#not sure which prompt I’ll do next but it’ll probably be a while away!

[horrendousmustard]

Ghoultober Day 17 - Coffee Day!

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[likecastle]

OK, this one's for @bus-ghoul, who said, "Robin and Nancy for whatever reason shop at the mall (that somehow didn’t burn down)." Thanks for this prompt! I love a girl-world shopping trip! I didn't wind up setting this at Starcourt, but there is shopping at the mall, so hopefully that works! I also, once again, made this kinda angsty. Whoops! All Feelings! No serious warnings on this one, though.

“Are you sure you girls don’t want me to drive you?” Nancy’s mom asks fretfully.

“Yes, Mom,” Nancy says, not for the first time. Somehow, Nancy’s impending departure for college has activated her mom’s protective streak way more than any of the nightmarish events of the past few years ever have. Nancy figures her going away to college probably feels real to her mom in a way that psychic children and extra-dimensional sinkholes never did.

“We’ll be fine, Mrs. Wheeler,” Robin pipes up, from where she’s standing by the passenger side door, just waiting to get in. “I promise. It’s not even an hour’s drive.”

Nancy’s mom still looks torn, but finally she sighs and takes a twenty dollar bill from her purse. “Why don't you get yourselves a nice lunch while you’re out shopping.”

Over the roof of the car, Nancy sees Robin’s eyes widen. And sure enough, once they’re finally on the road and Robin has finished fiddling with the radio, she says, “What does your mom think we're going to get for lunch? Caviar and champagne at Hotdog on a Stick?”

Nancy shakes her head, as if it’ll help her shake off her mom’s worry. “She just wants us to have a good time,” she says, feeling defensive now, even though she was irritated at her only a few minutes ago.

“I’m pretty sure it’s scientifically impossible to have a good time shopping for twin XL sheets and shower flip-flops.”

“Do you want me to drop you off at home?” Nancy threatens, without much heat. “Because I can still turn around.”

To their mutual surprise, they do actually have a good time. College Mall is doesn’t have quite the same selection as Starcourt did, but it’s also not backed by nefarious Russians. It shouldn’t be fun, shopping with someone who has objectively terrible taste, and who thinks Nancy has awful taste in turn, but it is.

“Seriously, Wheeler?” Robin asks, when Nancy picks up a perfectly nice set of sheets with pale pink roses on them.

“What? What’s wrong with these?”

Robin laughs. “Nothing, if you’re Laura Ashley!”

“Well," she says indignantly, "which ones would you pick?”

Robin gets a devilish look in her eye and leads Nancy across the bedding section, weaving between the displays. “Just look at these beauties!” she says, doing jazz hands in the direction of a set of sheets in an eye-searing geometric pattern, every angle somehow in startling disharmony with the next. Nancy actually feels a little dizzy looking at the fabric, something she hadn’t previously thought was even possible.

“They’re hideous,” Nancy says.

“I know,” Robin says, with barely-restrained glee. She holds the package up for Nancy to take a closer look, which only makes the design worse. “Isn’t it great?! It’s like someone vomited non-Euclidean geometry all over your bed. Imagine if a—if someone brought you back to their dorm and you start making out only to find that under their comforter. Instant hilarity.”

Nancy blinks at the mental image. “I guess it would be sort of a mood killer,” she admits, though her dating history’s been marred by some pretty lamentable bedroom décor, and that never stopped her.

Robin nods sagely. “Good for weeding out the faint of heart.”

“You should get them,” Nancy says firmly, though she doesn’t think the sheets are any less ugly now than she did a minute ago. But they make Robin laugh, and it's nice to see her toothy, sidelong grin.

Robin shrugs, setting the package of sheets back down on the shelf. “I’ll probably just bring some sheets from home,” she says, her voice carefully casual.

Nancy remembers too late Robin bemoaning the fact that her scholarship to IUB doesn’t cover room and board. It hasn’t escaped her notice that Robin’s got one shopping bag to Nancy’s three.

“D’you want to get some frozen custard?” Nancy asks abruptly. “My mom’s treat.”

“Yes, I absolutely do,” Robin says, with such seriousness that Nancy can’t help but laugh.

Nancy can’t help thinking about it, though, as they make their way to the food court and order their frozen custard, Robin shoving the remainder of the twenty dollars into the tip jar out of sympathy. She can’t help thinking how different their college experiences are going to be—Nancy almost a thousand miles away at Emerson, Robin here in Bloomington, not even an hour away from home. Nancy has a merit scholarship, too, but her parents are paying for everything it doesn’t cover without batting an eye, while Robin’s been talking about getting a part-time job on top of her work-study. Nancy’s not even sure when Robin will find time to take someone back to her dorm to make out.

That hasn’t escaped her notice, either, the little pronoun game Robin plays sometimes—when she talks about dating at all. Nancy’s never asked outright, because she’s afraid to shatter the tenuous friendship that’s developed between them since spring break. But between her vehement insistence that she and Steve are just friends and the way she looked at Susan Sarandon in The Hunger that one time they all tried to do movie night, Nancy’s reasonably certain that the someone Robin would be bringing home would be someone a little like Nancy herself. Probably not just like her. Someone cooler, with edgier taste in music. Someone who wouldn’t pick sheets with dainty little rosebuds on them. Someone with red hair, most likely, if Nancy’s not mistaken. But someone—at least in some particulars—not entirely unlike Nancy.

And Nancy doesn’t really know what to do with the way that knowledge sits inside her, the way she thinks about Robin leaning back on her elbows on her dorm room bed and feels a pang of jealousy for the girl who’ll get to push her down on the worn-soft sheets she brought from home. But it’s a moot point, because even if Robin’s interested in girls, it’s not like she’d attracted to girls like Nancy, and even if she were, in a few weeks they’ll be half a continent apart, and Nancy’s tried the long-distance thing and it didn’t work out great the last time, so what’s the point of even entertaining the possibility?

Even so, as she watches Robin sneak her spoon out to steal a taste of Nancy’s yogurt, she does think about it.

[chipthekeeper]

Alright I can't help myself, here's a preview of my @velcintaweek project coming up in full on ao3 on Wednesday. It counts because this part fits the Day 1 prompt of First Meeting. It counts.

***

i. Pantora

The last thing Cinta Kaz needs is a girlfriend.

That’s why, when the admittedly beautiful Pantoran woman sidles up to her at the bar and tries to start making small talk, Cinta politely sends her back on her way. The woman’s smile fades as the yellow tattoos on her face droop with disappointment, but she doesn’t argue. Just leaves a lingering touch on her shoulder as she drifts away again.

“I’ll be over here, if you change your mind…”

And Cinta needs that like she needs a blaster bolt to the head, so she doesn’t bother to notice where “over here” even is.

She has much more important things to worry about than pretty Pantorans or cute blonde humans like the one that keeps stealing glances at her from the other side of the bar, which Cinta continues to pretend not to notice. She’s more worried about where her next job will come from and whether it’ll pay enough to get her off this moon, whether it’ll come with the opportunity to make the Empire bleed a little. Whether it’ll satisfy her hunger to avenge the family that had been stolen from her, if only for a little while.

Cinta isn’t entirely sure what she’s even doing on Pantora, other than drinking. Biding her time, probably. Waiting for someone to need her help. Someone always needs her help. The Empire is everywhere these days, including the very bar where she's sitting. The Imps are off duty, but she could still spot them from a parsec away, all loud and self-important. There are only three, but they make enough noise to drown out the music the band is playing. No one’s stupid enough to try to tell them to knock it off, though. Everyone knows as well as Cinta does who these men are, and they want trouble with the Empire like Cinta wants a girlfriend. Which is to say, not at all.

Cinta, on the other hand, wouldn’t mind some trouble with the Empire. So when the men all move away from the bar and start loudly trying to make conversation with someone behind her, Cinta watches them from the corner of her eye. She realizes quickly that the woman they’re attempting to flirt with – the woman they’re all but harassing already – is the same Pantoran who’d tried to pick her up.

And that the defenseless woman wants nothing to do with their increasingly aggressive attention.

Cinta springs into action, popping up from her barstool, whirling around toward the trio of Imps, and marching over to where they have the woman cornered by the wall closest to the door. She makes a conscious decision not to reach for the knife hidden at her back, under her jacket, but with a few drinks already in her she’s about to start throwing punches as she confidently tells the men to pick on someone their own size.

But just as the closest Imp is about to turn around right in time for her to introduce her fist to his face, that fist is caught in midair by a pair of soft hands that guide it back to her side.

Cinta snaps her head to her right to find the blonde woman from the bar beside her – still holding her hand with one of her own and addressing the Imperial soldiers.

“I am…so sorry, officers,” the woman says, drawing all the men’s attention, at which point the Pantoran woman makes a run for it, unnoticed. “My girlfriend here can get a bit mean when she’s drunk. So sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Cinta, flabbergasted by the gall of this strange woman, attempts to wrestle her hand back from her, but the woman’s grip is strong as she tries to back them both away and toward the door.

“You’d better see that it doesn’t,” the ugliest of the Imps warns.

“Of course, sir. Long live the Empire,” the woman says, and if Cinta didn’t already want to punch her in the mouth, that would have sealed the deal. But the woman is oblivious to that fact, and uses what seems like all of her strength to guide Cinta toward the door. “Come on, darling, let’s leave these fine soldiers alone…”

Hot with rage, Cinta suddenly finds herself outside in the crisp Pantoran night, impervious to the chill that’s accompanying the gently falling snow. She finally extracts herself from the blonde woman’s grasp as they round the corner of the block where the street is clear and quiet except for her own voice loudly questioning the woman.

“Just who in the kriffing hell do you think you are?”

“Me? I’m just the person that saved you from committing and very likely getting arrested for treason. You’re welcome, by the way,” the woman says smugly.

“I had it taken care of,” Cinta retorts, unsure why she’s even continuing this conversation. Pride, she supposes. The idea of anyone thinking she needs help makes her skin crawl.

But the woman just nods in agreement.

“Oh I believe you would have messed them up real good. I do. But then they’d have told their friends and then you’d have been caught and then they would have killed you.” The woman pauses as she crosses her arms and looks Cinta up and down with a shake of her head. “And what a waste that would be...”

Choosing to ignore the fact that she was just thoroughly checked out, Cinta scoffs. “Doesn’t seem like it would be any of your business either way.”

“Actually it is,” the woman says, meeting her gaze again, and Cinta realizes that her eyes are startlingly, brilliantly blue. “You see, unlike you I’m not just here to get drunk and fuck up an Imp or two. I’m here to do some real damage. For a real cause.”

Cinta doesn’t realize she’s been getting lost in the woman’s eyes and not paying attention to her words until the last ones make her ears perk up.

“A real cause?” she questions, and the woman grins.

“Yeah. And wouldn’t it be more fun to help me with that than to get arrested just for cracking a few heads?”

***

Do I have your attention? There's much more to this story coming up soon!

[windfighter]

In and out in a jiffy

Prompt: ”It’s broken” / whumptober 2023

In which Kouji and Kouichi gets kidnapped and Kouji gets hurt. Again.

tw: kidnapping, blood, broken bones, drugging, police

-----

Kouichi blinked awake. Stared at the ceiling. His body felt heavy.

”Hey.”

Kouji’s voice. Kouichi turned his head and the world spun.

”You’re a little drugged”, Kouji continued. ”It’ll wear off soon.”

”Wha-?”

”You’re drugged”, Kouji repeated. ”I was a little worried there for a while.”

Kouichi tried to sit up. His limbs wouldn’t cooperate and he didn’t move.

”Where… what?”

…

”Drugged?”

The fog in his brain was slowly evaporating. Kouji was sitting leaned against the wall, face pale. He grimaced.

”Drugged”, he confirmed. ”Not sure which type, but it was kinda weak.”

Kouichi didn’t… quite agree with that. He lifted his head from the floor. The world didn’t spin. He sat up.

”Where are we?”

Kouji shrugged.

”Outskirts of Tokyo, not sure exactly where. Don’t worry though.”

Kouji closed his eyes. There was blood along the right side of his face and the way he supported his left arm with his right… Kouichi moved a little closer and Kouji opened his eyes again. Looked at Kouichi. Kouichi met Kouji’s gaze, then looked at the arm again.

”...it’s broken”, Kouji said.

Held it a little closer to his chest. Kouichi moved closer, stopped infront of Kouji.

”Can I do something?”

”I’ll be fine.”

That was neither a yes nor a no. Kouichi bit his lip, frowned.

”What happened?”

Kouji’s eyes got sad. He looked away.

”We’ll get out of here soon”, he said.

Didn’t answer the question. Kouichi wanted to push, but instead he sat down next to Kouji, leaned against the wall. Kouji slid down, rested his head on Kouichi’s shoulder. Explosions echoed somewhere in the building.

”Gunshots”, Kouji said.

He shivered. Kouichi put a hand on Kouji’s thigh, tried to rub some warmth into him, didn’t know what else he could do. The door opened. Kouichi stared into the eyes of a police officer. Nothing made sense. Kouji moved next to him.

”Osamu”, Kouji said.

”I am gonna talk with your dad about your disrespect”, Osamu answered, but he was smiling.

”Get in line”, Kouji said with a laugh.

Kouichi… felt lost. What was going on?

”We need a medvac”, Osamu said into a walkie talkie. ”How are you two doing?”

”I’m okay”, Kouji said.

Kouichi wanted to protest but his brain was still reeling from what was going on. Gunshots, drugs, police. He pulled a hand across his face.

”Kouichi got drugged, I think he’s still feeling it.”

”I’m fine, I’m just…”

Kouichi didn’t know what he was. Kouji spared him from having to figure it out.

”Is dad here?”

”He’s outside.”

Osamu held the walkie talkie towards Kouji, who nudged Kouichi. Kouichi’s hand trembled as he grabbed it.

”Dad?” Kouji asked.

Static noises. People moved on the other side.

”An ambulance is on the way”, Kousei’s voice said through the device.

”Yeah yeah”, Kouji obviously didn’t care too much. ”We are gonna have a talk about the GPS in my clothes later.”

What? Kouichi blinked.

”What?!” he said out loud.

”Volume control”, Kouji winced.

”What do you mean GPS in your clothes?!”

Kouichi couldn’t believe his words. It sounded like something straight out of a dystopian novel. Osamu laughed.

”That’s how we found you”, he said.

Kouji nodded.

”I guessed, so I’m not angry”, he explained into the walkie talkie, ”but we are going to talk.”

This was the weirdest day ever. And the worst. No wait, dying probably ranked higher on that scale, Kouichi thought. It was definitely weird though.

”Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Kouji and Osamu both looked at Kouichi. Kouji looked away, sat up straight. Osamu kneeled infront of them, put a hand on Kouichi’s shoulder.

”Welcome to one of Boryokudan’s prisons”, Osamu said.

Kouichi blinked. Boryo…

”The fucking Yakuza!?”

Osamu nodded. Kouji’s face turned paler and Kouichi turned to him again. Noticed a dark spot on Kouji’s sleeve. Thoughts about Yakuza quickly slipped his mind. That was blood.

”It’s an open fracture. You’re a fucking idiot. Why am I surrounded by idiots?”

He didn’t know who he was actually angry at. Probably the world. More people appeared in the door, EMT carrying bags and stretchers. Kouichi wanted to ask more, yell more, get more answers. Osamu took the walkie talkie again and Kouichi was put on one of the stretchers as the EMTs checked him over. They turned him away from Kouji and Kouichi stared at the wall. He’d demand answers when this was over.

~~~~~~~~

Kouji was asleep in the bed. Kouichi watched him, sat crosslegged on his own bed. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Breathing was hard. Yakuza… why had the yakuza taken them? No one had explained it yet, everyone had been too busy. Too busy making sure the drugs were out of Kouichi, too busy getting Kouji to surgery, too busy talking to the police. Kouichi clasped his hands together, took a shaky breath. Too busy to talk to him.

Well, yakuza kidnapping people was probably a big deal, but still. Kouichi would have liked it if someone had sat down and told him about the hows and the whys and the what’ll happen next.

The door opened. Kousei stepped inside, looked at Kouji. At Kouichi.

”Hey”, he whispered.

Kouji’s eyes opened instantly. Kouichi moved to the edge of the bed.

”Hey”, Kouji said.

Kousei laughed.

”Didn’t mean to wake you. How are you two doing?”

”I always sleep lightly afterwards”, Kouji yawned.

He didn’t move to sit up. Kouichi hung his legs over the edge of the bed.

”I hate it here”, he said. ”No one is telling me anything.”

Kousei sighed, grabbed a chair and sat down between the two beds. Kouji yawned and closed his eyes again.

”What do you want to know?” Kousei asked.

”I…” Kouichi looked at his knees. ”Why, I guess. Why did this happen?”

”We’re not… entierly sure”, Kousei said. ”We got to you quick enough that they didn’t have time to come with any demands.”

”Dad’s a lawyer”, Kouji mumbled.

He sounded half-asleep. Kouichi glanced at him before looking at Kousei.

”What does that have with anything to do?”

”I… deal with them a lot”, Kousei said. ”They don’t like it.”

”And here comes the big reveal I didn’t want you to know”, Kouji muttered.

Kouichi blinked. What? That didn’t make any sense. What reveal?

Kouichi’s brain screeched into overdrive. Kouji’s nonchalance at the situation, talking to the police officer like they knew each other, the GPS, ’I always sleep lightly afterwards’. This…

”This has happened before”, Kouichi said.

His stomach churned. He swallowed, trice. Oh gods he was five seconds from throwing up. Why did they let this happen? He reached for the trashcan and Kousei gave it to him. Just as Kouichi’s stomach turned inside out.

”How….” he started when he was done. His voice shook. ”How many times? Why hasn’t anyone stopped it?”

”I’ve lost count”, Kouji said.

Kouichi didn’t like that at all. Kousei looked away.

”Fifteen.”

”The first three doesn’t count”, Kouji protested. ”I was like… two.”

Kouichi slid off the bed. Put the trashcan on the table and walked over to Kouji’s bed.

”I… I’m sorry”, he whispered.

He leaned down, wrapped his arms around Kouji.

”I should have been there to protect you.”

”I was two”, Kouji said with a laugh.

But it sounded tense, his voice a higher pitch than normal.

”You couldn’t have protected me even if you wanted to.”

He patted Kouichi’s back.

”I’m fine, ’niisan. I’ll bounce back, don’t worry. Just need my arm to heal.”

Kouichi pulled away again. Kousei grabbed him, pulled him onto his lap. Kouichi took another shaky breath.

”What happened today?”

”Do we really need to talk about it today?”

Kouji sounded both tired and frustrated and sad and angry and… mostly sad. Kouichi felt his eyes tear up and took a deep breath, shook his head.

”We can talk later.”

He wasn’t sure later would ever come.

[wooahaes]

also know i’ll probably try to take a few days for a lil break now that december is over + i need to start job searching

ty for sticking w me throughout december even if writing so many prompts wore me out tbh <3 like w the fall/october prompts, i wasn’t happy with every single one in the end, but it kept me writing for most of a month so i’m def happy w that >:3

i’m not sure what’s on my list next aside from hopefully working on under the sun and sweet night (i’ve actually made some progress on both!! i kind of hope to release both of them at the same time whenever i do get around to finishing both) and maybe making plans for other long fics

i’ve vaguely talked w a mutual about maybe exploring making a smau? even if i don’t i’ll probably do what i did last time i had those plans and turn it into an actual multi-part fic (i will note that it’d be w a plus size + fem reader, which might give away what it might be since it’ll be connected to another skz fic i’ve already written!)

i’d also like to hopefully get back around to writing out the rest of the soulmate aus when i get the chance! i’ve honestly been a bit uninspired with the series for a while so i just haven’t sat down and forced myself to write a lil since i think that’s what i need this time around :(

thank u all for supporting me tho <3 i hope my writing continues to bring you all joy <3

[captainsophiestark]

Nosferatu

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: "I'll kick your vampire ass if I have to."

Summary: Klaus and Y/N have been dating for a long time, and Y/N has more or less gotten used to dealing with all the Mikaelson drama. Still, that doesn't mean they don't need a break from time to time. Nik *promised* Y/N they could have a good old fashioned movie marathon as a break from everything they'd been through lately, but when he tries to go back on his promise, Y/N shows him what's up.

Word Count: 1,458

Category: Little bit of angst, fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I danced around the house, grabbing all the snacks from the kitchen and laying them out carefully on the coffee table in the living room. I gathered all the DVDs I'd tracked down, then set them next to the TV. I glanced at the clock and smiled when I saw the time. Nik would be here any minute.

Dating an Original vampire was never easy or simple. Usually, it was incredibly stressful with a high chance of danger. After a month filled with insane schemes and near-death experiences, Nik had promised to make it all up to me with one of my favorite activities: a classic horror movie marathon.

I'd been preparing all day, making sure everything was perfect for the night. I didn't want anything to go wrong, especially now that we were finally getting a date night like a normal couple.

I threw a few extra blankets and pillows on the couch just as I heard a knock at the door. I grinned as I went to get it, and Nik stepped through as soon as I opened it.

"Hi babe," I said, smiling as I closed the door behind him. "Are you ready for tonight? I've got everything together. Favorite movies, all the snacks we could want, drinks-"

"Y/N, we can't have our marathon tonight," he said bluntly, stopping in the hallway to stare at me. The smile slipped off my face as I tried to process his words.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"We have to reschedule," he said. "A group of new vampires has been stepping out of line, and Elijah and I need to go and put them in their place before things get out of hand."

I just stared at him in disbelief and growing anger as he looked back at me. He looked sorry, but that didn't make up for what he'd just said one bit.

"I came to pick you up and bring you back to the compound," he said, taking a few steps towards me. "It'll be safer for you there, where Hayley can watch out for you and you'll be more protected."

He put his hand on my arm, presumably to guide me out, but I was not having it. I ripped my arm out of his grip and glared at him with as much force as I could muster.

"No. No no no no no, Nik, no. You're not doing this to me."

"Love, come on, it's not like I have choice..."

"You always have a choice!" I cried. "Maybe not when someone's coming for you and you can't escape them, but that's not what this is. This is you and Elijah trying to flex your muscles and prove to everybody you're the big bad vampires you say you are, and I'm not having it. You're not doing it, not tonight."

"Y/N..."

"No, Nik! I'm serious! You promised me a nice night in, and a horror movie marathon, with no drama. And I am getting it, no matter what it takes. I'll kick your vampire ass if I have to."

Nik stared at me for a few beats, but I just stood between him and the door, hands on my hips. I meant what I'd said, and I was not backing off.

Nik and I stayed locked in our staring contest for a while, but finally, he let out an exasperated sigh and looked away.

"You are a weak, fragile human, and I'm the most dangerous vampire in the bloody world. How is it possible for you to back me down so easily?" he sighed as he rolled his eyes. I just grinned back at him.

"Easy. I'm your girlfriend, and you love me. Anybody else, you don't care about enough to worry about keeping—or even making—movie night promises. Me? I'm special. Which probably makes me the most powerful human in the bloody world," I said, adopting an exaggerated version of his accent for my last few words. He gave me an exasperated look, but he couldn't hold back as smile as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.

"I guess you're right," he said, nuzzling his nose against my neck as he picked me up and started heading to the living room. "We make a truly terrifying pair."

I laughed as he set me down on the couch and pulled his phone out with a grin.

"Just let me call Elijah and tell him we'll have to reschedule our plan. Then I'll be back, and you can start playing whatever terrible movie you have queued up first."

"Terrible?" I demanded, but Nik was already turning and walking away, phone pressed to his ear. I grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him. I managed to hit him square in the back, but he just glanced over his shoulder with a devilish smirk before continuing out of the room.

I shook my head, but I couldn't stop the warm feeling flooding my chest as I got the first movie ready to play. Even now, after we'd been dating for a long time, I couldn't quite believe Niklaus Mikaelson cared enough about me to put revenge on the back burner. When I'd first met him, it really hadn't seemed possible.

Nik came back as soon as he'd finished talking with Elijah, as promised. Apparently Elijah wasn't happy, which I didn't expect him to be, but I also didn't care. He'd told me plenty of times how much he appreciated my influence on Nik, so he could handle my interference with their stupid schemes every so often.

Nik and I kicked back on the couch together after I pushed play on the movie. He held his arms out for me, and I curled into his side as the opening credits began playing. He held me close, and I sighed contently as I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

We stayed like that for hours, watching one movie after another and absolutely gorging ourselves on terrible snack food. We shifted positions all over the couch, but no matter where we ended up, Nik and I were always close to each other.

We lost ourselves in the movies as Nik criticized every dumb move the main characters made and I pretended to be scared just so I could curl up even closer to him. I'm pretty sure he knew I was faking it, but neither of us cared.

About halfway through Nosferatu, Nik stopped rubbing my back and leaned down to place kisses along my neck. His hot breath on my skin made it incredibly hard to concentrate on the movie, and I was about to tell him as much when he whispered into my ear.

"You know love, I think it's pretty interesting that you're so afraid of the vampire on the tv when there's a much more real vampire who's much, much closer to your neck..."

He trailed off as he moved down my neck and placed kisses along my collarbone, and I shivered.

"Nik. I'm trying to watch the movie," I hissed, but my heart wasn't in it. Nik hummed, and I knew he could tell.

"We've been watching movies all night," he muttered. "It's been fun, but I have a different kind of fun in mind now..."

He pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arms around me even tighter, and after a few seconds, I decided to stop fighting it. I turned around so I was facing Nik and straddling his lap, and when he looked up at me with mischief in his eyes, I kissed him hard.

When we finally broke apart for a little air, Nik was grinning at me with a devilish smile. I just smiled right back, the movie behind me now completely forgotten.

"So, you still upset at all that you didn't end up going after those guys tonight?" I asked. Nik huffed a laugh as he buried his face in my neck.

"Honestly love? They haven't crossed my mind since the first movie started."

I smiled, then let out a shriek as Nik bit down playfully on the skin just above my collar bone. His fangs weren't out, and I couldn't help laughing as I ran my hands through his hair.

"Damn vampires," I teased.

"You know you love it," he teased right back.

After all the crazy drama we'd been through in the past month, this was exactly the night I needed.

[windblooms]

liyue boys – how they touch their s/o

headcanons and scenarios of how childe, chongyun, scaramouche, xiao, xingqiu, and zhongli would romantically interact with their s/o.

gender-neutral reader.  sfw scenarios for each character, with additional suggestive implications for childe, scaramouche, xiao, and zhongli (since they’re confirmed legal).  2309 words.

childe

the Touchiest of the liyue boys

he just really, really fond of touching you, whether it be with his fingers through your hair or having you a hand on your lap. 

the first time he wanted to touch you, he actually asked (yes, verbally) if you were okay with him doing so

at least one of his acts with you could be orthodox, yeah?  although, looking back on it now, he supposes that he was attempting to be a bit more serious and wasn’t sure how to convey the sentiment when his reputation often preceded him

since then, he’s made a habit to have you next to him at all times

you don’t mind, since his attention is admittedly nice, but understandably neither of you want to display affection towards each other in the presence of his coworkers.  

if you were to be in public, such as walking down the streets of liyue, then he’d have his fingers laced between yours

if he were to be in a particularly good mood that day, he’d actually have you hook your arm around his.  you’re not sure why – but maybe it’s because more of you would be pressed against him that way.

an avid displayer of fleeting touches.  some are playful, like tapping his finger on your nose to get your attention, while others are slightly more teasing, like trailing his fingers up your thigh when you’re working and really shouldn’t be getting distracted. 

“i can’t help it.  your expressions are always the best part.”

so long as you’re next to him, he’ll find any excuse possible to have himself on you.

you’re cold?  take his coat, but also a complimentary hug because wow he’s kinda sorta warm for a snezhnayan native. 

got work to do?  he’ll stroll over to you every once in a while, claim he’s checking on you, and then place a kiss on your cheek as “encouragement.”

just got home from a long day out?  take some time to lay on top of him, he makes for a comfy mattress

his favorite ways to touch you: gloves off, thumb rubs against the back of your hand, hands cradling your neck or squeezing your hips in more passionate moments.  especially enjoys contact the more of your body he feels.  not sexual all the time, but definitely sensually pleasing.  he’s reassured when he feels you next to him. 

chongyun

chongyun is relatively inexperienced in acting out his romantic impulses.  

hand holding?  yeah, sure, he knows it’s what people do, but apparently there something about interlacing fingers . . . ?

also, there are different ways to hug?  he thought that just wrapping his arms around your shoulders would be fine, but is there a specific instance where he should “back hug” you?  

he thinks there should be a lover’s manual for how to go about with physical touch, but sadly there isn’t, and he’s left by himself to make sense of his confusion.

he’ll have to learn first-hand – something he quickly realizes he won’t mind.

chongyun’s touches will reflect his nature: gentle and initially somewhat shy, but he will gradually become more confident as time goes on.

the first time he tries to initiate hand-holding with you, you’re sitting next to each other on the couch

you can tell something’s a bit off by how he’s staring straight into your skull, as if he’s conflicted over something even when there’s nothing to be distressed about –

and he lifts his hand, hesitantly, and you swear that he’s shaking, before he mumbles something along the lines of “screw this” and just

places the tips of his fingers over the back of your hand and

just leaves them there

and you’re blinking, not quite sure what to make of his awkwardness, before connecting the dots when you see him absolutely red in the face. 

he’s startled when he hears you laugh, and especially when you move your hand to securely grasp his own. 

you’re warm, incredibly so, and when he looks up from his lap to affirm that he hasn’t made a complete mess of the mood, you’re there to give him a pat on the head.

“y-yeah.  can we stay like this?  hey!  no, don't laugh – ”

the take-away: soft boy.  will realize that he loves it when you squeeze his hands but will be flustered when admitting it.  also internally enjoys it when you put your chin atop his head, and when you let him put his hand on your shoulder.  will become more confident over time with showing affection, whether it be through light touches or shy pecks. 

scaramouche

scaramouche is admittedly one of the more destructive harbingers

meaning he wouldn’t be one to be gentle in the slightest

probably doesn't even know that hugging is supposed to be an act of affection and instead registers it as another method to crush someone’s chest

the least likely out of the liyue boy to even be in a romantic relationship 

but in the off chance that he is, 

warm affection won’t be on the menu unless you’re in a dream sequence.

yes, he might not be as irritable around you.  yes, he won’t immediately scowl at your presence, and maybe even request for you to be beside him once in a while.

but that is a far cry from assuming stable, healthy intimacy.

the closest he’s ever gone to touching you kindly is by pulling you towards him – nearly winding you with his forcefulness – and insisting that you play with his hair

(definitely a pushy one, and it would be endearing if not for the fact that he does not know how to interact constructively with others.)

so it’ll take time, lots of explanations and dialogue to tell him that no, he doesn’t have to be so rough with his grasp, and yes, it does bother you and you’d insist that he learn to be gentler before touching you again.

he won’t strike you down for speaking your mind – that’s exactly why he’s with you to begin with, since you were able to back up your wit with fight.

he’ll grumble, as if you had told him the most unpleasant of news (which you suppose you just have), but nonetheless attempts to mimic touches you would approve of.

scaramouche is, admittedly, easy to vex.  while he might generally be a hassle to handle, the only time you do let him give in to his harsh tendencies are when you two are kissing each other a bit too hard or grabbing each others’ clothes too eagerly.

in other words, making out.

it’s obvious that he enjoys these more aggressive instances over the ones you’ve convinced him to be satisfied with.  it’s an agreement that both of you have come to terms with: if he’s to  command  ask for little things, he better be respectful about it.  but when you decide to reward him for exercising restraint publicly, it’s behind his door where you let him go unrestrained. 

“so long as you’ll still let me do this, then i might tolerate your . . . other preferences.”

xiao

he’s not sure when you became more comfortable with one another, but for some reason he’s certain that it had to be after you commented on his hair

something about it being soft and appealing to braid – not that he would ever let you,

okay, maybe if you ask enough times.  but for now the answer is definitely no.

anyways,

you were actually the one to ask to hug him first.  he was a bit perplexed, wondering what you were thinking that prompted you to ask, but then realized that neither of you had been physically affectionate before.  

as in, not even hand holding.  or hand squeezes.  or anything else that would be considered basic between partners.

as quickly as you asked, he affirmed that it was all right, and has since become attuned to your need for physical assurance.

something about him “feeling like home” and “safe.”  at the time, he wasn’t sure what feeling like a home meant, however through time he realized that you felt like home as well.

soothing.  as if automatic, he fits your body into his and holds the back of your head against his chest, lets you twirl your fingers in your hair, and carries you into bed.

under the covers, he feels more alone with you, as if the closed door isn’t already enough.

even in the dark, his eyes will roam all over your face, and he’ll run his fingers over your cheeks, down your neck, and over your collarbones. 

he can feel you shudder slightly under his touch, and he’ll always stop immediately, concerned for your discomfort. 

but when you take his hand to your lips and press kisses on his fingers, he’s relieved that he’s still doing right by you. 

so long as you’re sure, he’ll continue his ministrations.  whether it be holding your form flush against him as you drift to sleep, or crooking his finger under your chin so he can mold your lips together just the way you like, so long as you both know you’re safe with him.

in short: inexperienced, but always concerned for you.  won’t do anything unless you ask or suggest, and even then, his care for you is more obvious than the wake of day with the sunrise. 

“i’ll hold you as long as you let me – if you’d have me be with you.”

xingqiu

simple: dramatic.

if you thought that the novels he’s written have gotten to his head, then you would be completely right, because he does not miss an opportunity to add in some flair to your relationship. 

produces a glaze lily out of thin air each time he greets you after your day of work, “fairest, this is for thou,” and has the audacity to look pleased with himself.

a nerd at heart, and you might unironically think it’s cute if not for the laughs he allows himself afterwards.

is always smiling when you touch, even if you’re just bumping into him accidentally.

it doesn’t take much to make him happy, you realize, but that assumption morphs into wow he just.  really loves with his whole heart.

xingqiu’s a magnet when it comes to your shoulder, somehow always leaning against you when given the opportunity

you could be sitting next to each other at the table, or even standing up talking to other people, and he’ll latch onto your shoulder.

“i’ve got you right next to me.  why not capitalize on the moment?”

absolutely adores it when you let him play with your hair.  you’re not sure what it’s about, but after his obvious attachment to your arm, you just decided that he was a very physical lover and you’d be more than willing to indulge him.

if you come visit him when he’s reading or writing, he gets especially excited because!!!  head rest!!!!

and consider yourself occupied for easily the next hour as he rattles off yet another plot of a novel, or attempts to woo you with sappy lines that he decided to mentally bookmark just to tease you with later.

in the instances when he isn’t occupying your lap or shoulder, he actually likes it when you lean on him as well, especially if you’re sleepy.  he finds the whole act endearing, either you being too lazy to move to bed or finding him comfortable. 

so long as you don’t tire of his antics, he’ll be sure to indulge you in the same. 

zhongli

despite being what some would call oblivious when it comes to human interaction, zhongli is surprisingly romantically competent so long as you give him time to adjust.

he’s quick to notice things you like and hones in on them with relative ease.  admittedly, the first time you hugged him, he was a bit stiff, but was actually the one to initiate physical affection the following time.

 it gives you hope that there aren’t actually cobwebs still in that thousand year-old brain of his. 

already a traditional man, you soon realize that he’s fond of more innocent touches, such as when you slot your fingers against his or unbind his hair to play with the strands. 

he might even fall asleep if you comb his hair long enough, enjoying being spoiled.

forehead kisses!

at least twice a day, he’ll brush aside your bangs and place pecks on your forehead.  if not your forehead, then definitely your cheeks.

lowkey wants to pinch your cheeks.  you’re not sure why.  maybe it’s the childish curiosity that peaks out of him every so often, and he’ll absent-mindedly comment that your cheeks remind him of crystal shrimp balls.

you’d stutter every time, finding his sense in compliments endearing yet flustering at once, and he’d just blink, the sincere man he is.

“but they do.  flush with color.”  a pause.  “could i maybe have a bite?”

ah, yes, when he does want a bite –

his touches will be unbearably soft.  so much so that you’re not even sure he’s real, with the tenderness on his fingers and warmth in his voice.

zhongli cherishes you as if he’s waited a thousand years for you.  in the back of his head afraid that if he’s any more present then he might break you, as if he would ever capable of doing something like that –

he’ll have your thighs around his waist, body above your own and mouth leaving fleeting pressures along your neck

each time his lips press into your skin, he leaves sweet words behind.

he only wishes to enjoy the moments he has with you, so long as you enjoy yourself as well.  zhongli will be attuned to your preferences, and take delight in spoiling you rotten – even if he might be a bit unorthodox with his speech, his sentiment is never in question. 

[finn-writes-stuff]

First of all congratulations! Now I could I request 33 from the dialog prompts with sniper from tf2?

33. “There’s…. Only one bed.”

I’ll be honest, I’m not super happy with this. It’s something though, so enjoy?

Sniper x Reader

Fandom: Team Fortress 2

Format: Drabble

Gender-neutral reader

Tf2 Masterlist

Commission Info

Today had been a very long day.

You and Sniper had been sent off base for what had seemed like a simple mission, but everything that could’ve gone wrong, had gone wrong. Sniper had dark bruises along his jaw, and you were covered in mud.

It was a long story, but suffice to say, you both couldn’t wait to get into your hotel room and fall asleep. Ms Pauline had booked the rooms, and she was usually good for making sure it wasn’t a flea infested motel at least.

You both had high hopes for at least a good nights sleep after this awful day. Sniper had been leaning on you the whole way to the hotel, the exhaustion in his bones apparent. (It couldn’t have been comfortable for him to lean on you like that, with how tall he was, but you weren’t going to complain. You liked having him close.)

The smell of his cigarettes clung to him, a telltale sign of how stressful today had been. You knew he didn’t often smoke on the job, especially never when waiting with his rifle. But after everything going wrong, you couldn’t fault him a few smokes.

You’d been trying to get closer with sniper for a while now, his dry sarcasm was all the more endearing when you knew you got to hear it so much more than the rest of the team. He was still quiet around you, but you’d gained enough of his trust and respect to be the one he made his quips to when one of the other Mercs were being stupid.

And so you had expected to relish this mission, getting to spend some time alone with him. This was supposed to be great! Instead you were counting down the seconds until you could get a shower, and he was practically falling asleep on his feet as you walked into the hotel.

You knew you must’ve been a sight but you smiled wearily at the receptionist, rattling off the fake name the reservation was under. They seemed concerned, but you sped through the interaction,

Avoiding questions, Once that awkward conversation was over and you had the room key, you pulled Sniper along with you to the elevator.

“Just one room?” He asked as you pressed the button for your floor.

“Yep, haven’t you heard Pauline? There have been a bunch of budget cuts lately for her. Getting us two king suites is a bit much to ask for, I suppose,” You tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a tired cough.

“So long as I’m not sleeping on a hard floor, I’m happy,” he replied. Sniper’s smile was tired but sweet, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. Your matching smiles stuck around as you walked down the hall to your rooms

Of course, when you opened the door to the hotel room, your smiles dropped.

“There’s…. Only one bed.” You said slowly, walking into the room and looking around as if another would be hiding around the corner.

“God fucking damnit.” Sniper had walked over to the bed, and grabbed a note that was lying on the blanket. “Sorry guys, budget cuts. You know how it is. Pauline.” He read out, scoffing. “Fucking budget cuts.”

“She really couldn’t have warned us beforehand?” You asked, dropping your bag by the wall.

“Probably knew we’d bother her for something better. It’s fine, I can sleep on the floor.” He replied.

“What? You had a long day, got beat up, and not three minutes ago said that you didn’t want to sleep in the floor, Snipes,” you said immediately. He looked like death warmed over right now, there’s no way you were gonna make him sleep on the floor. “I can take the floor,” you insisted.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor. You can have the bed.”

“Well you’re not sleeping on the floor either! You need the bed more than I do.”

“I’m taking the floor.”

“If you sleep on the floor I will to!”

“Crikey, either I sleep on the floor or we share the bed, alright? I’m not making ya sleep on the floor.”

“Then we can share,” you said “It’ll be fine, and we’ll both sleep better there than the floor.”

“That’s fine with me then.” He dropped his bag on the bed, and ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “You can use the shower first, Go ahead.”

You weren’t going to argue with that, you could feel the mud everywhere and it was awful.

You jumped through the shower quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting for his turn, and did your best to keep your thoughts away from the situation at hand. Sharing a bed with him? It was out of convenience of course but still! What if you accidentally invaded his space in your sleep and he hated you for it? And he’d be so close to you either way!

Keeping your thoughts away clearly wasn’t working. You towelled off your hair roughly when you got out of the shower, shaking the thoughts away.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you say Sniper sitting at the edge of the bed, looking half asleep already. His stuff had been moved to the side of the bed, which took the burden of choosing a side off of you at least. He yawned as he stood up and walked past you, and you were hit with how exhausted you were too.

It was simple enough to slip into some pyjamas and get set up on your side of the bed. The only thing that kept you from passing out was the anxiety biting at your thoughts. Sharing a bed with him like this was totally platonic and just cause of work stuff. There was no reason to get all worked up about it.

Right?

That line of reasoning unfortunately went out the window when Sniper walked back into the room, with only some grey sweats on. Jesus Christ. You were thankful that he seemed too tired to notice you ogling him.

When he laid down in the bed, you were struck by how small the space was. He was so close to you. Not quite touching you but you could feel the warmth he radiated like a heater.

“Get some sleep, alright? We both need it,” he said, turning off the lmao next to him.

He was right, and you were tired. So even his proximity didn’t keep you from passing out just about as soon as you closed your eyes.

-

When you woke up, you were warm and comfortable. That was nice, but as your brain slowly turned on, you realized you should not have been warm and comfortable in this hotel room, it was the bare minimum of good enough.

Cracking your eyes open, you were met with the fact that you were curled up half on Sniper’s chest with his arms wrapped around your waist.

Fuck.

What were you supposed to do? Move? What if you woke him up? But it would be weirder if you didn’t, right?

You tried to slowly sit up, and you very quickly realized that his hold on you was too tight to just pull away without waking him up. So now you were sitting at an angle looking down at his sleeping face. He looked peaceful. When awake, Sniper always looked so stressed, but in this moment, he was calm.

You were significantly less calm. Especially when he cracked an eye open to look up at you.

“Go back t’sleep,” he mumbled, pulling you back down onto his chest. One of his hands moved up to your hair, gently holding you as he fell back asleep, his breath evening out once again.

[mywritingonlyfans]

One Shot with Ethan Torchio // It's a bit Fluffly, Smut and Angsty

prompt: in which, ethan always need/visit you when he's not in tour + casual sex(?) with ethan tying you up so you don't touch him i'm telling you this but isn't a hardcore smut

warnings: it's smut. a fluffly kinda sexy(?)maybe it's just sexy bc it's ethan smut ig fem!reader

(he is so hot. i'm crying all my tears, and that's fucking pathetic.)

Your head hurt, you knew your face was probably red due to your desire to go home and cry, but yet, your friends convinced you to go out for a drink. According to them nothing was too bad that a beer couldn’t improve, you doubted it.

Somehow, you found yourself happy to have accepted.

You didn’t know Ethan was back in town, you briefly wondered why you didn’t know, since he always contacted you when he was near (or at least that was what it seemed to be). Still, you were glad to see him. He was always able to make things better, even if only for a short period of time; which in your case was very short one as he wasn’t yours to have.

Ethan complemented your friends, they were all too familiar to him. He hugged you, giving a small kiss to your head while sitting next to you. Suddenly, you felt like a stronger drink would do you good.

It wasn’t hard to tell what was going to happen in the next few hours, after a couple of years going through that, you knew the time you spent together would always be the same. You guessed that you were able to put his head in place, just as he did with yours; and that's why he always came back to you. You'd never be able to tell if it was luck or mischance.

“Was it too hard to find me?” You asked him.

By now, your friends had moved to another corner. “I mean, I’m not complaining, I’m glad you did.” You offered him a weak smile. He did the same.

He looked tired, yet deadly cute.

He shuffled his chair closer to yours, letting his leg touch your bare knee. “Not really, Victoria said she called you in the morning, then told me that you intended to visit here for the night,” he mumbled, signaling to the bartender that he needed a beer, and so did you.

“She’s a gossip,” you wrinkled your nose, causing him to provide offer you a nasal laugh that you had learned to find lovely over the years. “But what has been happenin’ in your life lately? You’re good?” You tried to sound casual, but deep down you knew he wasn’t there entirely for you. Something was bothering him, he was looking for someone to rest on.

“Pretty much the same,” he sighed heavily. He wasn’t tired just physically. “We finished the last album, I feel exhausted.”

He looked at you like a lost puppy, watching your face, analyzing if you were in the mood to listen to him, or even if you were okay with having him around. After all, he came to you out of nowhere.

He’d never make you uncomfortable around him, maybe he hadn't noticed that yet. “C’mon, let it all out. I haven’t seen you for too many months for you to deprive me of the details.”

“If I tell you,” he pondered, “ you’ll tell me why you have a runny nose to match your watery eyes?” He poked your cheek, dragging his fingers so he could put some strands of hair back in place.

His seat was now so close to you that you'd be able to rest your head on his shoulder if you wanted to without creating any bodily discomfort.

“I guess life just hasn’t been all that gentle with me lately.” You giggled at him. “I lost my job last week, the same life shit is goin’ on as usual, and when I finally managed to move to a decent place, I’ll now be actually going back to sharin' apartment with strangers, because, y’know, I can’t afford bein’ in there anymore.”

Ethan was quiet for a while, you needed him more than he needed you. Listening to you made him realize how his worries were nothing at all. He knew that you didn't mind sharing an apartment with someone, but the loss of perspective was always tough.

Without further thinking, he pulled you to himself, fluffing your hair and holding you tight in his grip. You didn’t cry, yet it was possible to read your emotions. It was little, but Ethan knew you.

You took your head off his chest while he still had his arm around your waist. Taking a deep breath, you stared at your laced fingers, feeling it slow down. “I guess it’s all happenin’ at the same time, I’m just not sure how to handle it at the moment,” he held your face in his hand, his mouth close to yours as he ran his fingertips over your chin, until his lips were on you.

He was soft and wet, he had the same taste you still had etched in your mind, at that moment it seemed to be all you needed. He let go slowly, distributing pecks on the corners of your mouth, letting his forehead rest against yours.

You two stayed like that for a few minutes and you could bet that anyone who passed by could see how much of a fool you were for him. You tried not to think about it too much, it was better to have little of him than to have nothing. “Ethan?”

“Huh?” He murmured with his eyes closed, giving your lips a tickling sensation.

“Kiss me more,” and then he did. Ethan was holding you in place while your hands intertwined around his neck. You played with the chain of his necklace, savoring the touch of his tongue on yours, focusing only on him while pulling at his hair to hear his soft moans.

It didn’t take long for the bartender to come get your attention. You laughed nervously against him, you were embarrassed because you didn’t even remember where you were, still Ethan seemed untouchable about it. He wasn’t one to be embarrassed over small things like that, at least not with you. The bartender was quite irritated with the two of you and just now you noticed that your drinks had arrived and hadn’t even been touched; he was rightly pissed.

Ethan stood up, lifting you up with him. You looked in your pockets for your money, but then Ethan said it was okay and that he’d pay. You would argue, yet any money left over would be welcome. You held both beers in hand as he paid, thanking the old lady for the service, still feeling your skin burning with embarrassment, and then headed outside to wait for Ethan.

“Are you drivin’?” He asked, laughing at your state of awkwardness.

You bumped into his shoulder slightly, laughing along with him. “I am not, I’m living nearby,” you whispered as he put his hand inside your skirt pocket, bringing you to his side for a walk. “In the apartment that soon won’t be mine… how ‘bout you?”

“Not drivin’, I thought about staying somewhere to spend the night.”

He was close to home, but not that close, it would take about 3 hours to get to where he lives; it seemed plausible that he wanted to stay. “Are you only here because of me?” You risked asking.

“Yeah,” he took his hand out of your pocket and ran it through his hair. “I didn’t think it‘d be a bad idea.”

There was a silence, but it was far from being uncomfortable. “You know you can stay with me.”

——————-

Considering that you were in the process of moving to another place your house was a bit of a mess. Ethan wouldn’t be bothered by that, somehow your instinct of wanting things always in place - aka Monica from Friends - made you wander around the space in an attempt to make Ethan at home.

“What ‘bout the new album?” You asked, dragging one of the boxes away from him. It wouldn’t even bother anyone, but the thought that it would be in the middle of the room while someone was at your house bothered you.

“I don’t really know, I feel anxious about releasin’ it. It’s not that I don’t want to release it or am afraid of doing so, far from that, it's just, I don’t know… ” His voice fell silent, lost in his thoughts.

You turned to him, wanting to ask him what he had said, after all, that didn’t sound like Ethan, you felt as his hands touched your hips, pulling you on his lap. “Y'know I don’t care about your mess, right? Just, please, stop walkin’ 'round the house dragging boxes.” He said with his face close to your neck, hugging you from behind. His warm breath was in contact with your soft skin, providing heat to your body. Well, there was a minimal percentage chance that you were trying to make the place look good for Ethan, just because he made you a little nervous.

“Okay, fine. I’m fine,” you exhaled, turning to face him. He was smiling with his eyes almost closing; he still looked tired, but at least you were improving his mood. “You know you’re good at what you do, Ethan. You shouldn’t worry 'bout those things.” You held on to his shoulders, breaking something that could turn out to be a pity silence.

He squeezed your thigh at the same time as he laughed humorlessly at your words. “I know that. I guess that this is the short time they gave us to finish the album – it was drivin’ me crazy. The album isn’t bad, not at all, it’s honestly very good. Dami did a incredible job, still if it weren’t for the time it could have been even better. That’s crazy how I’m still letting myself get stressed over this, don’t you think?” He vented, moving his hands up your skirt.

“I know it’ll be good, I can’t think of anything you did that ended up bad!” You ran your fingers over his covered shoulders, down to his chest, going to the first open button of his t-shirt. “But if it’s just stress I can help you.”

He lubed his lips, nodding assiduously, putting you properly on top of him. That way, you were stuck to his body, feeling the rough of his jeans along with the zipper against your underwear. You gulped as he held your face, sealing your lips with his. You were relieved he always guided you through that; the leading up part was way better when it came from him.

You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt in middle of sloppy kisses and grips. Running your hand over his belly, tracing your fingers to the back of his neck while moving your hips lightly. You lugged on his hair, pulling him away to catch your breath. You opened your eyes to find Ethan with a deep pink mouth and brown eyes more intense than normal, at that moment you could have sworn that he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You spread his shirt to the sides, sensing your body getting hotter, when Ethan smirked at your rush, managing to hold both of your hands behind you; stopping you in place.

“No need to rush, we have plenty of time,” he clenched you in his hands. You arched your back, breathing heavily at each touch of his fingers on your wrists.

He ran his nose over your neck, placing kisses and bites on the way to your collarbone, leaving wet tracks that would later turn into dark marks.

Your legs ached from that position, the couch wasn’t the best, but feeling Ethan getting hard under you as you writhed yourself against him, made you want to stay there for as long as he wanted you to. It was crazy to think that at the beginning of the day you were sure that the rest of it would be a pure disaster, and now being spoiled by Ethan’s lips your worries seemed to fade away.

Temporary as that would be, you were determined to give him your all, making his and yours next hours one of the best escapes from both of you. Unnecessary to say that you were lost in your own mind by now, craving for having his strands in-between your fingers, wanting him tugged into you furiously, causing you to ache. Your mouth was ajar, your vision was just white dots as he played with your sensitive skin, driving you insane. Ethan paralyzed when his grip became too strong around your fists and you got louder than usual.

“D’you like that?” He did it again, but this time pushing your body backward. He kept his devilish grin on his face, watching you from top to bottom. You bit your lips, containing your noises to yourself. Such an angel in his eyes. “Up, babe. I need to see something.” He didn’t let you answer, not as if he needed to. You stood up in front of him, legs shaking with your head definitely not in the right place. “Undress.” He rested his elbows on his knees.

His face was serious, and you didn’t see any problem in obeying his voice, but perhaps, due to the lack of his body being glued to yours, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I tell you what to do,” He caught you by the hem of your underwear, helping to take it off while you got rid of your blouse. “Especially, when I just got you off my lap, almost unconscious 'cause of some kisses to your soft neck, pet.” He added, drawing circles on the inside of your thigh, smoothly going up to your center.

You felt your breath come to a halt. “You’re just too bossy.” You teased, confirming that your breathing was faulty.

He patted his nose over the damp stain of the fabric, placing a kiss there. “And you love it.” He pecked you a few more times, teasing you by running his fingers on the edges as putting the cloth to the side; never touching you where you needed him.

Almost involuntarily you took hold of his hair, bringing him closer to your core. And then, you understood his previous question, it wasn’t just about not being able to touch him, but also about the power he was having over you.

He cut his actions short and got up, hovering over you. “Tonight, you won’t be allowed to touch me, all right?!” He whispered, tossing your hair behind your ear.

That’d be comical in any other situation, yet with his body and eyes fixed on your frame you felt in his domain.

You nodded, diving into the way he pulled at the hair on the nape of your neck firmly so that you were looking at him. “Go on, babe,” He insisted on having the words he wanted.

“Yes, it’s all right, Ethan,” it was far from all right, you couldn’t do that. How could you go without touching, making a mess of his hair or marking your nails on his back?

“That’s my girl,” he praised you in between sighs.

He was excited while your face was overflowing with nervousness; not out of fear, but out of curiosity. He finished removing his shirt and indicated with his fingers for you to lie down on the couch.

You shut your eyes tight, with his voice echoing 'my girl’ in your mind, Ethan was lugging your wrists above your head as you did what he told you to do. He tied them with his shirt. “Is this hurtin’ you? Are you comfortable?” He tightened it in a knot.

Your head and elbows were on the arm of the couch, only your hands were unsupported. Although you weren’t uncomfortable, it was to be expected that pain would appear the next day; it’d be worth it. “No, it’s fine. I’m good.” You assured him as he knelt beside the couch, running his hands down your torso, making you squirm.

He went down to the hem of your underwear, taking it off with the help of your legs kicking the lace away. “Good then,” he warbled, pattering lines on your pubic hair. “Needy and in your proper place.”

“Bastard,” you swore through clenched teeth.

He grinned, admiring how your breast rose and fell in a quick but punctual rhythm while your hips fidgeted at his touch. You looked like a piece of art he had just created, swollen lips, filled in lovely marks on the collarbone. He found himself in need to concentrate on his breathing while watching you, to control his pulse as he reached his fingertips to your pussy.

“Ethan” you breathed out, forcing your fists. “Go on, please,”

With that, he held your hands, forcing them down and slid a finger inside you. Your lips opened in a sigh and he took the opportunity to kiss you, running his tongue over your bottom lip and nipping it to his mouth, keeping things on a slow pace.

You wanted to hold his hand, make him go faster or be able to pull the locks of his hair until he understood how much you wanted him, but you had no way of doing that, and you knew he was just doing that to provoke you.

His lips traveled over your neck again, this time giving light kisses, blowing air on the soft fresh he had left in there.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said without even opening his eyes, delighting in your skin as he sped up, now rubbing his thumb gently over your bud.

You whispered something almost inaudible that Ethan recognized as his name. He raised his head, coming face a face to you. “Right there, huh?” He asked, focusing on the spot that was blurring your vision.

You groaned. The satisfying delight running through your veins. You closed your legs, wishing you could hold on to his body, but all he did was laugh, shoving his fingers leisurely into you.

“No, no Ethan,” you looked at him properly, thinking that if you hadn’t been with your wrists tied you’d have slapped his chest.

He wiped his hand on your thigh, and stood up slipping his jeans down his legs along with his underwear. You sighed at him, stretching your arms, staring at the ceiling to disguise yourself. Not that it was necessary, Ethan was already too much of a show-off when it came to you for your liking.

“You good? How’s your arms?” He doubted, getting on top of you.

He had his hair damp, falling over the spots on his forehead. Some of his locks was glued to his chest and his golden pendant dangled in front of your eyes. For a split second, you though about saying that you missed him, but you were wise enough to know better than doing such a thing.

“If I say that I’m not good. Are you goin’ to untie me?”

He pressed his chest to yours, your body sticking to his since you were both sweaty.

“Not even a chance,” He stroked your neck with his thumb, up and down, with a silly look on his face.

You grunted as soon as you felt how solid hard he was against your thigh, he aligned himself in-between your knees, holding on to your shoulders, and without hesitation he filled you up. Your body tingled and your voice failed, causing a silent moan to slip from your lips. His head fell over the crook of your neck and you could feel how dysrhythmic his breathing was. His warm body along with his breath hitting on your neck added a pleasant feeling in your stomach, leaving you dizzy under him.

“Move Ethan,” you tried to sound understandable, embracing his waist with your legs.

He thrusted deeply in you, leaving a breathed sigh of relief in your ears. You stretched out your arms, tightening your thighs around him. He held the shirt in your hands, preventing it from coming loose.

“No, I wanna touch you,” you whined.

“You will, just be patient, babe,” he squeezed your wrists in his hand.

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the way his body was over yours, every movement and every delicate touch.

He went slowly at first, making sure you were taking all of him before going faster. Once he felt your walls clenching around him, he murmured a breathless 'fuck’, letting go of your hands so that you could finally feel him. You dug your nails into his back, kneading your body against his at the same time as he hugged you.

As you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, with an intense gaze, building you up to feel sexy and wanted.

Both of you were a mess; sweaty and sticky. You felt a tingling ecstasy take all over your body, your toes twitching as you emptied yourself into him. He kept working on you until his body collapsed into yours, filling you up to perfection.

The last thing you remembered was having your fingers entwined in his hair, patting at it slightly as he whispered sweet nothing against your skin; just like a lullaby.

———–-------

You woke up to the noise of the television, trying to adjust your vision to the brightness of the daylight. Failing to stretch, you felt how sore your body was.

Your eyes searched for Ethan, finding him sitting opposite to you with a lazy smile and a cup of tea in hands, his attention was all on you. Friends was playing on the television, but you doubted he was really watching it.

“Good mornin’ babe,” his husky voice echoed through the room. It was the best thing to hear in the morning. “How’s it? Hurtin’?” He asked when you started examining your marked wrists.

He was fully dressed and although you weren’t, he had managed to get a sheet to cover you.

“Good mornin’. It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” you mumbled, scratching your eyes, curling up on the sheet. “How long will you be stayin’ in town?”

“Not long,” he paused thoughtfully. You already expected that he wouldn’t be with you for long, still sometimes you liked to think that it’d last longer than just a few days before he disappeared to another continent. “I need to go home in a few minutes, I’m going to take a flight at night to adjust the final details of the album.”

“Sounds nice,” you wanted to have the courage to tell him how he made things in your life look just right, as if he were some kind of piece missing from your puzzle. “I can’t wait to hear it, hear what your great fingers are capable of.” You ignored your thoughts. He laughed.

However, you truly believed that not saying anything was a wise move.

He lifted a cup from one of the boxes next to him, holding it out to you. “I made one for you too, I hope you don’t mind.”

You didn’t mind it, in fact, you loved the way he made himself at home so quickly. The home that soon wouldn’t be yours anymore. You wished Ethan could remedy your worries for more than just one night.

“Thank you,” you took the still warm drink in your hands, looking at him as if he were part of your decor. “You can smoke in here, I don’t mind that either,” you spoke up. You couldn’t even imagine that he’d have gone without lighting a cigarette all morning.

“The place is all clean, and smells nice. I bet you never lit one yourself, I wouldn’t do that.” He was right.

“Well, y'know that I don’t care about the smell, I just don’t see the need to leave the house impregnated with it.” You explained, remembering that Ethan’s house was a perfect description of that smell, yet you loved his place.

“I know this is going to sound strange,” he started. “But if you can’t find a place in time to live in… you can stay at mine, I mean, you know I am never home and as I’ll be travelin’ you could make yourself at home.”

He said it casually, and you knew he wasn’t lying, if you wanted to he wouldn't even think twice about letting you stay at his.

“No need, I’ll be fine. I do appreciate it though.” you took a sip of your now cold drink.

He bobbed, checking what you thought could be the time on his phone.

“You have to go, I guess?” You asked, your soft voice revealing you didn’t want that.

“I need to,” he gave you a small smile, getting up. “It’s gettin’ a bit late for me.”

“I see,” you went to him, adjusting the sheet on your body, feeling ridiculous for still being undressed. “I guess I’ll see you, right?” You added it while he picked up your stuff on the couch; keys, wallet and the pack of cigarettes. There was no answer for your question.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, heading to the door. “You could come and visit, spend a few days with us. It’d be nice.”

“On tour? Like a groupie?” You wrinkled your nose. His arms wrapping around you. You’d miss it.

He squeezed you into his chest, his tiny beard tickling your cheek. “You know you are much more than just a groupie for me, Y/N.”

You didn’t answer that. He pulled away and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t.

“See ya Y/N,” instead, he kissed the top of your head. “Think about it, both about comin’ to visit and also about needing a place to stay for a while.”

“I’m sure I will, thank you Ethan,” you watched him, from his rumpled shirt to dark circles under his eyes. He’d always have a special space in your heart. “I guess I’ll see ya then.”

>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

taglist ( 'cause someone actually wanted to be tagged, i didn't even force anyone😁): @maybanksslut , @oro-e-diamanti

[hqbbg]

clean.

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader

prompt: “guess I'll just have to cum inside you.”

genre: smut

word count: 3.8K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, slight degradation, blowjob, some spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, vaginal s3x, creampie, this is legit just filth so please read at your own discretion

author’s note: this is my contribution to the Haikyuu!! Headquarters server collab! Find the masterlist of a bunch of other great writers here 💖 hope you enjoy!

A soft hiss slips past Sakusa’s lips as he tightens his grip around the base of his cock. He slides his hand up his girth and uses his thumb to collect some of the beading precum to smear around the bulbous head, biting his lip to not make too much noise.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this, practically disgusted with himself because of the situation he’s placed himself in, but he couldn’t resist.

You’d asked him to accompany you to visit your parents for one week, which meant it was the first time he would meet them in person. Sure, he’s spoken with them whenever you’d call them, but he wanted to do his best to leave a good impression on them for their first time seeing him in person. It was their idea to let the two of you stay at their home to avoid spending money on finding a hotel and whatnot—not that Sakusa would’ve even considered staying in such a filthy and public place—but that meant that the two of you would be spending practically every hour of the day with your parents during the week-long trip. This also meant that the only true alone time was at night before bed, although your parents’ bedroom was right down the hall, so it wasn’t the amount of privacy that Sakusa would have liked.

It was your last evening with them, so your parents had offered to take the two of you out to a fancy dinner, having made reservations and everything. You were both told to dress appropriately for the upscale restaurant, which was something you must’ve known about beforehand because you had packed a clean, white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks for him and a fiery red dress for yourself that he didn’t recognize.

Sakusa was by no means addicted to sex, but the moment he had seen you slip into the dress, he had wanted to rip it right off. The way it hugged every dip and curve of your body just made you look absolutely ravishing and the heels you’d paired with it were icing on the cake. Had it not been for your parents calling the two of you to hurry to avoid missing your reservation, he might’ve just taken you then and there.

The dress proved to be an issue throughout the rest of the night, starting with the way you’d swayed your hips with every step you’d taken in it. Sakusa found himself having a harder time maintaining his composure as the night progressed, especially when your hand kept brushing his thigh under the table which made it hard for him to focus on whatever story your parents were telling, travelling higher and higher with every couple of laughs shared at the table. He even had to subtly grab your wrist to keep your fingers from grazing dangerously close to his twitching cock.

It was moments like these that he had wished he could wear his face mask; he would be able to cover his face and not look as suspicious as he did now.

He had watched you from his peripherals, the way you were licking your spoon clean of the dessert your family had ordered for the table and the only thing he could think about was wanting your lips around his growing erection. He might’ve imagined it, but he also could’ve sworn that he saw your eyes flicker to him and your lips quirk into a smirk.

You knew exactly what you were doing and were clearly enjoying yourself too much.

He had to excuse himself from the dinner table before the check arrived and practically ran from the table, internally appreciating the fact that the restaurant had a single-use bathroom. He was quick to lock the door and undo his belt and pants, freeing his throbbing cock from its restraints and stood over the toilet.

He’s repulsed by the idea of touching any surface in this bathroom, no matter how nice it seems, but he knows that if he doesn’t take care of this issue now, it’ll only pose a problem later.

Sakusa’s pace is unforgiving as he spits into his own hand to help it move more smoothly up and down his cock. He closes his eyes and thinks of you, what it would be like if you were to be in this bathroom with him.

He thinks about the way you had slowly dragged your tongue along the dip of your spoon and bites his lip, wanting you to do the same to him from the base of his cock to the tip. You’d probably do it to tease him before dragging your tongue along his slit, coating him in your drool. You always like to kiss the red tip before wrapping your lips around it, swirling your tongue around as you pull your head back and release him with a ‘pop!’

He can practically see behind his closed lids the look you’d have on your face, grinning mischievously up at him as you wrap your nimble fingers around him and giving him a few generous pumps before leaning forward again to try and swallow him whole. Your fingers would grip and massage his balls, always earning the same reaction of him wanting to grip your hair and push you further down, relishing in your whines and moans whenever you’d feel him at the back of your throat.

Sakusa’s eyes flutter open and he’s breathing heavily as he watches his own hand squeeze and tug his cock—your cock.

He can feel his orgasm nearing and he continues to hiss and moan your name under his breath. Just as he feels that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, Omi? Are you in there?”

He can’t stop, he needs to finish, he needs to finish—

“You’ve been in there for a while. Is everything okay? My parents wanted me to check up on you.”

Sakusa slows himself down, bitterly reminded that he has people waiting on him.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he says, feeling frustrated that the moment is lost. He had been so close yet so far.

“Are you okay?” you ask once he steps out of the bathroom. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks upset.

He glances around the area for a moment before looking at you and grabbing your hand, guiding it to the pressing matter that is straining against his pants. He can see your eyes widen with realization and feels his lips twitch at the fact that you have the audacity to give him a squeeze through his fabric.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses as he moves your hand away.

“I should be asking you that,” you tease him with a small smirk, indicating that you knew exactly what you’ve been doing all night, much to Sakusa’s frustrated dismay.

“Let’s just get back to your parents,” he grumbles. You do your best to conceal your giggle as the two of you walk back towards the dinner table. Sakusa tries to walk at an angle so his erection is hidden from plain sight behind you and the two of you arrive back at the table.

“Oh, there you are! Is everything alright?”

Sakusa nods, not wanting to be disrespectful, but finds it hard to focus his thoughts on anything but the idea of taking you tonight.

“Kiyoomi’s not feeling very well,” you say.

“Oh, it was probably something in that appetizer. I haven’t been feeling very good myself since we ate that.”

“Let’s hurry home then.”

Music to Sakusa’s ears.

Ever the gentleman, he holds the door open for you and you give him a sickeningly sweet and innocent smile as you slide into the backseat. He follows you in shortly and is relieved that it’s dark in the small compact space as the car begins to move.

He tries to ignore you as you slide yourself snug next to him, pressing yourself against him with every turn the car makes. You have your eyes fixed on the road ahead, but your hand finds its way onto Sakusa’s thigh once again. You feel his muscles tense under your fingers, and you try to resist the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He looks as if he’s holding his breath and has one hand gripping the armrest on the door while the other holds your wrist. You glance at him innocently and the look in his eyes is dangerous.

Your attention is averted when your parents ask a question and you casually reply, retracting your hand back to yourself. Sakusa visibly relaxes for a few moments and you try not to laugh.

As your parents continue to converse with the both of you, you take advantage of this time and slide your hand between his legs as he answers a question about his occupation, giving his still very erect cock a squeeze. His voice cracks and he quickly tries to recover by coughing and clearing his throat, both your parents stifling giggles as you yourself try not to burst out laughing.

His fingers are wrapped around your wrist again as he jerks it away. He leans in towards you and you do your best not to shiver upon feeling his hot breath fan against your neck.

“Just wait until we get home,” he all but growls lowly in your ear. You can practically feel the heat radiating off his body before he pulls back and sits up in his seat, keeping his grip firm around your wrist for the rest of the car ride home.

When the car finally arrives in front of the house, Sakusa does his best to remain polite yet feels his patience running thin when you take your time chatting with your parents about something that he had been too distracted to pay attention to earlier. He shifts uncomfortably as everyone gets out of the car and moves to the front door at an achingly slow pace, feeling anxious to hurry and get inside.

Unfortunately, the torture for him doesn’t end there, as you choose to stay in the living room and chat for a little longer about something he knows can be held another time. You do a good job of positioning yourself in front of him, so your parents are still blissfully unaware of the bulge in his pants and keep their focus on you until you finally bid your parents goodnight.

The walk to your shared bedroom is short, but you take your time, knowing that Sakusa is probably ready to snap at any moment. He proceeds to prove you right as you step into your bedroom and he’s quick to follow you in. Before you can even say or do anything, you feel him grip your wrist and pull you back, turning around to push you against the door, causing it to slam shut. Your eyes widen on instinct and you feel his calloused fingers wrap around your neck as he leans in close.

“You think you’re so cute acting like that in front of your parents, huh?”

You resist the whimper bubbling in your throat as you look up at him, his eyes dark as he stares you down.

“If you want to be a slut, then get on your knees and act like one,” he growls and releases your throat. You do little to protest, sliding down the door and getting on your knees as you were told. A familiar heat begins to burn between your legs.

Little time is wasted in unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his slacks as you use nimble fingers to quickly free him of his cloth prison. You feel your mouth water at the strained outline of his bulging cock through the darkness of his boxers and yank the fabric down to let it all pool at his feet. The hardened length practically springs to life and you waste no time in gripping it and giving it a few pumps before wrapping your lips around it.

Sakusa throws his head back at the warmth of your mouth and bites his lip, knowing that if he’s too loud, your parents might hear. He hangs his head back forward and watches as you gingerly suck on him, cheeks hollowing out as you use your hand to grip and squeeze what doesn’t fit in your mouth. He rakes his fingers through your hair, gripping a handful in the back to roughly push you deeper. You try not to gag and choke at the sudden pressure, feeling tears sting your eyes as he holds you there for a few seconds. When his grip loosens, you pull your head back and gasp for air, feeling a thin string of saliva connect your lips to his cock. Your eyes flicker up and you instantly feel another surge of warmth between your legs at the sight of Sakusa’s half-lidded eyes, parted lips, and pink cheeks.

Your fingers make their way to his balls and massage them, and you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock from the base to the tip. The wet muscle drags along the ridges, tracing a particularly thick vein.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “This is what you wanted all along, huh, you little slut?”

You continue to bob your head, humming in response as he grunts at the vibrations. You can feel that he’s close as he rocks his hips to match your pace, gripping a fistful of your hair again to force more of himself down your throat.

“I’m getting close,” he grits through his teeth as his pace quickens. Tears are once again prickling your eyes, threatening to spill over as he roughly fucks into your mouth. “You’re gonna swallow my cum like the good little cock slut you are, got it?”

You can barely even whimper in response before he holds your head still and you can feel his essence shoot down your throat. You swallow everything you can, swirling your tongue around his length to lick any remnants away until he practically jerks your head away from him. Your lips release him with a ‘pop!’ sound and he hisses at how sensitive he is. You wipe some of the excess that’s dribbled down your chin and look up at him, trying to keep your coughing at a minimum.

“Get on the bed.”

He stands back a little to give you enough room to stand and you quickly shuffle your feet towards the bed, trying to recover while ignoring the subtle soreness developing in your throat. You sit down on the edge and watch him as he begins to unbutton his shirt, your eyes slowly trailing down his broad chest to his cock that’s still standing tall and proud.

He must’ve been really pent up.

You sit in eager anticipation of what he’ll do next, unable to tear your eyes away from his as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off. He tosses it aside and leans down so he’s at eye level with you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight,” he says, “but your parents might hear us, so you have to be quiet, okay?”

You nod.

“Good,” he says, straightening himself. You can’t help but feel slightly disappointed, having hoped that he would at least kiss you. “Turn around on all fours.”

His voice is husky, and you simply do as you’re told, climbing slightly higher up on the bed in the position he wants you in. You feel the bed dip with his added weight and turn your head slightly to see what he’s doing. He admires your backside for a moment before lifting your dress up and hooking his fingers onto the hem of your panties. He roughly pulls them down and nearly rips them in the process, but before you can even say anything in protest, a large palm lands firmly against your exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise and he looks at you with a quirked brow.

“I said to be quiet, didn’t I?”

“Sorry,” you bite your lip as he tugs your panties down your legs. You lift one leg at a time until he’s able to fully remove them, expecting him to simply toss them aside. To your surprise, he reaches forward and shoves your panties into your mouth.

“That’s better,” he grunts with a smirk on his lips. You probably shouldn’t feel as aroused as you are at this commanding side of Sakusa.

You feel a thick finger swipe upwards against your slick folds and you whimper as he examines his glistening fingertip. You want to say something, but feel two digits abruptly insert themselves in and you’re suddenly glad you have something to muffle the moan that’s ripped from you.

His pace is quick and rough, and you bite down harder on the fabric in your mouth as your back arches, your head hanging low. You use one hand to rub at your clit, only finding momentary relief until Sakusa ministers another slap against your ass.

“Did I say you could touch yourself, you fucking whore?”

You shake your head and remove your hand, bringing it back to its original position. You grip the sheets in your fists as you feel his fingers curl and reach a particularly deep spot within you, making it very hard for you to keep quiet. You lean forward onto your elbows and bury your face into the sheets, feeling that you will be too loud otherwise.

Just as you feel your first orgasm approaching, Sakusa removes his fingers and you’re left clenching around nothing. You lift and turn your head to look behind you in frustration, though you’re not left frustrated for long.

Sakusa positions the fat tip of his cock in front of your hole and slides in without warning, warranting an immediate and loud moan from you. Your underwear falls from your mouth and your eyes practically roll to the back of your head as you’re filled to the brim with him. You can feel a rough hand grip your hip while the other finds its way around your throat. He pulls you up so your back is pressed against his chest and you want to turn your head to kiss him, but he quickly attaches his lips to your neck, sucking and nibbling against your sweet spot. You’re quick to tilt your head to give him easier access, one hand reaching behind you to grab Sakusa’s hair, weaving your fingers through his thick curls, while the other grips at his arm as it moves between your legs and finally touches the sensitive bundle of nerves. He rubs rough circles as his hips continue to snap against yours and you’re racing to the finish line that is your orgasm.

He begins to whisper dirty things into your ear, calling you his good little cumslut and you clamp your hand over your mouth to quiet your moans, though you’re sure it’s ineffective. The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the overwhelming pleasure muddles your senses and the only thing you can think of is how good Sakusa feels inside of you. After a few more rough thrusts, you feel your walls clamp down as your orgasm washes over you.

Sakusa slows down, finding it increasingly harder to maintain his rhythm as your velvet walls tighten around him and he knows he won’t last much longer. He decides to pull out, however, letting you go, and sitting back. Your muscles are shaky as you look at him, confused and fucked out.

“I didn’t cum yet,” he says simply, tilting his head slightly as he leans back against his palms on the bed. You bite your lip, understanding his implications and crawl over to him on your wobbly arms and legs. You throw your leg over him so you’re straddling him, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself while the other grips his throbbing cock to position at your dripping entrance.

You slowly lower yourself down, whimpering at the sensitivity until he’s fully sheathed within you. You place both of your hands on his shoulders and bury your face into his neck as you slowly rock your hips, rotating them every so often. Sakusa lifts his hands to finally unzip your wrinkled dress and you tiredly lift your arms so he can lift the fabric over your head, leaving you completely bare before him. As you continue to rotate your hips lazily, he palms your breasts and looks up at you. You finally take this chance to press your lips against his, having wanted to do this all night and wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his tongue push past your lips. You entangle your fingers through his hair again and moan against his lips as he pinches your pebbling nipples, eventually sliding his hands down the dip and curve of your waist to your hips. He helps guide you as you move up and down, his hips meeting you halfway.

He’s not as rough as he’s been, knowing how overstimulated you already are, though his hips begin to move faster. It eventually gets to a point where you have no choice but to bury your face into his neck to stifle your moans as he holds your hips still and simply thrusts upwards against them. You feel another orgasm quickly approaching and know that this time, Sakusa is right there with you.

“Fuck, baby,” he hisses. “I’m gonna cum.”

“We can’t get my parents’ sheets dirty,” you pant as you lift your head slightly.

“Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you,” he grunts as he begins to pick up the pace. You bite your lip as another wave of pleasure begins to crash over you, consuming you completely. Not too long after, you feel Sakusa begin to shoot ropes cum inside of you, painting your insides white. He finds your lips quickly and kisses you to let you swallow his moans, slowing his movements to an eventual stop.

The two of you sit there, panting heavily in your post-sex glow. You slowly lift yourself off, wincing at the oversensitivity while Sakusa carefully moves to the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going?” You ask as you watch him stand.

“We’re all sweaty, so we have to shower now,” he replies, beginning his trek towards the bathroom. He turns when he realizes you’re still awkwardly positioned on the bed to not let any of his cum spill out of you and onto the sheets. “Well, are you coming?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” you frown slightly.

“If you were good, I wouldn’t have had to be so rough. You can make it up to me in the shower.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

[devildomimagines]

Could u do another "I'm not (blank) enough" requests but instead of MC saying something negative it'd be the brothers saying they aren't enough at something?

This was an interesting request, thanks Anon! I'm sorry it took me a while to get through it but I really had to dig deep to figure out what these arrogant, all powerful demons could feel insecure about.

Here is my other piece Anon is referencing: "I'm Not _______ Enough."

I changed it up a bit from the original but I hope you like it! Also I got carried away and this got pretty long so the other brothers are under the cut lol.

"Am I _______ Enough?"

Belphegor

“Am I reliable enough?”

You had woken up from your nap to his words, and asked “What?” While wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Can you depend on me?” He reworded the question but didn’t make eye contact.

“Belphie?” You guided his face to look at yours.

“Actually never mind,” he backed out of the conversation and the bed.

“Wait,” You sat up and pushed out of the bed too, already missing the warmth.

Once in front of him, you stated, “You’re reliable!”

His blush was slight but you caught it before he amended, “I know that I’m not always hanging off you like Mammon or Asmo-“

“That’s ok!” You interrupted, “Sorry,” you quickly apologized when he gave you a look.

“But I know that with your sin, it gets physically uncomfortable to be awake for long periods like how Beel gets after not getting enough food. I know if I ever needed you,” you took his hand, “you’d be there.”

He took a moment to let the scene sink in before squeezing your hand, giggling, and roughing up your hair, “That’s right, bed head,” He teased.

“Yours isn’t any better!” You moved to do the same to him but he dodged.

The two of you continued to play fight but didn’t let go of the other's hand. Belphie seemed lightened by your confirmation and you enjoyed the rare bout of playful activity with the youngest.

Beelzebub

“Am I warm enough?”

“Heck yeah! You’re like a space heater!”

He laughed, “Thanks, MC.” But his smile faded too quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand?” You went from sitting across from him to sitting next to him at the table, “Do you not want to be a space heater?”

That got him smiling again, “No, that’s not it, I guess I meant warm like friendly?”

“Well then it’s a resounding yes, you’re super friendly Beel!” You gave his back a rub and a pat for punctuation.

“Oh… ok,” he went back to his snack which you assumed he would but his response wasn’t sitting right with you.

“Do you not believe me?” You looked up at him with your best puppy dog pout.

Congrats, your cuteness made the Avatar of Gluttony choke! He coughed and pounded on his chest with a closed fist.

You offered your apology and he waved it off as he took some gulps of his drink.

“No I do believe you MC.” He started covering your hand on the table with his and before your hand was completely enveloped he stopped.

“What is it then?” You prodded.

“Just a teammate commented on how I made chills run down his spine with just my stare.”

“Ah, I think Asmo would know that as a resting b*tch face,” you scratched your chin sagely

He frowned, “I can’t do anything about that, that's just how my face is.”

“Exactly! So don’t stress it, he’s still your teammate and friend, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Beel mulled it over and you could practically see the weight of it rise off his shoulders as he sat up straighter and accepted it.

“There he is,” you thought as he exuded an easy confidence but your thoughts were disrupted when he pulled you into an embrace. He whispered near your ear, “Thanks.”

“Who could think this wasn’t warm?” You thought as you snuggled into his hold.

Asmodeus

“Am I attentive enough?”

“What brought that up?” You questioned looking up from your spot on his bed. It wasn’t like Asmo to show his insecurities.

“Just some gossip going around,” He tried to minimize the claims and continued fussing with his hair.

“Oh, well, you know how gossip gets, you just have to ignore it and it’ll go away,” you repeated the same advice he had given you when you first arrived in the Devildom and there were vicious rumors and tabloid articles written about the exchange program participants.

“But am I?!”

The hurt look on his face paired with the desperation in his question made it plainly obvious this meant more to him than he wanted to let on.

“Of course-”

Asmo cut you off, “MC, you have to be deadly honest right now.”

“You’re attentive Asmo,” You confirmed without a shadow of a doubt.

He chewed his lip and cheek debating the statement.

You got up from the bed and came to stand in front of Asmo. You cupped the cheek he was chewing on and he stopped.

With a small nudge you made him swivel to look back in the mirror, “What were the rumors saying?” Your own curiosity running wild, what could bring Asmo to this?

Surprisingly Asmo looked away from the reflection of you two to answer in a small voice, “That if I didn’t pay attention to you, they’d sweep in and take you for themselves.”

That stunned you for a second, you didn’t think it would involve you. “Well first of all, I don’t even know them, how are they going to even get close to me at this point?” 

Asmo considered this, you were always with him or one of his brothers.

“Second, you’re always paying attention to me, you probably know my facial expressions better than I do,” you laughed and he couldn’t help a small snort of his own.

“Third, even on days when you’re stressed, or excited about a new make-up launch and your energy is elsewhere, you always,” you squeezed his arm for emphasis, “ALWAYS check in on me.”

Asmo bit his lip once more but this time holding back a smile. He clearly couldn’t hold it back when he locked you in a hug and squealed your name.

Satan

“Am I patient enough?”

You knew this was something that he consciously worked on so you quickly confirmed, “Yes,” then turned the page of your book.

He was a little shocked at your quick resolution and not totally satisfied. He closed his book and asked, “There was never a time when you think I couldn’t have been more patient?”

“Well sure, but I think that about myself too.”

That was also surprising to Satan, “How? You’re even more patient than me.”

 “I’m only human,” You shrugged, as you closed your own book, recognizing this was going to be more of a discussion.

“And I’m only demon?” Satan returned sarcastically. He did not appreciate the turn of phrase.

“Sorry, I meant, I’m not perfect, no one is. You can’t hold yourself to an impossible standard because you’ll only be destined to be disappointed when you don’t live up to it.” You paused for the idea to settle with him.

He contemplated the sentiment.

“The way I see it,” you continued, “As long as you’re trying to do better then that’s what matters.”

Satan weighed that thought as well.

“And there is an even bigger secret with patience that not a lot of people know,” you baited.

Satan asked “And what’s that?” Hook, line, and sinker.

“I don’t know if you’re ready,” you taunted and reopened your book. If there was one thing you knew you could entice Satan with, it was some kind of hidden knowledge.

He moved across the room and closed your book in your hand for you.

You looked up at him looming over you with a sweet smile.

He smiled back at you, knowing you were playing with him. “And what’s that?” He repeated but you knew it was more of a command this time.

“Fine, I’ll share the secret with you so listen well.”

He started to nod before you caught his face in your hands. His eyebrows shot up to wordlessly question your action but didn’t break the silence, his proof he was listening.

“People don’t always realize that the most important part of patience is…” you paused and savored the interest in Satan’s eyes, “that you have to afford yourself the same patience you give to others.”

His brows furrowed trying to unravel the words in his mind. 

While he did so, you pulled his head down slightly so you could give him a quick kiss on the forehead. Then pat his cheek and released him. 

He took a step back, almost in a daze, you certainly gave him something to think about.

Leviathan

“Am I supportive enough?”

You looked up from the manga you were reading and Levi was staring down at the manga in his hand. His hands were holding the sides tightly as he waited for your response.

“How so?” You prompted.

“L-like this,” Levi pushed the manga towards you. You scanned the panels, the scene being depicted looked like it was one where the love interest was cheering on the main character while they were participating in a sports festival.

“Well you’re not like this,” you had to be honest and you could see he was already starting to sulk, “but you’re supportive in your own way.”

He tsked and took the manga back.

“Levi, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” you apologized.

“It’s fine,” Levi turned the page, “I know I’m a gross otaku shut in.”

“No, stop.” You closed the manga, you dug this hole so it was time to climb out.

He listened and looked over at you, annoyed.

“You’re supportive Levi. There are different ways to be supportive!”

He rolled his eyes, not believing you.

Alright this guy wants to play hardball, you could play with the best of them. “You always make sure that I’ve eaten and slept, even if you haven’t. For as long as we’ve had a pact, you’ve always come to my defense even though I know you hate confrontation. When I find a new show, game or book that I’m interested in, you always take the time to learn about it yourself so I can talk to someone about it.”

By the end, Levi’s face was red, his ears were red, you could swear his hands were even shaking a little bit.

“So sure, you’re not yelling your support from the roof of the House of Lamentation like that character,” you took one of his hands and his eyes darted between your face and your interlaced hands, “but I appreciate your quiet kind of support.”

Leviathan.exe has stopped working. It took a solid 5 minutes to regain his voice.

“M-M-MC!” he whined, “That’s so embarrassing!” He slumped down to hide his face but didn’t dare remove his hand from yours.

“Was it super effective?” You laughed at your joke.

He groaned from his drooped state but he squeezed your hand and you knew that it was.

Mammon

“Am I humble enough?”

At first, you have to bite your tongue to keep from outright laughing. 

Surely the demon who regards himself as “The Great Mammon” would see the irony in asking this.

But he was quiet and reflective, a stark contrast to his usual self.

You sat down next to him on the sofa in the living room, with a pat on his back you opted to offer what you thought he wanted to hear, “Sure you are buddy.”

“Are ya messing with me?” of all times for Mammon to be observant.

You were as bad a liar as he was so when you looked away and scratched your cheek instead of answering Mammon knew you were lying.

He sighed and his shoulders dropped as he caught his head in his hands.

“Well you don’t have to be humble!” You defended, feeling bad for your white lie earlier.

He peeked up at you and you took the opportunity to stand up in front of him, “You’re like the third strongest demon in all of Devildom! You should be proud of that!”

He rolled his eyes but you could see a shadow of a smile play on his lips.

“Not only are you strong but you’re very caring, not only to your brothers but to me too,” you suggested and on queue Mammon flushed.

“I’m not,” he tried to deny.

“Oh that’s not true. Remember when Belphie ruined that painting and you took the fall for it?”

His eyes opened wide in shock, “How did you-”

“Or that time when I was sick and you took such good care of me?” You added in a sing-song tone.

“Shuddup!” Mammon was now standing and placed a hand over your mouth as he looked around for his brothers. He looked back at you, “I got a reputation to uphold, y’know.”

After a muffled laugh, you pulled his hand away, “What I’m saying is you don’t have to be modest.”

“Yeah I guess when you put it that way,” He rubbed the back of his head considering.

“So what’s on the agenda for the day for The Great Mammon?”

He squinted his eyes at your teasing tone but smirked and grabbed your hand to drag you along. You went willingly with a snicker.

Lucifer

“Am I compassionate enough?”

He didn’t look up from the paperwork he was reviewing when he posed the question to you.

At first you tilted your head and wondered if he was even addressing you.

When he did finally look up, you knew he was waiting for your answer.

“Yeah, I think so?” You didn’t mean to phrase it as a question but were more concerned with how this even came up.

“You think so?” Lucifer repeated incredulously.

“Yes,” you reinforced, “where’s this coming from?” You were taking a risk in questioning Lucifer, there was probably a 50/50 chance he would actually answer. 

It was rare that he would even voice a question about his character.

He frowned and went back to his paperwork. You figured that was the end of the conversation, this being the 50% of the time that he would not answer. You went back to perusing his record collection to find something to play.

“Simeon mentioned how ruthless I’ve become.”

You looked back over at Lucifer. He looked more tired than he did just a moment ago. Simeon’s comment must have been wearing on him.

You picked a record you knew he liked and put it on before walking over to his desk.

He sighed, put down his pen and rubbed his eyes.

You leaned against the desk with your arms crossed and he faced you, the weariness even more apparent up close.

“Can I be honest with you?” you asked.

He grimaced, already thinking the worst but nodded.

“I think your ruthlessness comes from a compassionate place.”

From his one raised eyebrow, you could tell that wasn’t what he was expecting and he was waiting for your explanation.

“For example,” you began, “you care about your brothers, so when you punish them, it’s for their own good or to save them from a worse fate. You might not admit this one, but you’ve become sympathetic to Diavolo’s moods and disposition and so acting in accordance with how it will reflect on him and enforcing those standards has become second nature, hasn’t it?” He looked away.

You knew he wouldn’t answer that so you looked away yourself and continued, “You may have at first picked me as a candidate for the exchange program because of my connection to Lilith and housed me at the request of Diavolo,” you laughed at what you were about to say for the first time out loud, “but since getting to know me, I like to think that you’ve had a change of heart and genuinely care about my well-being despite those factors.”

There was a moment of silence and you felt your face heat up, nervous that maybe you overestimated your importance.

Before you could look back at him, he had stood up and enclosed you in a hug. You smiled, uncrossed your arms and hugged him back. 

He was humming along with the song so you made one more bold choice and started swaying in time with the rhythm. He chuckled, shifted to hold one of your hands, and properly led you in a dance around the room. 

You hoped his light footsteps were a reflection of how light his heart was feeling.

All signs of the weariness from moments ago were completely gone.

[sohin-ace]

Kakyoin - Fateful Day

Kakyoin x Jotaro's sister reader

I freaking love the Joot-sister prompt

You were always used to Jotaro and you walking separatedly from and to school. The guy had way longer legs than you and would rather not be seen with you in public and near school, for reasons mysterious to you.

At first you felt offended that he would be ashamed of you, or just not bear your presence.

You did not know, in fact, that the reasons he kept his distance from you as much as he could when on schoolgrounds or when going to school, was to protect you from danger.

Not only was Jotaro constantly surrounded by crazy girls who would probably harass you for existing in his world, but he also had troubles, to understate, with local delinquents and other gangsters who wanted to throw some hands at him.

Furthermore, with the new discovery of that bizarre, seemingly evil spirit that started following him around, you were really the last person he wanted to hurt.

Unfortunately, being distant from his little sister wasn't near enough to protect her this time.

One fateful day, soon after your grandfather arrived in Japan and Jotaro got out of holding, you were walking home from school as usual.

Jotaro was already a solid five minutes away in front of you, which meant you were all alone.

You didn't mind the lone walk, the town was peaceful and you were used to it. But something irked you when you felt an insistant presence behind you.

You turned around, checking, but no one was there. You shrugged the feeling off, feeling a bit stupid for thinking the worse and kept walking, telling yourself it must have been a cat or an innocent someone who got home.

"Jotaro~! Welcome back- hm? Where is your sister?" Holly asked as she welcomed her son who just came home.

The boy grunted, reluctantly accepting his 'welcome home' smooch. "She's coming. She's just slow."

After a long while of waiting for your return, Holly started to worry, stress and anxiety clouding her mind. Panicked, she barged in Jotaro's bedroom. You weren't usually this late.

"Jotaro, are you sure Y/N was behind you? It's been almost thirty minutes and she's still not back…"

Jotaro huffed in annoyance as he got up from his laid down position on his bed.

"Yare yare daze, quit worrying over nothing, she's probably fine."

" 'Probably'?!"

"What's going on, Holly?" Joseph joined in after hearing the commotion.

"Y/N's not back from school yet… I'm scared something might have happened to her…" Holly explained to her father, dread even more evident in her voice as she worded her worries.

Joseph rubbed her shoulder in reassurance, "It's okay, Holly, I'm sure she's not that far. Jotaro! Get up and go look for your sister! You're supposed to keep an eye on her, that's your role as a big brother!"

The old man scolded as the teenager stood up and got on his way, as if he had been asked an annoying chore.

"Yare yare, you're all so noisy over nothing." He put his shoes back on and took his leave.

Stopping every once in a while and unable to shake off your uneasy feeling truly delayed you. You were sure you'd never hear the end of this if your father knew how late you were today.

"Kujo..." A sudden deep voice called right behind you, and you turned around, meeting with a complete stranger. "…Am I correct?"

"Yes?" You replied a bit shyly as you turned fully to him. "And you are...?"

As you now had a better look at him, you realised how handsome he actually looked. Not at all how you imagined a potential creep following you.

He wore your school's uniform but you didn't recognize his face. He must be a new student, you told yourself. He had beautiful red hair and a white shawl that flew gracefully in the wind. He was also strongly and elegantly built. Just who was he?

But all that charm quickly shifted as he smirked eerily in response. He approached you, his eyes glaring into your soul and you stepped backwards as fear built up inside you. Why was he looking at you like that so suddenly?

The uneasiness from before came up tenfold, this time completely justified. You spoke up as he came uncomfortably close to you, towering over your much smaller form.

"U-um… Did you need something…?" You hesitantly stuttered as he now stood arm-length away from you.

"Yes I do." He spoke confidently, his goal like set in stone. "I need you to lead me to your brother."

"What? My brother? If it's a fight you want with him, I won't let you." You protested with more confidence, now that you started to understand where he came from.

You were used to people trying to pick fights with Jotaro. You knew your brother had way too many enemies for his own good, and surely you wouldn't let anyone get to him and filter them out if you had the occasion.

"Who even are you? I don't recognize you from school…" You squinted your eyes warily. This boy arised too many questions in your mind.

Kakyoin smiled softly at you, which you didn't trust at all. He was fishy and there was something in his eyes that you quite couldn't put you finger on.

"My name is Kakyoin Noriaki." He sighed. "I didn't want to use force on a lady, but you don't leave me any choices..."

Before you could even react, green tentacle-like appendices appeared from behind him and lunged at you. You gasped and bolted away as fast as you could.

You knew it. It was bad. Real bad. You had no chance against a Stand user like him, you couldn't manage your own newly found Stand just yet. It was exactly like your grandfather said.

You tried to run, but not even 2 meters far and his green vectors wrapped around your ankles.

As you were about to trip and land on the floor, more of the tentacles wrapped around your legs, waist, arms and wrists, preventing you from falling, keeping you still in mid-air.

You couldn't move. Kakyoin came up behind you as you struggled in Hierophant Green's grip.

"Well that was easy." He snickered over your tied up and desperate form.

"LET ME GO!! LET ME- HMMFF!" He put a large hand over your mouth, effectively silencing your now muffled screams.

"Shhh! Don't make this harder for us, I'll just borrow your body real quick. It'll be over before you even know it. I'll make this painless, I'm a gentleman."

He released your mouth and Hierophant green squeezed itself around your neck, choking you, your mouth agape for you desperately needed air.

He took this advantage to grab your wrists and lock you against his chest as his Stand released you to nest itself inside your opened mouth.

Your body tensed up at the foreign and disgusting feeling of the spirit slipping down your throat and you violently squirmed in Kakyoin's grip as he forced your mouth closed, keeping the Stand inside to own your will and possess you. Just as Dio had taught him.

"Good. That's good. Jotaro would never kill his own sister, now would he? Even though his own sister will kill him. How tragically ironic."

He wrapped his arms back to your midsection as you stopped squirming, tired and breathless from fighting against him in vain. He held you against him as he knew you would surely collapse if he let go.

"Haaah… Ahh… Haaaa… Haaahh…" You panted shakily, scared and exhausted as your head hung low and your cold hands rested upon his own, barely able to swat them away from you with how shakey you were.

You were weak and alone, which was perfect for him to use. He chuckled and you felt the rumble of his chest against your back as he did. You felt like crying.

"It's too bad that you have to die. You're so cute, I would have loved to bring you to Master Dio with me."

You suddenly felt nauseous. You felt his stand inside you, trying to slide itself into every part of you and take control of your body.

You tried to resist, your arms and legs were shaking, your arched your back and writhed in pain, you knew your own Stand was fighting against it.

To Kakyoin's utter shock, Hierophant Green was violently pushed out of you by your own Stand as you let out lung-piercing coughs. Spitting the enemy out like some flesh-eating parasyte.

"WHAT-?!" Kakyoin yelped at the scene, but was then forced to let go of you as your Stand punched Hierophant Green in the face, the red-head owner feeling the hit full-force as well.

Kakyoin fell down, knocked down by the impact as you collapsed to your knees, coughing up and vomiting spit and blood.

Adrenaline pushing you through, you didn't let yourself any time to recover and took this chance to run away as fast as you could, taking sharp turns and passing through narrow paths that you prayed he wouldn't fit through or have the idea of searching.

You eventually lost track of him, gasping desperately for air as your lungs hurt in a dry and sharp pain, fed by the ceaseless pounding of your heart. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, you couldn't take it anymore.

Right as you passed the Torii gate of the temple nearest to your neighborhood, one you walked through every day, you passed out cold onto the paved holy ground.

Jotaro slowly walked his way back to the path you usually both took to come home after school. He walked and walked, but still no trace of you on the way.

Although he would never admit it, his anxiety grew inside him and his heartbeat quickened as he realised that you were way too far from home for his own liking. You were right behind him, how could this happen?

He started to feel guilty that he didn't even check if you were still following him or not. Especially when he realized that so many people, people who yearned to get under Jotaro Kujo's skin, could easily do so by taking you down and harming you, his own sister.

His train of thoughts were interrupted when he found something, or rather someone on the stoned floor of the local temple. And as he approached the figure, sure enough, his eyes widened and his heart jumped in his chest. No...

"Y/N…!"

He immediately kneeled down next to you and lifted you to his lap. He checked you up and down for injuries and noticed you had fresh bruises forming on your wrists and neck and you were bleeding from your mouth. He could not believe what he was seeing.

"Aah… Jojo…" you whimpered in a wheeze as you recognized your brother's voice and his smokey scent.

"Who did this to you? What's the name of that fucking asshole?!" He growled, his gruff voice contrasting with the care he held you with.

"H-he's a stand user like you… Kakyoin… He's after you, don't go to school tomorrow…" You croaked and coughed out while looking up at his worried eyes and your brother scoffed.

"Yare yare, you're stupid to think I won't go to school and drum his ass."

He lifted you up and carried you back home to get your injuries treated. As to be expected, Holly freaked out at your state and Jotaro received a earful from Joseph who told him to never let a young girl walk all by herself, let alone his little sister and especially with all the trouble he gets into.

The next day, you stayed home to rest for the day, making you feel much better. Thankfully you had no major injuries and the Speedwagon foundation doctors knew about Stand inflicted wounds.

You had interesting chats with the guest Abdul and Joseph spoiled you all day like you were his baby which, to be fair, you were in his eyes.

In the mean time, Jotaro had met with Kakyoin and had an inevitable fight. Unfortunately, what Kakyoin had going on was much deeper than just wanted to bully Jotaro. When Jotaro came back home, he brought Kakyoin's unconscious body and you learned about what happened to him, about Dio, the fleshbud, and why he aimed at killing Jotaro.

Knowing what had transpired and with you doing much better, you decided to go check on the boy. You felt it was important to start allover with him.

You knocked gently on the guest room's door and slid it open, revealing Kakyoin in his injured state. Your brother truly did not hold back, you thought.

"Hello Kakyoin…" You greeted a bit shyly as you walked through the door. The red head looked at you with wide eyes as he recognized you.

"Y-...you're the girl I attacked yesterday?" You nodded and he sighed sadly. "I'm deeply sorry for what I did… That was.... Despicable of me..."

"Don't worry," You approached him and knelt down at his side. "My grandfather explained what happened to you. I'm not mad. You weren't yourself."

Kakyoin then glanced at your bruised neck and looked away in shame.

"I can't believe I harmed a girl… in such a low, awful way…" You chuckled lightly at his exaggerated worry.

"Hey, I'm fine! Look, you're in an even worse state than I am. Stop fretting and let us take care of you, okay?" You gently smiled at him.

He looked at you with a soft gaze. He bit his lip and blinked back the tears that prickled in his eyes. Were all members of this family pure redempting angels of sympathy and goodness?

"Thank you, Kujo, you're very kind..."

"Just call me Y/N." You smiled as you leaned in to move out some hairs that were stuck to his frontal bandage.

"Y/N…" He softly repeated, a blush rising to his face. Even your name was beautiful, he thought to himself, never daring to say it out loud.

His heart fluttered in his chest at your feathery touch and he felt suddenly much shier. He wanted to hold that soft hand in his own, but before he could even do anything, Holly called your name from afar.

"Y/N! Can you please come here for a second?"

"I'm coming!" You replied before looking back at the boy. "Sorry, I have to go. I'll let you rest until dinner is ready."

Kakyoin nodded and laid back down on the mattress. He let out a soft 'oh' of surprise when you gripped the blanket and tucked him in sweetly before getting up and leaving, sliding the door close behind you.

He sighed, unable to fight his little goofy grin.

"Damn it… I'm falling in love…"

Old writing again. I'm really just putting the dusty stuff I should have posted a year ago. I apologize for the poor litterature.

[tootiredmotel]

spoiler alert: she keeps it

A coda fic of my beloved 10x20 "Angel Heart" bc Cas and Claire are my everything, for @emeraldcas 's celebration!

Prompt: meaningful moments

1.2k words – read on ao3 or below

First, it's a matter of where.

Dean says that the mall is a safe bet, and he’s probably right. It has options, a wide array of stores with near endless possibilities, so Cas asks him for a ride to the nearest one.

As Dean pulls into the parking lot, he asks "You really think you'll finally win her over like this?"

"I'm not trying to "win her over", Dean." Cas air quotes. "It's her birthday. A present is customary, isn't it?"

It's not a rhetorical question, and Dean seems to understand that after studying Cas's gaze on him.

"Yeah. Yeah it is, buddy."

Once inside, the number of options becomes overwhelming rather than comforting. Hundreds of people bustle about, bumping into them with reckless abandon. Cas pauses a few steps from the entrance, breathing heavily and looking every which way, trying to figure out where to begin and coming up blank.

He’s never been to a mall before. 

Dean, staring daggers at the back of someone who almost trampled them, puts a hand on Cas’s back. “C’mon. Let’s try this way,” he says, leading him down the hall to their right.

They walk for a while. Cas quietly studies every store they pass, while Dean speaks up every two minutes with a new idea. Tech store? A new phone. Clothing store? A jacket, hers is looking a bit worn. Shoe store? Do you know her size? We can get her some boots or something.

“Dean,” Cas finally says, stopping in his tracks and grabbing Dean’s arm. He's grateful for the ride, and he's grateful for Dean’s suggestions. Really, he is. “Thank you, but… This is my gift to her. I need to choose on my own.”

Dean starts doing that adorable thing where he can’t decide if he wants to shake his head or nod. “Uh, yeah, no. No problem, angel. You got this. I’ll shut up.”

Right now, Cas is less focused on the gift itself and more on finding a store that feels fitting, one that Claire might pick out on her own. He puts his hands in his pockets and scans the stores in sight. Further down the hall, one storefront stands out. The walls are black, the windows dimly lit, and the sign is made of backlit block letters. It feels… edgy. She’d like it.

“There.” Cas nods toward it. “The Hot Topical.”

The other thing is the matter of what.

Luckily, the Hot Topical seems to have a bit of everything. Dean sets off on his own soon after walking in, saying something about some Star Wars character or other. There's an overwhelming amount of pop culture merchandise, most of which Cas now recognizes. But he's not sure what kind of shows or movies Claire likes, so he opts against those.

Walking deeper into the store, he comes across the jewelry displays. Claire might like some, maybe stud earrings or a necklace, nothing too frilly. But if she's going to keep hunting, and she is, it's not very practical to wear things that can get caught and slow her down. He keeps walking.

The music section is mostly t-shirts. This is where he finds Dean, eyeing the wall curiously, but not looking like he's going to buy.

“Find anything?” Dean asks when he feels Cas next to him.

“Not yet.”

“You will. You got this," he says again, and Cas greatly appreciates the vote of confidence.

Dean turns his attention back to the shirts, and Cas, who isn't all that sure about Claire’s music taste either, goes over to the furthermost wall.

The back of the store is where they keep the miscellaneous things, apparently. One half of the wall is full of small, bobblehead-ish figurines whose heads don’t bobble (as Cas discovers when he picks one of the boxes up and shakes it). The other half of the wall has quite a few things: bags and backpacks on display, a few accessories such as mesh gloves that wouldn’t keep one warm in the slightest, and unnecessarily intricate belts. At the bottom of the wall, however, he spots some shelves with plushies.

That’s where something catches Cas’s eye.

Dean is already at the back of the line when Cas gets there. He's buying an enamel Scooby-Doo keychain and says it's because Baby's is old and he needs a new one; the unbridled delight in his eyes gives him away, though.

"A stuffed animal?" He asks when he notices what Cas is holding. There's no judgment in it. A bit of amusement and maybe, just maybe, a hint of fondness, Cas thinks.

Cas holds up the cat for Dean to take and examine. "It's an... inside thing."

"Right," Dean says, and hands it back.

Dean asks if he even has any money, to which Cas doesn't answer, realizing he doesn't. Dean happily pays for both items.

---

"She kept it, y'know," Dean says behind him, the next day. He pats Cas's shoulder, then heads back to the car, keys jingling against the new keychain.

Castiel stands there for a second, watching the cab roll completely out of the parking lot and out of sight, and he's wishing he could have hugged her longer. Despite having him and the Winchesters and soon Jody Mills, despite knowing she'll always have them… Claire is more alone now than she's ever been. Cas knows she's tough, tougher than she should've had to be, but she's still a kid (as much as she insists she's not). 

He… doesn't pray. Not anymore. But he hopes. He hopes for her every day, hopes for her wellness and safety, hopes he'll be able to see her face again and not just read her words or hear her voice through a phone. And right this second, he's also hoping that his present to her, (which she kept, Cas thinks fondly), will be able to serve its purpose. That it'll be a small source of comfort if she were to ever need it.

---

That night, as Claire settles into a motel bed, she gets a text from Cas. It's a Grumpy Cat meme, one of many cat memes she's received from him since they agreed to stay in touch more. In this one, the image is the cat lying in bed with that face of his, and it says "How many people got trampled on Black Friday this year? Not enough". 

After having cried herself out in the backseat of the cab, she actually smiles for the first time all afternoon; it's not a wide or toothy smile but it's a smile, and she lets out an amused exhale through her nose, so that's something.

She texts him haha and the eye roll emoji.

Are you safe? Cas shoots back.

She double-checked all the locks on all the doors and windows. She's got a knife under the pillow and a gun under the bed. She's all set to get to Jody's by tomorrow. She breathes deep, squeezing the plushie tighter against her chest, and texts back.

I am. Night Cas

She doesn't have time to put the phone down before it dings again.

Good night, Claire. Sweet dreams.

They probably won't be all that sweet. They haven't been sweet in years. But at least now, when the bitter dreams inevitably wake her up, she's got something to hold. Or maybe strangle. Depends on the dream.

Plus, she's got an angel-dad watching over her, too. In a sense.

Claire lets the dryness in her eyes and the heaviness in her body take over, and she falls asleep. Grumpy Cat in hand.

---

Fic taglist: ask to be added or removed! <3

@casismymrdarcy @youcaneven @zorelle @spooky-floral-cas @lilcasx @oh-in-italics @theehunterhusbands @knifelesbianjo @spoookycastiel @shakespeareintellectualbadass @stressedtaco @aniridescentdreamer @mishacase2003 @spookymixtape @dykekingofhell @evermorecastiel @autumncastiel @nightandwine @doyouhearthedestielsing @all-or-nothing-baby @hauntedrederadean @ciderdean @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @heres-to-evil-skanks @wormstacheangel @the-boy-kings-crown @10x02 @the-moon-loves-the-sea @ghostlynatural @one-more-offbeat-anthem @spookynightdeancas

[wizkiddx]

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

[mypoisonedvine]

It’s Always The Quiet Ones... | college AU dark!Peter Parker x (slightly)naive!reader

for @nsfwsebbie​​‘s dream fic challenge, I was assigned to write something for @harryspet​​ which was vv exciting bc I love her stuff ;-; no pressure right? lol (also thank you to @evnscvll​​ for being my proofreader, sounding board, and partner for some very strange texting for the purpose of screenshots!)

Here is the prompt I got: peter is a dork and is weird and quiet, and the readers friends dared her to sleep with him. turns out he was really kinky and is really good at sex. can be dark.  And hoo boy, did I run with that.  I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (it’s consensual but with dubcon undertones, manipulation, and implied coercion/dubcon at the end), stalking, blackmail, voyeurism, and general creepiness.  Oh yeah and there’s some degradation and dacryphilia in there for good measure.

You and your friends were in the middle of your daily cafeteria lunch, chatting about the same sorts of small talk you always did.  

“Oh god, it’s that weird guy from class!” Jackie blurted out suddenly around a mouthful of fries, pulling you out of the conversation you’d been having.  Everyone at the table whipped around and your eyes went wide. 

“Come on, don’t look all at once,” you hissed.  

“Who is this guy?” Cody asked, looking around with confusion.

“The guy in the blue hoodie over there,” Jackie answered, motioning toward him with her head.  It was Peter, setting down his tray of food and opening up his laptop, putting earbuds in.  He was pretty much always on his laptop, it seemed like.  He took a bite of his pizza before getting back to whatever he was working on.

“He looks normal, or normal-ish,” Mia shrugged.  

“No, no, you don’t get it,” you shook your head.  “We have him in Computational Physics on Tuesdays and Thursdays--”

“Plus Friday lab,” Jackie interjected.

“--and he’s… kinda…”

“Creepy,” Jackie concluded.

“No,” you denied, “not creepy.  He’s just… a bit awkward, I guess.”

“And he stares at you, like, the entire time we’re in class.  But won’t even talk to you.”

“Oh, that’s weird,” Mia agreed with a shudder.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it’s kinda… sweet, maybe?  I mean, he’s just shy, right?”

“Oh my god you are such a slag!” Jackie teased, shoving you on the shoulder.  “You’re into him, aren’t you?”

“No!” you denied with wide eyes.  

“You’re just into the attention,” Cody rolled his eyes.

“I mean, it’s kind of flattering, isn’t it?” you admitted.  Jackie laughed.

“You should go over there and talk to him,” she decided.

“Nooooooooo, no way,” you shake your head.

“I kinda wanna see this,” Cody smirks.

“Literally just go over there and flirt with him, his head would explode,” Jackie suggested excitedly.

“I don’t even know how to flirt,” you chuckled.

“So you’re considering it!” Mia accused.

“I didn’t say that!” you squeaked.

“Pleeeeeease,” Jackie whined playfully.  “It’ll be funny.”

“I don’t usually sleep with people for comedic effect.”

“I’ll chip in $20 if you do it,” she offered immediately.  She turned to the rest of the table, “come on guys, we need to pool together and make her do it.”

“I’ve only got a ten,” Cody mumbled, pulling it out slowly before Jackie snatched it away.

“Okay, $30, who can make it $50?”

“Jackie, calm down,” you hissed.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t sleep with him for $50?  He’s cute!”

“I have $35 and 67 cents,” Mia counted, shuffling through her wallet.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, your head falling into your hands.

“Just do it, for me,” Jackie said, suddenly sounding oddly serious.  You didn’t understand why it mattered so much, but you decided it couldn’t be that bad if you just did it.

“Fine, fine, just shut up and don’t stare at us,” you instructed, getting up to a ruckus of cheers.  You didn’t even take the money.

You walked across the cafeteria, messenger bag slung over your shoulder, and hoped you wouldn’t totally make an idiot of yourself.  If you hadn’t already just by talking to a guy over a dare.

He didn’t seem to notice you when you stood by his table, still focusing on his computer.

“Um, hey,” you waved, and Peter looked up at you as he took out his earbuds.

“Hi,” he replied quickly.

“What… what are you working on?” you asked, motioning to the laptop.  He didn’t stop looking at you, and he didn’t say anything.  “I… we have comp together?  You know who I am, right?”

“O-of course I do!” he suddenly perked up.  “Yeah, I just…” he trailed off and turned to his laptop.  “I was just working on this model.”

“Can I take a look?” 

He smiled a little, and moved his backpack out of the seat next to him.  “Go ahead!”

You sat down and leaned in to look at his screen.  

“It’s-- it’s not finished but, basically I just put the kinetic energy of an object on the x-axis, the potential energy on the y-axis--” 

You used the laptop’s touch screen to move the model around, impressed with his work.  “And the z-axis is the conservation of energy for work done on an object,” you finished.  

“Uh, yeah, exactly,” he nodded.

“It’s beautiful!” you realized, appreciating the variety of colors as each data point was suspended in the graph.  

“Do you do any modeling?” he asked you, and for a hot second it felt like a line.

“Um,” you laughed, “no, not much at least.  Nothing extracurricular.”

“Oh.”

“I’m more into abstract math, if I’m being honest.”

He smiled.  “Oh, you’re one of those.”

You laughed, shoving him on the shoulder playfully, but regretting it as you saw his smile drop a bit.  “People are so judgmental about abstract math, as if it isn’t the study of the founding principles of mathematics.”

“So you think adding a pineapple and a banana is the foundation of mathematics?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“Okay, there’s so much more to abstract mathematics than weird variables,” you frowned.  “Like basic functions on matrices!  Don’t act like it isn’t dope as fuck to add, subtract, multiply and divide matrices.  If you saw my whiteboard in my dorm you would understand.”

“If I had a whiteboard now I could prove to you that abstract math is overrated,” he countered.

“I’d love to see you try,” you scoffed.  You hadn’t really meant it literally.  

“I don’t have anything for the rest of the day,” he shrugged.  It took you a moment to realize he was suggesting to actually come to your room and talk about math.  You weren’t sure if that was even what would happen if you went back to your dorm…

You opened your mouth to say that you were busy, that you couldn’t, that you shouldn’t, so you were a little surprised when you heard yourself say “sure” instead.

And that was how you ended up sitting on your kitchen counter with Peter Parker between your legs, kissing you like you’d never been kissed before.

It sort of happened all at once.  He just grabbed you and you were confused but went with it, because life is short and he was cute and his hands felt unexpectedly wonderful as they gripped your back.

You gasped a bit when he started to pull your shirt over your head but he didn’t slow down, quickly removing his own-- oh, hello there six-pack, nice to meet you-- kissing you again as he wrapped his hands around your waist and slid you off the counter, guiding your legs to wrap around his hips.  He carried you to the bedroom with unexpected grace; he was so much stronger than he looked.  And he looked different than he ever had before as he tossed you down onto your bed and started to kiss his way down your abdomen while his fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts.

“Oh god, Peter!” you yelped as he kissed along your thighs, pulling down your shorts and underwear and tossing them to the side.

“Say my name again,” he demanded before instantly latching onto your clit, sucking and licking directly onto the bundle of nerves.

And you really had no choice in the matter, his name pouring from your lips over and over, accentuated with a yelp as he shoved two fingers into you, finding and massaging your g-spot before you could even process everything you were feeling.

“Oh my god, fuck, Peter!” you hissed, your head falling back onto the mattress so hard it bounced a little.

You were barreling towards an orgasm faster than you probably ever had before.  This was nothing like the few other hook-ups you’d had since starting college-- it wasn’t even like the times you’d been alone with your hand or a vibrator.  This was like an assault on the senses, so powerful that you couldn’t even really keep track of the sounds you were making or anything that wasn’t his mouth on you and his fingers in you.

“I’m gonna come, oh my god, I’m gonna come don’t stop please--” you moaned as your words turned into mostly incoherent nonsense.  How could you be expected to form a sentence in these conditions?

Thankfully, he didn’t stop.  He kept lapping at your clit as if he hadn’t even noticed your pleading, his fingers twisting inside you even as your walls clenched so tightly around them that it became difficult to keep up the pace.  Your hips involuntarily bucked against his face, your legs quivered as he refused to give you any reprieve from the sensation, but he kept going.

“Oh fuck, fuckfuckfuck Peter I can’t-- it’s too much-- oh god,” you babbled, but it fell on deaf ears.  A small part of your brain was confused why he wouldn’t stop-- you hadn’t told him outright to stop but it was kind of implied, right?  Wasn’t it some amount of not okay that he was still going?  It made your gut sink in a way that was equal parts disturbing and erotic.  

You were trying to pull away but his arms wrapped around your thighs and held you down.  God, he was strong.  He looked kind of skinny in those hoodies he was usually wearing, but now that he was actually exerting some force he was clearly muscular.  You felt helpless and it, oddly enough, turned you on.

“Peter, please, oh my god, slow down I-- I can’t take any more,” you whimpered; your voice came out all high-pitched and squeaky and it would’ve been embarrassing if you had enough brainpower left to care.  

He groaned against your skin but said nothing, using his teeth to lightly graze your clit.  Your whole body jerked at that, a sob tearing from your lips suddenly.  It felt like you were past the point of orgasm now and just lost in some sort of aggressively intense world of pleasure-- it neared pain, really.  You had never been pushed to your limits like this; you hadn’t even realized that there were limits which one could be pushed to this way!  It was exhilarating and exhausting and overwhelming.  You fought tears from forming because it would be so embarrassing to cry right now, and he would probably freak out and think you were hurt or something… maybe you were hurt, you couldn’t even tell at this point.  But at this point, it was unstoppable.  You were fucking crying from the overstimulation and he hadn’t even put his cock in you yet.  Your face was so hot that your own tears felt cool as they poured down your cheeks.

Finally, he stopped when he heard your sobs.  But instead of concern or fear or confusion, his expression was simply joy.

“Oh, you look so cute when you cry,” he cooed, sliding back up your body to kiss your tears away as they fell.  Then he kissed your mouth, open and sloppy and aggressive, and the taste of yourself on his tongue made your head spin.

Before you could collect your thoughts, he pulled back and made quick work of his jeans and boxers-- fuck, he was big.  

“You’re too kind,” he grinned, discarding the clothes and stroking his cock a few times.

You hadn’t realized you had said it out loud, and you felt a little nervous but then he was on you again, kissing you roughly and forcing his tongue into your mouth.  You felt him reaching down, gripping his cock and rubbing it through your folds.  You were soaked, and swollen, and nearly sore.  Every time the tip slid over your clit, you jumped a little.

He pushed into you ever so slightly, moving the head of his cock inside you and nothing more.  You whined with confusion and anticipation, but he continued on teasing you.

“Please,” you whimpered into his kiss.

He pulled back and looked down at you, his eyes blown so wide that they looked like they’d gone black.  “What was that?” he asked, and you sighed because you knew he could hear you the first time.

“Please, Peter,” you repeated, louder, “I need more.”

“More…?”

You sobbed with frustration, and desire.  “Fuck me, please.”

He thrusted forward and you groaned as his cock stretched you open.  It was like night and day, how he went from slowly teasing you to slamming into your eager walls.  You cried out and gripped at his arms, just trying to steady yourself and maybe stop your skull from whacking the headboard if possible.

“You love it, don’t you?  You love my cock,” he growled.  His voice was lower, gravelly.  He sounded like an entirely different person.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Say it,” he demanded.

No one had ever talked to you like this before and it made your cheeks burn.  “I-- I love your cock,” you stammered.  

He smiled and you hoped you’d done it right, and that he wasn’t smiling at your obvious nervousness or lack of experience.  You didn’t understand how this was normally supposed to go, because you didn’t normally hook up with people so casually-- you had just never really been interested in it.  But now that he was fucking you so hard you could barely breathe, you were starting to get the appeal.  God, your last boyfriend hadn’t even made you come in five months of dating, meanwhile five minutes with Peter had made you a sobbing mess.  Even now you were biting your lip to hold back your tears from the sheer intensity of the sensations you were experiencing.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he pouted condescendingly.  “You don’t wanna cry but you can’t help it, huh?  You’re my dumb little crybaby aren’t you?”

You tried not to react to that but you knew he felt your walls clench suddenly.

“You like that?  You like being my stupid whore?”

“S-stop,” you begged weakly, feeling beyond humiliated.

“But you like it, angel, I can tell.  Don’t lie to me.”

He reached down to swirl his thumb over your clit, laughing at the way you tensed up and tried to squirm away.

“Is it too much princess?” he asked, but the nickname read less sweet and more mocking.  “Isn’t this what you wanted?  You asked me to fuck you.  Begged me.  Now you act like you can’t take it, like you’re this delicate little flower and not the dirty fucking whore I know you are.”

“I-- I’m not a whore,” you denied even as you struggled to suppress your obvious arousal from the derogatory nature of his words.  You felt a little guilty for being into it, and slightly insulted, but fuck if it didn’t make your back arch and your throat dry and your pussy so excessively wet.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” he scoffed.  “But, maybe you’re not playing.  You really are dumb, aren’t you?”

You logically knew that it was too late to deny anything he said, but you still clung onto your dignity as best you could.  “N-no!”

“Not all the time, just when you’re wet.  Isn’t that right?  You get so desperate for cock and you don’t wanna be smart, you just wanna be somebody’s brainless fuckdoll.”

That sounded so appealing in some forbidden, filthy way and all of a sudden you were going to come again, any second now.

“Yes!” you nearly screamed, falling into your pleasure.

“Come on my cock, baby,” he encouraged, “come for me.”

You didn’t even sound like yourself with the noises you made, or maybe it was just that you’d never had the chance to make noises like that before.  Either way, your orgasm crashed through you and nearly punched the air out of your lungs.  Your toes went numb.  You didn’t even know that could happen.  And most important of all, your walls tensed and fluttered so hard that he began moaning into your ear.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna come inside you.”  You couldn’t tell if it was a warning, like he was asking permission, or if he was just informing you of his intentions which you would be powerless to stop even if you told him not to.  You didn’t have to find out because you were on the pill, but it made you realize all too suddenly that you should’ve had him put on a condom-- how could you have forgotten?

His moans turned hoarse and with a growl and a tightened grip on your hips, he spilled deep in you, coating your walls as his length flexed and twitched inside you.  For a moment you were just stuck like that, his weight holding you down as he caught his breath, and finally he rolled to the side and you could breathe cool air again.

“That was…” he began but trailed off, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder.  “You’re amazing.”

It was quite the shift from how he had been talking before.  It was comforting, but you were still a little confused.  “Really?”

He laughed softly.  “Did you not notice?  God, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

You were curious about where he was going with that, but then he suddenly sat up.

“Do you want some water?” he offered.

“Uh, yeah,” you smiled.  “The cups are in the cabinet just to the left of the microwave.”

He nodded and gave you a quick peck on the cheek before sliding out of the bed, slipping his boxers on over his still-hard cock which was now coated in your come and his, and dashing out of the room.

You were mostly content to just lay there, although you felt uncharacteristically sore between your legs, and quite… sticky.  You glanced over to your whiteboard and realized he never had any intentions of talking with you about abstract math.  Was this just a one-time thing, or was he going to come back and ask you out?  Were you boyfriend and girlfriend now?  Or were you just a clueless romantic who thought that sleeping together meant more than it really did?

You rolled over and saw Peter’s phone resting on the bedside table.  He must have set it there when he was stripping quickly while you two had been making out-- or that’s what you were pretty sure the order of events had been, it had all happened so fast…

At that exact moment, the screen lit up with a notification.  You were about to roll back and not look at all, until you got a glimpse of the words.

PHYS 507, row 3, seat 14

You furrowed your brow.  It looked like an alert for an upcoming class, except that this was your class, the one you had with him, and it wasn’t until tomorrow.  No assignments due today, either.  And what was with the row/seat thing?  Peter didn’t sit in the third row… you did.

You picked up the phone just enough to angle it to see the rest of the notification.  It wasn’t a calendar alert; it was a text message.  “PHYS 507, row 3, seat 14” was the contact name.  You could only get a preview of the message…

okay, it’s done isn’t it?  can you please delete those pic….

You were curious, or maybe just concerned.  Was the seat number supposed to be the person texting him?  How were you supposed to keep track of who sat where to know who it was?

It had to be somebody from your row, but it was just you, Jackie, and a bunch of random dudes that Peter had never seemed to have any interaction with.

You assumed you wouldn’t be able to unlock the phone to even try to snoop, which you didn’t want to do anyways, but when you slid your thumb over the screen, you gasped when it opened straight to the conversation.  Who didn’t put a password on their phone?

okay, it’s done isn’t it?  can you please delete those pictures now?  I did what you asked.  I won’t tell anyone.  just send me proof that the photos are gone, please.

You felt a little sick.  You had no idea what this meant but it scared you.  You saw the conversation from before but it didn’t make any sense.  You scrolled back up to try to figure out what they were talking about and gasped when you saw a picture Peter had sent to the contact.

It was Jackie.  But she wasn’t alone.  She was on her knees in the lab room, and you gagged when you realized what she was doing-- or really, who she was doing it to.  

She’d told you she had a casual thing with a new guy but refused to say who it was.  You realized why now.  She was fucking your professor, and you just knew she was doing it to get a better grade.  You had been trying to figure out how she was earning higher marks than you but never seemed to be able to discuss the class material.  It all made sense now, but it wasn’t a comforting feeling.

You scrolled down a bit to see the conversation after the photo, and your blood went cold as you read it.

You saw several more messages but you couldn’t bring yourself to read any of it.  You knew everything you needed to know.

You weren’t sure what inspired you to open his camera roll… of course you wouldn’t find anything comforting there.  But you had to see for yourself.

It was just a list of folders, so many you could keep scrolling for ages.  Each had a label and a thumbnail image.

The thumbnail of Jackie on her knees jumped out first.  PHYS 507, row 3, seat 14.  45 images.

A girl in a lacy bra posing for the camera.  PHYS 509, row 1, seat 8.  12 images.

Two girls making out in a crowded room, holding red solo cups.  ENGL 104, row 12, seat 5.  6 images.

A nude selfie in front of a mirror.  PHIL 108, row 2, seat 2.  14 images.

And then the one that made your heart stop.  It was a picture of you in a bikini, taken by a friend on spring break.  PHYS 507, row 3, seat 13.  1 image.

The second you jumped up, dropping the phone, he was there with your promised glass of water in hand.  

“What’s wrong?” he asked innocently.  Just a second of silence was enough for him to pick up his phone from the floor and realize what had happened with a grin.  “Oh, that,” he sighed, slipping it into his pocket after looking down at it with a sort of loving look, like he was proud of his work.  “I suppose it’s my fault for leaving my phone right there, without a password, knowing I would get a text from Jackie any minute.”

“You wanted me to see it,” you grimaced, “you wanted me to see what you did to my friend.  What you did to all those girls.”

“I didn’t do anything.  They do all the heavy lifting, I just hack them and get pictures of it.  Or, in your friend’s case, I hack them, find out they’re fucking the professor, and follow them to their next rendezvous.”

“You’re fucking sick,” you spat, and he just shrugged.  “You’d better delete those photos of Jackie.”

“I will, don’t worry,” he soothed.  “It’s a shame though, she was pretty prolific.  You, on the other hand, you’re a good girl.  You even had pretty good security, I respect that.  Here’s a tip: your ISP creates the intranet that your wireless webcam uses to connect to your laptop.  It’s password protected, but it defaults to your phone number, and most people never change it.  Including yourself.”

You shivered.  “You watched me with it, didn’t you?”

“Well, I had to since you didn’t have any good photos of yourself.  And you do a decent job of erasing your porn history… but not a perfect job.  You watch some interesting stuff.  And you look so hot with your hand stuffed in your panties, rubbing yourself to whatever nasty shit you’re watching...”

“Shut up,” you demanded, covering your ears, “stop, please.  This is so fucked up.”

He laughed a little.  “You look better in person though.  A webcam could never capture how perfect you look when you come.”

“Please just stop,” you sobbed.

“Stop what?  I’m just telling you the truth.”

“I should’ve listened to my friends.  You’re a freak.”

“Hmm, you seemed to like it before.”

“Just delete those pictures of Jackie… and let me go…” you seethed.

“I will,” he promised.  “But, I need something to make up for the loss of some great spank bank material.”

You felt sick.  But what else was new?

“I need to finally get some good pictures of you.  Come on, isn’t it sad that your folder is so empty?” he pouted, pulling the phone back out from his pocket. “I could ruin a lot of lives with these folders.  Just let me take a few photos and you can spare them all the humiliation.  Nothing I haven’t seen you do before.”

You really really wanted to just deck him, but you knew he could probably release those photos with just one push of a button.  He was prepared.

“Don’t post them,” you pleaded.

“You’ll be good?”

You clenched your jaw.  “I’ll be good,” you answered through your teeth.

“Oh, look at you,” he cooed, “such a sweet girl you are.  Helping out your friend even after she threw you into the lion’s den to protect her secret.”

You hadn’t thought about it that way.  A pit formed in your stomach.

“Now come over here and get on your knees,” he grinned, turning on the camera.