band #iv sleep token #iii sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token ii x oc

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