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spacemagicandlaserswords · 1 year

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Open and Waiting (Chapter 2)

Gif from this post by @ashr-jedi

Summary: Hunter makes an appearance. You continue to warm Tech’s cock with your mouth and ruminate on previous experiences with Crosshair, Wrecker and Echo.

Relationships: Tech x f!reader, a little bit of Hunter x f!reader, mentions of Crosshair x f!reader, Echo x f!reader and Wrecker x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, cock warming, voyeurism, domination, submission, Dominant Tech, submissive reader, poor self worth, feelings, smut with feelings, sexual inexperience, inexperienced reader, polyamory, gag reflex, pretend sci-fi technology/science, pretend Star Wars planets and locations, not beta read. Mentions of: Deep throating, face fucking, fingering, thigh fucking, tit fucking, bukkake, cum as lube, finger fucking, grinding, toys, butt plug.

Word Count: 2085 (Chapter 2)

Authors Notes: Please read the warnings! And please let me know if you enjoyed it. The filth continues. Interspersed with … feelings? In my smut? It’s more likely than you think.

I realised I forgot to give any context for where this story sits timeline wise and who the character of the reader is! Timeline wise, this happens at some nebulous point after Echo joins The Bad Batch and before Order 66. The reader is part of the Batch but beyond that you can interpret them however you wish. The most common example I've seen is a medic but a jedi, mechanic, intelligence officer or some other random reason for the reader being in the squad could all work as well. Whatever works for you. The main thing is that the reader is a submissive that the Batch share between themselves and are the reader's dominants. The Batch are all Dom’s in the AU of this fic, but they all have different ways of approaching it, which you’ll hopefully get a little inkling of in this chapter.

Chapters: One, Three, Four, Five, Six | Ao3

Open and Waiting (Chapter 2)

I don’t know how much time passes but eventually I hear the faint hiss of the cockpit door opening and a soft, smooth stride moves out into the main area of the ship.

Hunter.

Our sergeant can be completely silent when he wants to be, so he’s deliberately making sure his approach can be heard. An existence created purely for tracking means that he’s basically permanently stealthy. It can be decidedly startling when he just appears next to you out of nowhere. We really need to put a bell on him or something. Though he’d probably figure out how to move so that it didn’t make a sound. Sneaky bastard.

A gruff voice at the end of the workbench announces his arrival.

“That’s in more bits than when I saw it last.”

“Yes.” Tech replies. “I hypothesised that the size of the casing could be reduced by 2.56% if I reconfigured the internal power connectors into a series of bi-linear couplings. I am currently applying this theory to the prototype you see before you, hence the 'bits' on the workbench.”

“That’s a lot of parts to shove into a small box.” responds Hunter.

“They will fit.” Tech testily replies.

“I don’t doubt that.” Hunter answers.

There’s a brief pause while Tech zaps something and Hunter shifts slightly to the side.

I think I’m being inspected.

Hunter definitely can’t have missed that I’m currently naked, kneeling between Tech’s thighs with my eyes closed, hands restrained behind my back and Tech’s cock stuffed in my mouth.

“You went with the leather cuffs then.” Hunter states.

I am definitely being inspected.

“They are more suited to the purposes of this exercise.” Tech explains. “The focus is on sensation and submission and as an introduction to this practice, I thought it pertinent to ease into the experience gently. The leather cuffs provide an acceptable level of restraint and serve as a reminder of their position, both physically and mentally.”

“Plus you made them.” Hunter adds.

“Correct. Both the wrist cuffs and collar are of my own design and creation.” Tech replies.

They’re talking about me like I’m not even here. Like I’m not currently desperately drooling around Tech’s cock, unable to move or escape their gaze. The thought makes my pussy throb.

“Oh, she’s enjoying this.” Hunter laughs.

“I trust you can smell her arousal.” Tech asks, though it’s not framed as a question.

“Yup.” Hunter answers. “I could smell her in the cockpit like she was in there. It’s stronger than usual.”

“I have observed a number of indicators of her heightened state of arousal myself.” Tech adds.

“Is this what she’s been worrying about?” asks Hunter.

“If by ‘this’, you mean the practice of cock warming that the two of us are currently engaging in, then yes.” Tech replies.

“You’ve just got your dick in her mouth.” Hunter observes bluntly.

“Yes.” replies Tech. “That is the point.”

There’s a rather telling pause and I can just picture the looks that are being exchanged. An arched, tattooed eyebrow is probably being met with a decidedly unimpressed flat stare emanating from behind yellow lenses. Another slip of drool spills from the corner of my stretched mouth and runs down my chin to join the rest of the mess that is covering my face.

Tech shifts and launches into a lecture. There’s probably a finger being raised.

“Cock warming is the practice of placing one's cock in an orifice of one's partner. This can be done via the mouth, rear or vagina, if the penetratee possesses that particular genitalia. The cock is then left inside the partner's orifice where they are to keep it warm. The name speaks for itself. Outside of the basic principle of the act, the parties involved can agree on various additional stipulations, such as how long the penetratee must keep their partner's cock inside them or if they are allowed to move or make noise. I have read numerous accounts where both partners extol the virtues of this practice, describing it as surprisingly peaceful and an excellent way of entering subspace.”

“I’m sure it’s enjoyable, I’ve just never heard of it, that’s all.” Hunter supplies.

“I must admit that I was not overly familiar with the practice myself but it has proved to be a most enjoyable addition to our play thus far.” Tech provides.

I could already tell he was enjoying it, given the harness of his erection currently occupying my mouth. Hearing the verbal confirmation just adds to the feeling of deep satisfaction and submission warming in my chest. Another shiver runs through my body and I can feel more of my saliva pool in my mouth.

“Was there a reason for your interruption of my work?” Tech directs at Hunter in a slightly curt manner.

“That’s not the only thing I’m interrupting” Hunter snarks back.

“Quite.” Tech leaves the implication implicit.

Hunter sighs briefly before adding “Yeah we got a comm from the 369th.”

“Ah. Are they still experiencing difficulty with the Separatist base built into the side of the Markontia Gorge on Bezril IX?” Tech asks, fully aware of the answer already.

“Yeah, they might need our help with their current campaign but nothing’s confirmed yet so we’re on standby for now. If they need us to blast a hole into the Seppie base then we should hear back by the next rotation.” Hunter adds.

“Wrecker will be pleased.” Tech comments.

“I can think of something else that would please Wrecker.” Hunter slyly hints at.

“Wrecker may make use of our shared submissive when it is his turn.” Tech replies swiftly, irascible intent laced through the words, making it crystal clear that I am his right now.

“Additionally, he has made it quite clear that he does not wish to test the limits of her capacity for oral penetration until her gag reflex has improved.” Tech adds.

A slice of shame and disappointment cuts through me. I’ve always had problems with my gag reflex. Lack of experience will do that to you, I guess. I’ve been slowly working on improving it and they’ve all been so gentle and careful and patient with me. I desperately want to be able to deep throat each of them or be face fucked into a wall one day. At the moment though, the best I can manage is the tip of one of their cocks at the back of my mouth and even that still sets the damn thing off sometimes.

Wrecker has been so sweet about it. There is no denying that he is exceptionally well endowed and that his cock is, well, enormous, to put it bluntly. The poor man is well aware of it too. There is nothing I’d love more than to be absolutely impaled on his thick cock, but the first time I saw it I did worry that I’d never be able to fit it in me. I still do but we’re slowly getting there. He’s been so wonderful and understanding of my current abilities and their limits. Wrecker is such a beautiful human to experience pleasure with. He’s so full of joy about the entire thing. I didn’t have a great deal of experience before somehow ending up with all of them and I’d never had a joyful sexual encounter before Wrecker. I didn’t even know it was possible and had burst into tears afterwards. He’d been so alarmed and concerned that he’d inadvertently hurt me but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Thankfully, he’s the most emotionally intelligent out of all of them and we’d had a wide-ranging, open and reassuring conversation about sexual experience and intimacy as I lay curled against his chest. I still struggle with tensing up sometimes and Wrecker has been a great boon in getting me more accustomed to preparation. He’s a big proponent of lube and has a whole assortment of different types that we’re slowly working our way through. One or two of his fingers are more than enough to open me up and I could have those big, thick, slicked up digits sliding in and out of me for hours.

And there is nothing quite so wondrous as lying there laughing and kissing and giggling as he fucks my thighs. Wrecker has been very keen to emphasise that there’s more to sex than just penetration and we’ve been exploring some intriguingly varied ways to experience pleasure together. The first time he’d fucked my tits was something else. His oleaginous, lubed cock sliding between my breasts, cupped in his massive hands as his fingers and thumb played with my nipples. When he’d finally exploded all over my chest, neck and face, I don’t think I’d ever been covered in quite so much cum.

Well, at least not until we had that bukkake session. Trying to get cum out of your hair in a sonic is difficult to say the least and Hunter ended up hand washing it out for me. It had been worth it though for the way they had all looked down at me while they pumped their cocks and came all over my obedient, kneeled form, mouth hanging open and tongue out to catch as much as I could.

I’d knelt there afterwards like a statue. Covered in their cum, stained and claimed in their release. Rivets of translucent white slowly running down my skin. I could feel it pool in the hollow of my neck and drip off my nipples. It sounds ridiculous but in that moment I just wished I could exist like that forever, eternally marked as theirs. Just like I wish I could openly and proudly display the marks they leave on my skin, claims bruised into my neck for all to see. They are all such wonderful dominants, each unique in their own approach. I’m eternally thankful that they all chose me to be their submissive. I would happily serve at their feet and allow them to use me as they pleased for the rest of my existence if this damn war wasn’t going on.

I do need to work on having a bit more self preservation though. One of them is bad enough but whenever they end up scheming together, they start coming up with Plans and Ideas. That’s how I then found myself wiping their cum off me with my hands before eating it in front of them like some lewd and licentious spectacle. Being made to finger yourself using the cum of your dominants as lube while they watch is also a whole new level of depravity. I’d had to beg each of them for permission to cum before I’d finally been allowed to finger fuck myself into oblivion.

Wrecker isn’t the only one that is explicitly clear that their boundaries for playing with me are guided by my current abilities. Crosshair steadfastly refuses to even entertain my suggestion of face fucking until I can, in his words, “keep my balls against your chin, doll”. Echo had gone all serious when I had timidly requested to go down on him for the first time. There had been some stern yet heart-felt words about the importance of pacing and not rushing into things or pressuring yourself to try something you’re not ready for. We’d ended up grinding against each other instead, which was just as enjoyable. It meant I got to watch him come undone as I thrust my hips into his groin and then he’d made me straddle his leg and grind myself to completion on his thigh. There is something about the sensation of smooth durasteel gliding under your wet, sensitive pussy and pressing against your clit that is otherworldly. I’ll have to ask Tech if he’s able to shape some kind of toy out of the metal. A durasteel butt plug sounds like an excellent idea.

I still wish I could do more for them and wasn’t trapped in my own body and mind. The discontent and shame at my perceived failures is still there, despite how well I might be managing to warm Tech’s cock with my mouth at the moment. My lips are wrapped around a decent amount of his length and the tip of his cock is fairly close to the back of my mouth but I could always do more and try to get him a little deeper. I take a steadying breath through my nose, will my throat to relax and move to take more of him in.

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Author’s Note: Tiny bit of a cliffhanger! This is mainly because I wrote this all in a giant keyboard mashing haze with absolutely no thoughts of structure. Going back while editing and trying to figure out where to shove in chapters to break it up has been a bit tricky, so if they’re a tad clunky that’s why.

You’ll see how Tech reacts in Chapter 3, along with some musings on previous sessions with Hunter and Crosshair.

Taglist: @queenariesofnarnia @skywlker-sluvtt @techs-assistant

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scummy-writes · 4 months

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Scum talks about OCs

In this I'm just going to go over my Ocs in sections of their own. I'm not really using a special Oc template, I'm just talking about them and what fics they appear in, because to be blunt, I do write 'reader inserts', but some fics are written with these ocs in mind even if they're not detailed out specifically.

I'm just chatting about for fun, this will not change how I write currently. I would not expect fanfics about these characters specifically.

Amélie - Drawn by @beni-draw-ikemen-please. (Full picture is her in a chair with Isaac sittin on the arm of it, and Arthur resting his head on her lap <3 I love it)

Anju, made with a Picrew here. I think her expression is a bit too gentle here, and she would mainly wear warmer yellows or cool toned blues, not the shirt in the image.

SS from Prince of my WIP OC for it, since she's fuckin impossible to make on picrews. Her current name is Constance.

I am honestly surprised people showed some interest in this, so bear with me through my bumbling please. A lot of these say 'mc' but they are 'reader insert' fics still. Previous fandoms had 'mc' interchangable with 'reader' so...

If you have any questions, feel free to ask, just know I might not have all the answered.

╰❧ Amélie

Amélie has been around for a few years, and Beni has been a saint for letting me comm her to draw her. Because of this, I was able to make a character profile for her Here. Additionally, a much older one Here that details some vague things about her past, and including her past with Sebastian (Childhood friends).

-> Fanfics she has been 'in': Breathless Discoveries (Isaac/Mc), Mental Gravity (Isaac/Mc), Blessed Accidents (Isaac/Mc), Exercise in Restraint (Isaac/Mc), Temptations (Arthur/Mc), A Helping Hand (Arthur/Mc), His (Theo/Mc), Playful Punishments [vaguely] (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Midnight Impulses [Vaguely] (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Musings (Isaac/Mc), Oral Prompt with Isaac, First Steps (Isaac/Mc), The Talk (Isaac/Mc), The Shirt Thief (Isaac/Mc), Isaac Overworking (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Awkward Dates (Isaac/Mc), and likely some other small drabbles I have missed...!

─❧ Summary: (Brief mentions of abuse/SA/Trauma but not explicit details)

A lot of her general background is covered in the second character profile I linked above. It sounds vague, and well! That is because it is a bit traumatic. I don't want to gloss over the fact that she has been through a lot, primarily SA, but I don't like focusing entirely on it to where that is the Only thing about her. Her previous job was ... an 'idol'? I never fleshed it out fully, due to self embarassment, but I wanted her to be a singer with a 'small' following, who got connected with shitty producers and signed a contract way too young without understanding the full implications of it, which caused most of her money to not actually be Hers. Due to her parents strongly against her career choice, going as far as rushing a contract ended up having her cut off from her family. With Sebastian gone, her support network disappeared completely.

She Vaguely goes over this in Patchworked Pieces (be mindful of tags), which was supposed to be a full fanfic detailing her story, but I am not meant for long fanfics at all so I posted what scenes I had typed enough with. on the chapter On Failed Attempts, she details a bit more of her experiences.

How she met Comte was through the normal opening of visiting the muesuem. She did it under distress and wanting a distraction, she was weighing options and considing some pretty awful things! I like to think Comte could tell she was beside herself and trying to calm down a little. I like to think he could sense the distress and the thing she was contemplating, and led her back to the mansion.

Which! Is rocky. She's terrified of everyone, until she sees Sebastian, and he helps ease her into her mansion life. She never tells Sebastian what she went through, due to worries and fears that he would manage to blame himself. So in her story, he never finds out.

Isaac is the primary person who knows some details, but not everything. She'd tell both him and Arthur some bare minimums, just so that when things got intimate, her panic attacks for 'random' reasons wouldn't make them believe it was because of them.

As for how they all entangle with each other? Well... Amélie is not what brings them together, necessarily.

Before she arrives, Arthur attempts to get close to Isaac. It is platonic at first, perhaps he had a crush on him but waves it off. But alcohol is introduced, they start 'drinking' together (Isaac is still a lightweight so he barely builds up his tolerance, mostly keeps Arthur some company), and...They get too tipsy and adventurous with each other. Arthur gets ashamed immediately. Not out of doing things with another man, because it was clear he was using Isaac to get over some trauma. So he avoids, hides, and their friendship crumbles.

And after that is when Amélie stumbles into the mansion.

Her friendship with Isaac is the most prevelant. And after getting on a better start with Arthur, they end up slowly getting entangled with each other. Isaac, unfortunately, deals with the brunt of her panic attacks. Finds scars, attempts to heal them.

It's through healing that they all twine together. Helping each other face their traumas, face what happened between them all.

Ironically, her love for singing was bounced in and out of the story. I wanted a few scenes where she tries to play in one of the many secluded rooms in the mansion- finds an old piano while cleaning, places a few notes. But I don't think she'd be able to any time soon. I think she would need a break for a year or two, before she started exploring music again. Or anything super creative.

I like to imagine that she is friends with a majority of the residents. When she is faring better, she paints with Leonardo and Vincent. She listens to Mozart play, reads what Dazai and Arthur write, so on so forth. I want her to live in a house with Arthur and Isaac, later on, visiting the mansion weekly or every two weeks, happy with her new life.

Sometimes I pair her with Theo, because I think they could help each other, but I think she is fated to be with Isaac and Arthur.

In AUs, I like to imagine Anju as her older friend. Anju does not tolerate a lot of bullshit with Amélie, and would be a bit like a guard dog. But. an unassuming one. She would treat Arthur very harshly until he proves himself. (I am unsure if I ever posted it, but I wrote a few chapters to go with This Au Fic for Isaac week. The second chapter, Anju was supposed to be a witch to help Amélie out after some events [was gonna have Isaac die and then it turn into a reincarnation au thing where they meet again in modern day, and in modern day Anju was gonna be around], and Anju has to help her move forward.)

I've been typing this on and off for a few hours and I am struggling with some details HAHA for now, I will stop here. She's the one OC that has a lot out there for her.

Oh. Amélie is not her 'real' name, but it is now. I am unsure if it is in poor taste or not, but in an attempt to heal she abandoned a lot of her old life. Not Herself, but trying to let go of the past until she could confront it more. She goes by Amélie until the end of her days, and only Sebas and likely Comte know her old name.

╰❧ Anju

-> Fanfics she's been 'in': Training Theo (Theo/Reader)

─❧ Summary: (Vague mentions of parental issues)

OoooOOoooOh Anju....anju....wails.

She is such a complicated Oc for me. She was originally for Shingen in ikes*n (i dont want this on the tags on accident). I still debate if the character she is now still stems from that relationship or not. Because if so, that means she left the past and came back to the present because her and Shingen didn't work out. Not in a TERRIBLE way but probably a sad mutual understanding.

It's either that, or she's just pretty sour from general past relationships not working out.

I like to imagine that she is in her thirties, and that she lives in a neighborhood where everyone knows each other in friendly ways. She is a 'seamstress' just due to how Sengoku has that set up for the Mc. I decied that her grandmother taught her how to sew, and her grandmother owned a small shop to repair peoples clothes and sew clothes for commission as well (i know nothing about how this works so). She would help her grandmother at her shop, and later on when her grandmother passed, she would take over the shop.

As for her parents, I never fully fleshed them out. I just know her mother was constantly comparing herself to other children/people around her, and that their relationship dissolved to the point of Anju refusing to aknowledge her as a mother any longer. The crux of this would cause Anju to move the shop to a different location completely to sever ties. (not move physically, but open another shop elsewhere after funds were saved with the same name).

For Vamp, she relocates her ass to France for Reasons. And here is where it is... well. I don't think a shop like this could exist, but i wish it would. pls spare me from laughs HAHA

The shop I always imagined is the type where the ground floor is the shop, and upstairs is where Anju lives. So upstairs would house her kitchen, living room, and Bedroom and bathroom, a balcony connected to the kitchen would be. great. Lower floor would have the shop, her sewing area, a room to hang up comms and etc, and the 'front' of the shop. Front of the shop is the porch and the actual like...foyer area....of the shop.

She spends a lot of her time sitting in the foyer area at a desk, if she is not actively working on sewing. .....I like to imagine she has a small sitting area set up there for people (children, family, friends, partners, etc) waiting while whoever she is working on measurements and etc with is getting their stuff. With....a lil coffee/tea area....very very small like a coffee maker and some stuff....but cozy vibes... (and she wanted a coffee machine near her while working).

She'll sit on the porch often in the mornings while waiting for customers or going through shop bills and whatever, and that is how she meets Arthur in a modern day setting. By him taking 'Vic' (or whatever pet he is on now) on a walk, Vic escaping, and running up to Anju because he wants pets HAHA.

For first meeting, Anju thinks Arthur is cute, but recognizes the fuckboy tendances. However, i feel like at this point of living as a vampire for so long, Arthur wouldn't be how he is in the game currently. As in, not entirely as self destructive and a smidgen more at peace with himself, but still has the tendencies. She doesn't think too much on the meeting, loves Vic though, and goes from there...

But Arthur doesn't. He gets hung up on her a little, and finds excuses to run into her a bit more. Nothing crazy, but primarily just walking Vic by there and seeing if he can catch her on the porch again, waving, exchanging greetings and pets for Vic. It would turn into him eventually finding an excuse to get some clothing mended, which she can very easily tell is bullshit, but she entertains it because... he's respectful the whole time. She enjoys the company and the innocent flirting.

It comes to a clusterfuck when they spot each other at a bar though. Where he sees how differently she's dressed, where it's clear she's looking for one night stands and nothing else. (He is also alarmed at her smoking HAHA). Arthur doesn't do much with this information, but she immediately tries shutting him out because. Well, she isn't ashamed to have casual sex with others, but she doesn't want the fuckboy tendancies to come back for him. She doesn't want this fake relationship to delve into sex and nothing more. So she puts up walls, and Arthur has to slowly take them down. And it is a rocky thing, because Anju is so independant and refuses to rely on anyone else, so it's a LOT of trouble HAHA a lot of dramatics.

They do fuck, because well they both enjoy sex so why not!!!!! but ah. it's complicated. I think I have a scene of that somewhere. I cannot remember if I have that happen before or after him visiting her home/shop at night when he's drunk. I think it was before.

But Arthur was supposed to go to her place, drunk, because she has such a schedule with her shop/hobbies that it's easy to piece together that she's home, and she essentially lets him stay over in pity because he's wailing about messing up his friendship with Theo.

From there it turns into awkward, more up in the air things. I played with her getting with Arthur only, Theo only, Arthur and Theo, or even Vincent! But the Arthur/Theo subplot would have been too similar to the Isaac/Arthur one in Amélie's story. (Sorry for causing you so much distress, Arthur).

I like to imagine her in her shop. Arthur flirting with her while the neighborhood granny laughs at her attempts to ignore the flirting.

╰❧ Constance

-> Fanfics she's been 'in': Sinking (Gilbert/Reader) [Descriptions of Self Harm], First Time (Gilbert/Reader), Chev comforts Mc

─❧ Summary: (Mentions of self harm, abuse)

Constance....! Is still a running name. I may change it, I may not. I'm unsure about her appearance, I know I want her to have the split hair and to dress in similar colors though, but her eyecolor I am so conflicted on...

But...! Her story is still being fleshed out, and she has changed a lot. She is now strictly for Gilbert, whereas she was supposed to be a flexible oc for either Clavis or Gilbert. (Maybe she still could be?)

So far, her story is still like Emma's so far. her and Rio friends for years, Akatsuki taking her in, etc. In my mind, she doesn't know who her parents are and is somewhat in peace of that.

I've bounced around a lot with her though, to where the Rio and Akatsuki being in her BG makes little sense. i've wanted her to be someone who writes and sings, but does not preform and instead has a friend that preforms for her. Where they have private sessions of Constance singing and exampling some of the dancing to her friend, and later on watching her friend preform the songs and bringing her visions to life. (i like this a lot but it feels...odd.)

I want her carrying a notebook around the palace, filled with her drawings and songwriting. Far in the journal, there is drawings of Gilbert- not because she knows him, but because long before she saw him slinking around Rhodolite and drew him out of facination of how he looked (did not piece together he was a Scary Dude). (would add a lot of fuel to fire if anyone saw those drawings COUGHS)

In another bouncing, I have her as a secret wrtier/artist that writes songs that are never preformed. I thought it would be funny if she wrote the erotica that Jin apparently reads??? I can never fgure out if thats canon or not because i never see it Mentioend in the game.

In both possible backgrounds for her, she is still a quiet and reserved person who suffers from a lot of depression, and struggles with herself a lot. The two toned hair was for fun at first, but now I'm realizing it would probably be a good symbol for her inner issues. How she has a lot of 'darkness' inside of her, that she feels disgusted by and upset with, while there is a purity she wishes she had (but fails to come to terms with how that is unreasonable).

To be paired with Clavis, she was supposed to be much more shy, and his antics were supposed to draw her out of her shell more.

But now it's more solidifies that she will be primarily paired with Gilbert due to the purity/darkness thing. She is a little dramatic in her thoughts with that, and is now a bit more serious toned rather than her shyness being played for antics.

She believes Gilbert over his refusal to 'lie', and that draws her in a lot.

Discussion of self harming/SA, when text is blue I am finished.

Something I am struggling with is that with many Ocs, i often have them go through some sexual trauma just due to it being an outlet for myself (i have also had sexual trauma). This may be why you see some themes of this in some fanfics I write, where there is something the reader is struggling with sexually and the suitor is extremely patient with them- it's usually tied to stuff like this (unsure of how obvious that is since no one ever says anything! which feels like an act of kindness, if it is obvious).

For her, I am struggling with adding that into her background as something that is fairly recent with her. Rio doesn't know, she refuses to tell him, and his fondness of her and constantly...hm...i don't mean this poorly, but building her up to be so 'perfect' sometimes causes a lot of issues when she reflects on herself, and she uses those words against herself often.

I don't know if the self harm would be. Due to that SA event or not. I don't know if this is soemthing that has plagued her for years, or if it spiked as her emotions got out of control.

Gilbert would not know. I don't really care if JP spoilers suggest otherwise, as there are already hints that make it clear he doesn't know Everything (he just knows a Lot). A lot of their relationship would be them struggling with self harm and the SA. A lot of her trust gets put into him (even if she dislikes it), because he doesn't lie to her like others do, and it is a comfort. (blah blah gilbert does lie blah blah)

It's hard to explain their relationship. I assume i'll have more figured out as his route comes out. Right now, she's who I imagine when I write some stuff with him, but not all of it.

With Clavis, the relationship would have been more healthy, and so would she. I think she would still struggle with both things, as it could be used as a mutual understanding when they discuss needing to be loved fully and not half-heartedly.

That is a rough gist of what I have for her? I have been typing this for hours and I am running out of steam.

Annnd....That is that! At least for now. Another detail I will share for all of them is that they are all bi :) All my ocs are always bi.

Again, you guys are free to ask questions. I may update this over time as well. I don't really want criticisms for my ocs though since you guys don't actually deal with them past them popping up as the voice for some reader insert fics. they just sorta rot in my brain and I get comms of them at times.

#scums babs

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years

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Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part XI.

GIF: Originally posted by @mimisempai

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Good evening wonderful peeps. Hope you've had a good day. Guess who’s going to London Comic Con on Saturday to see The Sandman panel? Me! I am bouncing with excitement already. Hope you enjoy this next one.

P.S. Any Arctic Monkeys fans here? I’m loving their new album, let me know if you are too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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The next fortnight sees you experience some of the finest sleep you have ever had.

With only dreams to shelter in, you remain asleep for long periods and average 8-9 hours a night.

And those dreams are divine. On foot, you explore windswept shorelines, craggy mountains and bustling markets. By bicycle you ride along coastal roads and quiet country lanes. You see sunrises and sunsets. Climb trees. Gaze at stars.

Your emotions are still frayed, of course. It is going to take longer than three weeks to get over a two year relationship but your health is much improved.

It is a relief to be able to live without a sleep deprivation induced brain fog. To keep up with conversations at work without putting in too much effort. To use the stove without the risk of setting something on fire.

But most importantly, you do not have jumpy anticipation during the run up to 10pm any longer. Sleep has returned to the sanctuary state that it had used to be. You look forward to falling into its embrace.

You hope that this will please Morpheus.

The King of Dreams persistently stays in the forefront of your mind. His image fills your day dreams.

You wonder what he gets up to in his quiet moments. You then wonder if Morpheus has quiet moments at all. From your knowledge of royalty, they aren't known for having much downtime. And since there will always be at least one person asleep during the 86,400 seconds of each day, you reason that he is probably even more stretched than any human monarch, past or present.

You also think about the kiss. If you are not careful, its memory triggers something inside you; a potent, physical yearning. Each time, you vehemently push it down and remind yourself of the reason why you exercised such restraint.

Propriety.

You have to do the right thing.

You know that with enough elapsed days, you will stop feeling so attracted to him. The simple passing of time will save you. It is a phenomenon you have always relied on to overcome every less than helpful want or feeling.

On the day that he is due to visit, you are nauseated by nerves.

Your last meeting had been so tumultuous, and you are unsure where you stand with him anymore.

When evening comes, you have to utilise all the tools you have to feel even remotely calm enough to get into bed; fresh sheets and pyjamas, herbal tea, lavender essential oil. You lay there, opening and shutting your eyes over and over. Desperately trying to tune into the rain sound track playing through your phone. Obsessively re-plumping and re-organising your pillows.

Eventually, the excessive combination works. Yet you do not remember it beginning. You only know you have succeeded because you start to dream.

You find yourself in the cottage again. The blankets and pillows are exactly where you left them.

You perch on the sofa and wait.

There’s a knock at the door.

You hop up and move quickly to open it.

The likeness of Morpheus that you have been recalling in your mind for fourteen days is suddenly revealed as fuzzy and faded. Nothing compared to looking upon him in person. You are pushing your attraction to him down hard while quelling your anxiety.

He says your name calmly and evenly but his eyes betray him. He is as on edge as you are.

"May I come in?" He asks.

"Of course."

You open the door further and beckon him inside.

Returning to the sofa, you draw your legs up and under you. He stands unmoving.

You try out a small smile. “So, what’s new? Any earthquakes?”

"You have remained stable. There have been no breaches."

“That’s great.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay?”

“I am.”

The phrase ‘blood from a stone’ pops into your head.

“I’ve been sleeping much better, although I’m sure you probably already know that.”

“I am aware, and it is gratifying to know that it is the case.”

“I’m not ready for nightmares yet, though.”

“I agree.”

His gaze shifts briefly to the door.

You save him from his discomfort. “I shouldn’t keep you.”

You stand and walk him to the threshold.

“I will return in another two weeks,” he says.

“Okay, thank you.”

With that he is gone and the dream is over.

You sigh as you come back into your bedroom, eyes fluttering open.

“Well, that was awkward,” you say out loud.

***

The next appointment comes with the same worries as last time. If possible, you are even more confused about things. You cannot tell if you are friends or simply a responsibility for him to manage.

But you enter with a positive outlook and when Morpheus knocks, you answer with a beaming grin.

"Am I right in thinking that you could just appear in here without needing to knock?"

There’s a pause. "You are right."

You nod and assume your position across the room.

Together, you go through the same formalities as before; wellbeing, any issues, how you are sleeping.

The conversation lasts a similar duration, however, you are not going to let it end just yet.

"How are Lucienne and Matthew?"

"Both are well. Would you like me to inform them that you asked after them?"

"Yes, please.”

You walk him to the door.

“Thank you for coming. I hope you have a good couple of weeks.”

“I wish the same for you also.”

Progress. You think, when you wake.

***

Your subsequent meet sees you emboldened. You decide to push a bit further this time.

"Anything kooky or unexpected happened in the past two weeks?"

He seems a little taken aback but indulges you nonetheless.

“As a matter of fact, yes. With the advent of spring, we have seen an influx of associated imagery in the Dreaming.”

He looks down, an expression on his face that conveys that he is trying to choose the correct words.

“There have been a lot of rabbits. Gigantic rabbits… Doing what rabbits do best.”

You laugh loudly. “You’re joking.”

His tiny smile lets you know that your persistence is paying off. “How I wish I were, Y/N.”

***

Another two weeks sees you feeling worse but in a constructive way.

In your raw state, you believe that a bit of time with Morpheus will be a soothing balm for you. He has exuded serenity since the moment he entered your life.

You feel it as soon as he steps into the cottage with you and it only intensifies when his beautiful eyes meet yours.

“Something has changed,” he states with concern. “You are sleeping less.”

“I’m trying to confront my demons.” You take a grounding breath. “It’s slow going and I'm only starting with the small ones but progress is progress.” You re-affirm the last bit for yourself, more than for him.

A high backed armchair appears, positioned opposite your seat. Morpheus sits and uses his most gentle tone

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“I would like to know what you’ve been up to, actually.”

He hesitates, dark brows furrowing, clearly alarmed about your deflection.

“Please,” you push.

“Very well.”

You pull a blanket over your legs and gaze at him as you wait for a sort of bedtime story.

“I have been creating new dreams and nightmares.”

***

The following time you wake in the cottage, things are different.

You have slipper socks on to heat your toes and a blanket already draped around your shoulders to keep you warm.

There are also new additions.

The candle is sea salt scented. There’s a speaker set on a sideboard. A small remote on the coffee table.

You reach for it. There's only one button.

You tentatively press it.

The opening bars of your favourite song start to play.

You sing along enthusiastically, swaying a little on the spot. Your blanket swishes like a wizard cloak as you move.

The track ends and you are smiling.

Until you notice Morpheus is watching you through the window.

“Oh shit!” You exclaim, blanket slipping down as you cover your mouth with your hands.

He lets himself in. Your cheeks are burning and you struggle to look him for more than a second at a time.

“I don’t want to know how long you have been standing there.”

“No, you probably don’t.” He smirks.

You go towards the sofa but stop when he asks you an unexpected question.

“Would you like to venture outside with me?”

“Do you have time for that?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.”

“Then, yes, please. That would be lovely.”

You look down and suddenly find there are a pair of lace up boots on your feet.

“Impressive,” you compliment.

He holds the door open for you, wearing a faint smile.

You wonder if all is forgiven.

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

A/N II: What’s you favourite song? I would love to know!

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

"And I got back up when I lost control over it all, over it all. And I knew that I couldn't take no more. 'Cause I want it all, I want it all."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee @ponyboys-sunsets @fangirlmary @littledollll @fatimakinney @jamiethenerdymonster @rosaren2498 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @madiebear

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wolfiewhiskeybutch · 2 years

Text

Tonight's mood:

In need of an all day tease and denial thing at the hands of a demon femme.

Where she's woken up before me because I had a hell of a day the day before and am tired. Her kisses are gentle, yet firm and one of the few things that can coax me out of a deep sleep. I'm still bleary eyed when she pulls the leather cuffs from the nightstand and holds my gaze as she fastens them around my wrists then attaches them with rope to the anchor points bolted to the bed.

And then her kisses are gone and she's just out of reach, but then I can see what she's wearing: her favorite lingerie set that she knows I adore on her, lacey and sheer in all the right places in a way that leaves me aching for her.

Running her hands over herself, the show is as much for her as it is for me, as a sleepy whine escapes my throat as I tug against the restraints, needing to reach out and touch her on instinct.

"Uh-uh, no touching handsome, just watch" Her voice is the softest torture to my ears because she's soooo beautiful, so perfect, she knows me so well, knows I need what she has planned, knows I'll do anything to be good for her, but my need to touch her is so strong, and I know when she's like this I'll be thoroughly wrung out by the end of the night before she curls into my side again.

She waits until I nod my understanding with a quiet "yes Ma'am" before she resumes her show as I take her in greedily, losing myself in her motions until her fingers dip under the lacey fabric of her panties and she lets out the sweetest moan, shuddering as she pleasures herself, all sense of teasing tossed aside and I can't help but let out another whine, my hips bucking, clit aching at the absence of any stimulation, of watching her fill herself with her fingers wishing it was me filling her, knowing it should be me filling her.

It's an exercise in quiet futility, the closer she gets to her release, the more I tug on my restraints, whining and whimpering softly, not enough to distract her and make her stop, but enough that she knows I'm already so needy for her. More moans spill from her lips and her breath hitches, my body tensing with hers, and then she finally finds her release and even though my body relaxes with her, there's none of the bliss that's gracing her features, only lingering, throbbing need.

She leans forward and kisses me, still breathless, before she undoes my restraints and moves out of my grasp with a smile on her lips.

Throughout the day she teases me, orders me around, and I'm all too happy to lean into it, to sink into it because I've been carrying on, trudging along for a while and I'm eager to put that weight aside for a time.

She's got my chin gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, while I edge myself me over and over for her, I've lost count how many, wave after wave of building pressure never quite peaking, pushing all thoughts out until I'm a panting, whining, whimpering mess for her, but it feels so good to be good for her, too good to stop edging, too good to dare to cum, and she knows it.

Humping her leg after being given permission only for her to look down with a dismissive "that's enough now, pup."

Clinging to her and shuddering as I stop, burying my face in her thigh and nodding, muttering a thank you.

Then later in the evening, a while after I've made us dinner, we're in bed where this day started and there's a glimmer of hope in my eyes, she'd asked me to hard pack after dinner...surely this time she'd let me cum?

It doesn't take much to make me empty headed again, she's in my lap, grinding against my bulge and kissing my neck 'til I'm dizzy with her. Just her, Her, HER in a loop in my mind. So much so that I don't even realize the static noise floating around my ears is made up of my whines and whimpers and frantic pleas of "please, Ma'am" and "baby, please" and I couldn't even tell you what I was begging for.

She murmurs something I vaguely catch as her saying I've been such a good boy, so helpful, so useful, so perfect for her and she knows those words tug at my head, my heart, my entire being, she's going to use me to make her feel good, and don't I want that? To be even more useful, just for her?

I move to touch her, to help guide her hips as she rides me and feel her hand around my throat, her quiet tsk of disappointment piercing and stopping my movements.

"Toys don't touch, baby." She accentuates the word "Toys" with an intoxicating squeeze of my throat before she starts riding as my palms plant themselves on the bed, fingers digging into and gripping the blankets.

She's driving me out of my mind, the pressure of my strap hitting just right and her moans sending tingles down my spine the closer she gets to another orgasm and my pleas start again and I bury my face in her chest, trying to resist the urge, and she lets me, because I've come too far, I can't disappoint her and it's getting so hard holding out when she feels like solace and sounds like heaven, perfection incarnate.

She never says it though, never gives permission, even after she cums, even after she yawns and peels herself out of her outfit. Not even as she kisses me, and can surely see the sticky, wet, glistening mess clinging to my thighs.

"This was fun, pup, you were such a good boy for me. We should do this again." She smiles, seemingly unaware or ignoring my desperate state, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it, didn't want it again.

It wouldn't be forever either, I trust her to know me well enough to give me that release when I'm good and ready, when she's good and ready.

She knows I needed a break, and she is more than happy to give me one.

cis het men & minors dni

#So this got a lot longer than I intended #but this is a mood #whiskeys pup thots #whiskeys thots #pup play #werewolf butch #butch #yearning #service top #switch #wlw #nblw #nsft #sapphic

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tantalizingtopi · 4 months

Text

Forgiveness

The Dark Urge

Word Count: 639

Disclaimer: characters belong to Larian studios and Baldur’s Gate 3

The Dark Urge ponders forgiveness whilst slaying their business partner’s competition. Durgetash implied a tiny bit, but not much. This takes place pre-tadpole and early on in their partnership.

Forgiveness. Very rarely have I had the need to extend this to others, yet I find myself contemplating the theme more and more in recent days. As the leader of the temple, I must balance forgiveness with punishment, and carry out father’s orders as well as cull too much knowledge of the existence of us outside of our circle. Small whispers and rumblings have always existed, but they must never be more than that. We are too small at this time and with the right force could be swept into the abyss again.

Sarevok. He has spent the last years lollygagging, spinning his daughters around for his own amusement, enjoying the lavish praise they give him. Helena is gone now, a trophy in Orin’s quarters, but Orin remains, her devotion to Sarevok despicable. For his part, his neediness to maintain some semblance of power further disgraces himself and by extension, father. His only redeeming quality is his willingness to defer to my judgment and respect my position.

Orin is a puerile nuisance, her open displays of mutilation lack foresight and will put us in jeopardy if she does not contain herself. I send her away as often as I can to commit acts in Bhaal’s name, and so far my sibling has not strayed from my direction, although she is vocal about it. She relishes in the maiming and the flesh, the romanticism of the aftermath, not in the act of killing— the murder itself. Still, I try to remember leniency and allow her to indulge within reason.

Sceleritas Fel, my devoted butler. He does not receive forgiveness, he does not deserve forgiveness. He exists only to serve and please me and by extension my father. He revives anew despite my killing him many times over. He sates my knife hand and my urges when I must exercise restraint for the greater purpose. He is, however, an annoying windbag and I often must slip away in order to conduct business. A quick few slashes and he is incapacitated for a time, which is infinitely helpful.

But what about myself? I am not sure I deserve the same leniency as I give Orin, the same grace I extend to Sarevok. I am born from Bhaal and Bhaal alone, yet I struggle. Father will show his displeasure if I resist the depraved urges he bestows on me, and sometimes I will no longer inhabit my own body, killing without any recollection of the event. Sometimes he will visit me in my sleep, torturing me in my dreams if I have not fulfilled his desire. I do not always relish in a kill, sometimes guilt will take me just as much as these compulsions. It has always been like this, this occasional pain where only pleasure should exist. I wish to put voice to this, to ask if it is the same for others. But to speak aloud would be a sin most condemning. I cannot falter, as without my father’s blessing, I would not exist. I must obey him, to the best of my ability.

I finish cutting down the three men, leaving them to drown in the shallows. Smugglers for the Knights of the Shield, these three in particular had a nasty habit of being too rough with the women they paid for. I watch them flail, a grin playing on my features. There is something, particularly satisfying, about watching someone drown. Especially in water that they could easily get out of, if they still had the ability to.

When they stop moving, I wipe their blood from my blade on my dark cloth pants, the waves of pleasure in witness their peril that I feel is akin to a devout experience and I know my father is pleased with my sacrifice tonight. Perhaps I didn’t need forgiveness after all.

#fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #dark urge #durgetash #bg3 bhaalspawn #just bhaalspawn things #durgetash beginnings #durge #bhaal #forgiveness #murder hobos

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crossingalaxies · 1 year

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withholding the final episode from us poor europeans for a full day was a crime, an exercise in frustration and a challenge in restraint (from looking up spoilers) but here we are. Soo. at long last, some thoughts.

1. that was A LOT. I’m gonna need days to process everything.

2. right off the bat, I just wanna say. it was a touch too sad for me, to the point that the excessive melodrama of it all made me unable to even shed a tear because it was all So Much.

3. I really think the main issue here is pacing more than anything, because if they had spaced out these THREE depressing ass storylines throughout the season, they would have been dealt with better, without crowding the wedding episode with so much sadness.

4. Rafael Silva is insane. for an actor on his FIRST acting gig, that’s some CRAZY acting. I am genuinely so impressed.

5. I think only 10 minutes of wedding content out of two hours at the end of a season that has been building up to it so much was maybe not quite enough to be fully satisfying, especially because we know they filmed so much more and everything got cut. but this is just my opinion obvs

6. BEING ALIVE. talking about something that couldn’t have worked better. LISTEN, never in a million years would have I thought to hear Being Alive on a fox procedural show and in this context???? whoever picked this song needs a raise. this entire scene was PERFECTION.

7. also loved the scene of tommy comforting andrea and speaking spanish to her. such a lovely heartfelt touch. now stop taking lone star ladies’ husbands away from them though. edit because I forgot: the second proposal!! another GREAT scene and I’m not somebody who generally likes people getting down on one knee to propose but the gesture was SO carlos that it worked perfectly

8. I wanted more dancing, the dancing looked so fun. and more honeymoon. but you can’t have everything I guess

9. idk like I said I need time to process but aside from everything else, one thing that this finale nails is the show of unwavering mutual love and faith in each other tk and carlos have for each other. and it’s nothing new but they truly are each other’s rock, each other’s miracle. and this episode couldn’t have showed it better.

10. just. PLEASE S5 GIVE THEM A FUCKING BREAK IM BEGGING. a fluffy storyline, a joy, a kitten, another lizard, I’ll take anything

#911 lone star #tarlos #911ls spoilers #911 lone star spoilers

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sofipitch · 2 years

Note

Maybe Lestat’s always had open relationships and truly didn’t consider how much he would hate sharing Louis. I know the main reason he becomes upset is because he thinks Louis has feelings for someone else but I think his reaction would still be pretty extreme even if it was just a fling. It’s typical of Lestat to just continue on to do as he pleases without consideration for someone else’s feelings, and only reconsidering when he’s personally affected. Like, I think he was surprised with himself how much he hates the idea of Louis being with anyone else. Of course, he can’t have his cake and eat it too (the way book Lestat often does) and I’m hoping that from this point he realizes that maybe he doesn’t want an open relationship with Louis. Call me delusional but I like the thought of Lestat exercising restraint in a monogamous relationship, it challenges him to grow and requires the both of them checking in with each other and actually healthily communicating.

Yeah I agree with everything you said anon. I think it was @sweetazathioprine who said that Lestat is serial monogamist. He "falls in love" with others in the bools, but quickly and totally, he seems almost obsessed with whoever his new person is, which doesn't seem like open-relationship or polyamorous behavior. He basically just gets a love interest each new book like the James Bond hero AR imagines him to be which *ben affleck smoking meme*

I DO think that Lestat is an incredibly selfish character in that he needs all the attention at all times, theater kid behavior basically. So I do think his constantly falling in love has to so with wanting to always be in the honeymoon stage where your partner thinks you are amazing and you are constantly on their mind. So I think him going to Antoinette had to do with chasing that high, having someone be delighted with him, complimenting him, as opposed to pulling away like Louis was. I think Lestat does need to learn restraint and how to think of others before himself.

However I am of course am biased, I ship loustat and prefer them with each other rather than with others. I am also not trying to make any value judgements on open relationships or polyamory, simply what I think turns the wheels in Lestat's dusty head

#vc #asks

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k-dokja · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Can I request nsfw hc for Munseong, Logan Gracie and/or Wanguk? If it’s too much, please just choose one that you are comfortable with. ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

Also I need to thank you, even though I am already an avid reader of Lookism, I had second thoughts of reading viral hit. After seeing you write I was ok… let’s do it. And feel in love with it 💕💕 thank you!!!

Yes, I know I just said I don't know how to write but then again... Me feeding me! Also writing for Logan just shot my soul straight out of my body because of RESEARCH so you're WELCOME for this.

These three actually have a lot of similarities so I'll pop in a few common shared ones as well.

— Definitely can fuck you while standing, no wall needed, you will bounce on his dick while he's holding you up.

— That incredible stamina is not for show, all three of them can last several rounds but often prefer one long session over shorter ones.

— Please don't tell them to not hold back unless you want to be stuck to a wheelchair for the next five business days at least.

— You know they're packing. You just know they're packing. I will not hear otherwise. Big, thick, in charge.

— Signed up for a boyfriend and got yourself a whole HUSBAND. That's right, this man will treat you right and make you want to marry him while he's at it. He's rough when it comes to his pace and handling, but ultimately, he is a mindful person at heart.

— For every bruise you got, he will kiss all of them and massage feelings back into your limbs afterwards. King of aftercare, monarch of showering you in affection. He's actually more verbal than expected, mostly to ask if you are good or if you feel what he's doing.

— He's not a very adventurous person himself, such is his nature, but spanking comes to him pretty naturally. The only form of restraint he will indulge in is using his own hands and body, however. He only needs that much to stop you from squirming around.

— Pretty hesitant to try new things so if you want to experiment then you need to discuss with him beforehand. He's a good listener and he'll consider what you proposed. However, he won't hold back if he doesn't think it'll work or if it's not something he's comfortable doing.

— Actually straightforward and aware of his bodily wants. If he's in the mood, then you'd know it, because he won't be subtle about it unless you're in public together. In that case, he will usually pull you aside and suggests the two of you wrap up your business as soon as possible. You know, I actually can see him being able to finesse choking.

— If anything, he's not shy, he'll tell you how it is. Somehow manages to make simple questions sound like dirty talk. In reality, it isn't, he's not much for verbal sparring while making love. He's pretty focused and you can feel his entire attention on you, it's very intense.

— His drive fluctuates around the medium-high end of the spectrum. Mostly because he perceives sex as more of a physical thing than an emotional one. However, he does see the emotional intimacy it gets, just that it doesn't occur for him often.

— He's actually good with any hour of the day because it's no different from exercising for him. Unless you went at it for a few hours or it was late at night, he will usually pop back up to go on with his day after he ensured that you were feeling okay.

— Likes taking you from behind but also likes it when the your body is pressed against his. Honestly, any position where he has an easy access to your chest is a huge plus for him.

— I don't even... the things he's into? I mean, if you're into it, he's into it. The exact opposite of his protégé, this man has done everything at least once... maybe except the unsanitary ones for good reasons. He also has a thing for leather and seeing you in spandex, whew, that does things to him.

— This man is a menace to society, please lock him down, he probably likes it. No, scratch that, he definitely likes it. Bondage, sensation play, sadism and masochism, he's down for about anything with your consent. He can play any role, this man is a pure switch.

— Of course, a safe word is established, but the two of you probably have some hilarious one with sexual implications or may be completely unrelated. Ranging from aubergine, eggplant, to casseroles. Anything is good with him, he has amazing self-control.

— Definitely has a thing for wax play and restraints. Doesn't matter which one of you do it, it turns him on either way. However, if he's dominant, he's really good with using it to edge you.

— He doesn't like to seriously hurt you for any of these but don't mind if you draw a bit of blood on him. Mostly because he knows his immense strength is a weapon and he wants the pain to be a caress, not torture.

— You have definitely made use of those neck to wrist restraints. Honestly, he probably can break out of those but if you put them on him, he'll humour you by acting helpless to your mercy. Actually, hehe, put a cock ring on him, he loves it.

— If you wanted privacy, he's wonderful at keeping what going on in the bedroom in the bedroom. He doesn't do quickie often on the basis that making love with him often requires more time since he wants to do everything.

— Likes lighthearted roleplaying because he's an awful actor but he does try his best. One limit is that if you're doing any teacher-student, then he will play the student because otherwise, he'll have problems looking at his own in the eyes the next day.

— Has a praising kink, whether if it's for you or for him, it doesn't matter. Telling him how good he's making you feel will motivate him to work harder but him constantly calling you gorgeous and saying how lucky he is to have you? Also ten out of ten experience.

— Not much of a talker during the intercourse, the most you'll get out of him is a few grunts and groans. Even then, he'd be pretty quiet. You can see more in his expressions, even if he tried to stay focused on you more, a few things slip.

— A soft dom, through and through, he's a caregiver by nature. It's always more about you than him in his mind. If you return the gesture and take care of him back, he'd feel so loved, you'll experience feeling a grown man melting in your hands.

— Not into any type of degradation, he can try to indulge you but it will make him uncomfortable. Would not do any role-playing or any plays for that matter, one is that it'd weird him out and another is that he doesn't see the point of pretending to be someone else.

— Unlike the other two, sex is an emotional experience for him. It makes him feel closer to you than ever. The few times when he talks during sex would be when he tells you he loves you and this often happens before he came. He's much more receptive to kissing you afterwards as well.

— Likes positions where the two of you face each other, the eye contact and the close proximity of your body to his. Often holds your hand while he's thrusting into you but the position where he throws your legs over his shoulder is also pretty sublime.

— If there's an ample amount of free time, he will take his time kissing you all over and caressing your body. Your body is not only a temple for you also a place of worship for him. Has a minor fondness for your hip and thighs, spend more time kissing there than other places.

— Is a quick learner when it comes to giving you oral pleasure, he knows how to maintain a good pace and employs his hands into pleasuring you. This is also his go-to when you're in the mood but he isn't because honestly, he doesn't have a really high drive but he doesn't want to neglect you. Win-win either way.

— Slow and sleepy sex is his favourite. Loves the mornings where the two of you have time together and he can take his time appreciating you. Beware that he often falls asleep again straight after so best save this for weekends. He usually follows this by hitting the shower with you and preparing breakfast together.

#kim munseong x reader #kim munseong #logan gracie #logan gracie x reader #han wangguk #han wangguk x reader #how to fight #viral hit #contents which makes you go to the church #headcanons

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glowingbadger · 3 years

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Okay, so I had a thought for our dear fox boy, Kurama.... Imagine, "trying" to tease him by going down on him only to suddenly switch it up and go down on you instead, especially when you least expect it as revenge. You're on the phone with your best friend and suddenly he's there between your legs, but you can't say anything or let your friend know.

Oh-hoo, a most excellent concept, friend- and actually plays into a couple things I've written about Kurama before too, so I guess I should have seen this coming xD

Also this all just reminded me that I HAVE to do some sketches of the YYH boys in late 90's fashion. Ugh, what absolute icons.

Kurama (YYH) x AFAB Reader

NSFW 18+ v

Kurama's hair splays out across the pillow, making him look for all the world like a lounging ingenue in a romantic painting. Still, those emerald eyes level on you with a sharp cunning that tells you clearly where you stand. He wears a subdued smile that someone who didn't know him might find pleasant, charming- but you know what the grin of a fox spirit really means.

"Feeling rather bold today, aren't you?" he says, his tone light and conversational, even as your hands run down his chest and the toned contours of his abdomen from atop his clothing.

"Well, it doesn't seem fair for you to call the shots all the time," you reply from your position straddling his hips. You like to think you sound the part of the confident seductress, but your heart leaps every time you meet Kurama's calculated gaze. You may be in the "dominant" position, but you know you haven't nearly tamed him. For now, you'll just have to try to push him a bit further.

You kiss a slow and deliberate path down the center of his torso, undoing the buttons of his shirt one-by-one, and revelling in the feeling of firm muscle shifting and flexing at your touch. Kurama lets out an openly pleasured sigh, and doesn't shy away in the slightest as your hands reach the front of his jeans. With a playful little hum, you run your hand up along the bulge of his stiffening cock beneath layers of fabric. Very subtly, his hips shift up towards your touch, and you bite at your lip as your eyes flicker up to his yet unreadable expression.

"You must be much more sensitive than you let on, Kurama," you tease, tracing his length with a single finger, "You're already this hard, after all."

Just as you'd started to feel sure of having the upper hand, he props himself up on an elbow to observe you between his thighs. One hand reaches down to caress your cheek, ending at your chin, where his thumb runs the curve of your lower lip.

"Of course I am," he replies bluntly, "It's only natural when I desire you so ardently. Besides," he goes on, his grin curling into a smirk, "If your aim is retribution for all that I've done to you, then I imagine I have quite a thrilling evening to look forward to."

So much for flustering him, or even just getting him to act a little bit shy. Your cheeks burn hot, and you mumble,

"Should have tied you up. And gagged you, while we're at it."

"Hm. Perhaps you should have," Kurama replies casually.

This bastard. Is it really this impossible to gain the slightest bit of ground on him?

Impatient for results, you undo the front of his jeans, and tug them down with his boxers, freeing his impressive member from its confines. Kurama continues to watch you comfortably as you take the base of his cock in hand and slowly drag your tongue up the underside of his shaft. You can feel it twitching and swelling in your hand, hardening to its full size before too long. Frankly, you've half a mind to climb onto his lap and ride him then and there. He does so love to tease you- the chance to have him now without the usual exercise of restraint is undeniably tempting. For the time being, you satisfy yourself with gently licking and kissing his twitching manhood, letting the warmth of your breath and fleeting touches gently stimulate him.

He is clearly enjoying himself; aside from the soft murmurs of pleasure he grants you as your tongue circles the crown of his cock, his direct gaze hasn't wavered for even a moment. Still propped up above you, he absently strokes your hair in one hand as half-lidded eyes watch your attempts to provoke him.

"You mean to tease me, I see..." he says softly, his tone only hinting at his amusement. Even better concealed is the heady arousal building at his core- his desire to break this arrogant facade you've put on, to see you crumble back into obedience at his hands.

And as if by divine providence, his opportunity arrives.

The phone at the bedside table rings, and you pause to glance up at Kurama. Only the glint in his eye hints at his plan at first- but then, as you watch in disbelief, he picks up the phone before it's finished its third ring. He sits upright as he greets your friend on the line, and your body feels hot and cold all at once.

"Hm? Oh, yes- right here, in fact. One moment."

Kurama meets your eyes with a smirk and offers the phone to you with his hand cupped over the receiver. Your face is burning red, and you grumble near inaudibly,

"No fair!"

He gives a short laugh, tucking away his still-hard cock and then fixing his clothing with his free hand as he says,

"I apologize if I have ever given you the impression that I am 'fair' by nature." All at once, he catches you around the waist and pulls you down onto your back on the bed. You resist crying out in surprise, if only because when you look up at him and see the smouldering heat in his eyes, your breath catches in your chest. Then, without a word, he hands the phone to you. Biting nervously at your lower lip, you take it from him, clear your throat, and say,

"He-hey! How's it going?"

Your friend immediately launches into an excited ramble about the finale of a show she's been following obsessively for the last year and a half. Honestly, you should have expected this call- stupid of you to think you'd have the evening free with the finale airing. As she goes on about how "so many of her predictions were dead-on," Kuramas hands run indulgently down the contours of your body. Your heart races, and you can't help tensing, arching up against him just a little. Then, he's working your pants down off your hips, and you give him a pleading look that he meets like a stone wall.

"-- I mean, can you believe it?! It's like, exactly what I said would happen!!"

"Yeah, that's, uh," you struggle to keep up, but your eyes are fixed on Kurama lowering himself between your bared legs, "that's pretty wild..."

With a placade grin on his face, he kisses a trail down the inside curve of your thigh, his touches delicate and yet unreserved. Your eyelids flutter half-shut, but you force yourself to- more or less -follow the thread of your friend's rant. That is, until you feel the sting of Kurama's teeth at the soft flesh far up the inner curve of your thigh. He sucks a dark love-bite to your skin- one that you know will remind you of his presence there for days to come. Still, you manage to camouflage your gasp of shock and pleasure into a sudden cough.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, totally! Sorry, don't mind me- go on!" you babble out your reply in a hurry, knowing you won't be able to trust your voice when Kurama continues this torment. He chuckles silently behind his hand, and you pout uselessly at him. Rather than acknowledge this, he refocuses on his task as the phone rant continues. You do your best to keep a consistent stream of "Oh, yeah?" and "Wow, crazy!", all while elegant fingers spread your lower lips and warm breath teases your over-sensitive body. Then, without warning, his tongue glides firm across your aching clit. Your thighs twitch in around his head and you arch up from the bed.

"Woa--! That's... incredible!" you translate the gasp you desperately want to let out into a perhaps overly-enthusiastic reply. Fortunately, your friend is too caught up in her finale recap to police her own excitement, let alone yours. Still wearing that cocky smirk, Kurama pushes his hair back behind his ears, then returns to tease your clit with the tip of his tongue.

He doesn't let up after this, and frankly, your impulses are torn. Part of you wants to be as subtle as possible, to silently endure the slow, luxurious movements of his lips and tongue pulsing against your cunt and stiffened clit. Another part of you- the part you're fighting to subdue -wants to grab onto that silky red hair and grind against him, to rush yourself to your climax and to spare yourself further torture. But you and Kurama both know you won't be able to keep quiet if you do. So you fuss anxiously with the phone's tangled cord, shifting and squirming on the bed beneath him and biting back pleasured gasps and whimpers.

Your legs are trembling around him and you're positively soaked with your arousal and his saliva. Leaning back on the pillow, you scrunch your eyes closed and take a deep breath.

"Oh- you remember that one voice actor I told you about?"

"Yeah, uh," you struggle to pull your thoughts together, but Kurama nudges the flat of his tongue rhythmically against your clit, and your body is begging for release, "This show... was his first big on-screen thing, right?" you manage to choke out. As though pleased by your performance, your lover gives a soft hum that sends his breath fluttering over your vulnerable skin, then presses more firmly into you. His skillful tongue teases your entrance for a moment, rubbing into you while your muscles tighten, instinctively longing for friction, for something inside, for something to cling to. You're panting silently, biting at your finger to keep quiet while your friend tells you all about her latest celebrity crush.

So close. You're so dangerously close to the rush of your climax. But you hold on, every inch of your body aching with need and restraint. Kurama can obviously sense the desperate state you're in, and you know that he's savoring it. And yet, when you glance down to watch the erotic movements of his mouth, the way his eyes devour you, the way his hands grip at your hips- you realize that you don't have it in you to care about your pride anymore.

"Anyway, they're airing an interview with the cast soon, so I gotta go so I don't miss it."

The words are a beacon of hope, and while your friend apologizes for cutting out so suddenly, you assure her again and again that you don't mind.

"Really, you should... go- uh, go enjoy the thing!"

Kurama's lips seal around your clit and the dearly sensitive surrounding flesh. His tongue flicks across the hard little bundle over and over, his hands firm at your hips, holding you strictly in place. He's not holding back anymore. Your eyes roll back and your body burns, but you keep yourself silent. Just a little longer. Don't let him make you cum- not yet. He feels too good- and you know he wouldn't care if you screamed his name for your friend or anyone else to hear.

"Oh, also, we should totally grab coffee or something soon!"

"Yeah- that sounds really good-!" your back arcs up from the sheets.

"Cool! I'll call again soon, byeeee!"

You hear the click of the receiver on the other end. Your arms go limp, dropping the phone to the floor. Kurama leans over you, pushing himself against you while his tongue works your clit and you gasp aloud for him.

"Kurama! Ohhh... Oh, God- I'm-!"

A tingling, sparkling wave of pleasure explodes from your core and rushes across the surface of your skin. You can't remember the last time you came this hard, and you imagine Kurama can feel what he's doing to you. Your taste coats his tongue, one shaky hand weaves your fingers through his hair as your hips buck towards him. With one last desperate cry of his name, you relax back onto the bed, your boneless limbs making you feel like a puddle of mindless bliss.

Panting, practically gasping for breath, your unfocused eyes gaze up at the ceiling as the last tremors of your climax pass through you.

"Haa... Mm, Kurama..." you whimper out as he places one last kiss to your now soaked folds.

He crawls up atop you, and a gentle hand turns your face to him. His smile is warm and openly affectionate, and he caresses your cheek like a groom at the altar. Looking at him now, it's hard to imagine he's the same man who just put you through that unique form of torture. You're still catching your breath, and when he kisses you with all the tenderness in the world, you can hardly even reciprocate.

"Well done, my love," he says at last, "Do you think you can continue to behave for me tonight?"

Some distant part of your mind realizes that you've been manipulated- that he's utterly dismantled your attempt at dominance. You should be frustrated. You should try to regain the upper hand and show him that he doesn't always gets to be in control. Instead, your half-lidded eyes meet him and you murmur,

"Yes... I'll be good..."

#kurama #yu yu hakusho #kurama yyh #shuichi minamino #kurama x reader #yu yu hakusho smut #kurama smut #x reader #yu yu hakusho imagines

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duskandstarlight · 3 years

Note

POSSESSIVE PROTECTIVE CASSIAN PLEASE

This is possessive, jealous Cassian and Helion’s flirting is the culprit! I wrote this ages ago on my phone and is incomplete. The gist is that Nesta and Cassian are visiting the court so Nesta can learn more about their education system. They are not together, but sleep together with no funny business… I wrote this ages ago and it was going to go in E&L. Now it doesn’t fit, so here’s a very long bit of it…

Cassian had drank himself into a stupor and by the time he’d stumbled back to his room, it was well past midnight.

What he found surprised him: Nesta, curled up on her side of the bed beneath the covers. He heard her even breathing turn lighter. She couldn’t have been out long but her expression was riddled with sleep as she rubbed face against the pillow.

He turned away from her before she opened her eyes, the anger from earlier still clinging its sharp teeth into his gut. But he could feel her stare burning into his skin and he suddenly flushed hot with it.

He pulled off his shirt, glad of his brother’s lifelong enchantment which meant that the buttons around his wings automatically unbuttoned themselves, and started to tug off his pants.

Usually he wore loose pants and a tunic to bed but he was too drunk to care. There was also a part of him that wanted to make Nesta uneasy, just so she knew how fucking terrible he’d felt all day watching Helion flirt with her.

A fresh swell of anger burst through him and he found himself speaking before he could check himself. “Why are you here?”

He dared to turn to her then. He expected her fury and it was there, but underneath it was hurt. It made him feel like a prize prick.

Nesta sat up and his eyes automatically flicked to her cleavage that was on show in her low neck nightgown - he couldn’t help it - and she hissed at him through the long, golden hair that hung down her face in waves before she tucked it behind an ear.

She studied him for a moment. “You left.”

“Yes,” he said, but the way he said it he may as well have said, and what?

“You didn’t say goodbye,” she embellished.

Cassian made his shrug loose but he knew he wasn’t fooling her. “You were busy with Helion.”

Nesta snorted. “When has that ever stopped you from interrupting before?”

“You looked like you we’re enjoying the attention.”

Even in the darkness, Cassian saw Nesta’s eyes flash bright with anger, but she only said, “Yet here I am.”

Cassian clenched his jaw. He knew she hadn’t bedded Helion - he’d have scented it on her the moment he had stepped into his room. Hell, he’d have probably known prior to that. He’d seen flashes of roiling flesh and the sounds of panted moans from her before, even if it was over a year ago. He couldn’t go through that again. His heart couldn’t take it.

His eyes hardened at the thought and he stared her down. She looked right back, unflinching, as he told her with bite, “I don’t care. Fuck who you want.”

Lies, lies, lies. And Nesta - his unflappable hellcat - flinched. Her answering snarl was soft and menacing. He could tell he wasn’t far off from being blasted with that power of hers. He could feel the pressure building.

“You’re being a territorial bat,” she hissed, a finger stabbing through the air between them. Silver sparked like stars before fading into nothing.

Tossing his clothes onto the armchair beside the bed, Cassian made his voice distant and uncaring, even as it dropped an octave, “I left you with Helion to do what you wished. You have no idea how territorial I could have been.”

“You growled multiple times,” Nesta pointed out coldly.

“I can’t help it,” he snapped.

Closing his eyes, he willed the red hot blood in his veins to cool, but Nesta had already fought right back.

“I’d have thought the General of the Night Court Armies would have a little more self-control,” she bit out with equal fervour.

But that’s where she was wrong. Cassian had never exercised such restraint, apart from when he had bedded her himself and stopped her from touching him. Even though he had never wanted anybody more. He still didn’t.

The thought sobered him and Cassian looked away, his jaw working again.

“I did the least amount of damage, considering,” he gritted out.

Nesta snorted. “Considering what? Helion’s a shameless flirt who thinks he can bed whoever he likes. He’s just moved on to me now he can’t have you, Mor and Azriel. You should know better.”

It was a loaded comment that Cassian ignored. It was the next statement that hurt more than anything.

“I’m not yours.”

The truthful agony of it swept over him and suddenly it was hard to breathe.

“I know that, trust me,” he said hoarsely.

But now Nesta had started she seemed to have no intention of stopping. “You’re jealous.”

Cassian made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and fisted his hands at his sides. He strode towards the dresser - anything to not look at her - and pulled out some loose pants.

“Of course I’m jealous. Everyone knows I’m jealous. I’m fucking transparent when it comes to you.

“He showed me the library. Not his bedroom.”

“He may as well have,” Cassian muttered, pulling his hair out of its tie. He ran his fingers through his knotted hair, not wincing as they snagged on the tangles. “I could tell what he wanted from you.”

“You are being insufferable,” Nesta hissed.

Cassian threw the tie at the armoire. It missed and landed on the floor. Somehow his inability to do something so simple had his temper breaking completely.

He didn’t dare look at her as he snapped, “Then go away. I didn’t ask you to come here. I’ve drunk too much and I want to go to bed.”

Her answer was defiant. “No.”

Cassian’s nostrils flared at her refusal but he just disappeared into the bathroom to wash up. When he came back she was still there, already curled up towards the middle of the mattress.

He turned the bathroom light out so he didn’t have to look at her, even though his heart leapt that she was still here with him.

They lay in the dark for a long while, neither of them sleeping. Usually just having Nesta beside him, her heartbeat wrapped around his, was enough for him to surrender to sleep, but today it didn’t help - not with their disagreement still hanging thickly in the air around them.

An hour must have passed until Nesta’s hand brushed his. Refusing to react, Cassian clenched his jaw but then Nesta wound her fingers through his own and he felt his resolve melt slightly at the touch.

“I don’t want Helion,” Nesta said, her voice close to his ear.

“Fine.”

“Stop being angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you.”

“You seem it.”

“I’m not,” he assured her, even though he struggled to quell the green-eyed monster that was raging inside of him.

“Helion is showing me the education system. I can’t be rude.”

Cassian snort was rude. “That’s never stopped you before, sweetheart.”

“This is important to me. I want to learn and improve the camp schools. I thought you out of everyone would understand that.”

His fingers itched to pull her flush against him but he didn’t. He couldn’t speak or form words because he felt selfish and horrible for caring about Helion’s flirting when Nesta was trying to do good. But his love for her was too fierce now to hide. Just the thought of her even being interested in another male had him wanting to rend apart the sky.

And if Cassian was being honest, he was terrified that she would reject him and everything good that had ever happened to him would come to an end.

So he didn’t say anything.

It took him a long time to get to sleep.

#acosf #acotar #nessian #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #embersandlightfic #nessianfic #acomaf #duskandstarlightwrites #helion

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cabensonsgirly · 3 years

Text

👼I Know You Don’t Love Me But Please Say It One More Time {Even If It’s a Lie, Even If It’s a Lie} (Xandra, Diane) [NSFW]👼

Xandra x Diane x fem!reader

There is a shorter second slice if y’all are slutty enough for it.

Co-authored with @billiedeannovak even though she will deny it in the court of law.

Before you ask “What’s wrong with you” the answer is, I don’t know and nor does anyone else xx

👼Wordcount: 6738👼

👼Published on AO3: Read Here👼

👼Content: Y’all the consent is like SUPER S U P E R dubious, drugging, drugs, lots- just lots of drugs, abusive relationship, domestic abuse, choking, face-slapping, violence, kidnapping, needles, sedation, cunnilingus, strap-on, fingering, cum, restraints, it’s just not healthy in the slightest👼

👼She sits by the bed, letting out an uneven breath “My cellphone is dead too. So- So I can’t even call for anyone… I’m sorry. You’re probably terrified and it’s all my fault…” She buries her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. You don’t know what came over you, she was right, you should be terrified, but you felt the need to comfort her. You weakly grab her wrist to pull her onto the bed with you, pulling her into your warm embrace. “It’s okay Diane. It’s- It’s not your fault. Shh- Not your fault, you hear me? You can’t help the weather.” 👼

Walking home from work at night usually wasn’t an issue but it just so happened that there was a rather angry looking storm starting to do its thing. You would call Xan but she was more than likely too busy to pick you up even though it was only a 15-20 minute drive. So, you were walking down the street getting drenched by the rain when a ‘soccer-mom’ van pulls up beside you and winds its window down “Hey there, did you need a ride anywhere? The storm is really starting to pick up, it won’t be safe for you to walk home soon.”

Your gut told you to say no, the whole ‘stranger danger’ thing being instilled in you since you were a kid, but the woman’s voice was so soothing and made you feel safe so you went up to the door, a shy smile on your face “I- I would appreciate that so much, thank you.” You open the door and climb in, apologising for getting her seat wet.

She turns the AC on and passes you a blanket from the backseat “Being a mother means you’re always prepared should one of your kids get cold, I hope you don’t mind.” You blush lightly, shivering due to your wet clothing and the cold, wrapping the blanket tight around yourself and resting your hands in front of the fan pumping out the hot air. “My girlfriend, Xan, we live about a 15-20 minute drive away but I usually walk home, y’know? I like the ex-“ You sneeze into the crook of your arm “sorry. I like the exercise but neither of us were expecting this sto- Hot chocolate? I- Thank you, Miss?”

You gladly take the thermos even though Xandra always told you not to accept drinks you didn’t see being made, but you were just grateful for the warmth and comfort that would come from it. “You can call me Diane, sweetheart.” You flash her a shy smile before taking a mouthful of the hot chocolatey goodness, enjoying the way it starts to warm you up from the inside out, there was an odd taste to it but the comfort it brought outweighed the slight worry you might have been drugged.

Within a few minutes you fell asleep, your head lulling back against the headrest. Diane took the thermos and put it away before doing a U-turn and heading back towards her house; she had moved into town, having noticed you on previous trips she’s had- she wanted you.

When you wake up your laying down on a bed in an unknown place, sitting up your head feels woozy and your mouth is awfully dry “He- Hello? Where- Where am I?” You call out nervously, when Diane comes in, holding a steaming mug “It’s okay, babygirl. She can’t hurt you anymore. I saved you from her. I won’t let her hurt you anymore. All those awful things she did to you… That’s not love. What I’m doing- What I’m doing for you, that’s love.”

You shake your head and try getting up but you struggle to do so, ending up cursing as you fall back into the bed, trying to move further away from this strange woman. “N- No you- you need to let me go! She can’t live without me. Diane please, please you need to let me go. I- I promised her I wouldn’t leave. You can’t do this to her. She loves me. You have no idea about what she’s done!”

She sighs quietly and nods her head as she hands you the mug “It’s- It’s tea, just to help with the nerves. I’ll- I’ll take you back tomorrow morning, okay? It’s too dark now to drive, it wouldn’t be safe. Hopefully the withdrawals from coke won’t- They- they might start soon… even though it’s only been a few hours of course.” She smiles sweetly at you, somehow her eyes remaining lifeless.

You were absolutely terrified, you were in a strange woman’s house after falling asleep in her van, you had no idea where this house even was, and Xan wasn’t there to protect you. “Please” you beg quietly “Please Diane. Please just take me back to her” you were crying at this point, hands shaking as you took the mug from her noticing how peculiar it smelled. You know you shouldn’t drink it, the same thing Xandra taught you about never taking a drink from someone unless you’ve seen them make it was running through your mind.

You didn’t want to betray Xandra more than you already have, Diane offered to drive you home from work because of the storm; you know you shouldn’t have gotten into that damn car. Her eyes narrow slightly at your disinterest in the drink “I’ll get you a phone so you can call her then if she’s important. Although… I would have thought that if she loves you as much as you claim, she would have called by now, don’t you think? Why hasn’t she called you yet, Yn? Are you even really sure she loves you? If she did, she would be looking for you…”

Diane sighs, shaking her head “God… I- I wouldn’t be able to rest until I knew my girlfriend was safe. I’d call them and find out where they are. I’d drive until I found them, no matter how long it took…” She stands up and heads over to the door, resting in the doorway “If she loves you, she would have called by now.” Before leaving to go grab the landline; she had hidden yours and turned it on mute so you couldn’t hear the notifications from Xandra’s texts and calls.

You knew Xandra loved you, but Diane’s words were nagging at your confidence, she was right, Xandra would’ve called- god… How long has it been since your shift ended? You didn’t know, you couldn’t tell- God, why was your mouth so dry? You took a gulp of the tea, relieved to taste the minty flavour but somehow your mouth felt dryer than before so you continued to drink. Where was your phone anyway? And why was Diane taking so long?

Your head felt like chewing gum, everything taking longer than usual to do, every thought harder to grasp. Did Xandra really love you? She always said how easy you were to replace, and how disgusting you are. Was Diane actually right? You nervously began scrambling for your phone, it had to be somewhere. Fuck. Where did you put it?

You heard the front door open then shut. Why’d Diane leave? Or was she coming back inside? You couldn’t remember if it were the first time you’d heard it this evening. You finish off the last of the tea, relieved to have done so but somehow thirstier than before. Each movement you made in a desperate search for your phone became harder and harder until you were unable to move at all.

You called out for Diane, your voice sounding weak and alien to you. You told yourself it was just because you were tired, as much as it was entirely possible for this stranger to drug you, you had a feeling she wouldn’t do that to you, right? Diane appears in the doorway, an upset look on her face “I’m- I’m sorry, sweetheart… Your phone… You- You must have left it on the roof of the car or- or dropped it coming inside…”

She walks over to you and hands you your smashed phone, it looked like someone had taken a hammer to it in frustration, but you knew you were clumsy. Your heart sank, now you definitely wouldn’t know if Xan had been trying to get in contact with you. “I- I can get you a new one tomorrow if- if the storm dies down. I feel so bad…” She looks like she’s going to cry, you try moving closer to her on the bed but your body feels so heavy “It’s- It’s okay Diane…”

She smiles a bit then hands you the landline “Use this to call her. I’ll- I’ll come back with water shortly.” She places a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth making your stomach do a flip, but you couldn’t tell why. She picks up your empty mug and leaves the room, waiting to hear you dialling before she quickly makes her way downstairs to cut the landline. Xandra could never love you like she can.

Your thoughts were racing, you couldn’t remember Xandra’s number for the life of you, why couldn’t you? You had to. You did the first thing that came to your mind instead, calling 911. You felt like it took far longer than usual to dial, finally the operator picks up “911, how can I help you?” The woman says with a friendly voice. “Help…” was the only word you could get out “Sweetheart, what’s going on?” She replies “Where are you?”

“I don’t-“ you felt so terribly dizzy “Please help me… I- I need to… Get back Xandra… It’s- it’s spelled with an X.” You manage to get out painfully slowly before the line went dead. You start crying, a fresh wave of panic washing over you “No. No- no no… Pl- Please no.” The lights went out and you felt dread rise even further. You heard Diane curse loudly before sounds as if she’d knocked some items over.

You stare at the doorway, it’s pitch black and your eyes haven’t adjusted yet. A faint glow starts to appear, getting brighter “Yn? Are- Are you okay? The storm must’ve knocked the power out.” She enters the room, the light harsh on your eyes before she puts it on the bedside table “And because we’re semi-rural it’ll be awhile until we get up and running again. I’m- I’m sorry.”

She sits by the bed, letting out an uneven breath “My cellphone is dead too. So- So I can’t even call for anyone… I’m sorry. You’re probably terrified and it’s all my fault…” She buries her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. You don’t know what came over you, she was right, you should be terrified, but you felt the need to comfort her. You weakly grab her wrist to pull her onto the bed with you, pulling her into your warm embrace. “It’s okay Diane. It’s- It’s not your fault. Shh- Not your fault, you hear me? You can’t help the weather.”

You soothingly rub circles on her back, her face buried in the crook of your neck, breath warm against it. It was comforting in a way, but you couldn’t help but worry about Xandra, you knew how self- destructive she could get.

The storm doesn’t subside the following day, and as desperate as you are to get back to Xan, you also didn’t want to die in the process. Diane watches you closely during the day so you knew you had to wait until she was asleep before you felt ‘safe’ enough to explore the house. You remember seeing a door that was always shut, and you finally had a safe time to explore, so, you open it and slowly make your way down the stairs, the torch from your room tight in your grasp. Each step you stop on to see if you could hear any movement from Diane.

When you made it to the bottom you shone the torch around the room, freezing when you see a massive board with a picture of you surrounded by schedules, maps, records, anything and everything about you. You walk over to it to get a closer look, and you cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle a scream of terror. She had been stalking you for years. She knows how long you and Xandra have been dating, as well as every single detail of your relationship. Your blood ran cold. You didn’t know what to do.

She also kept track of many of your injuries when you discover a literal copy of your medical records from the time Xandra had knocked you out and was scared you had hurt your head. How did she know all these things? Tears began streaming down your face, all you wanted was to get back to Xandra and have her beat the shit out of you instead of living with someone who knew every single detail about your life.

One of the papers, you discovered had Xandra’s phone number on it. You would ask Diane to take you to town, maybe you’d somehow find a phone to call her with. You slip the piece of paper into your bra, and your hand brushes past the necklace you always wore- a chunky golden heart with Xandra’s name engraved on it- you quickly screw the top off revealing a little spoon, dipping it back into the white substance and quickly snorting it- the familiar burn right behind it. You need to stay up and think of an escape plan, your head was still spinning but you felt more confident than before.

You slowly creep back up the stairs and close the door, hoping Diane didn’t hear you, hyper aware of your surroundings. You were about to go back upstairs when you hear movement, so you quickly made your way into the kitchen. “Yn?” Diane’s voice called out through the dark “What are you doing?” Fuck, of course. “Diane, hey!” You wince at the enthusiasm in your voice “I uhm… Came downstairs to get a glass of water…”

She tilts her head slightly, eyes narrowing “A glass of water? Where is it? There’s no glass in the sink. There’s no glass in your hand.” She moves towards you making you take a step back until you hit the wall. “That means you’re lying to me, Yn.” She brings her hand up to caress your cheek gently “It’s not wise to lie to mommy… Especially if you want to see Xanny again.”

You feel tears prick in your eyes and you shove Diane hard away from you, running upstairs into a random bedroom, slamming and locking the door shut behind you before you frantically search for a cellphone. “Come on! There has to be one here!” You hear Diane coming up the stairs before a knock on the door “Open the door for me please, sweet girl. I’m not mad. Just open the door for me.”

You laugh not because you find it funny, but because you’re fucking terrified. “Fuck off you crazy bitch!” Your frantic search fails to find anything, the room looking like a war zone. You slump against one of the walls, settling to wait it out in here until morning when it would be safer to leave out the window. You hear a key rattle in the lock before the door swings open to reveal a dishevelled looking Diane “Oh thank god you’re alright.”

She looks around the room, her face twitching slightly at the mess before focusing back on you, moving over to you quickly “I was so worried about you.” You grip the torch in your hand tight and swing it, it connecting with her jaw hard enough to cause a cut. Diane lets out a feral growl and shoves you up against the wall, one hand tight around both of yours above your head, the other she reveals from behind her back to show a syringe “I really didn’t want to do this, babygirl. But you left me no choice.”

Panic washes over you once more, apologies spilling out of you “Please Diane. I- I just want to see her again.” The coke now making you paranoid, something Xandra always managed to avoid. Why wasn’t she here? “Please Diane. I- I’m so high right now it could kill me. I- Do you really want that? Hm? You- You can’t love me then. Wouldn’t you blame yourself? Diane- Diane, come on. I- I could’ve swallowed anything from downstairs…”

She puts the syringe in her back pocket carefully before grabbing the necklace, looking at it closely “That spoon hardly has enough space for you to take a substantial amount. Don’t be so dramatic.” She lets go of it and looks at you again “If you had taken anything from downstairs, you would be very sick right now. Don’t try getting one over me.” She removes the syringe again, removing the cap with her teeth, spitting it out to the side before running the tip of the needle slowly down your neck. “I would never hurt you” She says softly, her lips parted slightly “Never.”

“But” you whisper “You’re- You’re already hurting me…” you cry, biting your lip when you feel the needle prick your skin, the contents quickly inside your system. “Oh my darling girl…” She kisses your forehead “You’ll be safe with me.” You wanted to say something, but the drug worked quickly, your body going limp in her arms.

Diane picks you up and carries you to her truck, putting you in the front seat and making sure that you’re strapped in securely. “Xan will be a complete mess. It’ll be a perfect time for me to save you. She’ll be more than willing to let me in.” She shuts the door, heads back to the house to lock up before going back to the car and getting in. She pulls out of her drive and heads in the direction of your house, occasionally checking to see if you’re still out to the world.

Your skin was burning, it felt like you had pressed your forehead against the heater, it began to sting and you suddenly were very aware of your surroundings. The steady humming of a car, someone was humming to a song on the radio. Your eyes flew open, chest heaving, trying to open the door you realised it was locked. You look over to Diane “Let me go!” Your voice was raspy. “Sweetheart let me-“

“No! No! Is this the part where you get rid of my body? I- I swear they’re gonna find me.” You didn’t notice that Diane was parking the car, your voice coming to a halt when Diane pricked your skin with a needle again “Now sweetheart, be quiet. You don’t want me to make you sleep again, do you?” You shook your head slightly. “Good girl.” She pulls the syringe back out again “Look around. See where we are.”

You look out the window to see your home, the hot Nevada weather was back and almost melting your face off- you realise Diane has parked directly in front of your house. “You- You drove me back?” Diane nods, seeming almost sad “Go on” She encourages “She’s in there. She hasn’t seen you since you ran away.”

Your gaze flicks between the house and Diane, confusion visible on your face. “I- I ran away? I thought-“ You frown in thought, trying to piece your memory back together but finding it extremely difficult to do so. “I- I remember leaving work and the evening with you but that’s it.” You feel tears spill onto your cheeks and you wipe them away quickly before unbuckling yourself and swinging the car door open.

You go to take a step but your legs start to give out so you grab onto the door quickly, Diane rushing out and around to help you to the front door where she knocks. “Hello? Xandra? I’ve got your girl here. I found her!” You hear crashing noises before the door swings open, a visibly distraught Xandra standing before you. “Yn…” She breathes out before pulling you into her, she holds you tight, the tightest she’s ever held you before.

“I- I thought you’d left me. I thought- I thought you were dead.” You wrap your arms around her, pressing lazy kisses to her exposed chest and neck. “I found her wandering. She’d somehow ended up ear me, so I took her in and made sure she was okay. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring her home sooner.” Xandra looks at Diane and gives her a weak smile, she’s so tired from crying and worrying about you. “Thank you Miss-“

“Oh! You can call me Diane if you like.” Xandra nods “Thank you Diane.” Diane turns around as was about to leave, but Xandra stops her- just as Diane had planned. “Diane, would you like to come inside?” Her voice was raspier than usual, a slight slur to it, you knew she had been drinking. You relax further into Xandra’s embrace, hoping Diane would leave- This had to be a joke.

“Oh- That would be nice, thank you. The drive was terribly long.” The three of you walk inside, you didn’t dare make a noise. Xandra told Diane to make herself at home, despite the mess before you manage to drag her into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. “Xandra please” you began “Please you need to hear me out. She- She needs to leave. She- was the one who kidnapped me! Please. You know I’d rather have you beat me to death than leave you- you know I love you too much to leave. She- She offered to drive me home from work… I got in the car then- then I woke up in the middle of nowhere. She lives ages away from here! She drugged me!”

You pull up your sleeve, revealing the bruising prick marks “Her basement is full of us! Our relationship. Every detail. She knows everything.” You pull out a candid of you and Xandra, along with the contact information Diane had of the two of you. “Please. Baby. I- I missed you so much. She destroyed my phone; the landline was dead. I wasn’t able to call you. Please you have to believe me. I love you Xandra. She- She can’t stay here.”

Xandra looks at you then at the prick marks before back at you “Stay here. I’ll go talk with her.” She turns, unlocking the door before leaving, shutting it behind her. You press your ear up against the door in hopes of being able to hear the two women talk. You can barely make them out. “She says you kidnapped her and that you’ve been stalking us- she showed me this.” Xandra’s tone is flat, the one she uses when she doesn’t know whether to be angry or not.

“I’ve never seen those before she showed them to me. She was so happy talking about you. I know she ran away but she really did miss you. She didn’t have her phone and the power went out due to the storm.” Xandra let out a noise between anger and amusement “Fucking slut. Of course. Thank you, Diane, for telling me this. She’ll make it up to you. She’s very good on her knees.” You feel panic set in and back away from the door. You can’t believe Xandra believes this fucking stranger over you.

You cower in the corner of the bathroom, ready for Xandra to beat the absolute living hell out of you, tears streaming down your face. A panic attack hitting you the moment Xandra walks in “Please” you sob “You- You can’t be serious.” She hushes you gently, crouching down in front of you where she strokes your cheeks gently. “You’re my good girl, Yn. You’re mine, okay? I love you. I love you so much you know that right? Daddy was so worried about you. And Diane, she’s just trying to be a good mommy too, okay? Wouldn’t it be so nice having a mommy too? Two more people to love you.” She kisses you deeply, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently as she pulls away “You’d love that, right babygirl? Please show me how much of a good girl you are, and go give Diane a thank you that would make me proud.”

You nod out of pure instinct, the tears still running down your cheeks “Xan… Please, you know I’d do anything for you… But- but my own kidnapper? Please. How- How do you think she knows you were even looking for me in the first place?” Xandra sighs, you usually weren’t one to make such a fuss about things, maybe there was some truth behind it?

“She… Why would I come back if I ran away? Why would I run away in the first place? She knew about the coke. About- about everything. She said you couldn’t love me the way she could.” You hoped to at least make her somewhat jealous, ignite some kind of reaction, but she didn’t even flinch at your words.

“If you really loved me and said you’d do anything for me, you are going to give Diane a proper thank you. A mommy and a Daddy are better than one… and two tongues are going to feel so much better.” She almost groans into your ear, her voice thick with lust. You swallow, arousal creeping through your body. You didn’t want to like this, but you couldn’t help yourself, something in your head told you that Diane would fuck you real nice, especially if you play into her fantasy as much as Xandra wants you to.

“Promise me we’ll talk about this later and I promise I’ll be your slut all night.” You whisper, your breath hitching when Xandra places teasing kisses across your neck. “Anything you want, princess. I’ll prepare some lines for you, hm? It’ll help you relax babygirl. I’m doing this because I love you, you know that right?” You nod, even though you weren’t sure what it had to do with anything. “I love you too” you whisper.

“I know baby, I know you do. That’s why you came back to me.” You nod again, and Xandra helps you up, gently kissing your forehead which was something she’s never done before. “When Diane drives back, we’ll have a talk. We need to change some things. I can’t lose you again… I almost killed myself.” You part your lips to say something, but Xandra hushes you with a finger to yours lips. “But what matters is you came back, and you’re gonna show Diane how thankful you are, won’t you babygirl?”

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to Xandra’s lips “Can I take a shower before I do? I feel disgusting and- and I want to make you proud.” Xandra smiles “That’s my good girl. Get all dolled up for us, put on that black lingerie for us, yes? You won’t need more.” Xandra leans in “Daddy’s little girl is going to look so fuckable.” She bites your pulse point gently “Now hop in the shower. I’ll go make us some drinks.” You give her a small smile and nod, a sigh escaping your lips after Xandra had closed the door behind her, you weren’t allowed to lock it.

You undress, catching a glimpse of your wrists in the mirror, bruises of restraints on them, the pricks in your arms and neck bruised and stinging. You knew it was hopeless yet you felt incredibly aroused at the situation. Xandra didn’t move from the door until she heard the water running, a small smile tugging at her lips knowing she had you back now, you would be her puppy from now on, never leaving her side ever again.

She looks around to find the entire downstairs area clean and tidy, Diane had put everything in its rightful place. Xandra frowns slightly, confused as to how she knew where everything belonged. Diane stops in her tracks when she sees Xandra, drying the last of the dishes “I’m sorry. I saw the mess and I knew how you must have felt. So I took the liberty to keep myself busy. I hope you don’t mind” Diane says in the sweetest voice. Her smile so genuine, it was hard to believe she was capable of anything nefarious.

Xandra stalks over to Diane, forcing her against the counter where she brings a hand up to wrap around her throat. She leans in close and hisses “How the fuck do you know so much about us? How the fuck do you know where everything goes?” Diane clenches her jaw and gulps slightly, her eyes darting away from Xandra’s before her attention is brought back with a harsh slap.

“Answer the fucking question.” Diane’s lips are parted in shock before her brain catches up “I- I don’t. I just thought I should help, that’s all. I- I looked in the cupboards as I was drying so I could find where things go. I swear.” Diane bites her bottom lip slightly “I swear.” Xandra glances at her lips before capturing them in a heated kiss causing Diane to moan.

Xandra moves her hands under Diane’s thighs to scoop her up onto the bench, the plate dropping from Diane’s hand but neither paying attention. Diane tangles a hand in the hair at the back of Xandra’s head as she deepens the kiss, moaning as she feels Xandra’s tongue meet her own. She wraps her legs around Xandra’s waist and pulls her closer, grinding somewhat against the blonde. Xandra breaks the kiss and dips her head to bite at Diane’s neck roughly “Fuck you’re hot Diane.”

You were in the bathroom drying yourself off with a towel when you heard something drop, you flinch before you try to place the sound, figuring it was porcelain you apply Xandra’s favourite lotion to your body- it was her favourite scent on you. You silently sneak out of the bathroom, seeing Diane and Xandra making out on the kitchen counter, biting your lip you manage to tear yourself away from the two, creeping up the stairs to put on the lingerie Xan had asked you to.

The image of your bedroom bringing tears to your eyes, Xandra had slept on her side of the bed but she snuggled with your pillow and the shirt you wore to bed. You let your fingers wander over the sheets, Xan had even used your perfume, the bottle still on her bedside table. Sighing you let the towel fall from your body as you move to put on the lingerie. You grab a hair brush and ran it through your hair hoping to make it even slightly more tidy. Once you were done you spritz some perfume on your barely covered body and quietly made your way down the stairs again.

Xandra and Diane didn’t even acknowledge your presence, so you kneel in from of them. Moment later you hear a chuckle from Xandra “Look at Daddy’s little girl… So well behaved. Tell Diane what you want to do.” You brought your eyes up to meet hers “I- I want to thank you for… saving me. I- I was- I was quite ungrateful to- to the both of you and I want to make up for it. I’m- I’m sorry Diane.”

Diane slips off the counter and softly tilts your chin up “It’s okay, sweet girl. You have a mommy too now.” You smile but it quickly turns into a lip bite when you hear Xandra speak “Get to work slut, mommy Diane wants to fuck you into the bed too.” You couldn’t help the groan that escapes you at Xandra’s words, so you set to work. You unbutton Diane’s jeans, kissing and biting down her thighs and legs as you pull them down before moving back up, running your tongue over her covered pussy.

Her hand runs through your hair before tugging it roughly to make you look up at her “You’re eager to thank me, aren’t you babygirl?” You nod slowly, half of you still didn’t want to do this, but the other half was desperate to be fucked. Diane growls quietly “Answer the question.” You open your mouth to do just that but she shoves two of her fingers into your mouth, choking you on them before letting you suck eagerly, your hips bucking against nothing as you think about her fucking you.

Your eyes drift shut and you groan lowly, both Xandra and Diane laughing at the sight of you “I told you she was a whore, Diane.” You knew her hands were at least as talented as Xandra who had stepped behind you to kiss Diane again. Diane’s fingers leave your mouth and grabs Xandra’s hair “I’m in charge tonight, it’s the least you can do for me after making me watch for so long.” You eagerly pull down Diane’s panties and began lapping up the wetness that had gathered between her legs, you can’t help but moan at the taste of her. Diane’s free hand grabs your hair as she began to slowly guide you, she prefers a steady pace rather than you hastily eating her out.

Your tongue circles Diane’s clit painfully slow, and her hips buck into your mouth, you took it as a hint and continue going slow before gradually picking up the pace. Xandra sat back against the counter and watched the both of you with a cigarette in her hand as you thanked Diane as if your life depends on it.

When Diane came undone she pulls you up to kiss you roughly, spinning around to push you against the counter before breaking the kiss to turn you around and bending you over so your face presses against the counter-top, a hand running slowly up your back “That was a very good start, babygirl. Soon I’ll be the one needing to thank you.” You let out a needy whine, pushing your ass back against Diane.

“Make her wait, Diane. She’s been ungrateful, and one orgasm for you isn’t enough to make up for it. Make. Her. Suffer.” You look over at Xandra who has an annoyed look on her face, she shoots you a glare and your stomach sank; she still hates you for running away even though you know you didn’t. Your eyes were pleading with her but her face remains cold “Take it” she mouths, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

Diane shoots Xandra a devilish grin “Would you like if mommy sedated you, hm? Kept you falling in and out of consciousness?” You quickly shook your head “No- No please don’t. Please Diane, not again.” Xandra’s face twitches at the last word, “But my sweet girl” Diane continues “You liked it so much last time when I pricked the needle right into your neck, hmm?” You didn’t stop shaking your head “No- No I didn’t like it. Please- Please not again.”

Diane grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you over to where Xandra was sitting, her knuckles white from the force she’s using “How would you like her to suffer Xandra? It’s on you.” She lets go of your hair and you drop to your knees once more. Xandra’s eyes remain focused on you as she spoke to Diane “You don’t come in my house and tell me what to do. I said it’s on you to make her suffer for what she did to you. And I expect you to do. Just. That.”

Diane crouches down behind you and runs her hands lightly over your body before running one over your chest to wrap around your neck, her breath hot against your ear “Looks like daddy Xan doesn’t want to play with you babygirl. How’re you coping without coke in your system, huh?” She squeezes your neck as her free hands sneaks into your panties, running her fingers through your slick folds lightly causing you both to moan. “Oh babygirl… You’re enjoying this far. Too. Much. Was it the talk of me knocking you out? Fucking you as you slip in and out of consciousness?”

She dips the tips of two fingers into you, you trying to get more from her, biting your lip hard in an effort to stop yourself from begging. You shouldn’t like this as much as you do, but the way Xandra’s eyes darken as she watches Diane fuck with you was taking its toll and all you wanted was to be ruined.

You had noticed the coke withdrawal when your hands started shaking and you had felt lightheaded in the shower, you blamed it on the adrenaline wearing off. Diane continues teasing you with the tips of two fingers, drawing out more wetness every time “Tell daddy Xan you want me to sedate you again. Tell her how great it felt.”

Your pained expression was telling a different story, and you really didn’t want to beg Xandra to let Diane fuck you. You wanted Diane to take you, but Xandra loves humiliation. Diane lets go of your neck and circles your clit with her two drenched fingers causing you to whine “Please let her get me high again, Xandra. I’ll be good, I promise.” Xandra looks disgusted, and for a second you wondered if Diane was purposely playing you off against each other.

“I knew you ran off to be with her. I should’ve known better.” You part your lips to retort something but Diane had pricked your arm with the needle before you even realise what was happening. Your mouth closing, eyes rolling back, not quite unconscious, but the drug was creeping through your system while you try to fight against it. Diane carries you upstairs in bridal style right behind Xandra.

When you woke up you were still dazed, and found yourself with your hands tied about your head, and Diane working her finger in and out of you slowly, drawing moans from your half-sleepy state. “There’s our beautiful girl. Does this feel as good as you thought it would, babygirl?” You let out a noise and turn your head as you search for Xan before crying out when you feel a harsh slap followed by nails digging into your jaw, forcing you to look at Diane “Answer me.”

You whimper and try getting out of her grasp before giving in, unable to ignore the building pressure in your lower abdomen as she continues fucking you with her lither fingers “Yes” you breathe out. You hear an amused snort come from somewhere in the room, a sound only Xandra could produce “I told you she was a slut, Diane.”

As the word ‘slut’ left Xan’s lips, Diane curls her fingers inside of you, eliciting a loud whine from you as you try to move your hips in order to make yourself cum faster, but the drug was making it impossible for you to move “Please” you moan “It feels so good- Fuck” you hiss when Diane picks up the speed. “I know babygirl, you’re making such a mess. No control over your messy cunt. It’s me who’s in charge.”

You hear Xandra clear her throat “Well Xandra let me be in charge for now.” The orgasm was creeping up inside you, slower than anything else, you try your best to stay conscious “Please” you sob “Diane” another harsh slap to your face making you clench around Diane’s fingers “Mommy can I- Can I cum? I can’t-“ Her thumb rubs your clit in painfully slow circles, the contrast of the quick pace of her fingers nearly sending you over the edge.

More and more desperate moans topple out of you, always pleading to cum, so close to the edge. “Cum for me babygirl” you hear Xandra order, her voice closer to you than before, completely missing the way Diane’s face twitches at the other woman’s words. The orgasm rocks through your body before you could wonder why Diane wasn’t the one giving you permission. You soon realise it was Xandra’s jealousy that had gotten the best of her.

You desperately sob out moan after moan while Diane fucks you through your orgasm, you felt so lightheaded, and before you could say a word, you were out cold again.

Diane has a satisfied smile on her face, pulling her fingers out of you Xandra grabs her wrist and sucks the digits clean, moaning at the taste. The action takes Diane by surprise, and because she wants a taste of you she pulls Xandra into a heated kiss, the taste of you, the cigarettes and sweet wine on her tongue. Gasping for air Diane breathes “Let your anger out on her… Maybe do it with the strap. I can see how worked up you are.” She gets up from the bed to make space for Xandra.

#Xandra imagine #Xandra #Xandra x reader #Diane Sherman #Diane sherman imagine #Diane sherman x reader #Sarah paulson #Sarah paulson imagine #Sarah paulson x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Frailty, thy name is woman! {2}

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, masturbation, mentions of miscarriage, depression, and suicide.

This is dark!doctor!Steve Rogers and soft!Peter Parker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You have an illness that can’t be seen or named. Doctor Rogers is your last chance at a cure as your loving husband tries to rediscover the woman he married.

Inspired by this ask

Note: It took me a while to find the energy to post this, I’m sorry. It’s been hard since I lost my job to wanna do anything but you guys are so sweet and I appreciate that. It’s set in the 1900s so keep that in mind! I hope you all like the last half.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You slept better with the effects of the medicine but your energy continued to wane. You went for a walk on the two mornings after your second meeting with Dr. Rogers but returned with only the strength to reach your bed. Your chores once more lacked and you forgot to write out your thoughts.

And Peter. Your husband tried so hard to be patient, to be understanding, and yet that cloud of disappointment hung over you. You wanted to be better for him so why was it so hard?

As the date of your next appointment approached, you were little better than you were before the first. You had ceased following the physician’s instructions and instead found yourself hopeless and hazy. Your tears stained the pillow beside your head and tainted your tongue.

“You will be late,” Peter sat beside you on the bed as he held a steaming cup of tea, “please, you’re doing so well.”

You blinked and said nothing. You were doing so well but just as before, it all fell apart. You couldn’t figure out why it always ended up like this. You couldn’t figure out your own mind and why you couldn’t just be what every other woman was.

“Doctor Rogers can help you. He’s been helping you, dear,” Peter cooed as he rubbed your arm, “and I love you, I’ll always love you, even through all this.”

You frowned and covered your face. He heaved and the porcelain cup clinked on the night table. The bed shifted as he bent forward and held his head in his hands.

“I’m out of ideas, dear,” he said, “I don’t know what else I can do.”

You rolled over and hid from him. You sobbed into the pillow. You didn’t know either.

“I have to go to the laboratory. I cannot be late again,” he stood and you listened to his light footsteps, “I will inform the doctor you are unable to attend. Perhaps we might reschedule.”

You stayed silent and he touched your shoulder. He bent and kissed the crown of your head.

“I’m not giving up,” he swore, “I won’t.”

He left, reluctantly, and your body shook without restraint. You cried into the pillow case as you were racked with a pain so deep you weren’t certain it could ever be drawn out. The sense of helplessness was suffocating. It was as if no matter how hard you fought, it would never be enough, you would never be enough.

🩺

You languished as you had. The hours passed as the sunlight shifted on the walls and sent lines through the windows. You sat up and drank the cold tea and stared at the curling metal of the bed frame. You could hear birds outside and smell the pollen of new flowers but it only made the knot in your chest tighten.

Then a knock came, distant but firm. You tilted your head, numb and lost as it came again. You looked down at yourself, the wrinkled front of your sleeping gown and the brown stain from the tea dribbled from the brim of the cup. It sounded again and you winced.

It didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. You got up slowly and stumbled around the room. You went through to the front room and neared the door as another rap shook it. A figure stood on the other side of the frosted glass. You touched the latch and trembled as you thought of turning it.

“It’s Doctor Rogers,” a voice called through the door, “will you let me in, ma’am?”

You closed your eyes and slumped. You shook your head and carefully turned the lock. You tried to stand straight and opened the door. Dr. Rogers’ smile fell as he saw you. His fingers clutched the handle of his leather bag and he pushed his shoulders up.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Why are you here, doctor?”

“Well, you did not come to the office,” he said bluntly, “it did give me concern.”

“I have a headache,” you lied, “did my husband not make another appointment?”

“A headache?” he wondered doubtfully, “you might try mint or willow bark for the ailment but I do not think it effective on a conjured malady.”

“Doctor,” you fluttered your lashes guiltily.

“You might assuage my doubts and my concerns if you let me attend to you,” he said, “just to be certain you aren’t in dire condition.”

You looked down and stepped back. “Come in, doctor,” you murmured, “I apologize I did not come--”

“And what have you done these last weeks?” he ignored your apology, “have you been taking exercise? How have you been eating? Have you attended any of your chores?”

Your silence was an admission but he did not show the disappointment he expected. Instead his face softened with empathy as he set his bag down on a round table beside the upholstered chair and opened it.

“You have not even dressed yourself, I can guess at how you fare,” he said, “so I think we might take a different approach to your treatment. We should build to your independent healing although I do expect you to still attempt to adhere to my prescriptions.”

“Doctor?”

“Many contemporary physicians and psychologist suggest that hypnosis might be beneficial to those with your affliction,” he brought out his pocket watch and looked to you, “if you would lay on your back,” he pointed to the sofa.

“Hypnosis?” you drew your brows together, “I don’t think, well, I don’t know much about it.”

“It is nothing, it is like sleep. I think it will help with your nerves,” he looked at the watch, “you trust me? I am a doctor and I would not do anything but to help you. Why, I came all this way just to see that you were well.”

You felt a pang and realised how inconvenient your negligence was. You went to the couch and did as he said. He pulled the chair to the edge and sat. He held up the watch and let it dangle.

“All you have to do is focus on this,” he tapped the golden front, “and count and breath in time with it.” He began to swing it back and forth as your head was propped up against the arm of the couch, “think of nothing but the watch.”

Your lips parted and you grimaced.

“I know how it seems but haven’t you ever wanted to just not think? Perhaps that is the issue, that you never stop,” he said, “so, humour me.”

He kept on and you followed the watch with your eyes, back and forth, breathing in and out, one, two, three, four, five… Soon your vision blurred and your head felt light and then all your worries were gone. You laid there, blank and bleary, but free.

His voice was distant and the click of the watch as he set it down was almost indiscernible. “That’s it, you just relax,” you felt a tickle over your knees.

You didn’t move, you realised you couldn’t, and that the tickle was your sleeping gown. The fabric was drawn above your knees and a warmth glided up your calf. You were moved down so that you laid entirely flat, your leg slipped over the side of the couch.

“You must stay relaxed and breathe,” Dr. Rogers said as you felt his hand creep higher on your leg, “isn’t it nice?”

He pushed between your thighs and turned his hand. His flesh was hot against yours.

“We must relieve the tension,” he purred and slid his fingers along your cunt. Your eyes rolled back and you purred at the riling sensation. He poked between your folds and you felt a flush spread across your body, “just breathe.”

He rubbed along your opening and over your bud. His motion was steady as he swirled his fingertips and you felt yourself growing slick. You could think of nothing but your breath, but the burning in your core as he stoked it. You gasped and your heart beat faster as he played with your clit. It never felt so good.

He pressed a finger to your opening again and slowly dipped inside. He drew in and out several times and added another, bending both as he kept his thumb to your bud. He rocked his hand and your entire body with it. Your voice was loud and yet it was beyond your control.

“Let it go, let it all go,” he cooed, “come on.”

You moaned and it grew to shrill cry as a strike of lightning shot through you. Your body contorted as your core bloomed and fire swept through your veins. He guided you through the paralysing pleasure and stilled his hand only as the ripples faded.

Slowly he drew his hand from your cunt and sat back. He hummed and your skirt was pulled back down your legs. He took a deep breath and snapped his fingers. Your eyes shot open and suddenly the room was clear again.

You sat up, startled, as if awaking from a dream. He caught your shoulder and eased you back against the arm.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t explain how you felt.

“What I just did, you can do, you should do, at least once a day,” he leaned back and rubbed the wool of his trousers, “it is perfectly scientific. There’s have been a slew of recent studies which find that the female orgasm can be very impactful for woman who suffer so.”

“But, isn’t it--”

“What is wrong about it? It is human nature and if God made humans with that nature, it cannot be so bad. You have not spent seed without fruition, you have only used what creation gifted you,” he said, “but consider how you feel right now. You feel better, am I correct?”

You stared at him and bit your lip. You did feel lighter, you felt more awake, and you felt peaceful.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I suppose I do.”

“Great,” he clapped his hands and stood. He took the watch and returned it to his bag, “should I remain a time? We might talk?”

“No, no, you should go,” you stood unsteadily, “you have other patients and I’ve kept you so long.”

“It was not so long,” he said as he closed his bag, “but if you would that I go, I will.”

You nodded and saw him to the door with a frantic farewell. You locked it behind and turned to lean against it. Your heart was racing again. You thought of Peter, of his dismay that morning, of all those times you’d been unable to hold him.

🩺

You were hesitant at first and you resisted the doctor’s suggestion. Several days passed but the writing, the tea, the walking, none of it helped and you were so inconsistent, it was as if you hadn’t changed at all.

Then one morning, Peter left, again after a hopeless plea for you to get up, and you laid under your shroud of self-loathing and longing. You thought of it for a while, debated it in your head, and as you felt beneath your sleeping gown, the guilt nipped at your neck.

You tried to recall what Dr. Rogers did and tried to mimic him. As you played with your bud, your fingers were soon guided instead by the delightful stirring in your core. You shuddered as you slickened and you kept on twirling and twirling. Your breaths grew harried and you gulped as your voice spilled forth in weak moans.

Your toes curled as your hand moved faster and you came in a tangle of linen and wool. You pressed your hand flat to your pelvis and went limp over the mattress. You were floating, flying, and you felt as if you might do anything.

After a moment, you sat up and glanced around. You wiped your wet fingers on your nightgown as you stood and made the bed carefully. Then you went to the armoire and pulled an outfit from its depths. You dressed one piece at a time and looked at yourself in the mirror. That was something.

The hours before Peter’s return had you anxious but not deflated. You felt lost in the kitchen as you prepared the evening meal and when your husband returned, he smiled and searched as if in disbelief.

“Dear,” he kissed your cheek and you latched onto him to kiss his lips instead.

“Peter,” you said breathily, “I’m so sorry.”

His cheek twitched and he caressed your cheek, “don’t be.”

“I don’t know if I’m better but… I’m trying,” you said.

“I know,” he wrapped his arms around you and drew you close. His eyes flitted down to the bodice of your dress, “I am such a fool, I didn’t even say how wonderful you look.”

You laughed softly and cradled his face between your hands, “Truly?”

“How could you ever marry me? You’re so beautiful.”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, “I wouldn’t any other.”

🩺

The tentative touching became a ritual. You were both pleasantly surprised and confused by the effects. You never would have thought of the act, you never would have attempted it after years of being forbidden from it. You felt even your marital bed was restrained by the laws of propriety.

But as you toyed with yourself, you wanted more. You wanted your husband again, just as you had on your wedding night. So you waited again with dinner cooking in the oven and greeted him in a dress you hadn’t worn since before you married.

After he ate, you tidied up and read a newspaper in the upholstered chair. For a moment you stared at him and felt a twinge. Dr. Rogers had sat there and he had… you had let another man… but he was a physician and it was only treatment. At least, he made it seem so.

You went to the bedchamber and undressed. It was a tedious process and by the time you wore nothing but your chemise, you were ready to snap the laces of your bodice. You set aside all your layers and checked your reflection. Did he still want you like that?

You peeked outside the door and called to him. He looked over his shoulder and folded his paper as he stood.

“What is it, dear?” he neared and stopped short as you stepped out from behind the door frame, “oh.”

“Husband,” you stepped closer and bit his lip.

“Are you certain?” he asked as he touched your chemise.

“Certain. I love you,” you said.

“Sweetheart,” he crashed his lips into yours and snaked his hands around your body.

He ran his hands down to your bottom and scooped you up. You cried out as you parted from his lips and he carried you backward into the room. He dropped you on the mattress and tore off vest. You got to your knees and reached to unbutton his shirt. You helped him undress eagerly, adding your chemise to the pile as he climbed up after you.

He rolled you onto your back as he leaned over you and kissed you again. His hand ventured over your chest and he felt your breasts with a purr. You grabbed his hand and guided it lower, pushing his fingers between your legs. He hummed into your mouth and let you lead his fingers, taking the motion on his own as you opened up to him.

You clung to him and brushed your hand against his cock. He groaned and teased you more eagerly. Your thighs clamped around his hand and you came as your body jittered against his.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed as he slowed his fingers, “are you alright?”

“I’m wonderful,” you gripped his cock and stroked him, “I want you.”

He moved between your legs and bent over you. He felt along your folds and spread you as he found your entrance. He pushed inside you slowly and you leaned your head back with a sigh. He sheathed himself entirely and stopped as he bent to kiss your neck.

“I love you,” he uttered as he tilted his hips.

“I love you, too,” you grasped his biceps, wiry but thick, as he rocked into you.

He nuzzled along your throat and jaw and nibbled at your lip as he sped up. He growled as writhed against you, hungry and desperate. You clung to him and moved your hips in time with his. You wanted all of him.

Your bud rubbed against his pelvis and you urged him on with breathy pleas. You hooked your legs around his as you chased another ascent and came as your nails sank into his shoulders. He kept his motion and lifted himself to look you in the eye. He watched your dazed delight as he began to tremble.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he stammered and closed his eyes as he hung his head. He gave several short thrusts before he collapsed and rested atop you out of breath.

“Peter,” you played with his hair as he tickled along your side.

“You can’t,” he said, “you can’t love me as much as I love you.”

🩺

For the first time, as you sat in the waiting room, you didn’t feel nervous. You were anxious to speak to the doctor but you didn’t dread it. Those last weeks had seen so much change, they could have been years. When your name was called, you stood and crossed to the nurse. You were shown to the room and you sat on the couch.

Dr. Rogers entered shortly and greeted you with his usual manner. He stopped however before he sat and considered you. He squinted and smirked.

“You’re well?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said with a smile.

“Things have… changed,” his lips straightened and he sat slowly.

“Some,” you said, “and I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’ve followed my advice?”

“Yes, I’ve been doing more around the house and even writing here and there. I went for a walk--”

“You’ve been touching yourself regularly?” he asked abruptly.

You blanched and gave a nervous chuckle. You didn’t expect him to be so forward.

“Well, yes, I have a little,” you admitted, “as you bid.”

“Mhmm,” he poked his cheek with his tongue, “and it’s helped?”

“It’s not the only thing but--”

“Does it feel as good when you do it alone?” he interrupted.

You shook your head and blinked at him. You were confused. His methods were different than any other doctor you’d seen but his questions, that look, it was off.

“What do you-- I don’t understand,” you pouted, “I… it was part of the hypnosis. You were showing me what to do.”

He shifted on the stool and sighed. He tapped his heel on the floor. His gaze was discerning and crippling. You couldn’t read his expression but it wasn’t his usual smile.

“I asked you if it felt better when I did it,” he intoned tersely.

You were quiet. You looked at the door and swallowed. You stood and he did too.

“We’re not done. We’ve barely begun and you’re being evasive. Should I be concerned?”

“I don’t… understand. You’re angry with me?” you asked.

“I’m asking you questions that you won’t answer. As your doctor, I need to know these things,” he insisted, “now sit down.”

You lowered yourself slowly and stared at him. He strode over to the sofa and sat beside you.

“Did it feel better?” he asked.

You had tried to forget that afternoon, even as it forced itself into your mind whenever you let your hand wander. You were afraid to mention it aloud. Afraid to admit that you felt guilty for it.

“I… I suppose it did,” you said quietly.

“Mmm, and your husband, how are you getting along with him?”

“Well, I think, we have been… closer.”

“You’ve engaged intimately?”

“Uh, yes, he is my husband so yes,” you sputtered.

“But you hadn’t before,” he prodded.

“It was different before,” you said, “I am doing everything you’ve said.”

“I didn’t tell you to fuck him,” he snarled.

“I am married to him,” you scoffed, “what did I do wrong?”

“You’re not ready. I am your doctor, you need to consult with me,” he glared at you as your eyes settled on your lap.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t realise.”

“If your treatment is to be effective, you must follow my advisory,” he huffed, “how many times?”

“How many-- not more than five?”

“You’re uncertain?”

“I don’t keep count, doctor, I… I’m very confused.”

He pushed his head back and tilted it side to side as he cracked his neck. He jutted out his jaw and blew out air.

“When you came to me, you were broken,” he sneered, “but now you think you know better than me. Remind me again of your credentials.”

“I didn’t…” you stood and he caught your arm, “Doctor, I do not think this is appropriate and I cannot understand your anger.”

“Why have you come to me?”

“Pardon?”

“Why have you come to me?” he repeated.

“I, um, to get better. To treat my sickness, as you have and I am so grateful--”

“This is your fourth visit and you think yourself healed?” he snorted as he rose and loomed over you. He faced you as his nostrils flared, “you came to me so that I might help you conceive a child after you failed so many times.”

“I--” your voice caught in your throat and your eyes burned, “Doctor, that is unkind.”

“In my professional opinion, you are not the reason for your miscarriages,” he pulled you to him and gruffly cradled your head in his large hand, “my examination did show you more than capable of birthing a healthy child.”

“Please, what are you--”

“I think it is the seed that is bad,” He swung you around so your middle hit the examination table, “it is a theory but we can test it.”

“Doctor,” you tried to push yourself away from the table and he caught the back of your neck, “ahh, please--”

“Be quiet,” he hissed, “you make another noise and I’ll have to say you’re hysteric. A woman like you won’t last in the sanitarium.”

You whimpered and hung your head as you slapped your hands on the table. He squeezed your neck and leaned in.

“Don’t move,” he warned, “this is for your own good, for your health. You want a baby, don’t you?”

You sniffed and your vision blurred from your tears. He released you and his hands trailed down your corset and to your skirts. He lifted them and reached beneath to tear down your bloomers. The action jolted you and he stood, untangling them from your ankles with his foot. He kicked your boots apart and pressed himself to your back as he bunched up the layers of your skirts.

He pushed until you bent over the table, leaning on your elbows as his hot breath encircled you. He felt along your bare ass and tickled the top of your thigh. He pinched you and buried his face in your neck. He growled as he held your skirts in place with one hand and unbuckled his belt. You sobbed and his demand that you shut up was muffled against your collar.

He opened the front of his pants and slipped out his hard member. You winced as you felt the tip brush against your bottom and he shuddered. He bent his knees and guided himself down to your folds. He forced you to arch your back as he searched for your entrance and lined himself up.

He pushed until his tip stretched you and you clawed the white sheet across the table. He slid in another inch and you whined. He slapped his hand over your mouth, his other planted beside yours on the table and bucked. He impaled himself completely, thrusting you onto your toes.

He pulled back and rutted again, hard and impatient. Your hips slammed into the edge of the table with each tilt and you cried into his hand as he forced you lower over the sheet. He pinned your shoulder with his other as he turned your head, your cheek against the linen as he rocked into you.

He let out thick breaths, withholding grunts as he sped up. He pounded into you and the noise of your flesh filled the small room. You closed your eyes and his fingers crawled down along your back. He bent over you as he reached beneath you and found your bud among the layers.

He rubbed you until your sobs were wild moans. He kept them stifled against his palm and hammered against you. You were close to coming as your walls clenched around him and added to the pressure of his fingertips.

“This is what you want,” he whispered in your ear, “hmm, that’s all you need, a child. You will be a wonderful mother…” his voice fizzled and he barely swallowed a grunt, “so sweet, so sweet.”

He snarled and rammed harder than before. Your body quaked as you succumbed to the ripples flowing from your core and you leaked pleasure around his cock. You mewled into his hand and he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“This is the baby you wanted,” he growled and jerked sharply.

He spasmed in a series of hectic thrusts and slowed. He exhaled and removed his hand from your mouth, wiping it on the sheet as he pushed himself up. He slipped out of you and groaned at the sensation. You felt his cum spill out as he dropped your skirts and left you against the table, his belt clinking loudly in the silence.

“I’ll have you scheduled for another home visit,” he went to his desk and inked his pen as you rose, “and you will track your cycle so that we might be sure. Timing,” he tapped his fingers as he finished scribbling notes and stood straight to face you, “is essential.”

You bent to gather your bloomers and he came close. You cowered and he snatched the cotton from your grasp. He put them to his face and inhaled.

“You smell as sweet as you feel,” he turned and bent to shove your undergarments in his bag, “I will make certain your next appointment isn’t so far away.”

#steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #peter parker #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #spider-man #1900s #doctor au

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pazumane-archive · 3 years

Text

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii! I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.” “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. “I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he? (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good? (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?! 〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It’s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

#asahi azumane #azumane asahi #asahi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fic writer #asahi x female reader #asahi x you #asahi x yn

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asset35-maya · 3 years

Text

RED DRESS

Part 2/2 of Nice Things

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Five minutes, sweetheart. Please.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed with a thump. The day had finally come when the human was more punctual than the android. He sniggered at the thought but refrained from saying it out loud. Nines looked far more serious than he ought to for a Friday night.

“Babe, it’s just the guys. And Tina.”

Nines ignored him in favor of twirling a mascara wand through his lashes.

“We’re literally going to Abick’s. That’s like the oldest, grungiest cop bar you can-”

“It’s not the place or the company, sweetheart.”

Gavin watched Nines finish off with eyeliner. Somehow even androids’ mouths hung open in concentration while doing that.

He stood up from the little pouffe and shook his long hair out with a flourish. Taking that as his cue, Gavin got up and pressed himself up against his lover’s back. He curled his arms around Nines’ trim waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

Their eyes met in the mirror of the wooden dresser that Gavin had built for Nines.

“Whatchu so gorgeous for?”

Nines tried, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Shut up and zip me up.”

It wasn’t like he couldn’t reach behind himself and do it on his own. The RK900 model was supremely dexterous, flexible to the point of double-jointedness.

It was more of an implicit request for the human’s approval of the outfit. Nines didn’t need it, but he asked anyway… just like later that night, Gavin would ask him if it was okay to splurge on a bacon cheeseburger or order an extra shot in his whiskey coke…

They were codependent like that.

Gavin left one hand on the android’s stomach and placed the other on the small of his back, just at the opening of the dress. His thumb grazed the zipper, but he didn’t demonstrate any further intent to pull it up.

“You said we were going to be late.”

Gavin swept the dark curtain of hair aside and pressed his lips to the exposed skin at the nape of Nines’ neck. When he spoke it was a whisper.

“Why’s my babydoll looking like something out of a movie for my dumb little promotion party?”

His hand slipped into the open flap of the dress. It was a simple knee-length a-line. Fairly modest, but something about it set Gavin’s heart racing. Perhaps the colour. A vibrant, lusty, sexy, show-stopping red in sharp contrast to the milky white synthskin.

Nines couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the touch. Sighing, he tipped his head back and let Gavin nuzzle his neck.

“Hmm?”

“Now we’re really going to be late, sweetheart. Zip… hhhhh… zip… me up…”

“Come on, doll. I don’t want someone accidentally spilling beer or mustard on this pretty little thing you got on. It’s just gonna be a chill night out with our friends. They demanded a treat for my promotion, and Hank said he’d come too, so I picked a place he’d be more comfortable at, and I realise that’s not exactly your scene, but I’m glad you’re coming with me, but I really gotta say this dress-”

Nines turned around in Gavin’s grasp and silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s not the place or the company,” he repeated, putting his arms around the human’s neck.

“It’s your promotion party. It’s about your achievements, your hard work, YOU. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the most important person in my life. My partner in more ways than one. My everything.

Your rise in stature means as much if not more to me than my own accomplishments. I’m not the RK900 with the impeccable solve rate. I’m Sergeant Reed’s better half.

If I had it my way we’d be doing something much grander, but this is how you want to celebrate and that’s fine, but please don’t stop me from dressing for the occasion.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Steel blue and storm green locked in stalemate.

Then Gavin pulled Nines into a tight embrace. He released him abruptly and spun him around, zipping up the dress in a flash. Avoiding eye contact lest the tears pricking his eyes betray him, Gavin caught the android’s hand in his and marched out of the apartment.

Connor greeted them at the entrance of the bar and waved them over to where the motley crew sat, already well into their first round of drinks.

Hank raised his beer glass in greeting, wearing an orange striped shirt he apparently deemed worthy of festivities. Tina enveloped Gavin in a giant hug. For a good thirty seconds he could see nothing but flannel. Then Miller, Person and countless other officers took turns congratulating him and bringing up past cases or incidents they couldn’t believe hadn’t held Gavin’s career back.

Nines extricated himself with an artful wave of long fingers and settled onto a bar stool beside his older brother Sixty and his husband Allen. Serious, snarky and clad in their usual black leather, these two were more Nines’ speed.

Ignoring Sixty’s irritated grumble, Nines took a sip of his thirium drink to see if he liked the taste and ordered one for himself. He was prepared to spend the rest of the night sitting still and not touching the many sticky, greasy surfaces in the bar. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but he was happy to let Gavin and his friends do their thing.

Gavin, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood. He humoured his friends (many of whom were now his direct reports) and played along with whatever they insisted on doing, but Nines felt his partner’s eyes on him the entire evening.

“You punishing him?”

“Hmm?”

Sixty was squinting at him shrewdly.

“For coming to this shithole to celebrate. That’s why you wore this? Poor bastard can’t keep his eyes off you.”

Nines swatted his brother on the chest.

“I don’t play games like you.”

“Who says I play games?”

Allen shook his head but didn’t look up from his phone.

“I have a fashion sense, Six, not an agenda. I’m not punishing him for anything.”

“Well, you’re certainly distracting him. Reminds me of the time Allen said something stupid while we were getting ready for a shift so I put on lingerie underneath my gear. He nearly fell off a roof that day.”

Allen buried his face in his hands while Nines laughed out loud.

“Shiiit. Your guy looks fucking lovesick. In front of all his staff too. They’re gonna think he’s a total sap. A new authority figure like him has got to show some grit.”

“Six, your husband follows you around like a lost puppy but that hasn’t interfered with his ability to lead your unit. Gavin will be fine.”

Allen didn’t know whether to consider that an insult or a compliment and settled for sipping his drink in silence.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“To?”

“Make the torture worth his while.”

At that exact moment, Gavin gave Nines a look from across the bar that could have only one interpretation. Sixty noticed and barked a laugh.

Nines self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed down his dress. If he were human he’d have blushed bright red.

Back to idly scrolling through his phone, Allen spoke without looking up.

“Let him do whatever he wants.”

Nines’ eyes widened. Sixty nodded wisely.

“His imagination is probably running all over the place right now. All you have to do is let him act on it and you’ll make him the happiest man on earth. It’s his promotion. You should be the prize.”

Allen put down his phone and scooted closer to Sixty, wrapping his arms around the android. They both looked at Nines with identical expressions that were anything but innocent.

“Yeah, Nines. Dress like a present, expect to be unwrapped.”

Raucous cheers erupted as Gavin lost yet another game of beer pong. The new sergeant barely noticed and took the shot glass thrust into hand by a very jubilant Connor. Nines raised his glass in a silent toast and the two downed their drinks together.

The rest of the evening was an exercise in painful self-restraint. Gavin entertained various playful requests and posed for photos and thanked each and every one of his colleagues for their strong support. Hank clapped him on the shoulder proudly, and Tina even teared up at one point, emotionally overcome with happiness for her oldest and closest friend. Nines watched it all quietly from his perch beside Sixty and Allen.

As soon as they slid into an autonomous taxi, Gavin’s lips were on his, smothering him in heated, demanding kisses. Intoxicated and utterly uninhibited, the human put his hands in Nines’ hair… all over his body… and up the pretty red dress. No words were exchanged the entire ride home.

The fact that android skin could not be marked or bruised was the only thing that let them walk through their busy lobby and ride the elevator up with dignity intact.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Gavin was all over Nines. He touched and groped and claimed and conquered.

The dress zipper was pulled down as quickly as it had been pulled up before they left for the bar. Nines stepped out of the puddle of red fabric as delicately as he could and pulled Gavin’s shirt off too. It was only the high quality gyroscope of the RK900 model that kept them from crashing to the floor before making it to the bed.

Nines allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed and parted his legs for Gavin to easily settle between them. From there, he expected things to go at lightning speed… for Gavin to plough into him and come with a loud roar after a couple minutes, finally sated after a night of frustration.

The exact opposite occurred.

Even after all the tequila shots Connor and Tina made him do, Gavin was somehow still lucid enough to put his lover’s feelings over immediate physical needs.

“Babe, I… am soooo… sorry…”

One hand wound up in his hair and the other gripped his hip.

“Like.. you dressed the phck up… like you looked soooooo damn beautiful, baby… I’m gonna cry.”

For a moment, it honestly looked like that was a possibility until Nines reached up and stroked the human’s stubbled cheek.

“I know Abick’s is kinda crusty but you came anyway… looking like a million bucks but I didn’t spend a second with you… T and Con and the crew… they kinda took over…”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. It was our whole team’s night as much as yours. I’m glad they all had their fun.”

“I didn't. Have any fun.”

“Really? Not even when Chris did that Fowler impersonation?”

“Couldn’t stop… thinking of you… you’re so damn good to me… and I…”

“I was fine. You invited Six and Allen to keep me company and it was fiiiineee.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now come on, sarge. Show me who’s boss.”

Nines rolled his hips against Gavin’s and that was all the conversation there was to be had for the night. They were both still getting used to having nice things… but they were doing well.

Inspired by @marndraws

#reed900 #rk900 #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh gavin #gavin reed #gavin900 #gavin x rk900 #gavin x nines #background allen60 #long haired nines #red dress #tooth rotting fluff

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