#ive got enough heads darling thanks

[eldritchcoffeefiend]

OK, I'm sure this has probably been said before, but it struck me that if Vulpes ever really wanted to show any kind of affection for someone it would probably be like a cat bringing you a dead bird.

Vulpes: *throws a Ranger helmet at your feet and gives you a broad, creepy grin*

You: ... I-is there still a head in there?

Or...

You: Did you wipe out an entire settlement?!

Vulpes: Of course. It's our anniversary.

[kilesplaysthings]

how the boys would react when you have a migraine

ngl i'm a little apprehensive about this one lol and it got LONG o.o Sylus is the fandom's darling, it seems, so i hope i wrote him well ^^;

Xavier | Rafayel | Zayne | Sylus | Caleb

Part IV: Sylus (you/MC x Sylus)

It had been an entire week since you started having one of the worst migraines you'd had in a long time. You did get them every so often, but it had been a while since one had lasted this long. You'd done your best to combat it with medication and sleeping in a cool, dark room, but none of your usual methods worked. It just seemed to be a migraine you had to suffer through. By the end of the week, you'd decided to call off of work for a day to rest. Your migraine was beginning to wear off, but you were utterly exhausted. You felt like you'd run a marathon; either that or gotten hit by a truck.

You were so thankful it was finally the weekend coming up. Since you took the day off of work, you had three days to hide away and sleep for hours on end. Hopefully, you'd be up to going back to work next week.

The lights were off, the AC was down in the low 60s, and you were ready to burrow yourself into the blankets and cut off all contact with the outside world until Monday. Before you were able to surrender yourself to slumber, your phone went off. A glance at the screen indicated it was none other than your boyfriend trying to call you.

"Yes, Sylus?" You answered. It was only mid-afternoon. You were surprised he was awake at this hour.

"I just received a notification from Mephisto," he remarked. "He said you didn't go into work today."

You shook your head, smiling wryly. "Keepin' tabs on me, huh?"

"You know I'm always watching over you, sweetie," he replied with a low laugh. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Sylus always seemed to be in tune with you when something was amiss, and he always checked to make sure everything was all right. The two of you valued honesty in your relationship, so you told him right away about your awful migraine.

"It's been going on for the whole week and nothing's helping. I'm wiped out." You heaved a deep sigh.

"What are you doing right now?" He asked.

"Not a thing," you answered. "Just lying in bed."

"Are you up for a drive?"

You thought about it for a moment. Your migraine was wearing off by now; it was just a mild, dull ache at this point. More than anything else, you were just fatigued.

"It's all right if you're not," he said when you hesitated.

"No, I think I'll be fine as long as we're just driving in a car, but I don't think I'd be much use for anything else," you told him.

"Don't worry. I promise it will be very relaxing, what I have planned."

Your eyebrows rose up in surprise. "You're planning something? What is it?"

"You'll find out soon enough. I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Do I have to dress up?" You asked, worried. You really hoped whatever he had prepared wasn't anything too fancy.

"Wear whatever you want, kitten."

The call ended shortly after that. You sat up in bed and looked down at yourself. At the moment, you were in your pajamas. Sylus said you could wear whatever you wanted, so you were going to do just that. At this point, you couldn't care less if he saw you looking like a slob.

You threw on a tshirt, sweats and a hoodie. A pair of slip-on sneakers completed the look. You didn't want to bother with your hair, so you just pulled it back into a bun, and of course, makeup was totally out of the question. However, you did wash your face to freshen up.

You felt your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket and saw that he texted you:

"I'm here."

When you opened the door, sure enough, there he was in all his 6'2 glory. He gave you a warm smile.

"Hey there, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you found yourself saying, unable to help the little feeling of glee that ran through you at the sight of him. You'd been together for a while by now, but he still gave you butterflies. Being so tired and achy was probably also a part of your reaction to seeing him. You'd missed him.

He chuckled. "Good to see you too. How are you feeling? Tired?"

You worked up a small smile. "Yeah, but I'll live. This is the best I could do right now," you said, nodding to your outfit. "'S that okay?"

"Of course." His deep voice was gentle, and he reached for your hand. "Come."

You were more than happy to place your hand in his larger one. He kept you close as you both left the apartment, went down the elevator and out of the building. His sleek, black car was parked out front by the entrance. Sylus opened the passenger door for you before he got in on the driver's side. Once you were seated, you noticed the car windows were tinted, most likely to shield you from any aggravating light.

"How's the air?" Sylus asked as he started the car. "Too cold? Too hot?"

You shook your head. "It's fine. I'm comfortable."

"Good." He placed his hand on the back of your neck, massaging it gently with his thumb. "Close your eyes and lay your head back if you want to rest some more."

He pressed a button, and your seat began to recline. You were happy to do as he suggested, feeling quite relaxed, especially when the car began to move. You felt like a restless, sick child, lulled into a peaceful sleepiness from the motion of the vehicle.

The ride lasted for probably twenty minutes or so. When you felt the car come to a stop, you opened your eyes. Sylus was parking in front of an elegant looking building surrounded by flowery hedges and some trees. A sign near the front door indicated that Sylus had taken you to a Spa with a sauna. Your eyes widened.

"A spa?" You exclaimed.

He smirked. "I thought this weary kitten could use some pampering."

He got out of the car and went over to open the door for you.

"You made an appointment for me?" To say you were stunned would be an understatement.

"For us," he corrected. "I though a massage would do me some good."

You giggled. "Oh, I see. You just wanted an excuse to get pampered yourself, I bet."

He huffed a little and smiled, amused. "Think whatever you like. All that matters is that I get to see you smiling like that again."

His sweet words made you blush a little. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along to go inside the building. The secretary at the front desk greeted you with a smile and pulled up the reservation that was under Sylus's name. She checked you both in and led you to a smaller room where you could relax on a couch while you waited for your masseuse. This room was quiet with soft music playing in the background. It was lit with warm lamp light and the soothing smell of essential oils wafted from a nearby diffuser. You were feeling relaxed already.

When it was your turn for the couple's massages, the lady who would treat you called your names. Sylus had ordered a full body couple's massage, complete with facials and aromatherapy. It was the full package, and you decided not to even try to contemplate how much it cost.

Once you were both disrobed, you were asked to lie down on your stomachs on two comfortable beds. You were given towels to cover your more private areas. The lady massaging you focused on your upper back, neck, head and forehead. You had a feeling Sylus had recommended those areas for you specifically.

"How is it?" He asked as you both had your backs massaged. You barely registered his question, nearly asleep.

"Feels amazing," you muttered. You didn't notice the soft smile that came over his face.

"Good."

Once the massage was over, he suggested you both relax in the sauna. As the steam filled up the small room, you leaned against Sylus, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I feel much better," you murmured. You felt his hand rub your upper back around your shoulder blades.

"Then my plan worked perfectly."

"Sylus," you said, looking up at him, "thanks so much. This really helped."

"Of course, sweetie." He leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" You asked after a minute of peaceful silence.

He laughed a little. "You don't need to ask. I was going to suggest it anyway."

You both showered and prepared to leave the spa, with plans to spend the night at one of his houses nearby. By now it was early evening and Sylus assured you dinner would be taken care of by a chef he employed. As the two of you waited for the meal to be prepared, you relaxed on the couch together in front of a lit fireplace.

You were resting on top of him, your head on his broad chest. The sound of his beating heart against your ear was soothing, so much so that you were fighting the urge to fall asleep again.

"Sy, I just want to say, thank you again. You don't know how much these last couple of hours meant to me," you told him quietly, while absently stroking his side.

"You really don't need to thank me, kitten. After all, it was enjoyable for me, too."

You knew he was joking and poked his cheek, peering up at him. "Regardless, I'm so grateful to have such a caring boyfriend like you. What do you say to making this a regular thing? I think spa dates with you would be fun!"

A pleased smile spread over his face, and he stroked your hair. Gazing into your eyes, he said, "I'll look forward to the next time, then."

[quarterlifekitty]

So I've been thinking about what other areas of the body that the boys like to fuck (excluding the usual suspect ofc)

Like I could see Price being a fan of the mouth ofc. Or König with a weird obsession with tits. Maybe Gaz sliding in between barely closed thighs, the tip nudging at her little clit every few slow thrusts. Soap being an ass man...

I'm just.... I'm obsessed. Ive got a problem. But thank god I basically live in an echo chamber on this godforsaken site

Weaknesses: the road less travelled

cw: some dubcon, maybe pain play (it’s vague), some WHACKY shit in the price section (fantasy cervical penetration)

Nothing hits for Gaz quite like your soft, warm thighs. Especially first thing in the morning— hearing your sleepy little moans and gasps as his leaking cockhead spreads pre against your little pearl.

Soap is a bit similar. I think he likes feet literally everything, but what really gets him crazy? Is a pussyjob. He loves a quickie— so quick he can’t even bend you over or have you sat down. Just you and him, chest to chest as he jerks and ruts himself between your folds, clothes lifted just enough to allow contact.

Ghost likes fucking your mouth. He just likes to tease you, feed you his cock, slap your cheek and tongue with his hard dick as his pre smears onto your face. Likes it when you choke around him, but you take it— cause you love him. If you really wanna treat him, you’ll put on some eye makeup so it’ll get ruined with your tears while he’s in your throat.

Price. So. Uhm. Hear me out on this one. I’m about to get a little out there. This isn’t something he can do physically, but he does have a fantasy about fucking your womb. So sometimes you play a little bit of pretend (it was FAR into the relationship when he finally admitted this to you). He just loves the idea of you straining while his head pops in— deeper than anyone or anything has ever been— right in your unprotected breeding chamber. Like your fertility is something defended, and he’s proven himself worthy of inseminating you by getting so far inside. Sometimes he’ll press down on your abdomen to create a point that’s a little tighter inside you, and he’ll talk straight filth into your ear. “Y’feel how deep I am inside you, darl’? Right where I’m gonna pump my load— where I’m gonna knock you up with my baby. This cute, plump, defenseless little womb of yours. Perfect place for it, innit?”

König loves your tits. I’ve spoken of it at length. He loves to straddle you, careful about holding his weight on his knees, and have you lick up and down his cock to wet it before it slides between your breasts. He’ll spit for good measure.

Nikolai loves your ass. It’s just so versatile. Training you with plugs, playing with it using his fingers when he has you bent over and taking his cock. His favorite thing to do is insist you need it to settle down and sleep, training you you to be able to cum without him even touching your clit— your cunt empty, your ass throbbing from the intrusion.

[ticifics]

hi!!! im sorry i dont request often, but ive been so in love with ur fics... my atj obsession is coming back full force and you write dave soooo well <33

maybe a fic where reader isn't exactly popular (pretty and maybe has a few close friends) and has a big crush on dave? like she can't understand how he's 'invisible to girls', cause she stares at him in whatever classes they both have, and she stands at her locker for forever just staring longingly at him and he never notices. maybe her best friend tries to convince her to talk to him eventually ..

was thinking it could be sfw and maybe fluffy (maybe a little angsty if you want) idk!!! thank you for considering it if you do, and im excited for what other work you have lined up ❤️

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: in which Dave doesn't notice any of your signals

Warnings: fluff, pre relationship, idiots in love, no use of y/n

A/N: SO SO SO SORRY, I know it's been forever since you sent this request, but I only just got around to doing something. I kind of lost count of how many times I started and deleted this fic. If you read this, I appreciate you not giving up on me, and thank you so much for the message, it was very very kind and I can only thank you for those sweet words. I hope you can enjoy this, darling (and I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request)

You always looked at him.

Sometimes subtly, when he walked down the school hallway with that casual stride, balancing his backpack on one shoulder, his headphones hanging around his neck, his brown curls falling slightly over his forehead. Other times, you didn’t even try to hide it, like when he laughed at something stupid during lunch and his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses, or when you saw him from afar during gym class, not understanding how no one else noticed how good he looked in that blue shirt.

It was a mystery to you. How was it possible that no girl at school looked at Dave Lizewski? How was it possible that no one saw what you saw?

"You should just tell him you like him and get it over with," your friend casually remarked, while you checked your phone for the thousandth time, waiting for Dave’s reply.

You pretended not to hear, but the heat on your face gave you away.

That was it. You liked him. More than you should like a friend you only exchanged messages with and talked to when you bumped into each other in the hallways. More than you should like someone who, probably, didn’t see any of it.

So, when Dave suggested you two go to the movies together to watch a Batman re-release, you tried not to overthink it.

But that became impossible when you found yourself standing in front of the mirror for too long, adjusting your top, letting your hair down and tying it up three times before deciding which way looked the least intentional. Your hands were a little sweaty, and you rolled your eyes at yourself when you realized you had chosen that specific perfume, the one that always made someone comment on how good you smelled.

It was just Dave.

Just Dave, who got adorably awkward when you accidentally complimented him. Just Dave, who laughed at your bad jokes and sent stupid memes in the middle of the night. Just Dave, who—when he met you in front of the theater—stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, blinked a few times, and without even trying to hide it, gave you that quick once-over from head to toe before clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.

"You look… uh, different today."

You raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile. "Different how?"

Dave opened and closed his mouth once, clearly trying to choose his words. His curls fell slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head to the side, and he made that unconscious motion of pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Pretty."

It was a bit hesitant, but genuine enough to make the heat rise to your cheeks.

"I’m always pretty," you joked, trying to keep your composure.

Dave smiled that awkward smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… I know."

And then, as if realizing he was giving too much away, he pointed toward the theater doors. "We should go in."

He was right. But as you passed through the ticket booth and grabbed your tickets, you could still feel his gaze on you from time to time.

The theater was packed, and the tight seats meant you were close enough that when he moved, his knee brushed against yours.

The room darkened, and soon the movie started. You tried to focus on the screen, but it wasn’t easy when every little movement of his caught your attention. The way he leaned over to grab more popcorn and, in the process, his fingers brushed against yours, his warm skin against yours in a fleeting touch that left an uncomfortable awareness in its wake. As if, somehow, that brief contact was more significant than it should have been.

He didn’t seem to notice. He just stayed there, leaning on the armrest, relaxed, his eyes lit up by the glow of the screen. Every now and then, he’d bite his lower lip without realizing it, an unconscious habit of concentration that made something twist in your stomach. His jaw looked more defined like that, and you felt an annoying urge to look longer than you should.

And then he leaned in.

You felt it before you saw it. The movement beside you, the sudden warmth of his presence getting closer, and then his warm breath grazing your skin as he whispered:

"Did you know Christian Bale almost lost the role because they thought he was too skinny?"

It sent an immediate shiver down your spine.

Maybe it was the fact that his voice came out lower than necessary, raspy on purpose or by accident. Or maybe it was because he was close, close in a way that didn’t seem normal for two friends watching a movie. His face was almost touching yours, and your mind made a stupid connection, the kind that should’ve been ignored: if you turned your head just a little, if you leaned an inch in the wrong direction, his lips would touch yours.

You swallowed hard.

"Is that true?" Your voice came out lower than you intended, and he chuckled softly, as if he noticed.

"He gained like 100 pounds of muscle in six months."

"Is that even possible?" You forced yourself to keep your eyes on the screen, as if ignoring the proximity would be enough to not feel every detail of it.

"If you’re Batman, it is."

The reply came in an almost playful whisper, and then he pulled back as if nothing had happened, leaning back into his seat.

Unlike you, who stayed there, absorbing the fact that your heart was beating way too fast for something that was supposedly nothing.

But it wasn’t just that.

His fingers were still close to yours on the armrest between the seats, so close that if either of you moved, the touches would repeat. You noticed when he grabbed more popcorn and his knuckles brushed lightly against your skin. Maybe you were imagining things, but he didn’t seem in such a hurry to move his hand away this time.

The movie went on, and by this point, you couldn’t tell if you were following the story or just the small details about him. The way he shifted in his seat, the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling with his breath, the warmth radiating from him so close to you.

His voice came low, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"Did your soda run out?"

You blinked, needing a second to process the question, before realizing that yes, the cup of soda next to you was empty.

"Yeah."

"Then have some of mine. You must be thirsty after all that popcorn."

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been. But when he tilted the cup toward you, you hesitated for a moment. Your eyes met his, and Dave smiled slightly, waiting for you to take the cup.

So you took it.

You brought the straw to your mouth and drank, feeling the cold soda running down your throat. But that wasn’t all you felt. Dave was watching. Not just casually. He didn’t look away the next second, didn’t glance at the screen as if nothing had happened. He was watching.

When you lowered the cup and handed it back to him, your fingers touched for a moment. Warm, slightly sticky from the popcorn salt, but still soft. Dave blinked a few times, as if processing something, and then drank from the same straw without a second thought.

The rest of the movie went on like that. Little moments that made it seem like you were something more. You whispered that you wanted to try the chocolate he bought, and he offered it, holding the candy near your mouth almost casually. Later, he made a comment about some scene, and you replied softly, leaning your face closer to his than necessary. It was all a silent game that neither of you seemed willing to admit you were playing.

But then the movie ended.

You needed to go to the bathroom, and Dave murmured that he’d wait outside. You nodded, adjusted your jacket, and walked away, trying to ignore the silly feeling that you were leaving something behind.

It was when you came back that you felt something strange.

There he was, standing near the theater exit, and right in front of him was a girl. You didn’t know her, but you recognized that smile. A sugary smile, a deliberate lean of her body toward him. She laughed softly, playing with her hair, saying something that made Dave furrow his brows, confused. And then you understood.

She was flirting with him.

And he had no idea.

Your body froze mid-step. It was stupid, but for a moment, you felt a strange weight in your chest. What would happen if, suddenly, someone started seeing in him what you saw? If someone looked at him and saw exactly what you saw? If someone fell for Dave Lizewski the way you were falling for him?

Your stomach churned.

That’s when he looked at you.

His face lit up in the same second, and he smiled—that genuine, easy smile he didn’t give to the girl in front of him. He muttered something quickly to her, nothing rude, just a hurried goodbye, and then started walking toward you.

And you, who still felt the heaviness in your chest, didn’t know what to do when he stopped beside you and asked, as if nothing had happened:

"Let's go?”

You could still feel the warmth of the movie theater on your skin, the memory of your fingers brushing against the popcorn, the brief touch of your hands, the low sound of his voice, raspy and almost lazy, echoing in your ear. It was absurd how every detail seemed amplified now, as if the simple fact of being alone on this walk made everything feel more real.

Dave adjusted the collar of his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets, and took two quick steps to align himself beside you. He always did that—making sure you walked together, close, your shoulders almost touching with every movement. He glanced at you, looking like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and just let out a short sigh.

You bit your lip. You couldn’t get the image of the girl at the theater out of your mind. Or the way she looked at him, or the casual way Dave stood there, listening, completely unaware.

"She was pretty."

The words came out suddenly, and Dave turned his head toward you, slightly confused. "What?"

"The girl at the theater." You shrugged, kicking a small pebble on the path. "She was pretty."

He was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out where you were going with this. Then he shrugged. "Yeah."

It was a small, indifferent sound. But for some reason, it annoyed you.

You huffed, crossing your arms, and looked at him. "And she was flirting with you."

Dave furrowed his brows, laughing lightly, as if that were absurd. "No, she wasn’t."

"Yes, she was."

"No, she wasn’t."

You stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, forcing him to stop too, his eyes widening slightly at your sudden hesitation. The cold wind passed between you, but all you felt was the heat rising to your face.

"You’re too much of an idiot to notice."

His smile faltered a little, and Dave opened his mouth, as if to retort, but couldn’t find the words.

"I’m not an idiot." He sounded slightly offended, furrowing his brows in a way that only made him seem more naive.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

"Then tell me," you challenged, tilting your head to the side, crossing your arms as you stared at him. "If a girl were flirting with you, would you notice?"

Dave let out a nasal laugh, shaking his head. "Obviously."

"No, you wouldn’t."

"I would."

"You wouldn’t."

He rolled his eyes, sighing in an exaggerated way. "Okay, then. How are you so sure about that?"

And that’s when it happened.

You didn’t think much. You just looked at him, at his messy curls and blue eyes behind his glasses, at the face you knew so well and at the answer that had been begging to come out for a long time.

"Because I’ve been giving you every possible sign, and you haven’t noticed."

The silence that followed your confession wasn’t empty.

It was heavy, loaded with something indescribable, something that tightened your chest and made the air feel denser around you.

Dave stood in front of you, his face partially lit by the nearest streetlight, his hair casting shadows over his eyes. But even with the poor lighting, you could see it.

The shock.

His lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. His gaze fixed on yours, unblinking, and the expression that took over his face was a mix of disbelief and something deeper—something you couldn’t name.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart hammering against your ribcage, the pulse vibrating in every extremity of your body. Your hands were cold, but the heat rising to your face was almost unbearable.

You had said it.

You had said it out loud.

And now there was no turning back.

Nervousness washed over you like a wave, sweeping away any trace of courage that remained. Your chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, and your fingers moved slightly, restless, before you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"I like you, Dave."

Your voice came out shakier than you wanted, but it was too late to fix it.

Dave blinked, as if the words had just hit him with full force.

"I’ve liked you for a while. A long time." You forced a short laugh, looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again. "But you never noticed."

He wet his lips, looking away, at anything that wasn’t you, as if he were trying to organize his thoughts.

His mouth opened and closed again, without a single word coming out.

"Dave," you called, and he finally looked at you again.

His eyes were intense now, as if they were trying to absorb every detail of you, every tiny movement.

You felt the hesitation in the air.

The weight of what had just happened.

But then, he did something unexpected.

With an almost hesitant movement, Dave slowly raised his hand, as if testing his own limits, as if he still couldn’t believe he could touch you. His fingers brushed against the sleeve of your jacket before finally holding your forearm, the touch light, uncertain, but real.

"I’m an idiot."

His voice came out low, almost a whisper, and the way he said it made your chest tighten in a strange way.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he continued:

"I—" Dave took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "I didn’t notice because..." He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening slightly on your arm. "Because I never thought it was possible."

Your heart stopped for a second.

His eyes were locked on yours, and there was something so genuine there, something so true, that you felt your throat close up.

"I never thought you could like me."

The confession was soft, said with a half-smile that didn’t match the uncertainty shining in his eyes.

And in that moment, you realized.

You realized he wasn’t hesitating because he didn’t feel the same.

He was hesitating because he had always felt it.

Because he had always wanted it, but never thought he was allowed to want it.

You felt your breathing quicken, and the distance between you seemed smaller now, your bodies leaning in an almost imperceptible way, as if drawn to each other.

Dave blinked a few times, as if he were still trying to understand the reality of the situation. As if he were trying to memorize this moment, to store it somewhere safe inside himself.

And then, he laughed.

Soft, almost disbelieving.

"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and shook his head. "I really am an idiot."

You let out a weak laugh, the nervousness still pulsing inside you, but now mixed with something else.

Something warm.

Something good.

Dave lowered his head for a moment, biting his lip before looking at you again, and then he did it again—that subtle movement of leaning closer. Not enough to break the last barrier between you, but enough for you to feel his warmth in the air, for every cell in your body to be aware of his presence.

"Tell me it’s not too late for me to notice now."

His tone was soft, but his eyes were intense, blue and fixed on you as if nothing else in the world existed.

And the answer came before you could even think.

"Of course it’s not."

[cryinginmommyissues]

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.

[vyzz-undercover]

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

———————————————————————————————————

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.

[wholoveseggs]

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}

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

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…?

[lookoutjoe]

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...

[darkmoonchild]

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!

🖤🖤🖤

[vivid-ink]

'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

[httpiastri]

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."

[echoingbirdsofprey]

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. 

[vyzoi]

is it possible for u to write a fic abt ur fa bllk man and selfship like give cute moments of yu two tgt how would u interact and ideal dates and shii i just wanna read everyones selfship before i drop my own.

<33

IVE BEEN WAITING FOREVER FOR YOU TO USE MY INBOX!!

I love this ask so much because the only fluff self insert I have is of me and Sendou.

But instead of Sendou this time, I’m gonna do me and Kaiser.

==================================

I like to think that before every date, Kaiser brings me a bouquet of flowers. Obviously roses of some kind.

Kaiser would be the one clinging onto me. You would think I would be the clingiest. He likes someone who is loving. I’m that someone, he would do anything to get my love and attention.

He would take me sightseeing in Germany for our dates. He wants me interested in his culture. He would also attempt to teach me German.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

It’s early in the morning and I get a text from my boyfriend. He knows I’m not a morning person but since it’s him, he knows I won’t be fussy.

“Hey, are you up? Darling, I have a surprise for you.”

“Yeah, I’m awake, you can come over.”

Soon enough, he’s at my house knocking at my door. I open the door and all I see are blue roses shoved in my face. “Surprise!” I take the roses out of his hand. “Thanks Kaiser, my love.” He kisses me on the forehead. “Do you want to go somewhere? It’s really early.” He thinks for a moment. “I know a cafe that you would like.” I smile. “Let’s go then!”

A month later

“You need to learn German, darling.” I sigh. “I’m not good at it! Can we just go sightseeing again?” He sighs. “Do you want Ness to teach you?” I look up at him. “I’m surprised you even offered that.” He puts his book down. “I can be intimidating sometimes, maybe even more than sometimes. I think Ness would be a good choice for you. I’ll text him.”

Even Ness couldn’t help me with German. “Ness sucks anyway.” I roll my eyes. “You literally praised him!? You sent me to him!?” He laughs. “Yeah, bad choice.” I look at the floor. “Face it, it’s impossible.” He grabs my face and makes me look up at him. “I never want you to say those words ever again. Got it?” I nodded my head yes. He then kisses me on the forehead.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I hope this helps!!

I kinda ran out of ideas to go along with.

But I hope this is enough source for you🫶

Thanks for asking!! 💚

[birdie-in-arcadia]

In Our Wake

Here's chapter 5! A whirlwind of emotions, and what will we do with them? Enjoy, and to all those who are reading this, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your support <3

CHAPTER FIVE — TINDERBOX 

(My POV) 

I don’t see III the next morning. Not at breakfast. Not in the van. It’s odd. The others filter in one by one; IV with a cup of black tea and a barely-there nod, II yawning and dropping into a booth, Vessel quiet but ever-present, like a low tide in the corner of the room. But no sign of him. I wonder if I’ve done something to upset him. I know he doesn’t favor me being around Vessel, so maybe he’s upset that I sat on the balcony with him for a bit last night. That would explain why he insisted I sleep in my own hotel room. I keep my head down and try not to search the room or give away my thoughts. III doesn’t like it when I talk about our issues with the boys. Says it’s a breach of privacy and trust, and though I find it a bit untrue, I respect him enough to abide by it. 

Vessel slides into the seat across from me. I almost don’t notice. "You look tired," he says, soft enough that it doesn’t feel like a judgment. "I didn’t sleep much," I reply, my voice a bit groggy. "Dreams?" He asks. "Just thinking." I answer. He hums. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t pry. I’m starting to understand that’s his way; he never demands to be let in, just... waits by the door. 

A few minutes later, I hear footsteps down the corridor; familiar, confident. There’s only one person who walks like the world owes him a drumroll. III. He appears, hair damp from a quick shower, rings gleaming like he dipped his hands in starlight. He scans the room and when his eyes find mine, the smirk is automatic. Natural. Like we’re picking up a conversation that never ended. He doesn’t sit beside me. Just brushes his hand along my shoulder as he passes. Casual. Intentional. Like a lit match trailing across the skin. I have questions for him sitting on my tongue, but I decide to wait until we’re alone to ask. 

__________ 

Later that day, we’re on the move again, next city, next stage. I ride in the second van with III and IV, while Vessel and II handle logistics ahead of us. The engine hums under my feet, low and rhythmic. III's sprawled beside me, legs too long for the cramped back seat, tapping out some pattern on his thigh with his fingers. IV has headphones in. Lost in his own world. "You’re quiet today," III says, tilting his head toward me. "You vanished this morning." I reply, keeping my voice low. A beat passes before he responds with, "I needed air," his tone already sounding gruff and dismissive. "On a tour bus?" I ask, returning his tone. "Metaphorical air, darling." He replies, a hint of condescension laced within his words. He grins. "Though I did climb out onto the hotel fire escape at one point. Nearly got locked out." "Sounds like you." I reply, my eyes down on the book I’m reading. He studies me for a moment. Eyes sharp, almost too much. "Did I question you about where you went when you were on the balcony with Vessel last night?" he asks, sneering Vessel’s name like an insult.  

He smirks like he thinks he’s caught me in something as shock appears on my face. The question comes so suddenly, it knocks the breath out of me. "Is that what this is about?" I ask, turning to look at him, my brows raised slightly. His arrogant smirk fades and turns to something darker, harder. I can tell he wasn’t expecting me to call him out like that. "Don’t speak to me right now." He spits quietly, so as not to grab the attention of IV. He takes out his phone and begins to scroll through some social media platform, and I just roll my eyes and return to my book, hoping to forget about this whole stupid interaction. 

I’m beginning to be unable to discern whether or not this is an enjoyable circumstance; III and I. It feels like we’re standing at the edge of something dangerous. Something that wants to burn bright and fast and maybe leave scorch marks. And I’m not sure if I want to pull back or fall straight into the fire. I won’t give up on him. Not that easily. 

__________ 

That night, after the show, he finds me again, the discussion from earlier already forgotten just like I had hoped it would be. Backstage is chaos; crew winding cables, fans thudding on the floorboards above. But he carves a path to me like the rest of it doesn’t matter. "Come with me," he says again. No question. I follow. 

This time it’s a service corridor. Dim, cold concrete. He leads me around a corner, stops, and turns to face me. "I’m not good at this," he says. "What’s ‘this’?" I ask. "Whatever this thing is between us." He stutters as I hold his gaze. "Then let’s not define it yet." I say. His hand finds mine. Not rough, not urgent. Just there. Warm. He breathes out through his nose; a laugh wrapped in disbelief. "You’re not what I expected." He breathes out. "Neither are you." I reply, and he steps closer. Our shoulders brush. Then he leans in, not a kiss, not quite. Just the space where a kiss might live, if we let it. "If I screw this up," he whispers, "tell me before I ruin you." "You don’t scare me," I whisper back. He touches my jaw, eyes searching mine. "I should." And then he kisses me. 

When I open my eyes again, the corridor is empty. He’s already gone. My stomach drops as my heart breaks just a little. Did I do something wrong? Am I too much for him? I just don’t understand what’s going on.  

I make my way back to my hotel room, and as I’m unlocking my door, IV exits his. He notices me and allows his gaze to linger for a moment. He doesn’t greet me, nor do I him. His eyes look like they’re hiding something, like he knows something that I don’t. He turns and walks away down the hall, and I just continue to watch him, trying to make sense of what that little interaction was. So miniscule, yet so loud. I probably wouldn’t have even noticed the look in his eyes if I weren’t so intuitive. I turn back to face my door, pushing it open as I shake my head, dismissing whatever the hell that was. 

[justablah56]

Since you seem to be having a bad day, I threw together a little ficlet for you. Read/respond at your leisure (whether that's in 3 minutes or not until next year)

It had been a long fucking day.

It was a full day of teaching for Terry Jr, with a bad cold wiping out the entire drama department of San Dimas High (which had only been two teachers and a tech in the first place). There was screaming, and snotty noses, and one or two kids bursting into tears, and by the time the school bell rang, he was just about ready to collapse. And, of course, that was clearly asking too much, because it was drama club that day. 2 whole hours of dealing with kids who are meant to be off book two weeks ago, and still hadn't learnt half their lines. It was a fucking nightmare.

Now, dear reader, don't misunderstand. Terry absolutely adored his job and the kids he worked with. But today was one of those days where you just want to roll over and hide back under the covers.

The train had been cramped and noisy, even if the journey had been mercifully free from the kids usual loud arguments. (Why they insisted on riding back with Terry Jr, he had no idea. It was baffling though that Scary waited for him, and they were going to the same house. Although, somehow, her friends always seemed to stay over longer than expected.) Honestly, it was a relief to lock the door behind them all, the kids rushing off to the garden for soccer practice - mostly moral support to be honest.

Terry wearily pulled off his shoes, before turning to Scary.

"Hey, kiddo, I'm gonna go have a lie down. Let your mom know, okay?"

Scary, for once, didn't seem to protest either the request or the nickname. She just nodded, frowning.

"Yeah, sure. Go have a nap or whatever." He ruffled her hair a little (this did elcit an irritated groan. He may not be her dad, but she was still his kid and it was his duty to embarrass her in front of her friends after all) and headed upstairs.

Terry didn't bother to turn on the lights as he collapsed down into the bed, just letting himself he enveloped by the darkness and the comfy sheets. He felt bad about breaking his normal routine of kissing Veronica when they both got home, but honestly he just couldn't handle doing anything other than laying down right now.

He lay there with his head burried in the pillow for maybe a minute, maybe an hour, when he felt the bed dip.

"Hey, Tear-Bear. Bad day?"

There was his amazing wife, the light of his life. Her hair was flying loose from her bun, and even in the dark Terry could see that her office clothes were slightly rumpled.

She was stunning.

"You know, you gotta stop picking up Nicky's pet names. He has far too many." Terry mumbled as he grabbed her hand, tiredly bringing it up to his lips.

"Ah, but that would mean I don't get to hang out with your wife as much. Darling." A familiar weight draped itself over him, tail curling round his leg. "Dropping round unexpectedly and hanging out with V without you is half the fun."

Nicky's voice was a soothing rumble against his chest. Somehow, just having his two partners here made it easier to relax. Even if Nicky had definitely not announced that he'd be coming over. Veronica kicked her feet up and slung an arm over Terry's shoulder, pulling him closer.

"Come on, time for you to rest, TJ."

okokok I've hoarded this fic long enough , ive probably reread this AT LEAST 5 times now xnsnmsms anyways it means *so very much* to me that you decided to write an adorable little ficlet for me bcs i was not feeling good <3333 this lil fic is literally *so* cute i don't know how to properly convey to you how much i love this but icy i love this so much . thank you <33333