#Annoying little vermin

[chamom1le-t3a]

[ ⚠️ BLOOD ⚠️]

You've got a heavy heart there🫀🫀

[lustlovehart]

Reversed

Pairings: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Rollo x Reader

Reverse Monster!Twst where instead of you being the hunter who hunts down those vermin, it’s them hunting you down, the most notorious beast famed for taking down whole citities with just a look (though, this is just rumors as no evidence with solid proof has proven this a fact).

They’re so sure they can do it, maybe with a great effort, but they have no doubt they’ll at least give you a challenge.

But then, they finally meet you and their former view completely shifts.

Riddle, is at an impasse. He’s conflicted with himself, on one hand he’s appraised as the sternest Monster Hunter there is, even following rules that make his job harder than need be. But, when he looks at you, his want for law following skews itself. Even as he brings his blade down to behead you, a split second hesitation gives way for you to escape his clutches.

When he finally clears his mind, he strives to hunt you down, you’ll just repay all the grievances you caused through punishment—! Who’s he kidding, he can’t lie…

He’s doing this not because the rules say so, but because he wants to. Whether through blood or air, he will see you again.

Leona… Thinks it’s inconvenient. He sets out on the mission with the “just another annoyance” mindset, ready to swiftly claw you down a step so he can go back to napping around the city. When the time comes, he’s a bit annoyed he can’t do it. He’s not sure what it is, maybe the way you look at him when you’re on the ground, whether pitiful or snarling. This was meant to be a simple job, kill and then swiftly take his leave, now he’s considering whether he should throw you over his shoulder or tie you up and drag you home.

The decision is finally made when you’re gone from his hold. He groans at himself for something so amateur, but realizes, he hasn’t taken a mission seriously for a while. Maybe it’s finally time for him to catch a worthy meal.

Crowley won’t know though, this prey, is for him and him only.

Azul views it as a simple means to gain popularity. Killing the most wanted beast available would surely boost him up the chart, he could even replace Crowley as NRF’s head. The moment he can finally do what he has been waiting years to do… he'd very much rather bunch you up in his arms and start an entirely different business branch.

When you’re down, the way you sneer at him and tell about his pathetically cowardice plan somehow reminds him of himself. He’s reminded of how weak he started before growing in power.

When you back away from his reach, only further growling at the human before you, he bunches your clawed hands in his placing a chaste kiss on your thick skin. He already knew what would happen as the moment he looked back up, the beast he gave such a vulnerable act to, was gone.

He tuts at himself, but quickly re-plans, he’ll just have to find a more efficient way of holding you down.

Kalim, is happy! He’s a soft hunter, he essentially hunts them down by giving them a stern talking about the goodness of the world, even giving them a good start in life! They get away believing they’ve achieved freedom only to be murdered in cold blood by Jamil, who was stalling in the formers shadow.

When they finally meet you, this dynamic changes. Kalims practically overcome by joy at the sight of you, caging your hand in his as he excitedly rants to you about the future you’ll have with him! … With him? It seems… Kalim doesn’t believe in free beginnings in your case, when he accidentally releases you back into the world, he’s determined, for the first time, to truly hunt down a monster and trap them.

Little does he know, the real snake, is ready to sink his fangs into you, not willing to share a single piece of his reward

Vil unfortunately believes, you’re the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on. Like everyone else, he went into the assignment with the belief he’ll be taking down an insidious ugly monster. It’s dark when he finally brings his weapon down on you, only narrowly missing when the light perfectly hits your face and accentuates your features to him.

Why are you beautiful?

He stops dead in his tracks, only further freezing up when you slowly resume your full height, you face inching closer to his as your eyes examine him, the moment he blinks is when you’re gone. Perhaps he should’ve let his eyes run dry if it meant you stayed here longer.

When he lays in bed, it feels like every time he closes his eyes you’re in the shadows, watching him. He doesn’t feel fear at this thought, if anything, he jumps up ready to take you away.

Ever since, he can’t seem to stop thinking about the beast so fair, he must know… why it is he finds you so beautiful.

Perhaps, he’ll just need to study such a beauty up close and personal.

Idia wants to hole himself away, but at the same time needs to see every part of you. He’s practically hidden behind the sword he has pointed at you, the iron trembling as you watch him emerge from his sleeve. He’s been obsessed with this moment for so long, to finally become the hero of the world after slaying the beast that torments innocent citizens!

But… is he sure he even wants to do that anymore..? He can feel the plotline change when he considers drifting apart from the cliche.

What if he like… falls in love with the evil monster instead..? Why’s he lying that’s exactly what’s happening…! After fixating on such a key moment, it’s like all his attention was on you as a living being, rather than the mission anymore…!

He has numerous pins and photos of you attached to his wall, each displaying your victims, towns you’ve raided, and even just photos of you standing there.

This might be the only thing he won’t shy away from in fear. Like the rest of them, Idia is just as determined to achieve the goal of catching you, maybe even more so with how much he needs to prove to people.

Malleus, finds you a curiosity. To think, despite his nature, you’ve caught the attention of one of the most renowned hunters. Even when his bare hands pin you to the ground below him, his body being used as a weight to trap you between him and the grass, he can’t help but wish to lean even closer.

He essentially, feels the urge to consume every piece of knowledge there is to know about you, he wants to know, every piece of data books have failed to recollect on you.

He has never felt such a strong desire like this, he’s smart in all fields, even powerful enough to do jobs weaponless, yet you’re the only thing he seems to consistently want to swallow.

When your form fades away, his hands grip onto the space you once occupied, desperately trying to cling to the vespers of you. He must better himself, on his need for you.

Rollo thinks you’re horrifically heinous. How… How dare you impede his mind with your impure presence. Out of everyone, even Riddle, his strive to put a stake through your heart is heavier than ever, why must such prudences exist in this land? If they hadn’t, living would be peacful.

Which is the exist opposite of his life right now. At every turn of a city corner has gone to such a delusion he imagines random people in the street to be you. His current turmoil is between existential longing and pure hatred.

You... You of the most immoral species possible, why is it you his heart has decided to beat faster and faster with every passing moment? You must’ve cursed him, yes that’s it... He must purify the filth you’ve instilled in him.

By taking you as the cure.

A/n: Rollo Flamme, from doting househusband coworker who toes the line of regular best friend and boyfriend, to loathing mortal enemy who hunts you down to pay for the fact you’re in his mind 24/7 because he simply can’t accept that he’s fallen deep in love with the pretty monster in the shadows.

May I offer up, Monster Hunter meeting with all of the factions telling their reports of their mission, collectively saying their lies in unison, that they killed you. Now they’re all giving each other the stink eye cuz “no tf you didn’t???”, meanwhile you’re in their weapons closet trying desperately to not get caught with the lowrank hunter you were feeding on. You could easily take five of them down, but twenty three highly trained hunters? You’d practically be dead—

Your hopes go unanswered as shadows loom of you with the most horrifying expressions on their face. (Little do you know it’s not because of you but because they’re a little jealous some random got to have you bite them).

Thank you for my presentation that had randomly struck me doing a road trip, on the bright side, Heartslaybul is half way finished??? Kinda??

[harmenboyfriend]

degrading pet names for your trans/cis/etc -harmed sub:

adjectives/etc: abnormal, airhead, aggravating, aloof, annoying, appalling, arrogant, awful, bad, barbaric, boring, brainless, bratty, clingy, clutz, coward(ice/ly), crybaby, devil(ish), dirty, disappointment, dork, dweeb, easy, embarrassing, emotional, filthy, foolish, fraidy-cat, geek, goody-two-shoes, gullible, lame, laughable, lazy, little, loathsome, loser, messy, needy, nerdy, nosy, overemotional, parasitic, pathetic, pipsqueak, pitiful, quirkless, reject, scaredy-cat, sickening, silly, small, squirt, stuck-up, tiny, twerp, useless, wasteful, weak(ling), wimp, wretched

animal: animal, ant, beast, bedbug, beetle, being, beta, birdbrain, brute, bug, bugbrain, carnivore, centipede, chicken, cockroach, coldblooded, creature, critter, dog, feral, flea, fly, herbivore, infestation, in heat, insect, invertebrate, lamb for the slaughter, lapdog, leech, lice, livestock, maggot, monster, mosquito, mouse, mutt, omega, omnivore, organism, parasite, pest(ilence), pet, plague, prey, puppy brain, pussy, pussycat, rat, rodent, runt, savage, sloth, snake, specimen, subhuman, swine, tamed, termite, untamed, vermin, vertebrate, wasp, wild, wildlife, wild thing, worm

bigoted (or bigoted undertones): addict, anal assassin, aspie, ass bandit, bent, brain, broke/brokie, brain damaged, brownie king/piper, cancerous, challenged, crazy, cretin, cripple(d), cuntboy, daft, deaf, defective, deformed, degenerate, delusional/deluded, demented, deranged, derp, dickgirl/girldick, different, dim, dim-witted, dumb, dummy, fairy, femboy, freak, fruit(y), fudge packer, gay, gimp(y), homo, hon, idiot, insane, malignant, NEET, neurotic, pansy, pussyboy, queer, [slurs], shemale, shit for brains, sissy, slow, soy boy, special, stupid, trap, troon, unintelligent, wagie

bodyshaming: big, (as flat as a) board, chubby, cocklet, cow, fat(ty), fatass, flat-chested, heavy, huge, microdick, overweight, pencil dick, pig(gy), plus-size(d), shrimp dick, udders

feminine and/or emasculating: barbie, becky, bimbo, bitch(y), blonde, blondie, boy, cat(ty), cougar, cunt, ditz(y), diva, female, femcel, femoid, foid, girl(y), gold digger, hag, homewrecker, hormonal, hysterical, karen, ladylike, loose, manlet, moody, panty wearing slut, pick me, pimped out hole, prima donna, prude, ran-through, skank, slut, stacy, tease, tramp, trollop, twat, whore, woman, womaniser

humiliation: boot kisser, boot licker, boot shiner, boot whore, boxer sniffer, foot slave, foot whore, painslut, panty sniffer, pee breath, pee drinker, pissy pants, shitstain, shoe kisser, shoe licker, shoe shiner, spit cup, toe sucker, toilet paper, toilet replacement, underwear/undie sniffer, urine whore

objectifying: amusement, bin, chair, entertainment, footrest, garbage can, garbage disposal, footstool, it/its, item, object, plaything, possession, property, puppet, seat, stool, that, thing, toilet, toy, urinal, wallet, waste bin, waste disposal

power dynamic: apprentice, baby, bottom, butler, captive, captor's, child, clown, co-worker, daddy's, dead _ walking, employee, father's, guard, house husband/spouse/wife, inferior, jester, kid(do), kidnapper/kidnapped, kiss-ass, knight, lowlife, maid, malewife, mama's, master's, mine/my, mistress's, mommy's, mortal, mother's, papa's, paypig, peasant, servant, service, slave, stalker/stalked, stay at home husband/spouse/wife, student, subject, sub(missive), teen(ager), victim, waiter, worker, worshipper

explicit;

genitalia: ass, assface, asshole, ass kisser, asswipe, buttplug, butt slut, chode, clit slave, clitwarmer, cockhole, cock slave, cocksleeve, cocksocket, cock thirsty, cockwarmer, dick, dickhead, dildo, guttercunt, limpdick, pocketpussy, pussy slave, pussy washer

intercourse: bag of holes, blow-up doll, breeding hole, cock sucker, cuck(old), cuckqueen, cum bucket, cum drinker, cum dump(strer), cum guzzler, cum jar, cumrag, fuckbunny, fuckdoll, fuckhole, fuckmeat, fucktoy, hole(s), jailbait, jizz jar, rapebait, rapedoll, rapemeat, ropebunny, sack of holes, sex doll, snuffbait, snuff doll, snuff hole, snuff meat, snuff toy, snuff whore, tongue fucker, vanilla, virgin

feel free to add your own favourites!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: "Charlie, babe? Can you come over here for a sec? I need help proving a point."

Charlie: "Okay!"

Charlie: (ZOOMS over)

Charlie: "I'm here." (cradling vaggie's hand tenderly) (beaming) "How can I help...?"

Vaggie: "You just did."

Angel Dust: "Fuckin' show off."

Vaggie: (at angel dust) (Smug) "Your turn."

Charlie: "? Are we playing a game??"

Vaggie: "No but it's still gonna be fun."

Angel Dust: "Shush. I'm tryin' focus here! Ah-HEM."

Angel Dust: "Ohhhhh Husky man~ Would ya come over here an' help me with somethin', mr. whiskers-"

Husk: "No."

Angel Dust: "Pweeease~?"

Husk: "Fuck off."

Vaggie: "And there we have it."

Angel Dust: "Bullshit! You're NOT more attractive than me, toots! Not even personality wise!"

Charlie: "Was that the point we're proving?"

Angel Dust: "NOTHIN'S PROVEN!"

Charlie: "Did it even need proving??? I mean, look at her."

Angel Dust: "I'm lookin'. It's a lesbian only her lover could love."

Charlie: "I DO really love her~"

Vaggie: "And I try hard every day- Angel shut up- to be a little bit worthy of that love. Case in point."

Charlie: "Wait, go back to the point about not feeling worth-"

Vaggie: "Old news babe. Hey Husk! C'mere for a moment!"

Charlie: "-she's dodging the question!"

Angel Dust: "She's bein' an annoying bitch of a friend."

Husk: (slouching over) "The fuck do you want."

Angel Dust: "Shut. UP."

Vaggie: "Nothing much. Didn't want you to miss out on Angel Dust pouting that's all."

Husk: "Yeah?"

Charlie: "Awww Vaggie, that's really thoughtful!"

Vaggie: "Just doing my lesbian duty."

Charlie: "Angel Dust is a guy though?"

Vaggie: "A gay guy. It's solidarity."

Angel Dust: "I hate you."

Husk: "Huh. Fake hating people looks good on you, looser." (smirk) "Cute pout."

Husk: (wanders off)

Angle Dust: "......."

Angel Dust: (grabbing vaggie and lifting her to eye level) "I love ya we're besties for life and if ya do this t' my heart again 'm shanking ya in the middle of the night with a shiv made from a sharpened yuri manga."

Vaggie: "And I've never wanted you more. As a friend."

Charlie: "Okay good great wonderful friendship moment everyone. Now!"

Charlie: (holding out arms)

Charlie: "I want MY girlfriend back." (pouting) "Please."

Angel Dust: "May the sapphic be with ya."

Angel Dust: (dumps vaggie in her arms)

Angel Dust: "Ohhhhh Husk....! Guess who's POUTIN' agai- Whiskers stop runnin' an' look at me!!!"

Husk: "Once was fucking enough."

Angel Dust: "Once is NEVER enough fucking with me~"

Charlie: "Wow. Husk sure can move when he wants to..."

Vaggie: "Meh, he's not even using his wings."

Charlie: "He's really not is he? Aww!"

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: "...Vaggie. Is my pout cute too?"

Vaggie: "The cutest, sweetie." (smooches pout) "And most bi-utiful."

Charlie: "HEHEH."

Niffty: (from above) "I bet she'd pout even HARDER if I dropped this DEAD RAT in her hair."

Charlie: "A WHAT!?"

Niffty: "Dead rat."

Vaggie: "Don't you dare-"

Niffty: "Whee! Here we go!"

Chaggie: (running and screaming)

Angel Dust: (distantly) (shrieking) "HUSK RAT HUSK HUSK HELP RAT DEAD RAT HELP HUSK HUUUUUSK!!!!"

Husk: "-oh shit hold still DON'T FLING IT AT ME ASSHOLE-"

-EXLPOSION-

Cherri Bomb: "wHY IS THERE A RAT CORPSE IN MY BRA!?"

Niffty: "Your welcome!"

Cherri Bomb: "How! HOW IS tHERE A RAT CORPSE! IN MY BRA!!!!"

Charlie: "Cherri run just run-!"

Cherri Bomb: "Already one dead rat boob surprise too late for that!"

Niffty: "Happy pride month everyone!"

Niffty: (GIGGLING)

Niffty: "I bleached and dyed each rat corpse a different rainbow color~"

Alastor: "...Hmm?"

Alastor: (oozing out of shadows)

Alastor: "And no rat for me, my dear? No pride for poor old Alastor?"

Niffty: "For youuu? Iridescent cockroach!"

Niffty: (impales one on his antlers)

Alastor: "Oh I AM touched! ...Might I ask why the change in vermin, however?"

Niffty: "Irony!!" (CACKLES)

Alastor: (confused) (still touched) "Ah."

[vyzz-undercover]

pspspsps dinner time everyone

[cato/f!ambassador]

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

(5,700ish words) (im cooked)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon [again]

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions of virginity

•vague breathplay

•even more negligible aftercare

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•tumblr's pisspoor formatting as per last time

———————————————————————————————————

im once again doing a free magic show here and pulling a rabbit (this fic) out my ass. so, without further a-do the tagging... @kit-williams, @passionofthesith, @pluvio-tea, @the-raven-lady, @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @lemon-russ. let me know if anyone else wanna be tagged if i do a part three HAHAHAHHAHA i might double down on the comedy-of-errors and have Guilliman get involved. Not like a three-way with this particular fic, even if I'd love to slut papa smurf out. There's always another time and another chance to sexualise an old man :3

———————————————————————————————————

Cato finds you relatively easily.

Truthfully, you make no actual sport of it. But he's never going to pass up a cheap bit of entertainment at your expense.

At this time of the ship's cycle you're most likely to be in the east wing, pointedly the lower libraries. He knows this. He won't confess why or how he knows, though—so, fuck off.

You're lazy and predictable. To say nothing of the fact you're far too comfortable scuttling about his Father's vessel. If a hypothetical assassin ever could get onto the ship without being stomped into paste by him immediately, they'd have no problems tracking you down. You may as well be a sevitor running on rails for all your movements stay the same.

He notes you're not on the first level.

Nor the second.

You are on the third, in the leftmost quadrant.

In the restricted reading area.

You do have clearance—but the fact still irks him. Typically, this was for his more decorated brothers to catalogue Xenos. Typically, one needed to be accompanied to even access this level.

But oh, no—no, you're allowed.

You're allowed because you are a damnable leach of a woman. And also the bane of his existence, did he mention that? And you're—you're—tucked up in secure side-room, reading on a data-slate; half-asleep in a little blue robe and looking the pict of adorable sloth.

You don't notice him immediately.

Clearly too absorbed in your gerrymandering-for-servitors cheat-sheet.

And that annoys him even more.

Because, are you really that obtuse? So unassailable in your own mind that you're this blatantly fucking oblivious? He's an Astartes, damn it. Sure, he's in casual rest attire instead of clanking plate—but he's a large, two-and-a-bit meter tall trans-human war-machine standing in the doorway—and you haven't even noticed him. Ignorant like some little rodent chewing away at crumbs in it's hovel.

His Father's got a vermin problem on board, and the mice are stupid and bold and literate... along with rather cozy, apparently.

A finely woven navy throw is swaddled around you where you're lying on the chaise lounge. And the sight of you bundled up inspires a vivid déjà-vu of the last time you were alone with him with little more than a blanket over you.

Cato hesitates for a heartbeat, swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and sets his jaw.

He steps into the room and waves a hand over the laser-pad locking mechanism.

There's a fractional second in which you become cognisant to the sound of the shutter door closing and where you actively notice him.

Then there's a shrill scream as if you've pinched a nerve.

The data-slate goes flying, pelted at his head. But it hits the shutter door and clatters to the floor, far-off any hint of a good mark.

Useless woman.

Realising it's him a moment later, you heave out a racketing sigh.

"Throne of Terra, Ca—" you start, and it sounds like you're going to say his first name before you rightly correct yourself and say, "C-Commander, you scared me half to death."

He immediately sets about accosting you, "Have you been sitting here with the door open this whole time?"

"No," you nip out.

"You are aware that I can tell when you're lying?"

"I'm certain you can," your tone flattens in a way he's only ever heard you talk to particularly sleazy representatives with. It's not an honest exchange, it's double-speak. It's mocking. You're mocking him.

He grits his teeth.

You've grown more open in your defiance towards him as of late, certainly not because of any revelation or reason and it rubs him in a dangerous, new way. He's not about to let it slide, either.

"Is that so?" His words are sharp and accusative and he hopes—he hopes he'll get the delight of watching you cower like you usually do when confronted by him. "Have you been lying to me often, then?"

Half his hopes come true. You look away nervously and mumble something almost inaudibly, and he'd not have noticed if not for his far superior hearing.

It was, "...maybe," and all Cato can help but do being himself, is detonate.

"And what have you been deceiving me of, you scheming little whore?" He snarls, fuming—a dozen crimes and sins crowding his mind you might be tried for. Maybe he's been far too lenient to the actual reality of your evil. Finally, validation to corroborate his deviation—maybe you'll admit you're some Slanneshi fleshchanger, and that you intended to have burrowed so deep in his mind.

Nonetheless, you're nowhere near even close to fast enough to defend yourself. But it's not like he gives you the chance.

He's crossed the distance with a practiced speed. And quicker than you can even yelp, you are pinned to the lounge—a shackle in the form of his fist around your smaller throat.

The pressure is a limp handshake by his standards. You're not really choking. Just stifled slightly for good measure.

Still, it'd be a mere flex to break your neck. He could snap you like a stylus with what was to him, ultimately, nothing but a simple twitch of his fingers. And he would think more about the blatant contrasts between you both much longer if he wasn't far too distracted by the fact you even struggle prettily wantonly. Big eyes wide and glossy with animal panic. Involuntary tears gather at the corners as you register what's going on at last. The mad temptation to lick them if they so much as dare trail down your cheeks begins eating at him.

Some rational part of his rational mind reminds him he can't get the truth out of you when he's vaguely throttling you, though—and he lets you go begrudgingly. Instead opting for looming over you as you roll sidelong on the couch, breathing fast.

He crouches down to your level and grumbles, still absorbed in his raging.

"Speak," he barks, and pointedly grabs you by the chin.

"I–I hadn't actually—" you start, breathless as you mumble. "Actually, uh, laid with anyone, even though I nodded I sort of... had."

He's staggered at the statement, "...that's it?"

A vague lie of omission, but it's not the great corruption he sought to root out.

Then he actually thinks about what you've just admitted.

Like fog banished under a rising sun, his anger at the thought of treachery immediately dissipates into blistering revelation.

"Hold on, you..." Cato starts, baffled and completely knocked for a six, meeting your gaze slowly—genuinely stunned as he pulls his hand back fully. "I... I was the first?"

You look away cursorily, face reddening not only with your previous strains, but with embarrassment.

Now, that was the reaction of a guilty conscience.

Cato doesn't know what to do with the information. Nor does he really know what he feels.

He'd been the first. He feels like he's won something over his brothers. Therefore, fuck the lot of them—and fuck Titus, specifically. Even if he's not sure why. He truly couldn't believe it. There's success, sure—but then there's taking the laurels: whole and absolute. And this... this is exactly that. But oh, for some apparently vestal thing, you'd let him bully down to the hilt in your tight cunt; whining like a whore when he spilled himself inside you. Throne, it was almost suffocating to think back on it now. So willing to have your maidenhead taken, nevermind the fact you weren't the only one who'd had a new experience that day. But you didn't need to know that.

"Another notch to my mantel of victories then," he ultimately decides is the best thing to say, gloating to himself.

"Unbelievable," you sigh softly as you shakily sit yourself up.

But there's the problem again. The one tangible, constant problem with having laid you. It's made you mouthy. He only ever glimpsed your boldness when you interacted with other baselines in the past. You never sassed Astartes, or at least, he's never seen you do it. But now that stubbornness and unwillingness to back down in a political forum is on full display heedless of situation. As if you've suddenly become one of the auto-felating Imperial Fists—or any of Dorn's insufferable ball-busting scions, really. Worst of all, it's only managed to somehow make him even more enthralled annoyed with you than usual. You're still too good at quashing your anger, hard as it is to rouse. But he loves loathes that you bite the lure instead of shying off now.

"To think that I was the first—is your entire professional role not centred around charm? Would no one else have you with that rotten attitude you've been hiding?" he says, knowing he's being nasty, knowing he's twisting the knife; and absolutely praying for you to fall for it.

Cato watches a rainbow of emotions pass over your features, before you settle on one that makes you look like you ate something sour. He's hit a weak spot. But the sentiment holds true. His Primarch thinks you the best and brightest to sway planets? You couldn't even seduce some daft, drunken aristocratic fool to fuck you.

You, the prettiest baseline he's ever seen.

...maybe Guilliman is right in saying the Imperium has rolled belly-up with bloat.

"That's not—that's not why and you know it," you open your mouth and jumble your words briefly before getting out, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who won't have a panic attack because of the several Astartes that insist on following you around?" You continue, raving and flustered, "Do you think anyone would get near me with you—or—or... maybe Captain Acheran, or the good Chaplain, let's say, breathing over my shoulder?"

"You should be grateful any of us waste our time babysitting you," Cato oafishly shoots back like a petulant child, brows furrowing, "You should be thanking me for doing the brunt of it."

Your nose scrunches up, "Pardon me, Commander, it's surely entirely my fault that we are both at the whims of our Lord Primarch."

He pauses.

Something about this interaction isn't stirring his temper like it should.

He should be absolutely livid with anger, or at the very least blowing your eardrums out with a 'shut the fuck up,' at full Astartesian line-command volume.

Yes, he should be seething, and yet he's not. To his surprise, he's actually feeling more enthused than anything.

This feels... exciting, almost.

"You've only grown the backbone to talk back to me because I fucked one into you," he remarks sharply in reply.

You sputter, and go red, robbed of your words.

"Or maybe this is mere performance," He adds with a sneer, tipping his chin up proudly.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic puff of air, "Y-You're such a..." you start, but your voice tapers off—and you look away, pouting.

"I'm a... what?" He taunts, leaning close.

You grumble, apparently feeling brave again; meeting his gaze and puffing yourself up.

"You're a bully," you hiss, clearly upset but undeniably frazzled enough to be somewhat ranting again as you add, "A bully w-who's so disgustingly egotistical you've convinced yourself you're some great conqueror or... something... j-just for having been in me, as if I've never put anything in myself before."

Oh, but wait, Cato likes the idea of that. He likes it so much he completely forgets to acknowledge the insults in your statement prior. He likes the idea of you suffering like he had been—alone, yearning—aching for something you didn't know the dizzying reality of. He can imagine you smothering your sounds, those blessed whines he's got memorised, into a pillow in that cushy little quarters of yours, squirming on your meagre fingers, or maybe cold silicon. You didn't need that lesser imitation now. Cato'd gladly fill that role. He'd gladly fill that hole, too.

Nonetheless, he immediately wonders who you were getting off thinking about.

He'd streak the length of the ship for it to've been him you'd been fucking yourself over.

"Who were you thinking of?"

You blink at the completely offhanded question, then start sputtering, stalling.

"What? I-I—" you stammer, "That's not important or relevant—I just... did it, it's—"

"Keep lying and see where it gets you," He cuts in, raking you with an aggravated frown, and oh, excellent, you're starting to relearn he's not fond of your half-truthing, finally.

You duck your head a little, cringing under his gaze, trying to scoot yourself backwards. But there's nowhere to go.

Cato realises belatedly that in the middle of your antics, the sleeve of your robe has started to fall from your shoulder. His brain short-circuits momentarily with the sheer amount of air that floods his head. Your warm, soft skin on display just for him. He didn't get to see all of you last time. He felt a good portion of you, yes—but he didn't get the chance to admire acknowledge the whole vista. Not because he was too desperate to rut against to try. Or because he was probably going to swoon like a fool if he did. Shut up, he's no coward. Afterall, his hands had been close to your chest, but now—now he can actually look.

He's going to absolutely ruin that lovely canvas you've given him.

"Nobody," you say softly.

"Groxshit," he snaps.

"Fine—" You swallow and start scrambling for a response, "Malum C-Caedo."

Cato genuinely cannot help but bark a laugh at that, "Spare me, you haven't even met the man, moron—you're only saying that because your most recent reading was on his last briefing," he rolls his eyes. "You forgot I was there with Guilliman when you were given it."

You look at him like a cornered little mouse, and finally—finally, your sleeve falls just enough that he's given a perfect view of one of your tits.

"You already..." you grumble softly. "You already know who, then, so I shouldn't even have to dignify this."

"It's me, isn't it?" He asks darkly, and while he tries to sound haughty, the fact he's thrilled by both the notion and the sight of your partial nudity ends up warping his tone into a vaguely manic chuff.

You glance aside and stammer loudly, "N-No."

No, you say—but he hears your little heart flutter. And sees your pupils dilate.

"I hope you're aware you can't lie to save your life," Cato drawls.

Your gaze snaps back to his, and for a brief second, your expression is flushed with embarrassment; until it changes to a sour little scowl.

"I'm not a bad liar, you're just an Astartes—" you start furiously, but check your flustered anger.

Cato smirks.

It's not a completely clean victory, but it's good.

It means his own lusting madness is at least reciprocally vindicated.

And at that realisation, Cato's impulse control violently loses balance; and he's painfully aware he cannot, for the life of him, contain the hungered almost purr-like sound that crawls up his throat.

You go back to looking transfixed at that, and he pauses.

There's something... pulling him in even more than before. He feels as if he's taken the bait, and the hook, and the line and sinker—hell, he's taken a good bit of the rod, too. Everything's a little too heated, and he's got an innate, intuitive feeling you're just as wound up as he is—wait. He breathes in deep and slow, and scents the air. Throne, he may as well have been cold-clocked at the temple by a Dreadnaut for all the innate information he suddenly receives. You're quite frankly drenched in want. You're getting off on this. Smothering him in a dizzying biological chant of hormones that scream—fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

He leans close, and puts a hand on the arm-rest; the other palm slowly moving towards your chest.

Your eyes follow it—but you voice no complaints nor rejections.

Justified now, he's ecstatic. And your skin is as perfect to the touch as he remembers.

His hand looks huge compared to the breast cupped in it, idly toying with the consistency of the flesh in his grasp. It's much softer and malleable than he thought it'd be. Almost like a water-skin. Thumb depressing your right nipple, before drawing a thoughtless circle.

You sigh lightly and relax a bit, and Cato takes that as another open invitation.

He uses the same hand to tug away the fabric from your other shoulder.

Quick as anything, he's practically stuffing his face against you without any real warning, ignoring your flinch at his haste. Cato's letting the urges he'd withheld in that wretched shack out. And it's so worth the wait. He groans, licks a fat band over your left breast, and worries at the perked little bud with his teeth until you're squirming; only to drag his attention up to nip at your fragile throat.

You're breathing hard, and you open your mouth as if about to speak—but ever spiteful, Cato rewards your attempt with the drag of his tongue and the press of his teeth; and that promptly shuts you up. The faint salt on your skin isn't half bad of a thing either, honestly. He rather likes it. It tastes like how you smell—and he's absolutely luxuriating in it. It makes it all the easier to map your chest from the curve of your breast to your collarbones, garnishing you with eager drags of his tongue and mouth-wrought bruises.

And now you're glorious. The marks on your skin are vivid—he's guaranteed you won't be wearing anything showy for a good while. No lovely vile plunging necklines for you to display to bastard dignitaries. Not unless you want to explain why they're Cato Sicarius sized. They'll also be a good reminder to you of exactly who's superior.

You're still too dazed by his efforts to realise the extent of his actions, but he knows exactly how hot and bothered it's made you. That honeyed reek of arousal is driving him insane.

Urged on, he digs a hand down and around your back and drags you off the lounge. Manoeuvring to turn so his back rests against the lip of the lounge, nigh dumping you before him on the rug.

"W-Why...?" You blink, stunned for a second before righting yourself and meeting his eyes. Cato's sat himself cross-legged, before letting them unfold, one tenting and the other splaying out.

"I did all the work last time," he starts impatiently, and leans up to grab you by the forearm; bringing your hand close close to the cradle of his hips, "Now it's your turn to do something for once."

...Cato's not sure you're actually listening, because he could've bet his helm you'd've become irate at that statement if you were. That, and you're glaring between his thighs.

Ironically, he also almost instantaneously finds he doesn't really care to continue the train of thought. Not when you trace the engorged bulge of him through the folds of his tunic. Groping at the base, before smoothing your palm to the rounded tip.

There's no accursed buttons between him and the open this time, thankfully—and that means he can simply tug aside the folds of his layered tunic and bare himself from the belly down.

His cock lays fat and heavy with blood, smearing precum as it moves from his navel to leftward on his hip when he straightens up.

You're staring.

He scoffs at your apprehension and says, "Alternatively, perhaps you can—"

A soft, "Shhh," leaves you.

He snorts like a big, angry stock horse, brow raised. No baseline, regardless of rank, would dare treat Cato like this; none would dare even think to treat to him like this. Except you now, apparently. You forget your station, your place. Making demands of an Astartes is nowhere near your clearance. Your best option is to implore, not command. Yours is to nod your pretty thick head and smile your fair rotten little smile and obey your betters.

"Did—did you just shush me, woman?" Cato's nigh instantly consumed by a rush of anger at the sheer audacity, sneering. "In what reality do you think you've any right to shush me? I'm Commander of the Victrix Honor Guard, Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of—"

Of... of something.

Suddenly your insolence is inconsequential to him. All that matters is the smooth glide of your dainty hand on his cock, and the sight of your thumb and pointer being unable to wrap around and meet given how thick he is.

You look up at him slowly for a second, before your focus returns to apparently sussing out how best to saddle him. It's a timid gesture, like you're anticipating overstepping—you're cautious.

He's about to remind you of the fact you've taken him before, so Cato's proven he fits and all this coyness of yours is arbitrary. But he guesses the point is moot when you're suddenly already stradling his hips.

With one small hand finding a place on his stomach, and the other holding his cock straight beneath the obscurity of your garbs, he feels you lower yourself enough to make contact; testing before offering a little more urgency.

With an agonisingly careful roll of your pelvis, the head of his cock catches against the soft ring of muscle at your entrance for a second.

He grumbles despite himself.

He can't watch his cock sink into you like last time thanks to the curtain of your robe, but at least he can certainly feel every millimeter of it happening.

Tight heat feels like a death shroud over his mind as he draws a blank on anything else.

And finally—finally he's stuffed down to the hilt—and oh, he's filled you to your end just like the last time. Throne, he's drunk off the spongy heat the thick head of cock is squared right up against.

This position's made your cunt just that bit shorter inside thanks to gravity.

You whimper, clearly trying desperately not to start shaking.

You start shaking anyways.

He's fascinated by the small, restless palms now pressed flat and trying to find a counterpoint on his broad, tunic'd chest. Soft and un-calloused aside from the small bump of a pen's rest on your writing hand. Everything about you is warm and soft. Inside and out, you're all his.

He exhales harshly through his nose and blinks, gaze shifting from your hands to your tits, then to your face.

You wear an even more flushed expression now, overwhelmed, with all your focus on him.

Right where it always should be.

"Hurry up," he grunts sharply.

You swallow hard, and promptly drop your gaze.

You, surprisingly, manage to lift yourself up despite your theatrics. And, little by little, he watches you strain up until just the tip of him is still buried in you.

Angling yourself, you keen, carefully sinking back down on his cock and reeling at the stretch again as you settle, ass meeting his dense quads with a soft plomf.

He can see you biting back a moan, pointless as the act is.

"Keep going," Cato grits out, "I didn't tell you to stop."

You frown halfheartedly, and your insides clench around him despite yourself.

You start a slow rhythm, the noise of colliding skin on skin echoes in his ears. Slick friction, and fucked-out, half-stifled cries. Your pace quickening. Riding him. Using him at your own leisure, like the precious wretched little thing you are. You repeat the same dizzying motion again and again, and again—rising and sinking—up, down, up, down; until it's clear you've found an angle that hits something just right, sending you over the edge with a rattling gasp.

A low groan crawls up the back of Cato's throat and slips free without restraint.

He's barely able to cope through the tight squeeze of your orgasm around his cock; but he steels himself, winning the fight to not spill in you right then and there at that. No small thanks to the furious couple hours he'd spent earlier in the simulated night cycle furiously attending his urges.

His calloused mitt can hardly compete with the nigh painfully silken clench of you. And the view—Throne, to simply watch is a level of spectacle he can't even put into words. It's nothing short of hypnotic seeing your face soften with fucked-out delight—he can't believe he'd ever thought it was good the first time around when he hadn't even seen you meet your end.

You stop suddenly, seated to the hilt, trembling and oversensitive—grinding back and forth, nails digging into his pectorals through his tunic.

"Just... n-need t'catch my breath..." You whimper, and that debauched tone wreaks havoc through his mind. An unceasing urge to pound you to tears overtaking what little sense he has left. It's the ravenous fact that you, the little parchment-pushing temptress, are all tuckered out from cumming on him so quickly. He's preening at the fact he feels that good to you—oh, he's going to send you limping back to your quarters.

He wants to watch you break.

"You lazy little cunt, you can't do a thing right, can you?" Cato groans, your thighs twitching as he lifts you by the hips and makes you sink back down.

He gets the treat of seeing your eyes swim back in your skull, dumb with sensation.

Lulled by the reedy, oversexed moans slipping from you with each motion; and he can't help but start thrusting up, matching pace.

"Hardly even four and a half minutes—and you're a mess, absolutely useless." He heaves, dropping you to full-hilt for a second to manoeuvre you better. You're nigh but a gasping dead-weight, delirious.

If you're going to act the entitled bitch, he'll screw you into something alike submission. Which is exactly why he's then pulling out, shoving you against the lounge on your back; and moving your thighs to bracket his hips as he half kneels on the rug. Just to slide himself back inside, balls-deep in willing flesh. The only dignity he affords you then is the space to wrap your arms around and behind his shoulders. Which you rightly do without demand.

Hold on, was the unspoken order.

Then he's fucking you into the lounge like his life depends on it. He's glad to notice it's bolted down, but the damned thing creaks—nonetheless, he can barely even hear it over the perfect sounds you're making.

Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, barely holding back the noises that choke his own gullet.

"You're so damn lucky you're a nice tight hole," he rasps harshly, "That's all you're good for, hm? For me to fill?"

There's a gutting sort of beauty in the way you're looking up at him with open desperation. He's trying so hard not to fall victim to the siren call of it, but it's perfect vile and he can't help but fold. He'd kill for that look to never leave your face when your eyes fell on him.

"Fuck, I must be in your womb at this rate—would you like that? My load in your womb?" Cato says between a great lungful of air, only to start huffing madly to himself when you nod drunkenly. "Good, because that's exactly where i-it's going."

Mind reeling with every resounding sticky slap of his balls against you, paired with scorching wet slide of him pumping in and out of you. You're crying, all your sensibilities lost in the thorough pace he's ploughing into you with; trying to pull him in by tugging at his shoulders, but with your meagre strength it's merely a vague suggestion.

Still, he leans into it, if only to finally seize the chance to lap the tears off your cheek, and you sob; trying to turn nose to nose with him. Your pathetic pawing at his broad back only exacerbates the overwhelming urgency in his blood.

He's so close.

Bliss crests up like a tide inside him, building and building, stunned with how it makes him buck into you. He's dazed in a way he surely wasn't designed to be resilient against. He can't even shut his damn mouth to stop moaning—and only technically manages to do so when you cover it with your own the very second he's about to finish; your legs squeezing impotently down on his hips, trembling through another climax.

His nerves light up like an orbital barrage, body rocking against the pretty, willing thing below him that you are. He has no idea what's going on beyond that. Are you kissing him? Is that what you're doing? Half his brain is stunned by the idea and the other half is flooded by the rushes of pleasure in his system making his tendons cramp, ravaging him with the sound of his hearts thudding in his ears.

Working himself right into agony; he's tensing against you as he empties himself as deep as he can. His pace finally breaks pattern and staccatos as his mind leadens.

Lulled by the molten satisfaction that swamps him soon thereafter, Cato blindly tries to chase forward and keep your lips on his. Emphasis on tries. He thinks he likes it, foreign as the sensation and sentiment is. He's got his tongue in your mouth, but no real clue what to do beyond lapping further in like a man dying of thirst—and then, of course, you decide to start weakly thrashing for air, blunt teeth grazing against the invading muscle—so, with a miffed groan; he pulls away, drooling as he slumps front-long against you and the lounge with a rumbling sigh, letting his eyes close as he basks in the afterglow.

You're panting still, nosing against the nape of his neck—likely having difficulty respiring under his weight—but despite that, you're still twitching around his spent cock, just like last time.

Wistfully, he wonders if he could sleep with you stuffed full of him like this. Slotted together and absolutely buried in your cunt; reaming you out as far as your small frame will allow. He enjoys the idea of that, and of holding you close.

He listens meditatively as your breathing steadily evens out, a soft in-out rhythm he can hear start in your chest only to feel warmly dancing across his collarbone a moment later.

Your small hand glides up the back of his trapezoid and combs through the short hair at his crown.

He shivers almost immediately at the act, thoughts clouding. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, now. He can't really bring himself to do anything. He's locked in. It's like he's been sedated, or scruffed about the neck. Then your fingers trace the bare skin behind his ear, and he snaps from the trance enough to crack an eye open to glance down.

"Don't push your luck," he bites out automatically and leers away.

You immediately stiffen, and lurch yourself back—seemingly completely confused.

He's not exactly sure why he reacted that way either, but he's certainly not going to address it.

Ultimately, he opts to pull his cock out of you with scant decorum rather than linger on the topic. Then he settles into a kneel as he eyes the soaked-in stain below the bunched-up fabric of your robe.

"Well," he snorts.

And damn, it's difficult to hold a straight face at the overdramatic, painfully oblivious pout you shoot him.

So, Cato just continues watching you with a cruel sort of satisfaction as you sit yourself up shakily, and realise the mess.

You blanch, promptly shutting your legs and fussing—your ass is half stuck to the fabric of the lounge by your own slick and his spent when you move to stand on shaky, unsure legs.

He's aware of the fact you're after something to wipe away the aftermath. But he's far too content observing you struggle for the moment. Pleased, even. Especially when he's treated to the cringing gasp that slips from you when his semen no doubt starts dripping down your thighs.

You're panicking within seconds. He can hear your heartbeat quickening, plus the acrid tang of baseline stress hormones pervading the room.

There's nothing to spare. Unless you want to leave another smear across the lounge cushioning, but he doubts you'd go so low. He, however, has no such reservations—and yanks the plush velour padded square up to wipe his cock off. It's not as if he wasn't going to toss it down one of the incinerator shafts on the library's second floor anyways.

"Do—" you begin softly, but amend yourself, "Would y-you have anything... to..."

He stares at you, brows furrowed.

Floundering now, you waddle close and swallow harshly.

"To... wipe this up?" You finish, barely a whisper. He can tell you're sour at the fact you're stroking his ego and essentially too full of him to go anywhere.

Cato scoffs, holding up the seating cushion, "What? Too spoilt to use this?"

You cringe at him, "People have sat on that—hundreds of people, probably. I-I don't have your immunity to infection."

Cato cedes on that point at least, because he assumes being a baseline is hell. And so very not his problem, too.

Completely out of left field, comes the temptation to lick you clean. His mulish hind-brain reasons it's a brilliant idea, namely because you'd likely be squirming for him again. Even if he has no real idea of what to do beyond that. Lap at your clit, probably—he's not actually done any of this before except—well, except just slamming into you. He has the basic gist of all of this from biologis graphics and pornographic motionpicts. Yes, the latter are technically contraband on Ultramarine chapter vessels—Throne, he actually remembers when that was put into force. He was still green behind the ears when that'd happened. But those specific brothers had displayed it for abstract amusement, not... it's intended purpose—rather: 'Lo, look at this curiosity, brothers! See they're fornicating, how very so strange! Baselines am-i-right?'

Honestly, it's never actually anything heretical, except for maybe the terrible acting.

He'd deem that punishable by death.

Regardless, Cato's guessing the process of licking something can't really be some sage art form. Not like duelling, and fuck, he's stellar at that. He's stellar at almost everything, he reasons. So why not that? You're such a wanton little thing he'd probably make you finish on accident.

Yet he decides against it as soon as the logical part of his brain boots back up. Largely given the fact he's probably already going to have a hard time as it is trying to avoid others on his way to mask the stink of sex. His brothers have keen noses, it wouldn't be difficult for them to notice the smell of you on his way to his chamber if he's not careful. Let alone if it's smeared all over his face. Next time, however—

"Surely it's not that bad," he says off-handedly.

A surge of shame appears on your face as a red, blotchy belt across your cheeks, and you seem about to protest before he grumbles.

"Still, you really ought to find a solution," he remarks idly, and he notices the implication isn't lost on you.

You frown softly, and wrinkle your nose at him.

"Maybe some manners would help you achieve your goals," he adds, with a clearer spite.

Your frown grows nigh comically harsh.

Cato grunts wryly, satisfied at your annoyance and paws at the hem of his tunic—tearing a portion off and holding it out to you.

You grab the edge of it and tug, but he doesn't let go.

"And what do you say?"

"Thanks," you answer hastily.

He raises an eyebrow and pulls the torn fabric back towards himself ever so slightly, causing you to over extend closer to him.

His stare stays locked on yours, and he gets the treat of watching you dither and fluster under his focus momentarily before you amend, "T-Thank you..." you swallow, and break eye contact, adding; "Commander Sicarius."

"Was that so hard?" Cato scoffs, especially thrilled as he lets go of the scrap—eyeing you as you trot aside, and gingerly begin to wipe away the mess of satisfaction coating your thighs and rear.

When you're decidedly done, you stomp back over to him and hold out the soiled fabric.

He reaches for it, only to have it promptly pulled away.

Cato scowls, and takes a step forward into your space—only for you to inch forward into his.

You're tormenting him then, he decides; or rather he thinks. He's not sure. You don't look smug—you look... nervous? Your lips have drawn into a thin line and you keep glancing between his eyes and behind him randomly.

"What?" He huffs, narrowing his eyes.

"Lean down," you mumble, then quietly make the additional effort of throwing in a "...please."

Cato grumbles at the request but complies, and Throne, he's glad he does; because suddenly you're up on your tip-toes, your hand on his jaw—and your lips are on his cheek.

He blinks, dumb as a mule. It's over as fast as it started and he can't even begin to unpack the elation he's abruptly feeling.

Heedless of his dazzled state, you clear your throat with a bashful laugh—and then the rag is suddenly stuffed into his open hand. He's still frozen there as you practically rush out the room, scooping your previously flung data-slate up as you frantically wave the door mechanism open and vanish from view.

A long wheeze escapes his throat in the empty room, his face thudding with heat.

Oh, he's fucked fucked.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Bed Buddies

A/n: I’m supposed to be writing kinktober day five but I had this idea and just couldn’t leave it

Warnings: smut, degrading, age difference, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

James had been having trouble sleeping and couldn’t find a way to fix it, he went to Kirk thinking he’d have something and he gave him something.

Some spiritual thing James didn’t want to be bothered with. Still, he was out of options, worst comes to worst he wastes a hundred bucks.

He was told he had to have a room set up with a couch or two, a dark room with no windows, and a bed, a few small tables wouldn’t hurt.

He went out for a run, thinking it might help him sleep, not that it worked before, when he got back there you were setting up some candles on the nightstands around the bed, a notebook set on the coffee table between two couches.

You smiled over at him when you saw him and gestured for him to sit down. “Your daughter let me in.” You said, calming his nerves because he had no idea how you’d gotten there.

He nodded and sat on one couch. You finished lighting the candles, the honey lavender aroma filling the room, and went to sit on the couch across from him, picking up the notebook and pen, opening to the first page and writing stuff down, the date, the client, etc.

“So, you haven’t been sleeping?” You started.

James nodded. “Why else would I have brought you here?” He asked, a little more aggression in his tone than needed, and he knew it. It didn’t phase you much, all your clients were rich and snooty, plus he hadn’t been sleeping much and you knew that much.

“Some people just want some relax time, like a message type thing.” You explained. “Enough on other people, I want to hear about you.” You said, leaning in a little more.

It was hard to get James to talk, you found that out pretty quick, but it was your first day together so you took it slow, letting him take his time to get comfortable.

The session was about relaxing his body, finding out what was causing him to lose sleep with what little information he was giving you.

You found that drawing on his back calmed him down, not just random doodles but actually tracing his back, finding dots and connecting them.

He managed to fall asleep before 4:00 am so he was counting it as a win and invited you back, becoming a permanent client fairly fast.

After a month or so you found him getting much more comfortable with you, speaking more freely, sitting next to you on the couch.

“Lay with me.” He asked, looking up at you as he laid on his back on the bed in the room.

You chuckled at that and shook your head. “Come on, on your stomach, it’s your favourite.” You said, holding up the black marker you used.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He said, rolling onto his stomach. “Sometimes I just like something to hold in my sleep, what’s so wrong about that, huh?”

You shook your head at that, but he insisted. He didn’t get you to cuddle that night but he didn’t stop asking.

As his little therapy sessions before hand became more free spoken, his hands and eyes began opening more as well. He’d sit closer, gaze trailing over your body, hands lightly touching your knees.

You’d made a promise you’d never sleep with your clients, that being said most of your clients were women, even if they weren’t they were old and gross and hateful vermin, it was easy to find their advances annoying and unwanted.

James was different.

You found yourself craving his touch and wearing tighter or more revealing clothing, when he asked for cuddles after it was getting harder and harder to say no to him.

James had your face shoved into the pillow, one hand on your back to keep you there and the other gripping your hip so tightly it was sure to leave bruises.

The room echoed with your moans and cries for him as he slammed himself into you over and over, deep groans falling from his lips.

“Fuck, darlin’, you feel so good~” He mused, rotating his hips in smooth circles, driving you insane. “So fucking tight, no one’s fucked you right a minute, huh, sweetheart?” He asked leaning down to you.

You shook your head, whining as he slowed his pace, taking away yet another high you’d been so, so close to.

He brought the hand that was on your hip up before bringing it down on your ass, leaving a pink mark in its wake. “Words, slut.”

“No-no, sir, I-I haven’t.” You stuttered out, hands gripping the sheets tighter.

James laughed loudly before it got interrupted by another groan. “That’s my darling, my good girl.”

[demonmarker]

Beautiful with you Ch.2

Ch.01

Driving to your destination, not much conversation occurred on the way apart from when you first started Regina’s jeep up and her music what it was playing the last time the car was driven which ironically was Cardi B’s WAP. You look over to Regina with a questioning raised eyebrow, “A little on the nose don’t you think?”

Regina just scoffed at you “Oh please Loser, you. Fucking. Wish.”

You didn’t take your eyes off the road as you retorted “Eh sometimes if I’m horny enough” you mentally slap yourself for letting that slip, the plan of going into this friendship and not coming off as a complete simp for the blond just got thrown out the window. Well done.

Regina folded her arms, turning to you with the smug smile you know well, “Oh really? I’m starting to see where that compliment of telling me I’m beautiful came from. Which I totally agree with.” Stopping at a red light gave you the opportunity to give her a look that read oh please, “Hang on, I’m not the simp here! You started talking to me first, you were the one who came on to me and you were the one who kissed me! Might I add I didn’t say you were beautiful, I said the girls at the Plastics table were beautiful. PLURAL!” you defended.

Glancing at the traffic light, making sure it was still red, Regina leaned over to your side of the vehicle getting close to your face “And you enjoyed every second of it didn’t you Baby?” swiping her tongue over your lips to prove her point, making the smallest whimper escape your throat. Caught in a haze of the taste from Regina’s tongue to the smell of her perfume you were only brought back to reality when you hear the car behind you blare their horn, speeding off you give a ‘my bad’ wave which made Regina let out an evil chuckle which made your cheeks go red.

“Do you do that to all your friends?” she let out a throaty laugh that ran straight down to your now wet centre.

“Only the cute ones.” All you could do was shake your head.

Arriving at your destination Regina’s eyes zeroed in on the brightly coloured sign outside the facility “A Daycare? Don’t tell me you’re into that adult baby shit cause I’m so not down for that,” you get out of the car and walk to her side, opening her door for her offering your hand to her.

She takes your hand as you chuckle “God no. I’m kinky but not that kinky! Jesus!” she goes to say something but you cut her off before she can get a word out “Just, follow me.” You get an agitated huff for a response “oh stop complaining,” leading the way into the daycare, hearing Regina’s heels clop behind you.

Dodging your way through the running, screaming children, you look back when you reach the door to the small building only to see Regina a far way behind clutching her bag to her chest as if the little kids were notorious for mugging people, moving and avoiding them like they were rats or some kind of vermin “God let this nightmare end!”

“Hurry it up slow poke!” you mainly just said it to annoy her and on top of all the kids it worked to your delight.

“Listen you! It’s not easy to dodge running germ carriers in heels!”

You smile down to her when she finally reaches you “You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” “You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” she mimicked “Shut up!” you couldn’t help but laugh as

you open the door for her, “It’s not funny!”

“Eh it kinda is babe!” the nickname that slipped out made you both blush. It wasn’t till the

familiar face of Mrs. Bailey approaching you could you think of anything else.

“Miss Y/LN, so good to see you as always. How are you?” You smile back at the kind hearted woman,

“Hi Mrs. Bailey, I’m not bad thanks, always busy as usual.” The Daycare worker nodded along then turned to Regina.

“Oh this is a new face, Hi, I’m Mrs. Bailey, one of the care workers here,” she offered her hand to the blond.

"Regina George,” shaking the woman’s hand politely “I’m a...” she looked to you not exactly knowing how to finish her sentence.

“Friend! She’s a friend” first bullet dodged you think to yourself. You clear your throat “How was she today” you switch subjects quickly.

Mrs. Bailey glances behind her and lowers her voice “Well for most of it she was good, playing with the kids as usual with Alexander always with her.” You nod along as she informs you “It wasn’t till after lunch when we got the kids to do an activity of card making for Mother’s day next week did her mood really drop.”

You lift your hand to your forehead as you realise your grave error, “Oh damn, I completely forgot! I’ve been so busy with school exams and work, it completely slipped my mind!” your riddled with guilt as the shorter brunette gives you a look of sympathy.

“No one could blame, you’ve both been through a lot, she’s not angry but she’s definitely sad, she went over to the silent reading area with Alexander and has just been lying against him since. I had a go at talking with her but she didn’t take to it, so I thought it best to give her the space she needed till you got here.”

You place a thankful hand on the side of her arm “Thank you for telling me. Can I see her?” Mrs. Bailey started leading the way “Of course”

Regina shifts her head up to you as you follow behind the brunette, “She really need a new

wardrobe!” she whispered to you,

“She’s just wearing jeans and a polo! It’s the uniform” you justify.

“Whatever it is it’s ugly,” Regina then looks you up and down “Actually you could probably

use a trip to the mall yourself.”

“Not all of us have rich parents to scab off Regina.” Just as she was about to retort you see

the familiar golden retriever laying down near some bean bags, head perking up and his tail starting to wag as he notices you, and the precious little brunette girl who you would gladly give your life for, cuddled up to him slowly patting his fur hiding her sad little face, not knowing of your presence you slowly walk up to her and crouch to her level, giving her pale pink dress a tug “Hey Princess,” your voice soft and warm.

The little girls head snaps up, turning to you “Sissy!” the little girl immediately wraps her little arms around your neck and you lift her up in your arms as you stand back to your full height, giving her kisses on the side of her head while slowly caressing her hair. “Mrs. Bailey told me you got a little sad after lunch today.” The little girl nodded and hugged your neck, “Aw Princess,” with her head laying on your shoulder she notices the new face standing beside you, her face lighting up.

“Sissy, it’s the Queen from your drawing!” pointing at Regina who held out her hands as if to say I didn’t do anything at first then placed them on her hips with a smug look.

“Well look who knows royalty when she sees it, little cutie.” The little brunette in your arms giggles, Regina getting a little closer to her and whispers “What’s your name Sweetheart?” being shy as she ever was though she just hid her little face into your shoulder but made sure she could still see Regina.

“This is Nina. My little sister.” You almost cried at how good Regina was with Nina, she was like a whole other person with her and it made your heart race.

“Nina. That’s such a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty girl.” Regina gently grabbed Nina’s little foot softly shaking it, “I’m Regina.”

Nina lifted her head up out of hiding and laid it on your shoulder looking still at the blond “Hi Wegina.” The moment Nina giggled made your questioning if it really was a good idea bringing Regina here to meet Nina was such a good idea disappear instantly. “Wegena?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Why do wou wike bees so much?” your face drops, uh oh.

Regina waved her hand around Nina “Okay one I am obsessed with her” Nina giggled

happily which made you smile, “two, what was that about bees?” making sure she kept a smile on her face even in her confusion.

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh “She’s asking why you like Bees so much, Queen BEE” you emphasised the last word hoping she’d catch on, no way were you going to explain to a four year old that Queen B meant Queen Bitch.

“Oh, um, you know what? Every bee hive has a Queen Bee and she gets to boss all the others bees around.” Regina lied but in a way she really wasn’t.

Little Nina’s jaw dropped in amazement “Even the boy bees?” she asks softly in her little voice that you adore.

Regina nodded. “Especially the boy bees” Nina squealed with delight at that decibel that made your ears ring making you scrunch your face up.

A loud bark voiced from Alexander grabbed your attention “Oh right, sorry bud. Regina this is Alexander.” The dog looked at her panting, Regina’s face fell to one of disgust “Um. Hello. Alexander.” She gave a little wave not wanting to get close.

You roll your eyes “Please don’t tell me you have a fear of dogs” Regina held up a hold on finger,

“No, no it’s any animal that carries god know what kind of germs on them and it’s not a fear it’s health self-awareness thank you very much.

You bop Nina gently soothing her... and yourself as you roll your eyes for the hundredth time that day, “argh okay, Alexander. Shake.” The Golden Retriever hearing your command held out his large paw for Regina to shake.

Regina crumbled like you knew she would, you could read her just as much as she could read you.

“Aww” Regina bent down to shake the dogs paw, letting him sniff her but not expecting the long lick he gave her cheek, “Oh ew, ew, ew!” and that was the end of that.

Nina cackled as Regina raced through her purse for antiseptic wipes, “So gross!” she complains wiping her cheek vigorously. Both you and Nina were laughing at the blond soon enough.

“Alexander is Nina’s emotional support animal.” Regina looked at the dog and pointed at him as she put two and two together “Oh!” drawing out the word “That makes sense.”

Nina couldn’t stop laughing “He’s my best friend” she announced proudly.”

Outside the daycare Nina held both your and Regina’s hand as you all walked to her car, “Okay so two options.” You announce “First, you join us for dinner in which case, can Alexander sit in your car with us? Or option two is we split ways here and Nina and I get an Uber home.” You wondered if inviting her for dinner was pushing things too far for your first day, but you couldn’t help but hope she says that she would, you’d understand if she didn’t of course but you couldn’t deny you’d be disappointed.

Regina put on an exaggerated thinking face obviously for Nina as the little girl looked up at her with big eyes, “What does Nina want me to do?” the question caught you off guard, Regina was amazing with Nina and you couldn’t deny that it was making you fall harder for her.

Nina didn’t even need to think about it “Come over! Come over!” bouncing on the spot excitedly.

Regina bent down and picked Nina up, “The Princess has spoken. I’ll just get the jeep detailed so it’s not a problem for Alexander to come in the car.” She says to you. You just looked at Regina with adoration. She put Nina down and started to walk to her car.

“Stop looking at me like that Dork” you grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks, her head whips to look at you, and before you over think it you kiss her on the cheek.

“Thank you Regina” her face went bright red and she just cleared her throat and continued on her way to her jeep.

This Regina George you’d happily let into your life.

Ch.03

@dandelions4us

[dyns33]

Family's House

Next episode of Alfie Solomons and his wife dayly life as idiots in love

Y/N knew how to keep a house. Or almost.

In any case, she knew how to manage on her own, cook, clean, do the laundry, but that didn't mean that she loved these activities, or that she did them perfectly well.

However, since she was married, it seemed important that she behaved like a good wife who took care of the household chores, so that her husband could rest when he came home from work.

And with his "work", Alfie needed a lot of rest.

Since he was not very trusting, he didn't like the idea of ​​letting a housekeeper hang around unsupervised at their house, but he had found the sister of one of his loyal employees who could come by three times a week to take care of the cleaning, laundry, dusting, checking the silverware, and other things that he didn't care about at all.

On top of that, he often insisted on cooking. Maybe he was afraid that his meals would be poisoned, or he had noticed that his wife's food were too salty or overcooked, but in any case, even if he was gifted, that also annoyed Mrs. Solomons a lot.

"I could do it !" Y/N insisted, who also didn't like coming home and finding herself in front of a frightened girl, who didn't know that her boss wasn't the type to punish someone because the forks were put away wrong.

"And when would you have time, love ? You're often with me at the bakery, to help me keep the accounts, check that everything has been done properly and stop me from killing everyone."

"I'm not there as often as you."

"And the employees regret it. I think they're plotting. Ollie's been making me walk a lot lately, he knows my back doesn't like it, and that you'll take my place if I'm bedridden. Little vermin. I heard about an election project."

"Stop, I'm serious."

"Me too, love. For the plot, and the fact that I don't care who cleaned the house, as long as it's cleaned."

Maybe he didn't care, but the Candem harpies did. Y/N wanted to convince herself that she didn't care about their opinions, but that wasn't entirely true.

She wanted to be a good wife, for everyone to know that Alfie Solomons had made the right choice in marrying her, and that they were very happy.

Of course, it was also good to have a cleaning lady. A sign of wealth. But she couldn't help it, she needed to feel useful, and to show that she cared for her husband. In her family, they took care of each other, even if it wasn't always in a conventional way.

Since he was an excellent husband, Aflie had noticed her nervousness. He had first thought that she was bored. That was partly why he gave her work at the bakery, but also because he trusted her, that she was very talented, and that he liked to be with her all the time.

Since that didn't seem to be enough, he made the mistake of asking Tommy for advice. Except that since he didn't consider Thomas to be the best at relationships, or at keeping secrets from his sister, he talked about horses.

"Why ? Are you planning to buy a horse ?"

"Well, you see dear Tommy, maybe. You guys like these devil's creatures, and I love my wife. I was thinking of getting a mare, I found a charming one, adorable, but a little crazy. Agitated. Oh, I know what you're going to say, she senses that I'm not comfortable, all that bullshit, but no, she's like that with everyone. How can I calm her down ?"

"If she's naturally like that, you won't be able to. But you can always try to talk to her nicely, stroke her head and blow on her nose." Tommy answered seriously, not understanding what they were talking about and really lovng horses.

"… Yeah, I'm not sure she'll appreciate it."

The moment he put his hand on her head and complimented her, Y/N stared at Alfie with a dark look, as if she had perfectly understood what he was doing and why. He was certain of it when she stood up, leaving the room after blowing on his nose.

"Damn witch." he mumbled, thinking he was completely under her spell.

With her problem not resolved, Y/N took the time to consider the situation while remaining calm. It was not necessary for her to do great things to be a good wife.

Cleaning his shirt after work, preparing a good meal from time to time, lighting a fire in the fireplace in winter by offering a pillow for his back and tea. Simple gestures, but very important.

It was the middle of the afternoon when she decided to do all this before Alfie returned. Nothing impossible.

But in the end, she burned the dinner, missing even a simple loaf of bread, she broke plates, one of which had belonged to Alfie's maternal grandparents, she almost set fire to the carpet, and her husband's favorite shirt fell into the mud, in the middle of the street, after Cyril barked cheerfully, making her jump as she wanted to hang it on the windowsill.

So Alfie found the house in this state, with his wife crying in the middle of the living room, her hair disheveled, full of flour, and her dress covered in soot.

"It reminds me of the war." was the only thing he could think to say, looking into the distance before approaching, his hand gently caressing her shoulder. "So, love, did you lose a battle ? What happened ?"

"… I wanted to please you."

"It's a success, I love seeing my wife sobbing."

"You're still not funny. I can't even make bread. I ruined your shirt, the carpet… I broke one of your plates. I'm a horrible wife, you're the one who should be crying."

He could have answered right away, but Alfie Solomons knew his wife well. She had many qualities, just as many reasons why he had fallen in love, and one of them was that Y/N was a stubborn woman.

Worst, she was a Shelby, so she was worse than a mule.

So he took a deep breath, forcing her to stand up so that she sat on his lap like a child, letting her finish crying and talking nonsense before speaking.

"Treacle. Listen to me carefully. First of all, I am a very funny man."

"Medium funny, and often without meaning to." she mumbled, her head nestled in his neck.

"True. In any case, I'm not a man who gets attached to stupid things like a shirt or a rug. I'll buy others. Same thing for the plate. I have lots of memories with my grandparents, I don't need a plate, I have lots of plates. I can go and break all the family's china."

"No."

"As you wish, love. For cooking, I admit that I would love to come home and enjoy a meal made by you with love. But if you don't like cooking, I love cooking, and I love watching you eat what I cooked for you. You don't know how to do it ? I can teach you. My bakery may be fake, but not my talent. My breads are the best in the country, my mother's recipe. Family secret. But we are married, so I can let you in on it."

"… You're really not angry ?" she asked shyly, feeling a little ridiculous, a feeling she didn't like at all.

"It would be very tempting to tell you that you deserve a punishment and to spank you, but no, treacle, I'm not angry. I appreciate that you wanted to do all this. You are a perfect woman, at least the perfect woman for me. I am fulfilled. And I don't tell Ollie and the others, but I also think that you do a better job than me at the bakery. Mutiny always lurks."

No doubt she got that from her family, the business sense and the ability to work perfectly. To compensate, Y/N was simply not good at being a housewife, and Alfie didn't give a damn.

He gladly kicked the clichés, the old ideas and the gossips of Candem who dared to criticize his wife or make fun of him because he rolled up his sleeves and went into the kitchen.

Why wouldn't it be normal for a man to take care of his wife ? A good husband had to recognize all the work done during the day, and in thanks, he could cook, massage the poor feet of his sweetheart, and make tender love to her in the marital bed.

And Y/N really had a lot of work with him and his company. No one could deny it.

Just having to put up with him was already a full-time job. He himself wasn't sure how she managed it, or why she loved an old fool like him.

"It's true that you're crazy, we're going to burn the house down !"

"No, love, we're going to make a brioche."

"Not if you keep holding my butt like that, instead of watching the oven !"

"My nose will know. While my eyes and hands can't resist the sight of my wife, kneading dough, wearing only my apron."

"I don't even remember how you convinced me to do this."

"A lot of charm and the promise of a heavenly tasting brioche."

"I'll eat it alone, after throwing you naked in the street."

"It wouldn't be the first time, treacle. If I promise to stop kneading your beautiful behind, will you let me taste our work with you ?"

"I'll think about it."

The brioche ended up burning, because despite his promises, and his shrewd nose, Alfie was particularly distracted when Y/N leaned over to grab a dish.

But it wasn't her fault, and since he didn't stop kissing her, she didn't have time to think that she would never be completely good at keeping house. It was already wonderful that she knew how to keep her husband on the right tracks.

[signedkoko]

Hello! May I possibly request a Vox X Female Reader, who's touch starved, but is nervous about asking for physical affection, due to a past relationship that always considered her need to be cuddly as annoying?

Vox X Reader [Romantic]

In which as much as you want his affection, you can't help but feel annoying for asking. Reader is female.

Vox isn't much of a touchy guy, really

Not that he minds it, at least not from you, but he doesn't seek it out beyond a kiss as a means of greeting or farewell.

Which means it takes a lot of you asking if you want something or initiating it

He's never said no or pulled away, and he always cooes about how clingy you are and how much he loves it

But still, the more you did it, the worse you felt

Vox might worry if you just stopped without saying anything

" Fuck, do I smell bad? "

Maybe you just aren't feeling it, or you are mad at him? Whatever it is, he gives you time to get it out before asking

Once he knows about your ex's nasty habit, he's all huffy and frustrated

" Really? You're with me, not him. Besides, I agree with him! Something as perfect as you could not have been touching vermin like him. "

He tried to always reciprocate your physical gestures and initiate if he remembers

But most of all, he is sure to affirm your motions whenever he gets the chance, just so you know he adores your affection

Author's Note - Short and sweet! I didn't feel there was much to it so I took it as a little easy write. Hope you enjoy 🖤

[sober-stupid-shithead]

SFW tfp Knockout core head canons? If your still doing headcanons of course. Totally not a Knockout simp here. Lol.

ah yes. core headcanons.

hehe jk I gotchu! ;3c

Hopefully these are to your liking! As much as I love this fruity car, I tend to avoid writing him because he's just a complex individual and I'm scared of mischaracterizing him! >.< But I think I did these pretty well. Also threw in some Breakdown because he needs more love! Thank you for the request!!

(CW: Minor fearplay, flirty dialogue, human/cybertronian, GN reader, vore obvs, brief disgust at said vore (idk if I need to say all this but thought I'd better be safe than sorry))

-At first he would be totally disgusted, to be honest. Assuming you are a human, he would NOT be keen on having one of you gross little aliens in his internal tanks. What if you give him some kind of injury, make his stomach hurt, or give him bad breath?

-Don't get me wrong, he's a big fan of all things morbid and weird, but that doesn't mean he wants them happening to HIM.

-But as time goes on after you or whoever brings it up, he definitely thinks about it. A lot. A lot more than someone disgusted of it should.

-Suddenly the idea becomes a lot more cute and endearing than he once supposed.

-He might even like the idea of having Breakdown swallow you instead to observe the experience medically and figure out whether or not you'd cause a bug in his systems. Definitely not because he thinks his conjux interacting with such a tiny little thing is cute. And his little belly pouch is cute. Totally not.

-One day he'd simply be too curious to not try. Besides, at this point he's already accepted the fact that he's grown attached to one of those little squishy vermin, so why not toss them a bone. He's self aware enough to know how he feels, unlike some. (Starscream)

-He would SO tease you about it. Like incessantly. Like nonstop. Like it's getting annoying and infuriating. And he's making really shitty puns about it too. let's hope you can survive his cringepocalypse

-Expect a nice long bath as well, since he's a clean freak and refuses to get any earth gunk in his tanks. But he'll make it nice for you, almost like a spa. Ruffling your soapy hair with his claws and dousing you in warm water. You look like an adorable wet cat to him.

-After he dries you off with a plush towel, he probably gives you a little lick or a kiss before putting you in his mouth. Just because.

-"You fleshies have the strangest fascinations… But fantastic tastes."

-(yes another horrible pun)

-He'd swallow you up quickly, but might prolong you going down his throat. You can't deny he's a bit of a sadist, and might think its funny or cute to make you think you might suffocate 😭 sorry

-As much as he was disgusted and weirded out at first, any fear of him being still grossed out is washed away by how loud this boy PURRS. His engine is very happily rumbling and it's loud enough to be heard by any mechs around him. A very happy camper indeed.

-When you make it to his stomach, it is very cozy. Warm and just big enough to have room to breath and shift as you please. Dim red biolights give it a lovely atmosphere and allow you to see yourself and the surroundings a bit. There's a very shallow amount of energon and digestive fluids at the bottom, but it's bubbly like a soda and smells like a rich spice you can't quite name.

-Maybe he drank something to make it smell better. Maybe not. He won't tell you.

-He's a lot more mellow with you tucked away in his storage tanks. Still sassy as ever, but slightly sleepier and nicer. If he could ignore work and just cuddle up in his own berth, he would. It's a very comforting full feeling that you can't quite get with just energon.

-You aren't coming out for a while. Not even if you want to. He found a new thing he likes, and he couldn't care less if you're getting bored. He sure isn't! Besides, you've got plenty teasing banter to enjoy, especially if Breakdown decides to stick around.

-Cheesy pet names are already his bread and butter, but I think after this its going to be even worse. Many more food related ones, to be specific. Morsel, cupcake, snack, crumb, honey, sugar cookie, pumpkin… The list goes on.

-And as embarassing as all of these might be, you can just as easily get him back by massaging the sides of his tank. The first time you tried, he nearly doubled over from the weirdly ticklish sensation. He will be purring so loud you go deaf, but just make sure you don't catch him off guard while talking to Megatron. He can NOT be purring and giggling on the job. And you'll definitely regret it later.

[pursuitseternal]

“To Slice the Tension:” Astarion x Shadowheart knife play smut🌙⚔️

Act 1 Astarion x Shadowheart | E | 2.7K

Summary: irritation comes to threats at dagger point. Tension grows with sharp words and blades, and finally resolves in the night with hot tempers and even hotter smut

CW: knife play, hate smut, keep quiet, semi-public, dry humping, quickie, poor Gale

Ao3 Link | Masterlist

“You! Cleric!” Astarion snarled, blood smattering his chilled face and clotting in his perfect silver curls. “You have one job! Cast your powerful light spell… thing… and don’t miss!”

Shadowheart lifted her head, glowering where she knelt over Gale, the poor wizard having taken a beating from the ghouls and Death Shepherds that ambushed the lot in the Mountain Path. “Shut it,” she snapped back, her glowing blue hands landing on the wizard’s soft belly with more force than necessary. He sputtered even as she healed his wounds.

“You almost got me killed!” Astarion growled, hovering over her, fingers twitching and fangs snapping with rage. “Again!”

“Not my fault you can’t take the heat of a little radiant damage, undead cretton,” she smirked. “Now do you mind? We have companions that can’t heal just by biting the nearest vermin.”

Astarion growled, feral and deep in his chest. “I should bite you, Cleric…. See if you taste as bitter as your demeanor.” He hissed his words between clenching teeth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, little pain-craving Sharran…” he swiftly moved, crouching just beside her. “You tell me to bite vermin, and here you are…” he dragged his fangs over her neck, a threat born of hunger and rage.

But before he could sink a fang, something sharp pushed across the base of his own throat. Holding his breath, Astarion recoiled slowly, Shadowheart’s blade remaining pressed against his own scarred jugular.

Closing his fangs on nothing, Astarion’s lips peeled back in a snarl. “Careful… I don’t just bite,” he purred, colder in tone as his hand moved swiftly, jabbing the soft of her belly through the one opening of her armor.

“Hmmm,” she hummed happily, gripping his blade-holding wrist and pulling him closer. “Seems we’ve come to an impass, Vampire. Unless you want to admit you put yourself in the thick of the carnage just so I’d have to heal you first.” That black braid shook as she wriggled her head to mock him. Like a child. Like a brat. “Does somebody need attention?”

The wizard on the ground beneath them cleared his throat. “Would you mind terribly if you didn’t bicker … or flirt… or whatever this is… over my injured person? Thank you so much.”

Astarion huffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh Gale, you always ruin anything that’s actually fun… I can’t believe anyone as much of a wet blanket as you ever bedded a goddess,” he taunted, voice edged with playful venom.

“Perhaps you could learn from my divine experience and sleep off your tempers, both of you,” Gale smiled, annoyed and yet polite, “your impulses will be tamer come dawn.”

Shadowheart snorted through her nose, rolling her shoulders back as she resheathed her blade. “Fine by me, but I’ll be sleeping with this under my pillow…” her bright green eyes narrowed at Astarion’s smug, dastardly smirk, “and I’ll keep a stake in my fist, just for extra measure.”

“Sounds like you’re so very sure I’ll come for you in your bed, Cleric…” his silver brow arched. “I do like a midnight snack, but I prefer my treats a little sweeter than you.”

“I prefer my lovers a little more alive than you,” Shadowheart fired back before turning on her heel fast enough to whip that black braid around her shoulders.

And it only made Astarion’s smirk twist more deviously.

The rest of the evening passed in tranquility until the pop and hiss of the campfire was the final spark of movement and vitality.

But given the way his body pulsed from blood in his belly after his hunt today, Astarion noticed the soft hush of sandals in the dirt as he laid, meditating in his trance. The moment that blade pressed against his throat once more, he spread his lips in a fang-baring grin. “Come to kill me again, darling?” he whispered, eyes still shut even as Shadowheart straddled his waist.

One crimson eye opened just a sliver to see the Sharran Cleric smirking down, dagger’s edge caressing his throat gently.

“You’re reusing the same stunt you pulled on the Gith?” Astarion tutted his tongue, closing his eyes and settling back into his bedroll, wriggling his shoulders against his pillow just for show. “Run out of new ways to threaten the campmates that arouse you?”

“You annoy me,” she hissed down at him. “Different a-word, bloodsucker.”

“Oh, but I think you’re too a-a-addled to realize just how a-a-aroused you are,” he flashed those red eyes open at last, the intensity nearly disarming the Cleric on his body. That shit-eating grin rubbed her wrong, pissed her off. And it made her shift on his hips.

That thick upper lip pulled taut as she moved, baring even more of his teeth. And only then, did she realize where she sat…. That unmistakable outline of a hardened cock jutted against her thighs. “Oh, Astarion… I think I’m not the only one who can be accused of a-a-arousal?” Those green eyes glinted, bright with mischief.

Lighting quick, he pulled his hand from under his head, another small dagger pushed against her pulsepoint, the one he knew would taste extra delicious if only because he was having to work for it. And, gods, did he love a challenge, especially by his own terms. “Hmmm, this seems familiar,” he crooned up at her, letting his knife blade skate its sharp edge up and down her neck. “Fortunately for you, I’m quite skilled at how to let blood from these delicious veins just enough to leave you weak and begging for more…”

Shadowheart eased the blade off the base of his neck, using one hand to brace herself on his chest as she brazenly rolled her hips. The growl that reverberated in his ribs beneath her splayed hand confirmed her suspicions. “Familiar, yet not identical. Earlier, you didn’t have a prominent erection, I don’t think…”

The slip of her hand provided just the right opportunity, and Astarion seized it. Well-fed as he was, it was less than an eye’s blink before he caught her wrist and wrenched it behind her back, staying her blade. Disarming her. Pinning her on top of his waist. “You were saying, Cleric?”

She tried to put up a good fight, wrenching her wrist, even as his fingers locked it firmly behind her middle. One exasperated grunt, followed by a “Fuck you, Astarion,” only made that feral and wicked smirk deepen as he smiled up at her. Her pulse was accelerating, her sweat gathered on her brow, and, with every desperate movement she attempted to free herself, another scent permeated the night air.

“Hmmmm,” he purred up at her, all innocent tone long gone as he rolled his hips into that gathering heat between her thighs, “you let your guard down, all because now I’m… dual-wielding?” He gave that insufferable, inane giggle, even more annoying as he kept it quiet. She bit her quivering lower lip as he thrust upwards again. “Ah yes, that’s right, keep it hushed and quiet. I wonder if you’d be more embarrassed to be caught with your legs spread for me or to be caught disarmed by a man you tried to threaten in his sleep… tsk.”

“Dual-wielding?” she scoffed, leaning forward so she could hiss her spite closer to his smirking, arrogant face. “You’re going to compare your cock to a weapon, conceited arsehole that you are?”

“Afraid? It could destroy you, if you’re not careful,” he sniggered. And this time, the way she rubbed her clothed sex over his length caught him just in the right place… right in that spot on his cock head. He swallowed the curse, still audible enough to make Shadowheart grin, “Hells below.”

“What's the matter?” She taunted, that sheen of sweat gathering on his brow encouraging her to move faster. The hand on his chest pushed harder, firm enough to feel the slow dirge-like thump of his undead heart race with arousal. “Don’t tell me your blade is dull…” she taunted, a childish pout on her impertinent lips, “or are you known to work too quickly with your blade to leave your victims unsatisfied.”

A breathless laugh from his slack jaw, and Astarion twisted her wrist captured behind her until it let go of her blade altogether. “You have no idea what I can do, do you little Cleric?” He growled, pulling her lower by the small of her back until their faces were inches apart, his own dagger blade still kissing her neck.

“I have little interest in learning,” she snapped in reply.

That only made him grin and pull her closer, “But you have… some… interest…”

She gasped, feeling those plush lips brush their cool fullness against her mouth, the slightest jerk of her head causing his blade to bite flesh. Just a little, just enough to run down the line of her jaw to her lips… to share a few drops from her mouth to his….

“Gods,” he groaned the second her blood was on his lips and over his tongue.

That one nick in her skin sliced the tension, and it left them both aching and starving. “I need more…” he practically whined, blade skating a little deeper to let just a touch more blood flow. Blood he eagerly lapped by kissing her roughly. He devoured her, exploring those parts of her warm wet mouth that tasted of copper and whatever it was that was her… her essence.

A flick of his wrist, and he tossed his own blade away, that hand now pressing into the back of her head. Turning, twisting, he needed to drink, to lick and suck up every bit of her blood that dared to well from the wound. Rapid, open-mouthed kisses on her jawline, he cleaned her. “More,” he rasped nearly silently against her skin, his tongue laving the path from her jaw to those panting lips of hers.

Fingers in her hair, he yanked her, rolling her over and into the dirt beside his bedroll. Her gasp of surprise made him smile, his mouth locked to hers, their tongues tangling, dueling with their own thrusts and parries. And she was his to pin and cage beneath him.

Shadowheart’s pulse raged, in her ears, her chest, even her cunt as he kept grinding against her sex with more and more need. Rutting, that’s what this was, his strong frame, a crush of pure muscle, pinning her to the dirt. Every snap of his hips grew increasingly desperate. Hungry. Harder. His hand gripped into her trousers, yanking them roughly lower over the curve of her hips. Her flushed skin prickled at the cool night air touched where she dripped and burned for more. And every little buck of her hips she made helped wriggled them to her knees and then ankles, letting the cool leather of his trousers press into her sex. Gods, he throbbed, still clothed and contained as he grinded against her.

Little growls tickled her ear with every frantic snap of his hips, that cool, wet tongue still sucking and cleaning the nick he drew in her flesh.

A single, cool digit slipped inside her cunt, and she moaned, loudly and wantonly, earning a heavy palm over her mouth to silence her. But its gag only allowed her to open that impertinent mouth again to whine louder even as his finger found that sweet spot of nerves in her channel and crooked his crooked touch right over them.

Walls clenched, wet arousal soaked his hand, and his palm vibrated with the muffled, half-swallowed whines he coaxed from her throat as she came. He could taste the change in her blood as it still seeped from neck, that heady tingle of arousal in her system as it coursed in her veins.

“More, I need more,” she mouthed beneath his grip.

Astarion chuckled, slowly as she tried her best to shimmy his own pants down. It was just enough to let his cockhead free, a little more and his erection pushed, flushed and rock hard, against her belly.

Another needy whine ripped from her throat, filled with eager hunger, a different kind than the ache in his belly. He needed to be inside… and the whimpers from her lips and the scent on his fingers all screamed her agreement. Astarion had to bite his own tongue to keep quiet as he slotted himself into her. But it wasn’t enough to keep her own desperate keening quiet.

A sound slipped from under his hand as it shook, grasp slipping as he was seated fully inside her cunt. Shadowheart whimpered, high pitched, loud enough to make Gale in the next bedroll rustle his sheets and puff in his slumber. Nearly waking. One heart raced as they both froze… both sets of lungs holding their breaths as they stilled and waited.

“Mmhmmphmm magic touch,” Gale muttered, sticky-mouthed in his sleep…. Then he snored in that rhythmic way of his.

Astarion wasted no time, determined not to let the wizard spoil his fun a second time. He gripped her waist, thrusting into her, sheathing to the hilt as those green eyes widened and rolled back in silent ecstacy. “Good girl,” Astarion dared to whisper, right into the creases of her short-pointed ear. Then, he swallowed the groan that nearly escaped as he started to fuck her in earnest. Elbows in the dirt, mouths pressed together, tongues fighting for taste and dominance… they battled to be the first to finish, to quench the teasing need that had simmered to boiling. “You like this, don’t you… speared on my cock?” he rasped, nearly breathless from the rapid pace he set as he fucked. “Feels good to lose every now and then, doesn’t it?”

Her blunted teeth sank into his lip, drawing a genuine hiss of cool breath from him, making his hips stutter in their timing. “You, vampire,” she growled against his devouring lips. “Bite me.”

His deep-chested laugh rumbled into her own frame. “Now with you, vicious minx, I need to know… ‘bite me’ as in piss off, or…” Trailing off, he let his silent, smirking lips press against her racing pulsepoint. “You just want to feel the attack on two fronts, don’t you? Fangs in your neck… split on my cock…”

She pulled his mouth up to hers and nipped him again, drawing a taste of his blood from the slit she made in that fleshy corner of his mouth.

He snarled into her near-silent laugh, a hand wrapped around her blue-black braid, and he pulled her neck back into reach, his cock hard and throbbing the moment his teeth bit flesh and blood gushed down his gullet. Tasting her climax first, he groaned against her skin as he sucked more and more from her, pushing her through that creating bliss. Fluttering walls, a belly filled with fresh blood, and Astarion’s fucking hitched and slowed and deepened as he flooded her. A few final thrusts, and all that tension released, leaving them bloodied, breathless. He rested his head in the curve of her shoulder, feeling the remnants of her warm blood pooling yet down her neck.

The night quieted back down until it was only the soft snuffle of snores and steadying out of her heartbeat beneath him.

Then she opened that insolent mouth again. “You’re cleaning this up,” she taunted. “Blades too.” Astarion lifted his head; eyes half-mast and chin sloppy with her blood. “And before you begin, no,” Shadowheart smirked, “you can’t just lick them clean…”

The next morning, gathering round the campfire, Gale couldn’t help but notice the way the Cleric and the Vampire sat near one another. “You two look the very picture of camaraderie, if I must say!” He handed Shadowheart a buttered bun and a hunk of cheese. “I am so very gratified you took my advice to sleep off your tempers. Now look at you! Thick as thieves!” Gale gloated, hands on his hips in a pose of triumph.

Astarion just snorted, pulling out his dagger to sharpen as everyone ate. And much to Gale’s mortified chagrin, he replied, “Yes, very clever. But a good midnight fucking works too…”

[dragon--sage]

okay i know astarion can potentially drain the mc to the point of death if they allow him to drink from them... BUT the persuasion check they have to pass to convince astarion to stop is only 5.

yeah it's higher than say a 2 but i still think this number is CRAZY LOW for a vampiric spawn who has been starved for centuries and has subsisted solely on the blood of vermin ever since he was turned. like this was his FIRST drink of PEOPLE blood, and all mc has to do basically is ask him nicely to stop. sorry to the people who failed the check OBVIOUSLY and this isn't saying it's not fucked up that he killed some of y'all (or that i wouldn't be annoyed if i ever fail and he kills my mc lmao). i'm just saying.. it's a REALLY low number for someone who's been starved and abused for so long, and is driven out of their mind w/ painful cravings every second of the day.

honestly i feel like it speaks to the little crack in astarion's emotional armor, and the tiny kernel of goodness beneath it that cazador couldn't crush.

[yumerz]

A NEW KILLER IN TCSM AND LEAKED VOICE TRANSCRIPT?!!

SHE LOOKS SO CUTE!!! I CAN’T WAIT FOR HER TO RELEASE SO I CAN GO CRAZY!!!!!

💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

Apparently her ability is made to lure victims into a state of false security until another one of the family members strikes? I wonder how well that could execute in game without it being so op?? Honestly seems like a very interesting concept from the voice transcripts she seems to be a big crybaby which honestly who doesn’t love crybaby murders? I’m definitely not gonna complain!

(Dolly’s Leaked Voice Transcripts)

/To make it easier to read I’ll color code her responses!/

Interacting with the family (Dolly Hart)

Dolly Sees Sissy

“(crying) I can’t do this, I can’t.”

“Awh sugar, what's with those tears? Ain’t you having fun?”

“(crying continues) No.”

“Nancy is really startin’ ta get on my nerves.”

“Pay no mind to the old woman Doll, she's just a bit upset that her boy is payin' more attention to you than he is her.”

“I’ll try.”

“I-I’m really not supposed to be talkin to ya.”

“Did Johnny tell ya that sugar? Don’t listen to him..I’m always here if ya wanna have girl-on-girl talk!”

“S-sounds like fun! But let’s keep this secret please.”

“Of course sugar, whatever ya say. (laughter)”

“(crying) It’s everywhere, they’re everywhere.”

“Come on Dolly, smile! I know you aint used to this but it gets easier over time I promise!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“(crying)”

“(fake crying) Is this makin ya feel better? (small laughter)”

“(crying elevates) NO!”

“You haven’t seen Johnny have ya?”

“Sweety with all due respect how do ya put up with the bastard?”

“Oh well, he’s real sweet to me when he wants ta be even when he gets mad I know he means well.”

“(laughter) Well good luck you sure got yer hands full.”

Dolly Sees Drayton/Cook

“Where are they, damnit.”

“Hey you! Doll or whatever go roun' back and check on those damn gates. Make sure they're nice an' secure understood?”

“Y-yes sir! I’ll g-get right on that!”

“(crying)”

“Quite that damn cryin’ before I give ya somethin’ ta cry about ya here girl?!”

“(crying) O-okay.”

“An' quit just noddin' at everything I tell ya dammit! Like some damn beaten ol' mutt, I swear there isn't any normal person roun' here. (annoyed grumbling)”

“Umm D-Drayton, not to be a bother but who’s this girl Johnny seems to be so fond of?"

“That damn girl is the soul reason we're in this mess! If that boy woulda jus' stop bringin' all of them girls to the property, we wouldn't be chasin' roun' stupid kids!”

"T-There are more of em?”

“Drayton you really gotta show me some of your recipes, yer cookins real good!"

“Quit tryna butter me up, and focus on actually gettin' the job done instead of havin' everyone finish it for ya!”

“Yes sir. (disappointed sigh)”

“Y’know that recipe ya showed me last time?”

"(annoyed sigh) Yes Dolly, I remember."

“Could ya show me again? I umm forgot what goes in the sauce.”

"Jus' ta stop yer yamerin' I’ll show ya again once we kill all these damn vermin okay?”

“Okay!”

Dolly Sees Johnny

“(crying)”

“I really do love it when you cry, Dollface. (laughter)”

“(slighty aggitated) Johnny who’s this girl everyon' sayin' yer so fond of?"

“Awh c’mon Doll, yer not jealous now are ya? You know yer always gonna be enough for me, Dollface.”

"R-really?!”

“(crying) Johnny, I wanna go back home."

"You think I wanna be here all day chasin' these vermin'?"

"(crying) N-no I jus-"

"(tuts and taunting) Awh, cmon' Dollface quit poutin' already an' help us out with that little act of yours.”

“(screams of distress) Help me! Get it off! Get it off!”

“What's the matter, Doll, can't handle a bit of blood? (laughter)”

"(hums "Look At Your Love" Sissy's song)"

“You ain't talking to that hippie now are ya darlin?"

“(stops humming and in panic) N-no! I would never!”

"(sadistic tone) You know I'll find out if you are."

“(small cries) Johnny, you love me, right? You promised you wouldn't leave me, right?"

“Nancy tellin' ya shit again? (annoyed sigh) Don't worry, Doll, I'll handle her. You just keep yer distance.”

"Okay."

“Johnny! C-can I stick with ya for a bit? I don’t w-wanna be alo-"

“(frustrated sigh) Dolly Baby, why don’t you go and smash some heads in, instead of hoverin' all over me like a damn dog and let me finally breathe!”

"(crying) I-I’m sorry."

“(crying) There’s so much blood."

“Bloody and a Crybaby, darlin' you really are for me! (laughter)”

"I-I am?”

“I can’t knock 'em down right with this no matter what, they just keep runnin'!

“What not likin' the mallet? Try smashin' harder, so that way you can get the job done much faster. Now isn't that an idea, sweet thing?"

"Ah! O-Okay I’ll make ya proud!”

"(laughter) I’m sure you will.”

Dolly Sees Nancy

"(crying then gasp of realization) Shit, not her."

“Of course yer crying. What else would you be doing? Yknow, I can't wait till my Johnny finally gets bored of ya."

“(sniffs) Johnny cares about me more than anything in the world I know he does, right?”

"Just like all the others, you ain't nothing special. (laughter)”

“Nancy.”

“Heard you and Johnny tusslin' trouble in paradise, Doll? (laughter)

"(verge of tears) Please not now."

"Oh girl, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. once he's done with you, I'll make sure to take care of you myself.”

"Johnny doesn't want me talkin' to ya leave me alone."

“Stilk fallin' for his act, huh? Johnny may like ya, but does he actually love ya? (laughter)”

“Nancy have you seen any of em kids around?"

“Of course, you’d let one get away! (frustrated grumbling) Well? Go get 'em I ain’t helpin' ya!”

Dolly Sees Nubbins/Hitchhiker

"Nubbins, do ya have any idea why Nancy is so I don't know mean all the time."

“I d-don't get why that old lady’s all mean t-to you! Y-yer pretty, and nice a-a-and she's just a m-mean o-ol hag that's what!”

“(sniffs) That’s real sweet of ya Nubsie.”

“(crying) Why can’t they just die."

“W-Why you al-always cryin' for? Don't you ever get a headache from all that w-whining?”

"(crying dies down) O-oh umm yeah b-but I’ve gotten used to it by now.”

"Sissy says I should use more accessories as a way to get Johnny to notice, but I'm not sure what?"

“I think a nice b-bone bracelet would l-look real nice on you! I c-can make you one if you want! (laughter)”

“(gasp) R-really?! I would love that, thank ya, Nubsie. I really do appreciate it. I can’t wait to see it!”

“(crying)"

“Yknow the o-only reason they pick on ya is because y-yer to nice gr-grow some b-backbone o-once in a-awhile!”

Dolly Sees Bubba

“Heya Care Bear!"

"(affection grunting)"

"Woah n-now! Don't get so close swingin' yer chainsaw aroun it could hurt someone.”

“(crying) I don’t think I can do this by myself, Bubs. I really don’t wanna hurt em.”

"(very concerned grunting)"

“Yer lookin' real s-scary with that blood all smeared."

"(very concerned grunting)

"Don’t worry I’ll help ya clean yer mask once this is all over.”

“Heya Bubs, how's the huntin' goin' for ya?"

"(happy/affection grunting)"

"(laughter) I'm glad yer havin' some fun."

“If I find one of em you’ll be the first to know!”

"(comforted grunting)"

Dolly Sees Hands

“Wow Johnny wasn’t kiddin' y-you really are an intimidatin man.”

“I heard a lot bout yer hunts with Johnny, ya mind teachin' me a thing or two? (nervous laughter)”

"Not much of a talker, huh?"

“(crying) I-I can’t do th-this alone."

"(silence)"

"(sniff) Ya min' given me a hand? (laughs lightly)”

"(small laughter)"

“Hands! Glad I caught ya when I did. You wanna try this new recipe I’m workin on for Johnny it's with h-hum- well meat."

"(grunts in affirmation)"

"I’ll t-take that as a yes”

“(screaming in terror) Oh! (laughs lighty) it's just you."

"(grunts in affirmation)"

"Ah, silent, but deadly I’ll have to learn from that.”

Match Start Intro

“H-how did they escape?! God, this needs to end quickly.”

“Of course, the cat plays with their food and the mice find a way to run wild. I really don’t wanna hurt em.”

“(crying) W-why couldn’t they have just stayed in the damned basement and die! Ya’ll kids better die this time.”

“Don’t worry Johnny I’ll make ya proud. I hope.”

Idle

“(crying) I never wanted to do this yknow but you gave me no choice I have to kill ya now!”

“Sissy was right it really does get easier the more I do this.”

“(laughter with tears) I really am a terrible person.”

“This is gettin' old! Come out already!”

“I can’t do anything right. (crying) Hell! I can’t even kill someone right!”

“What was it that Sissy said to me once? Laugh and smile and everything will get easier. (Manic Laughter) Yeah, no.”

“Go ahead, lil bunnies. The big bad wolf is gonna find ya soon enough.”

Feed Grandpa

“Don’t bite me, Don’t bite me, Don’t bite me!”

“Open wide, don’t choke now.”

“(crying) Please, let this work Johnny’s countin' on me…”

Find Hidden Victim

“(screams in excitement) I actually found one!”

“(crying) like a dog I’ll always fetch!”

“Run.”

“(crying) You're all real bad at hidin’ no wonder they always find ya.”

“You think yer hidin will do ya any good (laughter) then yall are dumber than you look!”

“(crying) Don’t hide without me! Make some room!”

Hit Enemy

“GRAH! Just stand still will ya!”

“(crying) Can’t ya see I’m tryin' to help! Just let me take away yer sufferin' already!”

“(crying) This is hurting me more than its hurtin ya.”

“Cry all ya want! (crying) It won’t change anythin!”

“(crying and laughter) Yall are making this way too easy. I feel real bad for ya.”

“Trust me, it's better if I’m the one who kills ya!”

Dolly See Blood Trail

“Looks fresh, your close ain’t ya.”

“(crying) You poor things I’m so sorry you havta suffer like this, I’ll help ya don’t worry”

“So much blood.”

“The more blood yall lose the easier it will be when he finds ya!”

“Well looky here a little red road!”

“(crying) This will be yalls demise.”

See Enemy First

“Run rabbit. (crying) Run!”

“Oh c'mon now, don’t just run off without me!”

“Just a few smacks to yer pretty lil skull will do the trick trust me!”

“(crying) I can see you.”

“I ain’t gonna bite ya! I promise.”

See Enemy Sub

“Johnny’s gonna be real pleased once I tell him how I found ya’ll!”

“It’s over. You better start runnin'. (crying) Right now!”

“Found ya!”

“(crying) Don’t even try runnin' it’s useless now.”

Encounter Start

“(crying and struggling) Let go of me!”

“(laughing with tears) well, looky here! Cmon, kill me! Yknow ya wanna!”

“Don't you dare, touch what's his!”

“Try me! I dare ya!”

“(crying) I just wanted y’all to die. Is that too much to ask?! Huh?!”

Exit Interaction

“AH! This could’ve ended badly. Good thing I caught it before any of em really did run off.”

“God this is frustratin’ just stay on dammit!”

“No wonder I didn’t hear no vroom an’ boom!”

Lose Enemy First

“Dammit, dammit, dammit! Johnny’s gonna be so mad!”

“No! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!”

“Gah! (crying) The hunt just started, and I already messed up! Shit!”

“(crying) Johnny, trust me, this isn’t my fault.”

Lose Enemy Sub

“Run all ya want I’ll find ya! I hope.”

“Go ahead, run from fate!”

“(crying) No, please! Let this end! For the both of us.”

“(crying) Come back! Please I’m beggin' ya, please!”

Lose Enemy Long

“Yall were already dead the very moment you set foot on this place.”

“(crying) The more yall struggle the more painful this is gonna be!”

“I know yer here come on out! This is pointless. Please just go away.”

“I was like the rest of y'all once I too ran from death, but look at me now head over heels for him. I’d do anythin’ for my Johnny.”

See Family Member

“Keep yer eyes peeled they're here, somewhere”

“(crying) O-Oh! I didn’t see ya there. I’ll be quiet now.”

“I-I need yer help, please?”

See Trapped Victim

“Like a bug, disgusting.”

“(crying) That looks like it hurts! Here let me help!”

“I told ya, didn’t I? We’d find ya one way or the other, dead or alive.”

“Go ahead! Struggle, easier for me ta kill ya this way.”

“(crying) Please understand this is really for the best.”

“I-I need ya to stop movin yer makin' it harder to aim.”

See Victim Escape

“No, no, no, no, no! (cries and screams in frustration) What am I gonna do!? What am I gonna do?!”

“No wait! Please don't go! Please! Let me free you!”

“Bleed, bleed out, and die for all I care (crying) I tried helpin’ ya but yer too stubborn to care!”

“They got away, shit! (crying) I really am useless. What’s Johnny gonna do with me now if I can’t even finish the job! N-no, he wouldn’t do anything like that. Would he?”

“(crying) Johnny. I need Johnny!”

Use Ability Blocked

“They ain’t nearby yet. Gotta wait for the right time.”

“I don’t see anyone here.”

“Can’t deal with crowds. Gotta wait till they scatter.”

“No one is here to help.”

Use Ability

“Help! Help me! Please?!”

“No please don’t hurt me! Please someone help!”

“We gotta run! We gotta hide!”

“Y-yer not one of 'em are ya thank god! (crying)”

“(crying) Please, don’t leave me alone. I’m scared!”

“(crying) We’re not safe here! Please, we have to go!”

Use Ability Success

“I’ll take us somewhere safe! I promise.”

“(crying) I’m so glad you stayed. I was so scared, please don’t leave me.”

“(crying) I was stuck here for so long. I’m glad yer here to protect me.”

“You got so much blood on ya, I’ll clean ya right up once we're out of here!”

“We’re gonna be safe again, I just know it.”

Execution

“(crying) I’m sorry! You gave me no choice!”

“(crying) Blood, blood so much blood!”

“Why won’t you stop twitchin'!?”

“(crying) I'm sorry I'm sorry, I'm sorry!”

Isn't she so cool! I need to know more of her lore, honestly. Can't wait for them to talk about her next stream if they even do.

(I hope ya like my oc!!!)

[kybercrystals94]

Sounds in the Night

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 14 - Alternate Prompt: Regrets

Rated: G | Words: 891

Something wakes him from the deepest sleep he can ever remember having the sheer joy of experiencing. At first, it annoys him, then it infuriates him. The depths of his unconsciousness had been unprecedentedly peaceful somehow. And someone has the audacity to wake him up. What is so kriffing important that it can’t wait five more minutes? 

“What, what?” he growls out, covering his face with both hands. 

“I’m scared,” a little voice trembles in his ear. 

Fury evaporates; however, the damage is already done. When he turns his head to look at his sister, she looks on the verge of tears, wide eyes glittering in the dim light of the night cycle. 

“Omega?” Hunter whispers.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up,” she says. 

Hunter sits up on his elbows. “No, kid, don’t be sorry. I just thought you were Wrecker.” 

A startled grin breaks across Omega’s face. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Hunter says with a chuckle. “He used to wake me up every night to grab Lula for him when he’d drop her from the upper bunk. That’s why we started making him keep her on Kamino.”

The smile lingers but quivers at the edges as it starts to falter. 

Hunter sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bunk, then pats the space next to him. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re scared of?” 

Omega sits down next to him, and blinks up at him in surprise when he drapes the GAR issue blanket over her shoulders. She draws it closer to herself, clutching at it with fists under her chin. “Thank you,” she whispers, but doesn’t say anything else. 

Hunter waits, listening to Omega’s heart rate change from a frantic patter to its normal, at rest pace. It reminds him of Crosshair’s heartbeat after he had a nightmare back on Kamino when they were cadets, when his brother would slip into Hunter’s bunk without a word passed between them. Comfort in presence alone. 

“I know we’re on a ship,” Omega says after a long while, “and that we are in hyperspace���but I thought I heard a creature.” 

“A creature?” Hunter asks, thinking of the vermin that sometimes find their way aboard when they’re planet side. 

“Like the Ordo Moon Dragon,” Omega clarifies. 

Hunter chuckles. “I think we’d know if that sorta thing snuck on board, kid.” 

“I know,” Omega says. “But…I heard weird breathing.” 

“Snoring?” Hunter asks. “We’ve got a few brothers guilty of that.”

Omega wrinkles her nose. “No, it was like a sniffing sound.” 

“Hmm,” Hunter hums thoughtfully.  

“Could you just…check for me? Just in case?”

“Check for monsters?” 

Omega nods. “Like in the hatch?”

Hunter hesitates, weighing his options. He knows, and he knows Omega knows, that there can’t really be anything Ordo Moon Dragon-like up in the hatch. Climbing up there to “check” is a waste of time. And yet, Hunter finds himself pushing himself to his feet. “Sure, kid. I’ll check the hatch.” 

“And the gunner’s mount? And the fresher?” 

“Yeah, kid, I’ll check.” And he does. He pulls himself up into the hatch, glances around long enough for Omega to believe he checked, then he peeks into the gunner’s mount and the tiny closet they made into a fresher when they first acquired the Marauder. 

Omega is still perched on the edge of the bunk when he returns, his blanket still swaddled around her. 

“All clear, kid,” he tells her. 

“Are you sure?” she asks. 

Hunter nods. “Very.” 

Omega glances toward the back of the ship where the gunner’s mount is. “Can I sleep here with you tonight?” she asks, her voice small, almost as though she hopes Hunter won’t hear her. But of course he does. 

“Is something else scaring you?” Hunter asks, dropping back down beside her. 

Omega shrugs her shoulders. “I have bad dreams sometimes. About Kamino. About being alone. Sometimes I wake up and I forget that I’m not anymore.” 

Hunter smiles softly. “I suppose this bunk can fit a soldier and a half.”

A gasp of joy escapes Omega’s lungs. She clambers up into the bunk, positioning herself between the wall and where Hunter will lay. Just like his brothers always used to do when they’d hide from storms as cadets. Hunter had always felt proud that his brothers believed they were safe with him between them and whatever fears lurked out of sight and reach. 

If only that were true. 

And if the past few weeks on the run from the Empire had taught Hunter anything, it was that they weren’t invincible afterall, that some fears are tangible dangers, and he has no power to stand between them and his siblings. Not anymore. Or maybe never at all, and it has always been an illusion. 

He knows that, and his brothers know that. 

But right now, as he lays down next to his baby sister, she believes it might be true. That as long as Hunter is by her side, he can keep his promise. That he’ll protect her, that she’ll always be with them. 

But as her breaths even out, the gentle inhales and exhales of sleep, Hunter lies wide awake. 

He hopes that he can make the illusion real, that he can stand between the galaxy and her. 

But hope can only hold for so long. 

END

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[tf2occontest]

THE HUNTER VS Addison Pavone, Scout

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

THE HUNTER

@scozthewoz

Image credit: @/scozthewoz

hailing from the london countrysides of the united kingdom, this insatiable butcher with the cheshire grin is a teenage expert at the art of paid homocide, despite how squirrely she may look! her presentation is a vauge riddle, hinted at with hyena-like cackles, a cruelty behind her constantly bared teeth she tends to mask as friendliness. she prides herself on her toys, each of them meticulously handmade and carefully hidden like snakes in the sand, every beartrap or snare serving nicely to hold her prey in place and maim them as it does so just in case one pesky rabbit weasles out! this viscera-lusting vermin prefers a more hands-on approach when she crawls out of the walls to play, often putting her guns to the wayside in favour of her beloved knife -- and on occasion, her teeth.

a taste of blood goes a long way for her motivation, you know.. why don't we give her a little push?

Addison Pavone, Scout

@theshelledonespods

Image credit: @/theshelledonespods

Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, Adds is as… well, decent a mercenary as you could ever ask for. Fast-moving, fast-talking, and relentlessly annoying, she's run jobs for TF Industries as Team Bunker's Scout for years now. Yes, that's right! Bunker! My fanteam! She’s not some no-name Fortress punk scraped from the bottom of the barrel, no, she's a no-name punk from the upper dregs of the barrel! Just as disposable as Fortress’ no-name punks, though, which is made abundantly clear when Bunker is contracted out to both Redmond and Blutarch Mann in order to finally take care of their blasted brother's mercenaries. Fortunately(?), Addison and her petty rivalry against Scout is one of several spanners in the works that sends this whole scheme flying off the rails and directly into Hell. I love her. I hope you love (or at least tolerate) her as well.

[skvaderarts]

Jayvik Request #2 Dinner and Diatribes Chapter 2: Cloak and Dagger

Summary: Word count 4.9K A03 Link

Viktor was... conspicuously missing when Jayce came looking for him in chapter one. Now you get to find out why.

You can read Chapter One here!

Hey I have more for you @melonbear51 @wuekka @mythbookworm18 @ahsokasgfriend @dragonling348 @coldcoleslaw @chaosyetorder @fandomsarepainful and @gonzanova LMK if you don't want to be tagged in the future :D

Chapter 2: Cloak and Dagger

Note: It occurs to me that I should probably come up with a reason why Ambessa would have already visited the commune and everyone is still alive. Goddamnit. Jayce just ran later than normal because he got lost on his way to the commune, but, um… Let me cook. I’ll come up with something.

—

If she’d just heard the Gateman right, he’d just said no weapons.

It would be an impressive sentiment if it weren’t so doggedly foolish. His bravery would’ve been commendable if it were not so meaningless. A community without even a trace of military power was an easy mark to conquer. There was no place for pacifism under the watchful gaze of her influence. They would not interfere with the procurement of her prize.

Fortunate indeed for them that her new associate had been willing to parlay with them. There had been no need; her march would not be halted by a settlement of polite common folk and their unseen benefactor. But it did raise a few questions that would require answering when he returned. Who was he there to see? Who had a man so known for his distasteful deeds seen the need to consult with at the expense of her valuable time?

An associate of Singed. He didn’t seem to have many of those. An, according to him, a former pupil, no less. And one who had seen fit to hide himself away in a place like this. For better or worse, the Undercity truly did house some of the strangest, most ambitious people she’d yet seen amidst her many travels. It was almost impressive. Almost. More annoying than anything else, if she were to be perfectly honest. Some of them were harder to kill than the most persistent vermin, and even harder to track down.

They would set up camp for now. Stay in the general area until their task was completed. This would be but a minor setback. But now she had an additional task to carry out, one born purely from her newly piqued sense of morbid curiosity.

Oh yes. She would very much like to meet this Herald. Very much, indeed.

—

The bandaged man exited the greenhouse and headed towards the exit, as cautious as he was casual. As though his footfalls didn’t tread an ominous path towards something darker seemingly everywhere he dared venture.

Vi couldn’t help but notice that he’d left almost as quickly as he’d arrived. Had she found the one person the Herald didn’t seem keen to save and welcome into his little community? Had his previous associations rendered him unsalvageable in the eyes of their stalwart savior? Who was to say? She didn’t know the man, but she’d heard enough to guess who he might be, even as she languished in the depths of Stillwater prison. His description certainly sounded like the man who Silco had once employed. Her sister would know better than she did, but this wasn’t the time to ask her. She didn’t have all the facts, but her gut told her that she knew enough.

First, the Noxians had marched up to the front gate of the commune in full force, only to vanish further into the underground shortly after without so much as an attempt to enter, and now this strangely familiar visitor had left and gone in the same general direction that they’d disappeared into. It made every hair on her body stand at attention. Something was wrong.

Vi was no fool. She’d fallen on miserable, despair-induced times recently, but she wasn’t blind to what was going on in the Undercity. Checkpoints, heavily armed patrols, and liberal usage of extraordinary violence had become the norm under the banner of the newly formed government. All under the supervision of their Noxian visitors. And they were all too happy to lend a hand in the chaos. To stoke the fires of oppression.

Their possible motivations were beyond her, but she didn’t care to lose sleep thinking about that. Vi knew what was, she didn’t need to understand why. She just wanted them gone. Wanted her family to be safe again.

Their presence at the commune could only spell disaster, and Vi had the sneaking suspicion that her family’s arrival had something to do with it. What were the odds that they’d arrive so soon after their new friend had agreed to treat Vander? What else could they be after at a time like this?

The writing was on the wall. She needed to act. Fast.

Quickly making her way over to the entrance to the greenhouse, she was met with the sight of Vander resting. He seemed to be semiconscious, drifting between a peaceful slumber and a sudden awakening. And not far from where he resided stood their uncanny benefactor, a man as strange as he was unnaturally accommodating. She knew next to nothing about him, and yet, she felt like he knew more than she was willing to admit about her and her family. At least through the lens of Vander’s fragmented memories. He’d known her sister’s name, at least.

But something was… off. He seemed ever so slightly perturbed. Not as at ease as the last time she’d been near him. Had his previous visitor said something? It only reinforced the growing sense of unease welling up in the pit of her stomach.

Regarding her silently as she approached her wayward father, he seemed to wonder what she was up to as she cautiously attempted to rouse the slumbering man-beast. He’d just gotten him to sleep. What was her end goal here?

“We should probably move Vander for a while.” Vi started, continuing her efforts to attempt to wake him. He was stubborn, but if she poked him enough, surely it would work eventually.

The statement earned her a strange look from the Herald as he slowly made his way over to her, seemingly baffled by the sudden shift in her demeanor. It was clear that something had her riled up. She wasn’t panicked, to be sure, but she moved with a sense of urgency that was foreign to him.

“We’ll bring him back. I just… I have a bad feeling about this. The Noxians were just at the front gate. Have you seen the things they’ve been doing topside?”

He shook his head, the rainbow hue in his tired eyes shifting into something more thoughtful as he absorbed the information he’d just been distributed. It was subtle, but he seemed to find the notion unpleasant.

Isolated as he was, the news of the travesties occurring above them was not new to him. He’d seen the memories of the people who had ventured there in search of salvation. Many of them had been choked by the Grey, battered under the unyielding foot of the Noxians, or worse. He glanced over at the door, reconsidering the context that his unexpected visitor had arrived under. This was ominous. Both he and Vi seemed to be on the same page, even without exchanging a single word. She wasn’t asking his permission. She had every right to leave and take her loved ones with her. He just hoped that she would return. That she would be able to.

“I’ll check in after he’s someplace safe. Give everything a chance to blow over. I might know just the place.” She assured as Vander finally arose with a groggy growl that fell somewhere between a snarl and a bestial groan. Napping under the comforting blanket of the warm sunshine had agreed with him. He was in no hurry to do anything.

“Are you certain that this is the optimal time to attempt this?” He inquired, a pang of concern tinting the characteristic lilt of his voice. By all means, he understood. But what if this was the very thing they hoped would happen? Surely she’d considered that. It went without saying.  

“I have no clue. Your guess is as good as mine. But if we wait, who knows what will happen? I’m not about to find out.” She grabbed the tarp that they’d attempted to use to conceal him during their trip there. It did next to nothing when it came to accomplishing that goal, but it was something.

There was every chance that they would get ambushed out there. Every chance that something would go wrong, just like it always seemed to. But at least it wouldn’t go wrong in the vicinity of so many innocent bystanders. If there was one thing that she’d learned and been retaught over and over again during her lifetime, it was that Topside had no qualms about crushing the helpless to get what they wanted. And if her guess as to their person of interest was anything to go off of, then maybe the best she could do was fight this battle somewhere else. The Undercity needed a place like this. Somewhere to give them hope. She wasn’t going to risk it. There was too much at stake for every single person involved.

“Good luck, then.”

“Thanks.” She paused. Why was that such a strange thing to hear? That someone would wish her luck for once instead of longing for her downfall. Such a basic concept and yet so foreign to her. “I could use more of that.”

The Herald almost seemed morbidly amused by the comment. His eyebrow quivered momentarily as he watched her go. His finger gently brushed across the inner circumference of the discolored gear he gingerly grasped in between his fingers. He stole an idle glance at it, trying to push aside the memories it brought to mind. Of who it reminded him of. They both could.

—

Locating an ideal spot to set up their temporary camp had occupied very little of their time. By the time their wayward guest had tracked down the rest of their group and joined them, several tents had been pitched, accommodations had been made, and patrols had been established. Efficiency was an expectation. And yet.

A duo of guards held open the entrance to the command tent, allowing entrance to Singed as he rejoined his newly acquired employer’s temporary command center and joined her at the table. She was eating something that didn’t appear very thoughtfully cooked, if at all, but that was beside the point. He came bearing news.

“I trust your meeting was fruitful?” The comment was as sarcastic as it was unsurprised. Ambessa hadn’t expected anything and she’d received just that. But now it was time for answers. They didn’t have time to waste indulging senseless games.

“Viktor believes he can reclaim the man within the beast. If he does, I fear the creature’s value will be lost to us.”

Straight to the point, then. Good.

Ambessa looked up from her meal, displeased but concealing with little to no effort on her part. A lifetime of stratagem and experience had trained her well in that regard. Tempered her like the strongest Noxian steel. “I suspect you have something in mind?”

Singed nodded. “Taking the beast by force would be unnecessary and needlessly costly. I believe I can conduct a solution that will suit our purposes. To inhibit Viktor’s success.”

“What is he doing, exactly? Curing the creature?” How could one hope to cure such a forsaken creature? Who was he to believe that such a fruitless task could even hope to be accomplished?

“He appears to have formed a connection with the Arcane. I have my theories as to how he accomplished this, but he now wields his newfound talents to great effect. He seems to be making progress… “

“You did not tell me he was a mage.” Her displeasure was clear. Her eyes settled on her personal guard in the back corner of her lodging for a brief moment in time before she indulged in her meal again, returning to her conversation. Her past and current experiences with mages did not make this news welcome whatsoever.

Singed took notice of the change in the tone of conversation but did nothing to acknowledge it. “He isn’t. Not exactly.”

The response earned him a questioning look from Ambessa. The answer didn’t make sense. Someone either did or did not possess Arcane talents in her experience. There was no middle ground. “Well, whatever he is, if there is a chance that he may prove detrimental to our goals, then I need him dealt with. Sooner rather than later. I have no tolerance for loose ends.”

Shifting ever so slightly on his side of the table, Singed seemed to make himself more comfortable. That had been the answer he’d expected to receive. Her willingness to accommodate uncontrollable variables in her plans had proven uniquely troublesome, but he understood in principle. She was an exacting woman and demanded clear-cut results. Ambiguity was wholly unwelcome. Still, it wasn’t a demand he was willing to bend to without offering an alternative first.

“He is young. He still labors under the false narrative that the hands of progress should only be pushed forward by positive means. I doubt he will cause any further trouble.”

“Self-righteous?” As seemingly every mage she’d dealt with was. Perhaps it was genetic.

“Self-effacing. Self-sacrificing. Possessed of an uncompromising sense of moral responsibility towards others that now presumably drives his desire to succeed in his new venture. Purely for the sake of those people, no doubt. External temptations are of little to no interest to him but… easily manipulated with the right forms of persuasion, in my personal experience. We need only find the right object of fascination for him to fixate on.”

Ambessa had never heard him say so much all at once in the brief time that they’d been acquainted with one another. This mystery man continued to intrigue. If she wasn’t misreading his unspoken thoughts, he almost seemed to be trying to convince her that this man held value to her cause.

“And what concern of mine is he? I do not need a mage with a martyr complex and a guilty conscience to worry about.”

He was making headway. She hadn’t refused. “I agree. But I do not need to tell you of all people that such power could be quite effective in the right hands. Applied to the right problem.”

Ambessa leaned back in her seat, taking an affirmative and commanding stance as she stared him down. She saw the game he was playing. The obvious subject that he was carefully skirting around. It would take more than a play at her humanity to assure his success, but it had been tactfully done, nonetheless.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you want me to spare this man.”

“He may yet have his uses.”

“Let’s speak bluntly.” She pushed the plate of meat aside, clasping her hands together in front of herself. He sought to strike a bargain and achieve a compromise that was to their mutual benefit. “You believe that killing him would be a waste of his potential. That he can still be reigned in. brought alongside. How do you plan to accomplish such a thing? I suspect you have a plan.”

Singed nodded a single time in agreement. 

“If we manage to bring him under control he may be… more easily negotiated with. Outside of his newly found Arcane gifts, he is not a violent creature by nature and those gifts can be mitigated. The most he might do is be verbally combative.” He moved to stand but halted, waiting to be dismissed. He knew her well enough to know that assuming he’d been given permission was foolish at best. “Allow me to prepare something that I believe will be sufficient.”

Considering the proposal for a moment, the old scientist watched keenly as an unreadable look took over her face. She combed through her mind, assessing all the ways that this plan could backfire, rapidly weighing the pros and cons before shaking her head slightly and half rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation before brushing him off with a gesture towards the door.

“You get one chance. The results will not disappoint me. More conventional methods are far less troublesome.”

He stood fully, grunting in agreement before exiting the tent to do her bidding. She watched him disappear around the corner before gesturing towards Rictus. Something told her he would require assistance with his task. Dragging someone back to the base would be very time-consuming.

“Accompany him. See to it that he does not disappoint me.”

—

The plants contained within the conservatory seemed to grow taller and stronger each day in contrast to their caretaker. Still, Viktor enjoyed the quiet this place allowed him. It was different from the abject silence of the golden dome he typically occupied. Peaceful instead of simply quiet. The quiet chirp of birds. The gentle trickle of water from the nearby fountain. Something to think about other than the gnawing sense of emptiness that he couldn’t quite fill.

Perhaps he would remain a little longer. 

There was time. He allowed his thumb to trace the gear again, worrying the same spot over and over again in fruitless futility. He hadn’t expected to see him again. Even if it had only been through a facsimile, he was… alive. Utterly resplendent to him despite the state he’d been in. What had happened to him, he wondered. He would have his answers soon enough. It was unlike Jayce to refuse an invitation, and even less like him to stay away when directly beckoned by his closest friend. Formerly.

He continued to idly trace the cog. He remembered the look he’d seen in his eyes the day he’d left the lab. It was so different from the wild-eyed madness he’d seen reflected in them during their previous conversation. When he’d stoved in Salo’s skull like a shattered terracotta pot. 

He’d asked him to give up Hextech, words unfathomable to Viktor’s mind and yet he’d spoken them all the same. Nothing about his current behavior made sense to him. The Jayce he’d always known had been a gentle creature despite his stature. So unwilling to cause harm. He could barely keep his lunch down under stressful enough circumstances. But he’d just watched him kill a man with little provocation and then proceed as though he were possessed by something far beyond both of them.

… What had happened to his dear friend…

He was going to need a new cog if he kept this up much longer. And still, he stroked it in the absence of something greater. Something preferable.

He’d fixed the unfixable. Mended wounds and minds beyond saving. Jayce would prove no different. He simply had to wait for him. It was quiet now. Perhaps he would drift off, if only for a moment. He liked to think the warmth of the sun had some effect on him, but he didn’t perceive it the way he knew he should. His senses, both physical and metaphysical, were muddled. Dampened since his resurrection. That recursive impulse that never quite left him. It should’ve frustrated him more than it did, and he knew as much but couldn’t muster the effort to feel any other way about it, a fact that both incensed him on some subconscious level and perplexed him. But not to the intensity that it should have. Just like everything else.

Dampened.

Closing his eyes, he began to drift off, feeling his mind meld seamlessly with the otherworldly splendor of the Arcane. The cool breeze and the warmth of the sun began to trickle away. The smell of greenery in the air and the darkness of the all-encompassing starry void began to envelop him. He likened it to communing with some unknowable vast entity, as alive and breathing as it was cold and unfeeling. A duality that he had explored so endlessly and found so few answers in. But there are always more questions. The ultimate puzzle.

Perhaps Jayce would join him here at the commune. They had so much to discuss and so many fascinating frontiers to explore. As partners again.

Viktor had done so much of the groundwork alone this time. He wondered if this was how Jayce felt during the conception of the concept of Hextech. The foundation was strong. Stable. Now all that was left was for his companion to rejoin him. To mend the strange, unexplainable emptiness that he’d felt since their separation. He craved that sense of intellectual stimulation endlessly, yearning to be in his company again. He felt… Incomplete. It was a strange thing to admit to himself, but… 

Captivated by the combined forces of his contemplation and his drifting state of being, he didn’t hear the door open. Nor did he feel the way the air around him shifted as silence once again returned to the tranquility of the greenhouse. He didn’t sense the approach of another, so captivated was he by the sheer breadth of things in store in the immediate future.

But he did feel when something cold and sharp pierced the exposed flesh at the base of the side of his neck.

In an instant, his eyes were open. But no sooner had he located the source of the disturbance -a syringe containing something tinged in a sickly shade of greenish-yellow lodged with pinpoint precision into the artery in the side of his neck- that he began to feel the effects start to take hold. Before the thought of standing had fully left his mind, he was halfway on his feet only to feel a surge of weakness wash over him like an all-encompassing tidal wave. The futility was undeniable.

The strength gradually left him as the remainder of the contents of the syringe were evacuated and the needle swiftly removed from his flesh. His already broad comprehension of the visible spectrum of light heightened as photosensitivity set in, and he started to slump towards the ground, still cognisant enough to ponder who had inflicted this upon him but unable to vocalize such a question as his senses failed him.

Within moments, he’d been lowered to the ground by his unseen assailant, finding himself staring deliriously up at the glass roof bespeckled with holes above him. And then a familiar man stepped out in front of him.

“Give it a moment. I’m yet unsure as to how the efficacy of this serum will compare to my previous subjects. Your biology is more… Complex.“

Viktor blinked, noting the full-body fatigue that had settled into his augmented body. He couldn’t move. And slowly but surely, an all-encompassing urge to drift off into slumber was rapidly overtaking him, one that he doggedly resisted regardless of the apparent futility.

“Dr. Reveck… “ He didn’t bother to ask why. That information was largely useless to him in his current state. But that being said, he still didn’t comprehend any scenario where his former mentor’s actions could possibly prove beneficial to him. Was this about his refusal to surrender Vander to him earlier? His rebuke of his offer to infuse him with the traumatized man’s blood? Surely he hadn’t come to seek retribution…

The door to the structure opened again, and a man he’d never seen before entered the space. A broad, towering stranger garbed in Noxian red and black. So the Doctor was working with the Noxians, now was he? The plot thickened, and his confusion only worsened. This was a truly troubling development. The implications were diabolical in a way he dared not fathom. Such an alliance could only lead to harm; there was no two ways about it.

His body went limp, and his sight finally failed him as he felt his body lift off the flagstone beneath him, lifted effortlessly by the broad arms of the stranger. It appeared they had designs for him. But he thought nothing more of it. He felt incalculable levels of fatigue finally calm him as sound and sight evaded him as he was plunged into the fathomless depths of sleep.

It was time to see what the Noxians had in store for him.

—

Ambessa had only just finished her “meal” when she received word from one of her tent guards that Rictus and Singed had returned, a fact that would have taken her off guard if she’d been paying less attention. But fully relaxing was something she rarely indulged in and never something she entertained on the battlefield.

She shouldn’t have been half as impressed as she admittedly was that the old alchemist had managed to concoct a serum capable of sedating a mage when his resume was taken into consideration, but she couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised by the speed with which the operation had concluded. Nearly pleased, at least. She would reserve that judgment for after she assessed what had just been procured for her.

But as she stepped out into the open space just outside of her tent, she was greeted with a sight she wholly did not expect.

Rictus lowered their new captive to the ground and stepped back, giving her the space to approach. As she did so, she was met with a sight wholly unlike anything else she’d ever encountered anywhere else in Runeterra.

She couldn’t make out the whole of him, but what immediately caught her attention was his overall stature and build. He was considerably more diminutive in stature than she was. Her upper arm alone nearly matched the circumference of his waistline. His rich blond-tipped brown hair obscured most of his face leaving only his mouth, chin, and jaw exposed but what she did see admittedly piqued her curiosity. 

She stepped closer, her eyes trailing from his face down to the point where the skin of his neck gradually integrated with the inhuman bio-organic dark purple weave of his Hexcore augmented flesh. The intricate, almost lattice-like structure that his body was composed of was eye-catching, to say the least, interwoven with seams of gold that only seemed to further highlight the baffling nature of his inhuman biology. His skin, seemingly composed of an alloy of some sort, seemed to shimmer, glowing faintly under the surface in rhythm with his breath, vibrant purple energy fluctuating throughout his entire body. It coursed his veins like a flowing stream, captivating her.

The sight of him was visually arresting in a way she hadn’t known was possible. She found herself genuinely intrigued, captivated by her captive. She had logically assumed that Singed’s former apprentice would be younger than him but…

Her face didn’t betray her thoughts, but she liked what she saw. She would investigate further. She simply had to know more about whatever this was.

“Things went smoothly, I assume?” Her inflection and expression didn’t betray her state of mind, but she felt the same regardless. Oh yes, this would be interesting…

Rictus nodded as Singed gestured vaguely in Viktor’s direction. The only indication that the unconscious man wasn’t dead as a result of his scheme came from the subtle rise and fall of his arm as it rested across his chest. It was barely perceptible, but a keen eye could still make it out from a distance. Good. Ambessa needed him alive. Already, she found herself formulating plans. Concocting schemes. She had designs for him.

“The dosage might have been a bit much, but he will stay as he is until he arrives wherever you intend to transport him.” Singed was not naive enough to assume that she planned to keep him at the base camp in a tent. She wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of abducting him if that was the case. He was too close to his home. She needed him out of his depth. Somewhere utterly unfamiliar to him. And the doctor was willing to make some assumptions as to what the destination she might have in mind for him might be.

Gesturing towards a small detachment of Noxian soldiers off to her side, she indicated that she wanted him moved by virtue of a head tilt towards one of the transports. They obliged immediately, heading over towards the transport to prepare for departure. It would be a long and arduous trip back to the surface.

“Take him back to headquarters. See to it that he’s made… comfortable. We have much to discuss, he and I.” A look of something close to anticipation made its way onto her face as she addressed Singed and Rictus directly. “The two of you may accompany him. I shall be along shortly. The beast can wait for the moment. With this many of my men here, I suspect it is only a matter of time before his location is revealed. We will attend to this matter first and then return. I suddenly have more pressing concerns…”

With a nod, Rictus effortlessly scooped Viktor back up and headed in the direction of the transport with Singed in tow not far behind. There were to be no chances in case he began to stir along the way.

Undeniably cute as he may be, Ambessa knew better than to trifle with a mage.

—

Dear god I think I’ve been possessed by the crack gods how did this chapter end up being this long?! Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it! If you're willing, I’m always happy to receive your feedback! I’ve never written Ambessa, Singed, or Vi before, so I hope the dialogue doesn’t suck! The next chapter will be out within the next few days. I have to catch up on two other fics I’m working on first and then I’ll return to cook for you again. I just hope I didn’t burn the meal this time around lol. See you soon! Thanks again! Bye bye!