#But they aren’t a catch all like these other ones

[makismei]

cw: pleasure dom toji!!!, overstim, he’s sweet, squirting. 18+ content, penetration, little hint of anal play, fingering, oral f! receiving, established relationship

“baby, chill out,” he scolds, grabbing you by the hips and dragging you back. he knocks your legs open and you whimper, resisting.

“tojiii,” you whine, all drawn out and pretty, “please, it’s too much, i can’t cum.”

he scoffs, wet fingers rubbing against your pussy. your body locks up and he holds back a groan at the tears in your eyes. “it’s only too much because you can’t stay still. you did this to yourself, doll.”

you shake your head, stubborn as ever. “‘s not my fault! you just suck!”

eye twitching, toji presses two fingers inside without warning. “i think i’ve been too nice to you, baby.” he hums, scissoring his fingers and relishing in the way your back arches. “look at ya, talking back to me.”

he thrusts his digits, forcing your leg to open wider, while his thumb massages your clit. he presses down, applying pressure and making out little shapes.

you wriggle, tears pooling in your eyes like the drama queen you are. “no! not like thaaaat!”

“why, baby?” he questions, “you cum so quick when i have ya like this.”

you whine loudly, legs starting to shake. toji licks his lips, eyes training hungrily on your cunt. you’re almost there, but you’re fighting the urge to cum, knowing it pisses him off.

it makes him regret the fact he used to make you hold back your orgasms, only letting you cum if he said so—because now look, you’re using it against him.

but toji is competitive and he loves to win.

so he crooks his fingers just right, hooking onto that one spongey spot that guarantees his victory every. single. time.

“yeah,” he goads, watching your body suddenly lock up and wetness spew from your pussy like a geyser, “‘s what i thought.”

he rubs your pussy, just to make your squirt splash around. it’s humiliating, how he toys with your body and forces you into endless pleasure until you go stupid.

but you love it, despite the fact you like resisting, toji knows all too well that it’s just an act.

you turn onto your side, quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

wordlessly, he manhandles you onto your knees, shoving your face into the mattress. you moan at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your pussy, muffling a scream when his lips latch onto your swollen clit and suck, his tongue playfully flicking your little bud.

he alternates between nibbling and sucking, reducing you to a babbling, incoherent disaster.

“cumming!” you warn, more squirt splashing shamelessly onto his face and all over the sheets. you fall forward, head turned to the side and panting.

“what a mess,” he chides, clicking his tongue. “aren’t ya ashamed?”

it’s teasing, but you’re so turned on. you hike up your knees again, wiggling your ass enticingly. you look over your shoulder, pouting. “‘m sorry, toji. didn’t mean to be messy.”

“sorry?” he asks, frantically you nod. burly hand slides up and down his cock, catching your slit and using your fluids as lube. his gaze flits to you momentarily, “yer really sorry?”

you nod again, squirming, “i am! m’ so sorry.”

toji grins, watching his cock disappear into your cunt, “then cum for me again, c’mon, hurry.”

you yell, arms unable to hold yourself up.

he plows into you mercilessly, fingers digging into the plush of your ass. your eyes widen when you feel his thumb on your other hole, rubbing it teasingly.

“what if i put my thumb in here, baby? what do you think will happen?” you feel a line of spit hit your ass, his thumb collecting it before returning to teasing your other hole. “remember your little treasure chest? swore i saw some plugs in there..”

weakly, you try to support yourself on shaky arms, moaning incoherently. “i— toji, i… ahh, mmph!”

you fall back down, face first, and he just laughs, “s’ okay, you don’t have’ta say anything. ya know why?” he goads, thrusting just a little bit harder, teasing you. “‘cause your little pussy is telling me all i need to know.”

toji groans and it’s loud, feeling your cunt squeeze down, trying to milk him for everything he’s worth. “that’s right,” draping himself over your back, his hand sneaks its way to flick your bud, relishing in your squeals and they way your body squirms.

“cum, pretty, c’mon,” he breathes, leaving spit-soaked kisses on your back, “need ya to feel good for me.”

he sings praises in your ear when he hears you gush all over the already damp sheets, moaning into your skin as his thrusts grow sloppy, before he’s dumping wads of hot cum into your battered pussy.

“fuck me,” he sighs, dragging his lips along your shoulder blades and nape, hips still pushing into your ass.

you’re whining, tears blurring your vision as you ride out the pleasure toji relentlessly gives. you’ve fallen into prone bone, too fucked out to utter words besides incoherent babbles.

his hands find purchase beside your head, dropping to his forearms, but refusing to pull out but littering your skin with feverish kisses, “did so good for me, sweets.”

he’s reassuring, knowing it’s intense for you. but toji has a mean streak that he likes to keep up, so naturally he’s teasing. “my baby, so fucked out, huh? it’s okay, you’re so cute like this. always so sweet after i dick you down enough.”

he pulls out, knocking your legs apart to watch his cum drool out of your slit. “mm, yer perfect, baby.”

you flop onto your back, pinching toji’s arm and refusing to look him in the eye. he grins, “what? you want a kiss?”

you nod slowly, cheeks burning. he just knows you too well.

but he complies, all too easily. it’s you, after all.

swallowing up your little moans, he devours your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. burly hands cup your face, opening his eyes to see yours squeezed shut. he grins, biting your lower lip when he pulls away.

rough thumbs wipe your teary cheeks. “there’s your kiss, baby. you happy?”

“yeah…” you mutter, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. “another one?”

he smiles and it’s warm and full of love, leaning down, toji brushes his lips against yours. “sure doll, anything you want.”

[clesired]

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 | 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “could i request a sirius black x black cat!reader? maybe he’s really awkward and whipped for her.” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! you get asked out in the least normal way you can imagine.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, black cat fem!reader, second person pov, 0.9k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You let out a soft sigh as you stop walking, turning around and coming face to face with none other than Sirius Black.

For an infamous prankster—he sure lacks stealth.

The corridor you’re standing in is empty save for the two of you and Merlin, if Sirius’ footsteps aren’t louder than an angry Hippogriff’s.

“Can I help you, Black?” You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

His eyes quickly dart to something just a little over your shoulder, and you don’t miss the way his fingers nervously drum against his thigh as he attempts to play it casual.

“Just walking through, L/N. Same as you.” He nods slowly, still avoiding eye contact.

You don’t buy it.

Sirius Black doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive.

You step closer to him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Are you trying to prank me?”

His eyes widen as he straightens up, immediately shaking his head. “What? No!”

You’re about to say something else when you realize he looks…different. Not in a particularly good or bad way—just a very unlike Sirius way.

His hands can’t stay still, he keeps shuffling his feet side to side, his cheeks are tinged with a soft blush, and he can barely look you in the eye.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve caught him red-handed in the middle of a prank. Why else would he look like that?

Tilting your head, you cross your arms. “Care to share why you’re following me, then?” You ask expectantly.

His cheeks flush further as he flounders for an answer and you raise a brow.

Busted.

He looks down at his feet for a moment as he swallows. “I…” he trails off, and you take another step closer.

“You- I- uh…hair!” He suddenly blurts out, causing you to freeze mid step at the outburst.

Naturally, you look at him like he’s crazy. “What?”

He grimaces for a moment before clearing his throat and trying again. “Your uh- hair. It looks pretty.” He murmurs quietly, clearing his throat.

You furrow your brows in confusion before realization dawns on you and you glare. “Flattery will not get you out of this one, Black. Now what are you up to?”

He struggles yet again for an answer before, “Shoes!”

You look down at your shoes and frown upon not seeing anything out of the ordinary. “What are you talking about? My shoes are just fi-”

“They’re very nice.” He cuts you off, still not looking at you. His cheeks are as red as his tie at this point, and you are no less confused than you were when you started this conversation.

Sighing softly once more, you shake your head. “You’re not making any sense, Black. I just want to know-”

“The robes look good on you.” He interrupts you yet again, cheeks still flaming—but he’s looking at you now, so at least there’s that. “And the shoes, and the hair, and you in general-”

He’s beginning to ramble now, and all you can do is stand there and listen because you have no idea where this conversation is going anymore. Never really did in the first place, it seems, actually.

“Your eyes-” He’s still going, but your attention catches on something else behind him as you hear whispers behind a tapestry.

“Oh, for Godric’s sake-” you hear a voice mutter before Remus Lupin steps out, looking disgruntled as ever.

Two steps behind him is none other than James Potter—who at least has the decency to look sheepish when your eyes land on him.

Peter Pettigrew follows next and quickly scurries to stand somewhat behind the other two boys.

You have no idea when or how they got there without your notice, but in all fairness—when have the Marauders not been a confusing bunch?

Remus huffs, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts and catching your attention once more. “He’s trying to ask you out, L/N.” He explains simply.

You look back at Sirius, who smiles shyly and shrugs.

After a long moment of silence, you scoff. “Why didn’t you just say that!?”

Rather than letting Sirius respond, James steps forward, a lopsided smile on his face. “He can’t help it, L/N. He gets all nervous when he sees you and forgets how to talk, isn’t that right, Pads? Start sounding like Wormtail.”

Sirius nods quickly before looking at you and tilting his head, giving you a small smile.

Maybe it’s because his friends are here now, or simply that the proverbial cat is out of the bag—but for whatever blessed reason, Sirius finds his words. “So, um…would you like to go on the next Hogsmeade trip with me?”

You just stare at him for a few long moments, watching as he begins to shuffle nervously at your silence.

Finally, you raise a brow. “You gonna act normal?”

He nods vehemently, straightening up. “Promise.”

Behind him, the other Marauders are all nodding as well.

“Don’t worry, L/N. We’ll make sure he’s right for your date.” James winks, causing you to roll your eyes in amusement before looking back at Sirius.

“Okay.” You accept, smiling ever so slightly when Sirius breathes out a large sigh of relief and his friends start cheering loudly.

Just before you walk away, you toss one last look back at him.

“By the way, your hair looks pretty today too, Black.”

He smiles so wide it’s almost blinding, and you resume walking down the corridor with a small smirk.

3…2…1…

“Wait a minute, just today!? Oi!” You hear his loud Hippogriff footsteps start up again as he chases after you.

Yeah, he’s definitely back to normal.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! wooh, first post of the new year!!! i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on AO3

summary: Joel and reader finally make it back to the hotel & all that sexual tension is resolved. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv (very stupid, wrap it up kids), creampie, cunnilingus, face-sitting, (resolved) sexual tension, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasm (not really? kinda sorta?), smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair

Note: finally, the last part is here! I hope you’ll enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this. It’s one in the morning so forgive any typos — I wanted to post today. Thank you for the consistent love on this story, I really appreciate all your messages and comments <3

Joel positively drags you back to the hotel, one arm slung across your shoulder, your hastily packed bags in the other. He’s quiet, and you’re afraid that talking will break the spell, that he will hear your voice and remember who you are, and what he’s planning on doing to you. You’re nervous. Excited, yes, but nervous – you’ve been with people before, drunken hookups with collage boys who wanted to get off as quickly as possible. None of it felt like this, you didn’t want any of them as people. With them, it was about the sex itself, with Joel it is almost entirely about him.

Your thoughts are racing in your head, insecurities bubbling up inside of you, things that didn’t matter when you slept with those other people you barely knew – will Joel mind that you aren’t clean shaven? Does he expect you to be more experienced than you are? Are you even good in bed, or will he be underwhelmed, and secretly think you are pathetic?

You want this, more than you have wanted to be with someone maybe ever. But that want makes you vulnerable, strips you of any nonchalance you might have clung to if Joel was anyone else. He isn’t some collage boy who won’t remember you in the morning, he is your father’s best friend, for whom you are a more than controversial choice. Sleeping with you is a threat to his friendship with your father, and still, he’s ready to risk it, he pretty much told you as much. That gives it a level of importance you aren’t used to when it comes to sex.

When you reach the hotel, Joel hurries past the reception before the kind lady can stop you, and despite your nervousness, it amuses you. Joel presses the button to the elevator impatiently, making your stomach flutter. He’s so shameless in his desire for you, not embarrassed by this open display of wanting to get to his room as quickly as possible. You would have worried about looking needy, but not Joel. He’s secure, and solid, and unflinching.

The doors open, and as soon as you’re inside, Joel crowds you against the wall of the elevator, catching your lips in a kiss, before moving his mouth to your neck. You exhale shakily at the feeling of him sucking on your skin, the beard burn a surprisingly welcome sensation.

"They’ve got cameras," you breathe, a weak attempt at regaining some sort of dignity, while Joel quickly unravels you under his mouth and hands.

"Fine by me," he just answers, "Should ask them for a copy to take home with me."

Your knees threaten to buckle at those words, his admission that this isn’t just a holiday hookup, that he will want you just as much when you have left this paradise and returned to the world outside of your bubble.

"Careful, baby," he says, one hand holding you steady by the waist, his lips ghosting over your jawline.

Baby.

With a sudden ding!, the doors open again, and an elderly couple steps inside. Joel stops kissing you, but doesn’t step away, his hand still on your waist, his big body still close to yours. You offer the couple an awkward smile, and barely register the judgement in their eyes as their gazes flicker over Joel’s hair specked with white, because Joel’s hand starts moving again. He slips it under your shirt, no his shirt, rough fingers drawing featherlight patterns on your sensitive waist. His touch is teasing, clearly meant to get some sort of reaction out of you in front of these strangers. Joel’s getting off on this, you realize, on being seen with you, on people knowing just what he plans on doing once you’ve reached the third floor. You bite the inside of your cheek and do your best not to let show how you ache for him, how his gentle touches are affecting you. If you look at him, you know your resolve will crumble, so you pointedly look at a point over his shoulder, and try not to shudder.

As soon as the doors open again, you and Joel get moving, and a nervous chuckle escapes you when you meet his eye. His expression is hard to read – blatant desire, but also something more gentle, something that calms your nerves. It’s Joel. He didn’t leave you hanging when you needed to borrow a bike, didn’t make you feel stupid or guilty for it being stolen, and he won’t make you feel stupid now. That’s what you like the most about him, you think, as his hand ghosts over your back and he leads you towards his room, the way he makes you feel at ease. Whatever the opposite of shame is, that’s what Joel brings out in you.

You reach the door, and want to push it open, but Joel stops you, tilting your face towards him with a gentle touch.

"You don’t have to do this," he says seriously, "we can just go back to the beach. No hard feelings."

You appreciate his consideration, the way he seems to be aware of a certain kind of pressure or expectation his age creates for you, but the idea of going back now, when you’re so close to what you want, makes you want to weep.

"Getting cold feet?", you ask lightly, and he smiles at you, a fond smile, one that seems oddly out of place given the situation.

"I’m just sayin’, I get it if you changed your mind or something. I assume this isn’t the way you…usually do things."

"No," you say, holding his eye contact. "Usually they’re twenty-five years younger."

Joel’s face is a perfect mask, not sure what to make of your remark. You reach up, your hand gently touching his beard, and your eyes glide over the wrinkles around his eyes from years of laughter, the white in his hair, his warm irises.

"God…you’re so fucking sexy," you breathe, and there it is again, that color his cheeks only turn when you compliment him.

"I haven’t changed my mind, Joel," you say honestly, looking directly into his eyes. "Have you?"

"No."

His voice is deep, and he finally, finally opens the door, eyes still on yours.

As soon as Joel pulls you into the room, his lips are on yours again, your arms wrapping around his neck, as he walks you over towards the bed. He’s bigger than you, much bigger, and it only really occurs to you when your knees give out under you, and you land on the bed, sitting in front of him and gazing up.

He looks imposing, almost threatening, if it wasn’t for that expression he has on his face – something behind the desire. You feel safe in his hands, safe to give yourself over, not just in the physical sense. He looks so capable, so easy to trust. His hand comes up to your face, tilting your head up, and you move easily for him, letting him mold you in any way he wants.

"That couple," you begin as you watch him watch you, take you in, "they knew exactly what we were doing."

His hand travels over your throat, and although he doesn’t squeeze, it’s exhilarating to think how well it fits into his palm. You shudder as he pops open the first button of your shirt – his shirt.

"You liked it," you add, voice breathy as the tips of his fingers ghost over your collarbone.

His eyes snap up to yours, and you give a small smile, almost teasing.

"Didn’t hear you complainin’," he answers, holding your eye contact. "Think I should mark you up, so that the reception lady knows, too."

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, but you press your thighs together to relieve that terrible ache. Joel notices, and smirks almost imperceptibly, opening another button on your shirt. He’s taking his time, building tension by making you wait. He’s good at this, you think.

"But then she would stop calling you my Daddy," you breathe, trying hard not to close your eyes under Joel’s touch. Joel cocks an eyebrow, hands lingering on your shirt.

"Don’t tell me you enjoyed that, kid," he says, voice low, eyes intense. You flush, and wonder if he’ll kick you out now, if you have finally made things too weird to continue, but Joel keeps gazing at you, ever steady.

"Cat’s got your tongue?"

You swallow, and let out a shaky exhale. Joel pops open another button.

"That why you kept repeatin’ it to me? Cause it turned you on?"

He’s teasing you, dragging it out of you despite your embarrassment. He wants you to revel in just how debauched it is what the two of you are doing, and you get closer to giving in with every second. Joel’s fingers trace over the swell of your chest, finally visible now that he’s opened most of the buttons, and a weak sound escapes you.

"’S that it, baby?"

"Yes," you breathe finally, your cheeks burning. Joel’s answering smile seems oddly satisfied, as he opens the last button, lets the shirt glide over your shoulders and slump down on the bed in a little heap of linen. You swallow.

"Yes," he repeats, eyes trailing over your body. You wish he’d hurry up and get his hands on you, but with the way slick steadily leaks into your swimsuit, you can’t really complain. He sure knows how to play you like an instrument.

"Say it, then," he says curtly, a simple order, and you briefly close your eyes. It’s almost too good. His eyes are locked onto yours when you open them, expectant and blown wide with desire. He has stopped moving, and you realize he wants to hear you say it before he’ll go any further.

"I…I want to call you Daddy."

Your stomach curls up with need when you hear Joel groan, his resolve quickly crumbling, as he crashes his lips against yours again. He licks into your mouth with urgency, and it’s possessive in a way it wasn’t before, like he wants to claim your mouth. The thought makes you whimper, and Joel trails one hand over your side and down to the waistband of your swimsuit. You didn’t bother putting on your shorts again, just walked to the hotel in your bikini and shirt. His fingers slide under the thinnest part, right on your hip, and he lets it snap against your body. It doesn’t hurt, but the sound makes you groan.

His hands roam over your body relentlessly, squeezing, and tracing, and feeling the swell of your hips, the dip of your navel, your spine, your breasts. You almost don’t notice him undoing your swimsuit, until he slides off the top part, and runs one finger over your pebbled nipples. Your back arches and your hips twitch towards him, but he doesn’t give in yet, just teases the sensitive nubs while you whimper into his mouth.

Then he unties the little bows on your hips, and just like that you’re bare before him, your swimsuit coming undone with one tug of his fingers, while he’s still fully dressed. He’s disturbingly good at undressing you, something that used to be an obstacle to sex now a sensual part of it. You want to feel embarrassed at the amount of wetness between your legs, but when Joel’s fingers slide over your stomach and down to your throbbing core, he groans into your mouth.

"Jesus, you’re drippin’," he breathes against your lips, breaking away to watch his hand press circles into your clit. You try hard not to twitch under his gaze, his blazing eyes and skilled touch. Another whimper escapes you, as he keeps rubbing and watching your reaction, like he wants to take you in before continuing.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he gets you to the brink of an orgasm, but when your hips twitch towards him with little control, he stops, his eyes meeting yours again. You watch him lift his hand up to his mouth and suck his fingers clean, eyes not leaving yours. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever seen, the way he closes his eyes at the taste, and you wonder how you haven’t come yet.

"I’m gonna eat you out," he says, and it’s not a question. Immediately, insecurity floods your veins – you haven’t had someone do that before, and the men you have heard speak about it said they didn’t enjoy it.

"You don’t…I mean, you can just…", your voice trails off. Joel stops in his tracks, watching your face and cocking a brow.

"You ever been eaten out?"

"No," you say quietly, "and you don’t have to."

"I know I don’t have to," he says, and he sounds almost affronted, like he can’t believe you would think he didn’t enjoy it. "You want me to?"

"I just…know some people don’t enjoy it much," you mumble and look down. Joel’s hand comes up to your face, tipping your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

"I want you to come on my tongue," he says, "and then again on my fingers."

You almost whine at that, embarrassment seeping out of you easily, and Joel traces his thumb over your lips. You let it slip into your mouth and suck, swirling your tongue around it.

"Alright? You let me take care of you," he mumbles, eyes trained on his finger between your lips.

"Okay," you say, when his thumb slips from your mouth, and then quietly add "Daddy."

"Good girl," he answers, and a wave of heat rushes to your loins. It’s fucked, what you’re doing, completely fucked, but so good you think you might cry. You were scared thinking about it for too long would break the spell you two seem to be under, but the more you do, the more turned on you get. You have Joel Miller in front of you, calling you a good girl and about to make you orgasm multiple times.

"Lie back, baby," Joel says, and you do, sinking into the pillow that smells like him. Joel keeps watching you, and when he kneels down on the bed and gently spreads your legs with his hands, you think you might come from just that sight. But you hold on, because something about Joel wanting to eat you out, not even having taken off his own clothes, makes you curious. 

He kisses your ankle and trails his mouth upwards, over your inner thigh and your hipbone, until you almost tremble.

"Jesus, Joel," you mutter, hips twitching on the bed, trying to get closer to him without your permission. He looks up at you, pressing his thumb to your clit again, and you curse. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s so much, almost too much.

"That what you call me?"

He doesn’t let up, his touch so insistent, you wonder how he expects you to come up with a single word.

"S-sorry," you stutter, grinding against his hand. "Daddy."

It thrills you to use that word, to know it gets Joel off, enough that he chastises you for using his real name.

"That’s right," he answers, and finally he lets up, placing his big palm on your thigh instead. Then, he leans down, and presses his mouth to your clit, flicking his tongue over it. It’s unlike anything you have felt before, and you actively have to will your hips to stop twitching, afraid to somehow hurt Joel. But he notices, ever perceptive, and breaks away, his mouth and beard already covered in your wet.

"Get up," he says, and you feel your anxiety rise again, questions of what you could have done wrong. He waits, but raises his eyebrows.

"You wanna come, or not?"

So you sit up, confused, and watch as Joel lies down on his back.

"Straddle me," he orders, and you move towards his lap, but he shakes his head. "Over my face, come on, baby."

You stare at him. His expression softens when he sees your disbelief, and he gives you a smile.

"Told you I’d make you come on my tongue, didn’t I?"

"Yeah, but Joel, that’s…"

Your voice trails off. You aren’t sure what you want to say – dangerous? Really fucking hot? You’re still sitting by his side, when he strokes one hand over your thigh, a soothing touch.

"I don’t know where you get the idea from that I don’t enjoy eatin’ you out," he says, his voice almost stern, "but you get that right outta your pretty head. Now, will you do as I say and sit on your Daddy’s face?"

Your mind goes a little blank when Joel calls himself that, and you feel helpless to do anything but nod, give him what he really seems to want.

"Words, baby."

His hand trails up your thigh and over your stomach.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl," he answers, looking directly into your eyes, his strong hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, hoisting you up until you’re hovering over his face.

"If I need to breathe, I’ll tap your thigh, alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, quickly adding "Daddy".

Joel’s hands force your hips downward and although the sensation of his mouth under you is exactly what your throbbing clit was begging for, you’re tentative and unsure of what to do – you don’t want to hurt Joel. 

"Move, baby, make yourself feel good," you hear Joel say, voice muffled by your body. You rock your hips forward once, and let out a groan – your clit bumps into his nose, and you feel him lick into your folds. His hands grab your hips, and he starts rocking you against his face, setting the rhythm for you, and and you feel yourself leak onto his face and into his mouth, as you start moving along with him. His beard feels scratchy in the most delicious way, as he lets you fuck yourself on his mouth, his thick tongue darting out.

"Fuck," you moan, "Fuck J-Joel, Daddy, fuck!"

It’s a lot to take in, Joel Miller’s head between your thighs, lapping at you like he’s starving, like he can’t imagine anything better than having you sit on his face. His strong nose keeps nudging your clit, again and again, and your movements slowly becomes more confident, though also less controlled.

Joel’s hands keep encouraging you, and you’re closer than before, right at the brink of coming all over his face, when Joel groans into your dripping cunt. The vibrations send you over the edge, and you practically sit down on his face with all your weight, but he doesn’t stop you, just lets you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm and chant a mixture of his name and daddy.

You get off of him with shaky legs, afraid you suffocated him, but he smiles up at you, looking absolutely wrecked – his hair is tousled, beard and face drenched in your juices, jaw a little slack. He reaches up to cup your face, and you go with his touch easily, laying down next to him. He rolls over until he’s half on top of you, watching your red, panting face, and slants his mouth over yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his soaked beard against you, and although it should be impossible after just having come, you throb at the feeling.

"So good for me," Joel mutters against your mouth, and trails his hand downward, over your stomach and to your overstimulated clit. You twitch under his touch, your body unsure if it wants to get closer to Joel, or get away from him, and he chuckles.

"She spent?", he asks, his tone a little amused, when you squirm under him. "That’s okay, baby, I’ll give her a break."

Instead, he slides his fingers through your folds, gathering wetness, and finally pushing into you. Your body opens up for Joel more than willingly, and although the stretch is tight, it’s not nearly as painful as you’re used to, you’re too wet and relaxed for that. 

Joel watches your face, your fluttering eyelids, as he pumps two thick fingers in and out of you in shallow thrusts. You whine – you know you’re being vocal, too loud for a hotel room, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Joel curls his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your hips twitch upwards, and Joel smirks.

"There we go, baby, there we go," he mumbles, moving his fingers relentlessly, and already you can feel another orgasm building. He doesn’t let up, just lets you whine under him, thrash around, because his touch is almost too much, too good, too intense, but just right. 

"Give me another one, baby, come on," he coaxes, and you think your ears start ringing when his palm starts grinding into your clit with every movement of his hand, the tips of his fingers pressing hard against your insides. "You just let Daddy make you feel real good."

It feels like bursting apart, when you come again, some tight coil snapping and Joel practically wrenching the orgasm out of you with his relentless hand and dirty words.

"Daddy," you groan, your hand coming up to your face, as you bite down on your knuckle. Joel watches you with bright eyes, lets you tremble until he can tell it’s too much, and only then does he slip his fingers out of you. 

You’re weak, exhausted from the intensity of your pleasure, and Joel chuckles when you sigh, watching your glassy eyes.

"Okay if I fuck you now?"

You think you’d let him kill you, if he really wanted to.

"Yes," you breathe, "please."

He finally – finally – takes off his shirt, arms flexing, chest sprinkled in dark hair, his belly protruding over his trunks. You wish you had a camera, or a chisel so you could scratch his glorious body into a block of stone. He’s hard in all the right places, and soft in the rest, and with a jolt you realize you’re allowed to touch now, no longer confined to watching him swim from your deckchair.

"Jesus," you breathe, sliding one hand over his biceps, as he unties the band of his swimming trunks. You know you’re hindering him, but you can’t bring yourself to stop your hand from trailing over his chest, and down to his belly.

"Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot," you mutter when he slides the trunks over his hips. Then your mind goes a little blank, because finally his bulge isn’t confined to his trunks anymore, finally he’s naked in front of you, kicking his clothes onto the floor.

He’s big, just like the rest of him. Long, and thick, and uncut, and dripping in precum, the dark hair at the base of his cock a harsh contrast to the reddish skin. Joel closes his fist around himself, pumps twice, until you tentatively put your hand over his. His cock twitches, and you feel a little overwhelmed with power. Joel let’s go and lets you do the work, your hand much smaller than his. He looks even more imposing like this, as you move your hand up and down his length.

"Wanna suck it," you say suddenly, and you’re not entirely sure where the words come from, but you know they’re true – you want to get him into your mouth, feel him use your face the way you used his. Joel groans.

"God, you’re killin’ me," he answers, eyebrows furrowed, voice wrecked. You squeeze your hand a little tighter, just to hear him make his little sounds again.

"I’ll come if you do, baby, and I’m not sure I have two rounds in me," he says, regret lacing his voice, but his words make you clench around nothing – his age turns you on more than you thought possible.

„And I need to fuck you tonight,," he adds, and wraps his big palm around your wrist, so you stop moving it over his throbbing cock.

"So fuck me," you breathe instead, eyes wide and glued to his. You watch his expression change, something primal take over, and suddenly he’s on top of you, his hips pressing into yours.

"Again," he orders, almost growling.

"Please fuck me, Daddy," you whisper, your stomach clenching and unclenching in anticipation. Joel looks like he might come from just your words, but after a moment of collecting himself, he kisses you briefly.

"Alright, pretty girl, I’ll give it to you real good," he promises, and aligns his cock with your entrance. "You’re so goddamn fuckin’ wet, I can slide right in."

And he does, pushing his hips into yours. You feel the stretch of the thick tip, the widest point almost bordering on painful, and you bite your lip. Joel slides into you slowly, breathing into your mouth and making you feel everything. Then the tip is sheathed inside of you and Joel groans quietly.

"Grippin’ me so tight," he mutters, consistently pushing on, "halfway there, babygirl."

Your pussy flutters around him, clenches and unclenches, as he keeps going, and going. You feel full, and still Joel pushes on, until his hips are fully pressed into yours, and you feel him deeper inside of you than you have felt anything before.

"Breathe, baby," he reminds you, and you let out a shaky breath you didn’t notice you were holding. "Attagirl."

When he pulls out of you again, you make a raspy whining sound, your stomach clenching at the intense drag. Joel’s hands start trailing over your body, yours are gripping his shoulders.

"Look so pretty, all stretched out on my cock," Joel praises you, and God, the mouth on this man. If you weren’t so exhausted from the first two times he made you come, you would be trembling. You groan weakly, as he pushes back in, and starts moving at a quicker pace, setting a rhythm he likes. He punches into you with precision, angling his hips just right, and then he’s nudging against that spot inside of you.

"Ah…Daddy!"

"I’ve got you, sweet girl," he groans, moving both your wrists over your head, and pinning them down with one big hand – he easily engulfs you. You tug against him, testing his grip, and your hips twitch upward when you realize you can’t get out. He’s fully in control now, his cock nudging into you insistently, and you can only take it. You’ve never felt so cared for, as now, getting fucked raw by Joel Miller.

He doesn’t kiss you, but he keeps staring into your eyes, and it feels weirdly intimate. His movements become faster, more forceful, his belly nudging your body with every thrust. You whine, your body unable to do anything except for letting another orgasm build, one you didn’t think yourself capable of. The corners of Joel’s mouth twitch, when he feels you clench, and he fucks you harder.

"Daddy," you yelp at one particularly deep thrust, but Joel doesn’t let up – you don’t want him to. "Wanna come, p-please."

"You wait for my permission," Joel answers. Your belly feels like it’s on fire, tightly coiled with the need to just let go, but Joel wants you to wait, so you will wait. Anything, you think, anything. Joel’s jaw is slack, his brows furrowed, his free hand rough on your skin, but not unkind. You clench around him, and try your best to hold off coming, your eyes falling close.

"Eyes on me, kid," Joel orders, and despite your concentration, your eyes snap open. "Fuck, that’s it, my good girl."

My girl.

Joel fucks you like it, like you’re his. It’s possessive from beginning to end – the way he looked at you when you first wore his shirt, how he wouldn’t back away from you in the elevator. He plays your body like it’s his, dragging the pleasure out of you, and it makes your head spin. You can feel his thrusts go sloppy, can feel his restraint cracking, and your eyelids flutter a little.

"You want it inside, babygirl?"

You didn’t talk about that. You know you should say no. The head of his cock nudges your insides, and Joel’s free hand presses down on your stomach, feeling himself inside of you from the outside with every thrust.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please, Daddy, I w-want it."

Suddenly Joel is the one who has to close his eyes, as he keeps fucking into you.

"Fuck, you come for me first, baby," he groans, sliding his hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit. It’s too much, right on the brink of painful, and you thrash under him.

"I c-c-can’t Daddy, it’s…", your voice trails off, lost in the impact of his thrusts, but Joel keeps rubbing tight circles.

"Yeah, you can, baby, you know why?"

You don’t have it in you to answer, so you just stare into Joel’s eyes. You feel something wet on your cheek, and realize you must be crying, crying from how good you feel, how full.

"Cause I said so."

Your pussy throbs, clenches, and Joel moves his finger over your clit faster.

"Come for me, baby, I’ve got you," Joel drawls, and finally you do, your vision going white, your muscles going slack as you let Joel drag his cock in and out of you, the pleasure white-hot.

"Fuck, good girl, that’s my good girl," Joel groans, thrusting into you faster, until he presses into you harder than ever before, and you feel his thick cock twitch and throb against your cervix. Something hot bursts into you, and Joel keeps fucking into you for a couple more seconds, his eyes falling closed. Then, pulls out of you, your pussy fluttering, and he falls down next to you on the bed. You feel like jelly – you couldn’t move if you tried. Joel’s cum leaks out of you slowly, an odd, but pleasant sensation, and you sort of wish he would push it back into you.

After a couple of seconds, Joel pulls you against him, your face coming to rest against his broad chest, and he presses a kiss to your hair. You inhale his scent, and your spent muscles relax further, if possible.

"You did so good," Joel mutters, "so perfect."

His hands trail up your side and arms softly, a soothing contrast to the insistent way he fucked you. Your mind is pleasantly quiet, all caught up in his voice, his scent, his touch, his spent leaking out of you.

"Thank you," you sigh, and Joel chuckles. You smile weakly.

"Wanna get cleaned up, sweet girl?"

"No," you manage, "just wanna sleep."

Joel huffs a laugh, and tucks you more tightly against him.

"I’ll wake you before dinner."

***

When he does, the sun is already sinking. He trails kisses up and down your face – the softest way you’ve ever been dragged back to reality and out of a dream, and the first time you think reality is more fantastic than anything your sleeping brain could come up with.

"Mornin’, sleepyhead," Joel mumbles, catching your mouth in a kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly. You sigh into his mouth, when he pulls away.

"We should take a shower, baby, and you need a pill."

You open your eyes, a little confused.

"A pill?"

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, I’m not opposed to children, but I think your Dad might be," he says, and you snort weakly. Right, you think, the morning after pill.

"I’ve got an IUD, Joel, don’t worry."

He presses a kiss to your collarbone.

"Back to Joel, are we?"

You blush, and he laughs. It’s blissful, and a little unreal – Joel Miller, teasing you about the debauched, perfect sex you had not two hours ago.

"You prefer Daddy?"

"It’s…got a ring to it."

You can hear the smirk, even though your eyes are closed again, and you’re stretching your tired limbs. You yawn.

"How about room service?", you ask, Joel’s hand softly stroking the hair out of your face.

"Hmm," he mumbles, trailing one hand over your stomach, "or… we take a nice shower, you let me clean you, we have dinner with you lookin’ all fucked out, and everyone downstairs will know what we’ve been up to."

Your eyes open, and although you’re entirely, completely spent, your thighs clench together. Joel grins.

It’s quite the picture – Joel, with an arm around your shoulder ordering two cocktails, the redness on your skin from where he sucked too harshly or his beard burned you. You can see it in front of you, the same waiter as yesterday bringing your food, except this time, Joel lets you use his fork to try his meal, and instead of hurrying down to the beach afterwards, he’ll kiss you slow and long, just because he can, in front of every other guest in this hotel.

„Yeah…or that."

[rainyreading]

Can you please write a mattheo x theodore x mc smut pleasee if possible.Thank you!

what are best friends for

mattheo riddle x theodore nott x reader

wc: 1.3k

requests open

Theo was your boyfriend. You both loved each other very much. You both were good friends with Mattheo. The three of you had a lot of fun together. There was never a dull moment between you three. Right now you were all in the common room chatting away. You were on Theo’s lap sitting happily.

Mattheo sat across from the two of you in a chair. Theo noticed the way Mattheo was eyeing you. You were wearing a top that accentuated your tits. Mattheo was looking at you with lust in his eyes. Theo was thinking about it and he thought maybe he was willing to share.

“Would you let Mattheo fuck you?” Theo whispered.

“Wh-what?” You questioned shocked.

“Would you let my best friend hook up with you? It’s okay with me, I’d let him just this once.” Theo explained.

“Theo, I love you not him. Why should i?”

“I don’t know the experience, to feel good?”

“I don’t want to pressure you but I think it would be fun for you.” Theo gently explained.

“Mm okay,” you said softly.

“Okay?”

You nodded. Theo wanted to make sure you were comfortable with this. He didn’t want to put you in a situation where you were uncomfortable. He just thought it would be beneficial for both parties.

Now Theo could tell Mattheo. Theo took your hand in his and sauntered over to Mattheo. “Come with me,” Theo tapped him on his shoulder.

Theo led the two of you to his dorm. When you got there Mattheo spoke, “What’s this about?”

“Do you want to have sex with Y/N?” Theo asked bluntly.

“What?”

“Do you want to fuck her?”

“Theo.”

“No i’m being serious,” Theo stated.

“She’s yours man, I couldn’t just take her,” Mattheo responded.

“Well I’m giving you an opportunity here,” Theo explained.

“What’s the catch?” Mattheo asked.

“There are some rules, for one no coming inside her.”

“Obviously, but she’s okay with it?” Mattheo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Come here sweet thing,” Mattheo beckoned you.

You were a little shy but you trusted Theo. You made you way over to Mattheo. Mattheo grabbed the back of your thigh and guided you onto his lap.

“It’s okay bella,” Theo encouraged you.

Mattheo gave you a smile and brushed some hair out of your face, “I’m gonna kiss you now okay?”

You nodded your head which gave Mattheo the green light. Mattheo tasted like cigarette smoke and whisky. You weren’t gonna lie it was different and it felt weird kissing someone else. Mattheo crushed his lips against yours in a messy kiss.

Theo came up behind you and started to kiss your neck. “We just want to make you feel good,” Theo whispered. “Mhmm.” Theo skillfully sucked deep purple marks on your neck and chest.

Then Theo grabbed your chin and kissed you roughly. “We’re gonna share you tonight, aren’t we Theo,” Mattheo announced leaning back on his hands. “Yes we are,” Theo responded.

“Can I take your top off?” Mattheo asked.

“Yes.”

Mattheo lifted your top off and slid it up over your head and off your body, revealing you in a black lace bra. Mattheo’s gaze was hungry. He looked at you like you were a piece of meat. Theo came up behind you and unclipped your bra revealing your bare breasts.

“Fuck, you’re exquisite,” Mattheo complimented.

Mattheo had you lie down on your back. Theo sat on one side and Mattheo sat on the other. Theo was kissing your neck and then Mattheo started to kiss your chest. The sensation of their kisses were making you wetter and wetter.

“You have such perfect tits,” Mattheo commented.

“She does doesn’t she,” Theo boasted.

Mattheo sucked on your nipple and groped the other. He licked and sucked and then gave the same attention to the other breast. Theo was making dark purple marks on your neck still. Mattheo kissed down your stomach and then stoped at the waistband of your skirt.

“Please tell me I can taste you,” Mattheo begged.

You looked at Theo to see what he would say and he seemed fine with it so you nodded your head. Mattheo was quick. He discarded your skirt and panties in one swift motion. Then he settled between your legs.

Mattheo licked a strip from your core to your clit and you moaned at the sensation. Mattheo feasted on your cunt like it was his only purpose on earth. You felt euphoric. The pleasure was overwhelming.

Theo sat behind you as you leaned on his chest. The only thing he was wearing was his underwear. Mattheo was shirtless. Mattheo skillfully ate you out. He sucked on your clit making you see stars.

Theo watched the interaction. You had your back up against his chest. He soothed you and made you feel safe because he was close to you. You were arching your back and trying to back away from Mattheo because the pleasure was getting to be too much.

Mattheo fucked you with his tongue. “Fuck you taste divine,” Mattheo panted over your cunt.

“Mmm,” you moaned.

Mattheo could feel that you were getting close. “Come on let go f’me,” he told you.

Your orgasm washed over you sending sparks through you. You came all over Mattheo’s face

“Good girl,” Theo whispered huskily in your ear.

“I get to be inside you now right?” Mattheo asked.

“Yeah mate she has the best pussy I’ve ever had, enjoy it,” Theo responded.

Mattheo rolled on a condom. You opened your legs and waited. You were a little nervous because it wasn’t Theo. You were mentally preparing yourself for this. “It’s okay principessa, I’m right here,” Theo soothed and started rubbing your shoulders.

“Are you ready?” Mattheo hesitated.

“Yes.”

Mattheo slid in with ease. Mattheo groaned loudly as he entered you. “Fuck you feel amazing,” Mattheo panted.

Mattheo pulled out just to slam back in. He set a brutal pace. The feeling was weird because you were used to Theo’s size and Mattheo was different. You had some drool that leaked out of your mouth and Theo kissed it away.

Mattheo’s cock massaged your walls in a whole new way. He pounded into you at a relentless pace. You took it like a champ. Theo reached around and played with your clit.

“Gonna fucking cum,” Mattheo hissed.

Mattheo pulled out and spilled into the condom. He jerked his cock with his hand. He then collapsed next to you on the bed totally spent.

“My turn cara mia,” Theo announced.

Theo lined himself up at your entrance. He pushed in with little force. You moaned at the feeling of your lover entering you. It felt right. Theo was super gentle and took care of you the whole time.

Theo kissed you while he was drilling into you. “Fuck you’re taking me so well, good job baby,” Theo panted.

You were getting a little overstimulated so you let out a whine. Theo shushed you. Theo pulled out just to slam back in at a bruising pace. The way he gripped your hips was sure to leave a mark. “Theo,” you cried. You dragged your nails down his back.

“I know baby I know,” he replied.

Theo started to play with your clit and you moaned again. “You’re almost there aren’t you?” Mattheo asked.

You nodded your head. You were clamping down on Theo’s cock and he knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer. After a few sloppy thrusts, you came undone hard. Theo followed right after spilling his seed into you. “Ah Fuck,” Theo growled.

Theo pulled out and then went to go clean you up. The three of you laid there catching your breaths. You were completely spent and so tired you fell asleep cuddled into Theo’s side. You were practically on top of him.

“Ya know it was everything i dreamed of,” Mattheo said.

“Good.”

[palmerzy]

lowkey, spencer would totally be such a pervert when it comes to camgirl! reader.

like he’d constantly be checking his phone even away in cases, for notifs of announcements of your next streams and if he has the time, he’d try to catch even a small glimpse of a stream while in bed on a case.

the way he’d totally spend every earnings of his income on you 🤭❤️

answering this rn because i like the concept :3 not too well versed with all this stuff but either way, i hope this suffices 🙈

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes, incl. camgirl!reader and kinda perv!spencer (depends on your definition of a perv, really).

spencer doesn’t even remember how he stumbled across your page, probably through a rogue advert or something on his computer. but what he does know is that he was hooked right from the start.

he’s never really been one for watching porn, too busy analysing their body language and concluding that these people aren’t putting as much passion into it as he enjoys. you, though, you’re sweet and soft spoken, and still innocent to your subscribers whilst doing the most filthy of things.

the first thing that caught his eye was on your free page, a picture of you in a black and white lingerie, with a chess set in front of you - captioned ‘play with me?’. he couldn’t not subscribe to your main page after that. a beautiful woman and his favourite game? he couldn’t help wanting to see more.

at first, he felt a little odd and embarrassed about literally paying for porn, but he kind of just reminded himself that a lot of people do it, and he wasn’t the odd one out. plus, he was helping someone pay the bills, so in his mind - it was a good deed. his hefty salary could take the hit.

he didn’t even realise you did streams alongside your cutesy videos until he was in a random hotel room on a case, scrolling through his phone, the notification popping through. his brows had furrowed in curiosity, and he couldn’t stop himself from clicking onto it.

there you were, camera set up in the usual spot, sat in your bed. you were still fully clothed, which was…rare, and he soon realised that over the course of the stream things would grow more dirty. he could see people talking in the chat, sending in large sums of money, to which you were responding. as much as he wanted to, spencer was not about to actually talk to you. he’d rather die.

however, he did sometimes send you money. he didn’t have his name in his username, so he’d feel a little more confident typing a message along with the $50-100 dollars he’d send at a time. small things like “you’re so pretty,” “i love your voice,” and maybe a little “do you think you could read dante’s inferno on stream one day? :)”. yeah, he really loves your voice. probably more than he loves your body.

the thing is, he knows it’s your job, he knows you’re willingly putting these things on the internet because people want your body, but with each video and stream, he mostly focuses on how you sound, or how your eyes gleam any time you smile. he’s always a little miffed if you go live whilst he’s working a case or on the jet, but thankfully you upload your streams after, and he can’t help thinking it’s just for him.

he gets a little…attached, lets say, and soon enough he’s watching your videos every day. even your youtube channel, which is safe for work, where you simply upload makeup and clothing hauls - he loves it. every second of it.

though on your paid site, it’s literally porn, so obviously he gets turned on looking at it. he watches your face in your videos as you make yourself come, more than he watches the ministrations of your hands or toys. he conjures up images in his mind of those being his hands, your noises of pleasure being for him.

the first time you uploaded a video with someone else, he considered unsubscribing. he felt almost betrayed. he was paying and spending his salary on you, not coworkers and other men. nonetheless, he persevered, deciding to just not leave a donation on those posts - as if in protest.

he still never comments or talks in your lives, but he’s always lingering. he gets a little more confident when he sends money, instead leaving notes like “buy yourself something nice :)” or “maybe get a new mic? would be good to hear you clearer :)”

he’s slowly been getting less embarrassed by it, knowing it’s just a simple vice, everyone has one. that is, until, he leaves his phone on his desk when he goes to the bathroom, and morgan catches a peek at the notification from a well known camgirl site. safe to say, he’ll never live it down.

am happy to write something that goes more in depth onto what the reader does but i feel like it would just be x yourself smut LMAO

[cheemscakecat]

I high-key think the reason Shifty even wanted the journal so bad and tied Fiddleford up is that he overheard talk about freezing him.

Maybe Ford wasn’t there and it was Mcgucket muttering about it to himself, not thinking Shifty was sapient and understood words.

Imagine living in the same room as the cryogenic chambers, not knowing what they are, and then finding out its freezes living things and you’re the lab rat? The scientist that looks at you like you’re gross and doesn’t like being around you very much said so himself.

And you’ve seen that the nice scientist won’t show you his face, or his journal, or let you go outside. The scientists haven’t put anything in the big tubes in your room, there’s no other test subjects. Maybe the mean scientist is right, maybe they are going to put you in the tube and freeze you!

What’s going to happen to you if they do? You don’t know if the freeze would kill you, you don’t know if it’s meant to keep you alive or not. So you panic.

[Like imagine living in here. Depressing.]

Shifty didn’t stuff Mcgucket into a cabinet and mimic him to be evil, he did it so he could get the journal and find out what the scientist’s true intentions were. Maybe he hoped it wasn’t true, because Stanford was so nice to him. He knew the book held the answers, Ford was writing and reading it in front of him. About him.

Fiddleford was obviously traumatized, but Stanford didn’t mention any injuries. Shifty probably did take his big scary form for the first time when catching Mcgucket, but I don’t think he was actually physically attacked.

The shapeshifter probably would have panicked and tried to escape the bunker if he did read the journal pages, not try to hurt Ford and Fiddleford. It sounds like he was more anxious and scared than anything.

“His throat really did sound awful, but I told him to simply use the cough drops in the first aid cabinet. He grew increasingly insistent that only the journal had the answer.”

”The ‘impostor’ F had been waiting impatiently, shaking involuntarily in his chair. I noticed that his ‘hands’ were so strong they had bent the steel in the armrests.”

”He darted off for the journal, and the instant he stepped inside the cryogenics tube, I slammed the red button, trapping him in. HE SCREAMED and took on a form I’d never seen. He pounded on the glass and froze before my eyes.”

I wouldn’t say Ford abused Shifty, but he and Fiddleford saw the poor kid as an animal and not a sapient alien. They didn’t understand that they were traumatizing a child. They had a right not to want the shapeshifter to mimic them, and to be cautious about it.

Shifty wasn’t in the wrong or “nuts”, he was a kid that panicked and did something reckless because he found out he was being used as a test subject. He didn’t understand why Mcgucket was repulsed by him and his powers, he didn’t understand why humans would be so quick to assume the worst about a shapeshifter.

That being said, Stanford went all over the multiverse, meeting aliens and ending up in worlds where humans aren’t the dominant species. His ideas about sapience have changed over 30 years, regardless of whether or not he ever met more of Shifty’s species.

I think he’d come back to the bunker next summer, because between Stan’s memory loss and Bill’s cursed book, there wasn’t time to try and patch things up with Shifty.

As for Fiddleford, I think his trauma would be an obstacle when it comes to the shapeshifter, but it wouldn’t be impossible for him to understand Shifty better. He lived around other anomalies for 30 years, and got more used to them.

Maybe Shifty unthawed a bit during Weirdmaggedon, when Mcgucket was in the bunker. I think unthawing would be a painful and slow process, and that Fiddleford would be able to see that. Perhaps he decided to speed up the unthawing process instead of repairing the freezing mechanisms. Maybe he was also the one to remind Stanford about Shifty the next year.

People who say Ford abused the shapeshifter, what.

I just read those pages. Fiddleford immediately wanted to freeze him, but Ford wrote, “I've grown attached to the creature.” He wasn't like OH ☝️ I must TORTURE this thing POST HASTE! He found a weird creature while digging and hand fed it some beans. The shapeshifter didn't show signs of being dangerous (besides "watch your fingers")

Ford named him Shifty and did experiments, which involved seeing what forms he could take by showing him a book of animals, and he upgraded his kennel when he grew. Ford considered him a pet, but noted that Fiddleford being raised as a farmhand made him unsentimental toward what he saw as “livestock.”

Ford continued to take care of him until Shifty went nuts and tied Fiddleford up to take his place and steal journal 3. Even as Ford froze the shapeshifter for their safety, he wrote that he felt remorseful for having to freeze his former pet, but even worse that he'd been fooled - and that Fiddleford had paid the price

[scarletwinterxx]

thank your stars all you want but I'll always be the lucky one - choi seungcheol scenario

hellooo~ i am soooo not done with the proposal scenarios😅 this one is a request, hope i did it justice. and yes I did cry again while writing this. Happy new year!🤍

you can listen to your universe by rico blanco for maximum feels. this was insipired by this song🥺

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The soft glow of morning sunlight streams through the windows of Seungcheol’s apartment, the familiar scent of his cologne lingering in the air. You stretch lazily in bed, savoring the warmth of the cozy blankets and the faint murmur of the city outside.

It’s a routine you’ve grown used to after nearly seven years together—his home has become yours in every way except officially.

Seungcheol had left early for the gym, promising to grab your favorite smoothies on his way back. The two of you had settled into this comfortable rhythm, a dance of affection and understanding that made your friends tease you mercilessly. “You’re practically married already,” they’d say, rolling their eyes at how well you two knew each other’s quirks.

Still, in the quiet corners of your heart, you sometimes wondered why he hadn’t taken the next step. Not that you were in a rush—you loved him, and you knew he loved you. But the idea lingered, like a melody waiting to be completed.

Mid-morning, a knock at the door pulls you from your musings. You pad to the door, opening it to find a delivery man holding a small, nondescript package.

“For Choi Seungcheol?” he asks.

“That’s him,” you reply, signing for the box. It’s light, plain, and gives no indication of what’s inside. You place it on the kitchen counter and send Seungcheol a quick text: A package came for you. Should I open it?

His response is almost immediate. Don’t open it! I’ll deal with it when I’m back. Thanks, babe.

His urgency makes you chuckle. It’s rare for him to be this insistent. Shrugging, you leave the package untouched and go about your day, but curiosity itches at the back of your mind.

When Seungcheol returns, he’s casual—too casual, you think. His eyes dart to the counter where the package rests, and he quickly sweeps it up. “Thanks for letting me know,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Sure,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s in it?”

“Just some gym stuff,” he lies, his tone a little too breezy. You know him well enough to catch the slight shift in his demeanor.

Over the next few days, you notice odd behavior. Seungcheol becomes extra cautious, sometimes darting out of the room with his phone or quickly closing drawers when you walk in.

It’s adorable but also maddening. You’re good at sniffing out surprises, and whatever he’s hiding, it’s big.

The breaking point comes during dinner one night. The two of you are seated across from each other, candles flickering between you. He’s unusually fidgety, his fork clinking against the plate as he tries—and fails—to make eye contact.

“Seungcheol,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as he pokes at his steak. His fidgeting is driving you insane. “Spit it out.”

“What?” he replies, looking up with wide, innocent eyes that you know all too well aren’t innocent at all.

“You’re acting weird.” You lean forward, pointing your fork at him. “I can tell you’re hiding something. Just say it.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he insists, but his voice cracks slightly. “Can’t a guy just enjoy dinner with his girlfriend without being interrogated?”

“Not when he’s sweating bullets,” you deadpan, crossing your arms.

He laughs nervously and takes a big gulp of water. “It’s just… I’m thinking about work stuff.”

“Liar,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe it’s gym stuff,” he says, grinning in that way he does when he’s trying to distract you. “I’m planning a new workout routine.”

“Seungcheol, I know every workout routine you’ve ever done. Don’t test me.”

He groans, dropping his fork onto his plate and dramatically rubbing his face. “Can you trust me on this one? I promise you'll love it and will hate me if I tell you right now. I’ve been working very hard on, can you be kind enough to spare me for now. I pinky promise you'll know soon enough"

You blink at him, stunned by his sudden honesty.

Then, a small smile creeps onto your lips. “Fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “But I’m only letting this go because you look like you might combust if I keep pushing.”

He lets out a loud sigh of relief, muttering a quiet, “Thank you.” standing up from his seat to go to you, giving your head a kiss.

The rest of the evening is pleasant, even though you can’t help but notice how Seungcheol keeps stealing glances at you, a secretive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It’s enough to make your curiosity burn, but you keep your promise and drop the subject—for now.

A week later, the snow falling heavy covering the streets with sheets of white. You love the snow, you've always love cold weathers more even though your body doesn't. Anything below 80° makes you shiver.

Your boyfriend knows this, he learned early on your relationship that you get cold easily so he always brings a jacket for you. Now you own his hoodies, a shared asset.

The air outside is crisp as Seungcheol insists on taking you on an evening walk through a quiet park. It's all covered in snow making the whole scene look magical.

Winter lights hang from the trees, casting a warm glow over the snow-dusted path. He holds your gloved hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he leads you to a secluded gazebo overlooking a frozen lake.

“Why here?” you ask, smiling at his excited energy. “It’s freezing.”

“It’s romantic,” he replies, winking. “Just trust me.”

You shake your head, amused. “I’m starting to think you’re up to something.”

“Me? Up to something?” He grins mischievously

You look up at the sky, it's dark enough to see the stars. Living in the city, it's a rare sight so you close your eyes and send a quick wish to the heavens like you always do when you see a star. Meanwhile Seungcheol watches you, a smile forming on his lips and his heart thumping hard in his chest

With your eyes still closed, you feel Seungcheol lean closer to you. He kisses your cheeks eliciting a giggle from you

“You’re being extra sweet tonight, did you do something?” you tease

“I’m always sweet,” he counters, feigning offense.

He seems restless, though, his leg bouncing slightly.

“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned.

“No, no. Just... thinking.”

You narrow your eyes. “About what?”

He looks at you, his gaze so intense it makes your heart skip. “About how lucky I am to have you.”

You roll your eyes with a laugh, nudging him playfully. “What’s with the cheesy lines tonight?”

He chuckles but doesn’t answer, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple instead. Then another on your cheek. And one on your lips. His kisses grow deeper, hotter, until the cold around you feels irrelevant.

“Cheol,” you murmur against his lips, half-laughing, half-serious, “what are you doing?”

“Loving you,” he whispers, his voice low and warm.

Despite his sweetness, you’re still clueless about his plan.

When he finally pulls back, he takes both your hands, holding them tightly. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

You tilt your head, your curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

He drops to one knee in front of you, and your heart stutters. “You don't know how hard it was to keep this from you, every time you ask I almost wanted to tell you but I wanted everything to be perfect” He pulls a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a glittering diamond ring.

Your mouth falls open, your breath caught in your chest.

“You are my everything,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes. “The one who makes my world brighter, warmer, better. Whenever I think about the future, I can only see us. You. Stealing all of my hoodies, cooking breakfast for us, me bringing home your favorite smoothie on the weekend. To be honest, I don't really need any wishes because I'm already the lucky one. But will you make me the luckiest man and let me be your husband?”

Your lips jut out, quivering as tears fall down your cheeks. You can't even form words right now so you just nod frantically, unable to speak. He slips the ring onto your finger, and you throw yourself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you whisper as he kisses you again, deeper this time, stealing the breath from your lungs.

He smiles against your lips. “I take it that’s a yes?”

“Of course, it’s a yes,” you reply, pulling him closer. “You big, cheesy romantic.”

He laughs, his forehead resting against yours. “Told you, you'll love my suprise”

And you do. With the stars above, the quiet of the snowy park, and the warmth of his love, you know you’ve found your universe in him.

[solar4seekstron]

Doublepackage

TF1!Orion Pax x Cybertronian!GN!Reader x TF1!D-16 One-shot

Content: 18+, Switch Reader, Bottom Orion, Switch D-16

TW/Tags: Not much really, Orion being a silly bean, D being a total babygirl, fluff, couple smut scenes, established relationship between D and Orion cute sparklings.

Notes: Hehe reader is a little taller then the two :3 Because Reader is Gender Neutral the way the GN characters work is they have both a valve and spike. Also don’t lie we all know in tf smut valveplug the femmes and mechs have spikes and valves so why not GN Cybertronians.

It was like any other day for the miners of Iacon. Cybertronians coming in and out on the train. Late shifts are constant to get enough energon for the entire city itself.

Just like any other Cybertronian, you were no different when it came to overworking yourself.

Always pulling an old nighter, while your best friend Elita took the lead to keep things in check. It was an honest balance you preferred. So it’s less stressful while also making sure you and the others continue to eat as much as you need to.

You’ve been working for as long as you can remember.

But you started to take note of two Cybertronians a little short then you. Always looking at you when they think you won’t notice.

Orion Pax and D-16.

While Elita wasn’t a big fan of the two. You didn’t mind the chaotic duo when they were around. Always looked forward to knowing why D was choking out Orion before a shift.

Making sure to greet them with a smile.

You aren’t shy to admit that you have a bit of a crush on the two. At least just to yourself.

But after continuing to stop yourself from confessing your feelings towards them. It was eventually too late when the two announced they were dating.

Believing you lost your chance. Or so you thought.

It’s been a few days since the two got together. Of course, the two haven’t changed once. One day you were making sure the others were boarding onto the train.

D was ahead since Elita wished to speak to him about Orion's behavior.

She made sure to keep you out of it though, since you always stood up for them.

When the train was about to leave, once taking a single step onto the train. You then heard Orion calling your name while being chased by some survivors.

You could only roll your optics and watch as he got closer.

Grabbing him by the cervo and pulling him onto the train on time while the guards only slammed in the train doors.

You had Orion wrapped around in your arms while his face plate was squished into your chest.

You let out a chuckle while the others paid no mind. You were on your back while Orion was on top of you.

Letting your arms go to not be around him anymore. Slowly Orion placed his cervos against the floor next to you and lifted himself.

Looking at you with a smile. “Wow, thanks Y/N. Almost got caught back there.” You let out a soft hum when you responded. “No problem.”

You both just kinda stared at each other for a moment. After a minute you spoke.

“If D catches you he’ll do worse than those guards would’ve.”

Orion was pulled out of his little trance and finally got up while not hurting you.

Stumbling his words while getting up along with watching you get up yourself. “Oh yeah of course uhh sorry. Where is D anyway?” He asked looking around.

You crossed your arms. “Getting scolded by Elita since you decided to give her that scare yesterday.”

”Oh-“ Orion looked surprised and looked as if he felt bad.

You let out a deep chuckle. “Just don’t mess with Elita as much anymore. That boyfriend of yours will end up killing you before any guards of Iacon will. And I won’t be able to always save you. Not even from D-16 if it comes to it you know.”

Orion rubbed the back of his helm with his left cervo while the other went on his hip.

You placed one of your cervos on his shoulder while giving him a small smile before speaking once more. “You better give him a real good apology after the shift. Ya know.”

You and Orion both chuckled once the train got into the mines.

————————————————���————————————————-

It’s been 3 weeks since your little hang-out with Orion on the train. The two remained the same. Just Orion got a little smarter since then.

But you can’t help but always feel optics on you. Theirs.

This made you think for a good while. Only to come to a conclusion that made your spark start to race.

Primus could they know about your crush????

Ever since then, you tried to keep your distance to make things less awkward. But Primus you swear those two are trying to always talk to you. During a very late shift, you got on the train after everyone else.

It cart of the train was a lot more quiet. You noticed this. As soon as you realize it was just you in the last one-

You got a little sad.

You stood there holding the hangers connected to the ceiling while the train started to move. You looked out the window. That is until two certain bots appeared behind you.

Having got into the same part of the train when you weren’t looking.

From behind, the two optics open. Letting the light from their optics light up a little.

The two would glance at each other. Seeming to try to communicate with their body language. Orion had a smile on his dermas as he gestured to you while D just looked annoyed with a frown. You just let out an annoyed sigh while your other cervo went to be on your hip.

Seeing the two reflections from the window while the train was still in the mines before getting out. Another long ride.

You then finally speak.

“Alright, alright. I’ll make this easier for you both. Yes, I have a crush on you both. You can drop it now.” The two just stared at you with wide optics before glancing at each other and then back at you.

The room is silent for a moment. Orion was about to speak but D beat him to it. “You have a crush on us?!” You optics then going wide.

You then turn around because of his question.

You tried to find your words. “Uhhh did I say crush? I mean-“ Orion then interrupted you. “That’s great! Makes this a whole lot easier!” You just stared at him along with D. D. then let out a sigh.

You then asked. “Wait, isn’t that why you’re here with me on the train?”

You look at the two as the two look up at you. Orion then speaks. “Nope. We’re here to ask you out!” The train was silent once more.

You just stare at him as Orion continues to have his usual smile.

D then spoke when he realized you were still confused. “We have been watching you and honestly we realized we both want you as much as we want each other. You’re an incredible bot who always took care of us and we were well wondering. If you’d be our Conjunx? We really, really like you.”

He seemed nervous. Something you had never seen before with D. You then looked at Orion. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. So what do ya say?”

You thought for a moment. Soon letting out a sigh when and went to sit on the train. The two walk over and sit next to you on both sides. You finally speaking.

“Sure, I’d love to be both of your Conjunx.”

The two looked at each other with smiles. The two then leaned a bit closer to you to try to kiss you. Only to be stopped when they felt your cervo against their dermas stopping them.

The two optics open and look back at you when you let out a deep chuckle as the train soon comes to a stop.

”Your courtship can start tomorrow. Try your best to impress me yeah?” You stood and walked to the doors that opened. Leaving the two stunned for a moment.

You turned your helm a bit to look at them.

Giving them a little wink before fully walking out the two. Following a bit after before the train would turn off for the night.

—————————————————————————-

And so the two started their courtship with you. Gifts and everything.

The other miners would always give glances confused that the two mechs would wanna date someone taller. Poly relationships were common for both cog and cogless Cybertronians in Iacon.

For Orion, it was already a surprise that he was able to get with D. But to get someone as strong and hard-working as you.

That was an even bigger surprise.

As for D, honestly many thought because of his quiet nature and temper.

Then others might have a harder time to get along with him.

Many miners were proven wrong on the day you became the twos Conjunx.

Elita tried to make it clear to you that she won’t stop treating the two the same that she always has. But you made it clear after trapping her against the wall with you in front of her.

You making it clear to her that they’re your responsibility. And you’ve only been holding back when arm wrestling.

Life was great after that.

You and D always trying to keep and save Orion out of trouble. You and Orion always listening to D when he talks about his totally not crush Megatronus.

And sometimes when you guys didn’t have shifts. You three made sure to save up enough to have a great date together. Sometimes doing 2 on 2 dates to keep things a little interesting.

And mostly just to spoil the one who didn’t go on the date.

One day, when a date between the three of you went so well. Let’s just say the three of you got pretty excited when the thought of having a sparkling came up.

And so. You three got to work.

————————————————————————-

You were lying on your back. Not paying much mind to the hard metal beneath you.

Currently lying on top of a tall abandoned tower. Soft sighs and moans escape your dermas. The sunlight only set down through the cracks of the surface above the city.

The city growing quiet in the very far distance.

Your optics closed, legs shaking and cervos gently gripping at the fragile metal above you.

Your moans and grunts soon blocked by a soft kiss from Orion. His kiss with you was soft and full of passion. Your legs against the front of his arms along with going over his shoulders for a better angle.

Your valve clenching around Orion's spike nice and tightly.

His frame remains above yours. Cervos tightly gripping the side of your waist. Your kiss soon turning into something more. Dermas departs as glossa starts dancing together.

Hearing both your moans and dermas connecting. Hearing Ds own grunts and deep moans in the background from behind Orion.

D on his knees while his spike is well squeezed in Orion's valve. His thrust a little harder and rougher smelling his hips roughly against Orion's aft.

This makes Orion's thrust forcefully harsher against your now sensitive valve.

D holding Orion by the back of his neck, the other by his waist as he gets closer to his climax. Your cervos continue to hold Orion's waist.

One of your cervos behind is covered a little by Ds own. The interfacing becoming more rough thanks to D. Who seemed to be really into filling Orion up with his cum.

Soon his thrust gets faster and harder to handle. Both you and Orion's moans grow louder and louder into the kiss.

D continuously thrusting his hips at a rough paste. Your frame moves back and forth against the floor harshly. The sound of metal is heard.

Loudly. You slowly opened your optics.

Only got a few glimpses of D who seemed to be concentrating during the interface.

His optics closed and dermas parted. His moans seem to never end.

Your view is mostly filled with Orion. His optics are closed while his moans are silent by the kiss. Your cervo that was under Ds moved to hold the back of Orion's helm.

Keeping his helm close to continue the heated kiss. You three stay in the same position for a few more moments.

Feeling yourself shiver from a strong feeling in your abdomen. Before you realize it. You felt yourself finally released for the 1st time. Then Orions own in your valve not long after.

Both you and Orion staring at each other's optics while D seems to be slowing down.

Before letting out a final strained moan. Finally having is released in Orion. Orion glanced behind to look at D while trying to catch his breath.

This was your first time. Though you doubt it was their first time. The three of you continue for a few more rounds after that.

Safe to say your back needed a really good polish before you guys could think about returning to the other miners. And D definitely went overboard on the both of you.

Now it was only a matter of time. And you were honestly excited to see what the future held in store for the three of you.

——————————————————————————-

One day, after it’s been a couple of months. You were currently having an alone time on an abandoned tower close to the mountains towards the surface. Alone time is something you enjoy often. But not much.

Looking over the city while the sunset. D and Orion currently having their own little date at the moment.

You took in the view, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Your cervo over your stomach. After another moment, you let out a soft sigh. The silence was soon interrupted when Orion kicked the door for the roof of the building open.

His precious voice booming with cheer and excitement. “Great News!”

You responded casually. Both he and D walked towards you after D closed the door behind him. “Hey, sweetspark. Guessing the date went well?”

You turn around as he and D get closer. Orion hugged you as soon as he was close enough. You leaned down a little once he leaned back a bit.

You gently held him as his dermas soon connected with yours.

D only hears both of your kisses as he gets closer. We won’t admit it but he got a bit jealous. Like he always does.

You and Orion pulled from the kiss, creating only a little bit of distance as you both stared at each other. Orion then speaks, forgetting what he was about to tell you then.

“The date was great, but we sure missed you.” You let out a soft chuckle.

D then cleared his throat catching both of your attention. You and Orion both looking at him. D then raised his optics ridge with a frown on his dermas as he looked at Orion.

Orion the getting a bit nervous noticing Ds anger.

You thought he was upset he wasn’t getting attention. So you walked over to D while Orion glanced to the side nervous yet excited a bit.

You leaned down a bit while you spoke before giving D a kiss too.

“You have a good date, Sweetspark.” You both then share a loving kiss before he can respond. His cervos holding your waist. Your own going to his hips. Once you both pulled from the kiss Orion finally spoke.

”Well, me and D have some very exciting news.” You stood a bit straighter once you responded. “Oh? And what’s that?”

You felt D grip at your waist for a moment analog with Orion glancing at D then back at you with a large grin. You were a little more confused until he finally spoke with a cheer in his tone.

”D IS WITH SPARKLING!!!!” He boomed.

You were completely stunned. Staring at him with wide optics before looking back at D who just had a nervous smile on his dermas. You then said with joy in your voice.

“D that’s amazing! Finally with sparkling!”

You three chuckled while Orion got closer. The three of you in a group hug. Smiles on each of your faces. You stood a little straighter before speaking then.

”Well I was hoping to wait till after your date tonight. But I too have some news.”

The two stared at you curiously. “I too am with sparkling.” The two expressions soon lighten up as they both cheer. Both you and D are now with sparkling.

Unsure who’s the sire of the sparklings.

But time will only tell. For now. It was time to celebrate the day you and D became with sparkling.

————————————————————————-

A few months went by. Orion never came up with sparkling. So he did have to deal with two of his sparkmates suffering from having mood swings. And while you were a bit calmer but still had your moments.

D was worser.

One time you had to hold him back from hitting Orion. Who was currently hiding behind Jazz and Prowl. Who honestly looked worried.

This carried on for a good while.

Seems like everything was taking a while. But you’re sure it’s just the hormones. Dents starting to appear around your waist. Showing the sparkling in you growing. The same thing happening to D.

As time passed, one day while Orion was busy working.

You and D cuddling on the bench as you both watched a wrestling show. Your spark started to shine a bright blue.

Oh boy.

Let's just say D wasn’t very calm the entire time while you both rushed to the med bay. Hours went by since. Man, the entire birth was painful as hell.

But D stayed by your side the entire time.

Eventually, Orion was able to get there during it. He then gets to D and your side. Holding your cervo along with his while you kept trying to give birth. An hour went by. And she was finally here.

When you opened your optics D and Orion had tears in their optics.

When you finally calmed down and became more awake. Orion comforting you while D remained by your side. Soon the nurse came in with your sparkling wrapped up.

Orion helped you sit up so you’ll be able to hold her.

Orion kissing the side of your helm to comfort you. While D remained close with a smile on his dermas.

Once she was in your arms. You were blown away. She was beautiful. A perfect mix of you and Orion. Most of all having Orion's blue helmet. Now you know Orions of the Sire.

Her optics were closed but her intake was open as she breathed.

You, D, and Orion stared at her for a minute. She finally opening her optics. A bright green. Just like yours.

Soon showing her bright smile that looked so much like Orions. You swear her smile is going to be contagious for the rest of her life. Her smile was enough for Orion, D, and yourself to smile even wider.

She’s perfect. It was only a matter of time until D had your next sparkling.

———————————————————————-

Well, the next sparkling came a couple of weeks later. The sparkling was a bit late but still, he came to the world healthy. You remained by Ds side while Elita took care of your sparkling back with the miners.

Orion of course was working again. But of course, he made sure to make it for D.

And before you knew it along with who would’ve thought. The sparkling is a young and healthy girl who’s another perfect mix of D and Orion.

Orion had a large grin on his dermas when he realized he was also the sire. You just chuckled as tears fell down your cheeks. The three of you stared down at the little sparkling.

She had Ds helmet and chest plate while in Orion's colors. Her optics bright blue like Ds. After D was checked out the three of you were hit with the realization. It was time for you and D to create the final sibling.

Something Orion was pretty sad about. Since he knew what that meant.

And so one day when you all had a shift off. Orion was left with the other miners to take care of his two sparklings. Who were pretty big sparklings. You and D making it to the tower spot.

Once there, lets just say D got a little too excited about being a top again.

“So what position do you feel like doing babe? Laying down? Doggy style? OH! Or my fav. Wall.” You’d let out a deep chuckle as you walked up next to him. “Wall sounds good to me.”

You said as you both stood next to the wall outside on the roof. He had a large grin and started to stretch his arms.

He then said casually while also trying to impress. “I have been working out really hard. So no need to worry bout being dropped.” He continued while you came up behind him.

Only to startle him when you pinned him against the wall. Facing the wall while his back’s towards you.

D letting out a surprised yelp as you spoke at the same time.

”Oh, I’m too worried. Because given you handle birth better than me. It only makes sense you be the one carrying the sparkling again. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Your cervo lifted back a little and gave his aft a good slap. Making his frame flinch a little.

”Now now baby come on I’m the one on top-“

You give another slap to his aft to shush him. He then hears your panel click open. Your spike rests well against his lower back while your frame almost fully covers him.

You then hear D make a gulp sound while he tries to glance back at you. You had your usual sweet smile on your dermas while you stared down at him.

”I better be hearing a click soon. Or else I’ll have to tease you as punishment.”

You teased. Only to hear the clock of his panel very soon. One of your cervos moving from his waist to over his stomach from his front. It sliding down to press your digits against the folds of his valve.

Making him moan and shiver. He was already soaking.

You soon got on your knees, your cervo returning to hold his waist. Before sitting on your aft. He stood between your legs until you moved him along with you to be just above your spike.

Gently placing you on and sliding your spike through his folds. He let out a loud moan.

Continueing until his aft finally meets your hips. Your cervos sliding to grip his hips. You continue to sit up. Leaning forward a little to kiss his shoulder and the back of his neck.

Gently whispering shh shh next to his audio sensors.

His valve trying to adjust to your spike which was a little larger than his own.

After a few moments, D eventually gave the nod. Trying to form his words as he glanced back at you. “Promise you won’t be too rough?”

You let out a deep chuckle and kissed the side of his helm. Pulling his frame against your own as you keep holding your hips. With your strength. You moved his frame up and down nicely on your spike.

His own cervos pressed against your arms.

Moving him up and down nice and slow. You know he hates it when things are slow.

You can tell he was becoming impatient. His legs shaking while he continued to glance back at you. Your smile never has gone away. D then struggled with his words a little. Wanting just a little bit of control.

“Please….please…just a little more control…”

You can see the desperation in his optics. You can never say no to that face. And so slowing down the paste. You let him go for a moment. He lifted himself up and turned around.

Getting back on your lap, letting his spike slide right back in.

Your cervos returned to his hips with him now facing you. His arms move around your neck. A small smile on both of your dermas. Look into each other's optics before starting a soft make-out session.

His knees against the floor to help him start moving up and down on your spike. You both moan in the kiss with your optics closed. Your arms move around his waist to hold him close. Soon, to no one's surprise.

He soon started to take control while you were in the moment.

He was fast to push you back. Him on top and his hips moving faster on your spike.

Both of your moans get louder and D gets faster. You soon felt that strong feeling in your lower abdomen. This was going to be a long night.

—————————————————————————-

A couple of hours later, after a good few rounds. D was nice and full with your load. He was currently sitting up.

Still on your hips while your cervos were gripping his thighs, you both took a moment to gather yourself. All out of stamina and cum leaking from Ds valve.

D finally spoke after a few moments, he finally spoke. “I will be too sore to take care of the sparklings. Will your?”

He asked without finishing.

”Yes, of course sweetspark. And Orion will keep up his sire's duties. And if he doesn’t.”

”I’ll turn into a shovel. And Beat him.” He finished. Causing you both to chuckle as you slowly sit up. You both share a kiss once more. Enjoying the moment together a little while longer.

A few months went by. D was with sparkling. Your sparkling of course. You made sure to take good care of D along with Orion. Your two current sparkling always either sleeping or eating energon.

And so the days went. Your sparkling with D was born. He was a perfect mix of both you and D.

He had your frame plates and D colors. His Optics were yellow like Ds.

Your family with your two Conjunx was complete. And you couldn’t be any happier.

—————————————————————————————-

Your and Orion's sparkling is a healthy girl. With green optics and Orion's frame plates and your colors. She’s a bit more of a quiet type.

And is the most well-mannered and easiest sparkling for you three. Not to mention strong and taller. Always loved cuddles and being held. Mostly by D for some reason. Her name is (Name)

Ds and Orions sparkling a healthy girl. With bright blue optics and Ds frame plates and Orion's colors. Has a lot of her carrier anger issues.

Loves to cause trouble and start fights when she sees the chance. Is also very strong and can be chill at times. When they ate enough. Her name is (Name).

Your and D sparkling is a healthy boy. With your frame plates and Ds colors. Bright yellow optics. The only boy with his older siblings.

Like the oldest he’s quiet but he’s no different from his 2nd oldest sibling.

He was a troublemaker. But a lot smarter about it and when the sparklings were older. He ended up being taller like the oldest.

The middle is the shortest. Which only caused her to have even more anger issues.

Oh boy this one was a bit hard. Hope this was worth the wait!!!!! Really had fun writing this one!!!!!

As always a repost is appreciated and I’ll see you guys in the next post!!!!

[thecubspeaks]

[there is no one at work and i've been wanting to poke at this idea... i have no idea where the plot would actually go except in the broadest strokes, so who knows if there will be more]

Karlach cries when Jaheira presses the harp-shaped pin into her hand. 

She’s been crying at everything since emerging from Avernus, it’s honestly getting embarrassing. Sunsets, sunrises, grass, a guy selling cabbages, some kids playing a game in the street. 

Obviously she cries when Wyll sets off– she cries about ten times on their last night together, which very quickly becomes a very drunk last night– like, singing-on-the-roof-of-the-Elfsong drunk. Not that it’s the last last: they will see each other again, but Karlach needs to be in Baldur’s Gate for a little bit and Wyll needs anything but, and he’s given up enough for her so she’d never ask him to stay, badly as she wants him to.

She takes a couple days after that to just be. She wanders the city, she eats all the food she missed, she scares the hells out of Dammon turning up unannounced and they both cry yet again. She calls on every friend she ever had: Rolan and his siblings (Lia’s a Flaming Fist now!), Alfira and Lakrissa (not married yet, but possibly finally together? Still hard to tell), Fitz and the baby (not a baby now, he’s walking around and can almost hold a conversation), Danis and Bex (who have a baby now, too), Barcus and his pals– hells, she even stops in at the Guildhall. Cries at all of them.

She buys fruit on the Wide and visits the House of Wonders, because she’s a fucking hero of Baldur’s Gate and best mates with the Grand Duke’s son, so she can actually go to the Upper City now. Doesn’t spend much time there, though. There’s too much to do in the Lower City. She spends a day hanging out by the docks. She considers Sharess’s Caress, but loses her nerve. She haggles with street vendors in Little Calimshan. She visits her parents. Definitely cries there. She lays in the grass in Bloomridge Park for an entire day, even when it starts pouring rain. Then she catches a stonking cold, and spends a few more days in bed, luxuriating in the knowledge that she can just lie around feeling sorry for herself and a bunch of imps aren’t going to try to stab her in the neck while she’s sneezing. She has a big, snotty cry about that, too. 

When she’s well enough to not turn Jaheira’s place into a plague pit, she makes her way there, the last and accidentally delayed stop on her list. She hasn’t really made it past the Blushing Mermaid in this direction. She tries not to look at the statue of Balduran in the square– pity that, of all fucking things, didn’t get destroyed– and as she’s thinking it, resisting the urge to look at that face, she stumbles into someone.

She laughs at once– looking the way she does, you’ve got to let people know right away you don’t mean any harm– and hold up her hands in apology before she’s even fully turned around. “Sorry, mate, I wasn’t–”

She stops. The woman, dressed in a plain black gown, is brushing herself off with visible irritation. “Watching where you were going? Yes, obviously.” She looks up, and her frown deepens. “Why are you staring?” 

Karlach blurts it out despite herself, despite knowing what a bad idea it is. “Shadowheart?” 

Her eyes flash wide in surprise, then she quickly composes herself. “Is that supposed to be a name?” She gives her skirt one final flick– she’s wearing gloves, so Karlach can’t see if the wound is still there on the back of her hand, but why wouldn’t it be? 

The ache of grief and guilt is so sudden and strong, Karlach feels sick. She can’t speak, can’t say anything as Shadowheart gives her a last disdainful look, mutters something about people with more muscle than sense, and stalks away. Karlach sinks right down onto the plinth, sitting there at Balduran’s feet. This is a very different wanting to cry than all the other crying she’s been doing. This is– all the things she hasn’t been thinking about. The people she hasn’t seen, because she can’t bear to see them. This is two fucking years for guilt over what he did– what they did– to curdle into certainty that it was the wrong fucking choice. 

She’s never stopped thinking about it, even in Avernus where you couldn’t ever lose focus, had to sleep with one eye open and keep your mind ten steps ahead. Even in the midst of all that, her shitty old brain found time to remind her constantly, constantly, of the look on Shadowheart’s face as the Mother Superior and those creepy, evil masked Sharrans dragged her away. The look on Jaheira’s face as she stared down Astarion, like she might spit at his feet. Wyll and Astarion shouted at each other for what felt like hours that night, until Karlach and Gale just had to drag them off to separate corners of the camp.  

And there was so much left to do, so much they needed each other for. So they just never spoke of it again. 

They hadn’t killed her. Was that a comfort? 

And on the other hand, they had killed her, hadn’t they. They’d killed Shads, Fringe, the spiky heart with a soft centre that Karlach knew, wanted so badly to know better. There was nothing in those eyes, in a mind they’d probably had to wipe clean half a dozen times since Karlach saw her last. Since Karlach just let them take her away. 

I’m not usually one for making the first move, she’d said. But then again, you haven’t exactly been quiet about wanting some companionship tonight. So… shall we give this upgrade a trial run?

And she’d grinned and said, Oh fuck yes. 

And Shadowheart had laughed, just the smallest bit, and said, Let’s just not go announcing it to the whole camp.

So they never told anyone. 

She’s half in a daze still as she walks to Jaheira’s place, knocks on the door. She can hear the noise of all the kids tearing around inside. One she’s never seen before, an absolutely miniscule little halfling, opens the door and stares up at her with huge eyes and huge rosy cheeks like two apples. 

“Hi,” Karlach says. The kid is so small, it’s really not helping her feel more anchored in reality. “Is your mum in?” 

The halfling takes in a long, deep breath that puffs up her whole little chest, then yells impossibly loudly, “JAHEIRAAAAA!” 

“How many times, Cheska?” scolds Rion’s voice from somewhere inside, but then she, too, is shouting, “Mother! One of your mysterious friends come to call, apparently!” 

Coming here always feels like a flash of a life she could have had, and that’s really not something she needs layered on top of her present state of mind. She almost just turns and leaves right then, but Jaheira’s there at the door before she can, and must see something in her face, because she hauls Karlach right into her study and shuts the door. Then she stops short, her hands on Karlach’s shoulders.

“Let me look at you,” she says. There’s an unignorable waver in her voice.

“Jaheira,” Karlach says warningly. “I’m a fucking faucet these days, so if you start, you’ll never get me to stop. And I just…” 

“Just what?” Jaheira prompts, and seems very glad to get to move past the moment of near-miss vulnerability. “You do not look nearly as happy as I expected you to. How long have you been back?”

“Just over a tenday,” Karlach says. “I meant to come sooner, honest, but–” 

Jaheira cuts her off with a laugh and a wave of her hand. “You needn’t make excuses to me, of all people! Rion would tell me I am getting my just desserts. But come, sit. Tell me what’s the matter, cub.” 

A voice in Karlach’s head that sounds suspiciously like Rion’s points out that clearly, Jaheira is bored. She wouldn’t be home in the first place otherwise. But that can be true at the same time as it can be true that Jaheira cares. About Karlach, about all of them. 

About Shadowheart. 

Karlach takes a breath.

“I just saw Shadowheart.”

Something goes dark in Jaheira’s expression, like a shutter drawn over her eyes. Karlach should wait to see what she has to say, but– well, Karlach’s always been impatient, and talked too much, and two more years in Avernus isn’t about to change that. “How did I let that happen, Jaheira? How did I just– stand there? It was like… it was like I was in Avernus all over again, in Zariel’s court, just watching horrible things happen and telling myself I was powerless to stop them, so it was more important to keep myself alive.” 

“Astarion was in no place to be a leader then, and we should have been quicker to see it.” Jaheira sinks into a chair next to Karlach’s. Karlach knows she was angry about it once– she saw it herself– but it sounds like all that anger has burned away with time and just left weariness behind. 

“I guess we were so used to just letting him do the talking,” Karlach says, not that the thought consoles her. “And I was so proud of him, after everything with Cazador, freeing those other spawn. I really thought he’d just– keep making the right choices.” 

“No one makes the right choice every time,” Jaheira says. “And Astarion is better at hiding his grief than most. He was far less at peace with what he chose than he wished us to know. And Shadowheart paid the price for our inattentiveness.” 

Karlach shakes her head. “I should have seen. I should have done something. It wasn’t too late to fight.”  “You are finally free,” Jaheira says firmly. “Do not turn around and cage yourself in regrets. We were none of us thinking clearly then, with the weight of the world on our shoulders– you, with the spectre of your own death always at your heels.”

“It’s because I’m free that I have to think about her!” Karlach retorts. “I get to be free. We condemned her forever.”

Funny, to get angry and not feel the literal rush of flames engulfing her. It’s just a normal heat– well, probably still a bit hotter than normal, but not literal sparks at the edges of her vision, and– in those last tendays– not the ominous clunking and whirring that said she’d started to push too hard. But it was never just the engine that got her heated up. 

“You’ve had all this time to make your peace with it, but I’ve never stopped thinking about her! I don’t regret anything more in my whole fucking life. We did so much good, and none of it even matters to me because I just think of that one evil, evil thing we let him do. That we did. I need to–” The idea’s words before it’s an idea, she says it without entirely knowing what she’s saying ‘til it’s said. “I have to do something. She’s still alive. I have to help her.” 

“I should have guessed you would say something like that.” Jaheira stands up. She goes to her desk and starts to rummage through it. “I know you know the stories, so it will sound strange to you, but you remind me very much of Khalid. You have the same heart. The same passion, though you wear it differently. Nothing can crush your kindness, after a life that would have ground all the good out of most. You cannot bear injustice, despite all the injustices done to you.” She finds what she’s looking for and straightens up. She plants both hands on the desk and fixes Karlach with a long, level, unwavering look. “You know I do not say this lightly. And you also know it is not entirely a compliment. He had– you have– the true heart of a Harper.” 

Karlach’s jaw drops. She’s just staring like an idiot but she doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say, how is she supposed to respond to that? Jaheira thinks that she–

“I have spent the past months,” Jaheria says, “determining how the House of Grief can be brought down. There is unsettled business between Viconia and myself, and I have allowed her to prey for too long on the city’s lost and hopeless. And I–” Her voice falters, almost imperceptibly. “I saw her, too. A few months ago. She must have been given some mission outside of the cloister. But that will be our opportunity.” 

“How’s that? Burn it down when she’s away?”

“We must be spies before we can be soldiers,” Jaheira says with a crooked smile. “They are too well-versed in secrecy. We must have someone on the inside, and none of my Harpers have had any success. There is only one person.” Jaheira splays out her hand. The silver harp glints in her outstretched palm. “When Shadowheart sees a glimpse of light, she reaches for it. They cannot crush this out of her no matter how hard they try. You have shown her before. I know you can do it again.” 

She cries when Jaheira presses the pin into her hand. 

[silver-cyn]

Hualian Kiss-Mas @here4hualian Read it on A03 here.

Day 14: Kissing in secret

“Mutants. It’s imperative that we remember they’re not like us.” Hua Cheng presses Xie Lian against the wall, their forms so close together not a breath of air can pass between them. They kiss with all the heat of lovers too long separated, and with the desperation of those who know they’ll soon be parted again.    

“San Lang,” Xie Lian says between kisses and caresses. He’s drunk on Hua Cheng and doesn’t want to stop, but there’s something important he has to say. 

Xie Lian pulls back, staring into Hua Cheng’s lone remaining eye that clearly gives him away for the mutant he is. Red, red so beautifully red, glowing like a flame in the night, enchanting and utterly irresistible.

“I understand it’s difficult. They can look like us, talk like us, even act like us. But it’s a lie. They’re not like us at all. They aren’t…human.” “Gege…” Hua Cheng urges gently and Xie Lian blushes at his own distraction.  Then he cups Hua Cheng's face tenderly between both hands and kisses him tenderly on the lips.  “I’m leaving with you and the others tonight,” Xie Lian says calmly.  Hua Cheng’s eye widens, his lips part just slightly and his face is an open display of everything he’s feeling. He swallows hard before swooping in for a fierce kiss that buckles Xie Lian’s knees and leaves Xie Lian clinging to him. “Gege, are you sure? Your entire future is –” “ – nothing without you in it.” Xie Lian says breathlessly, hugging Hua Cheng close. “All mutants are dangerous creatures that must be eliminated.”

“And I...I can’t be there any longer. The government is already doing horrible things: snatching people up and holding them prisoner just because they’re born with abilities that mark them differently.  And it’s only going to get worse if we don’t stop them. San Lang, you’ve heard about the weapons they’re building, haven’t you? They call them — ” 

“Sentinels,” Hua Cheng says quietly. Xie Lian nods, his arms unconsciously tightening around Hua Cheng. They can both easily picture the powerful giants of steel, metal and ruthless intent to come, but neither imagined that time would arrive…

…this very night.

“SURRENDER MUTANTS!!”  Hua Cheng instinctively pushes Xie Lian behind him as the ceiling is cleanly ripped off. Two giant metallic robots zero in on them with red soulless eyes and palms extended. “San Lang!” Xie Lian only has time to grab Hua Cheng’s arm before his vision turns red.

“We must remain vigilant. We must not be deceived or confused by the ties that bind us once we learn their true nature. For if we allow ourselves to be deceived, we will surely befall the same fate…”

A hand slaps Xie Lian’s picture on the whiteboard and all eyes are drawn to the bold red lettering stamped across his face: “DECEASED.” 

“...as our dear comrade Xie Lian.”

Jun Wu stares out at the small council of his country’s most powerful leaders and generals. Many had opposed Xie Lian’s ideas on mutant and human relations, but all had been touched by his genuine kindness and care. A collective flinch visibly ripples through the group at the sight of his photo. 

“He’s dead? How?” Feng Xin asks, body utterly still in his seat. 

Ling Wen’s face is unusually pale, but her hands are steady as she tacks another photo onto the whiteboard and recites the information from memory. “His mutant alias is Crimson Rain. Real name: unknown. Ability: able to convert potential energy to kinetic energy with explosive results. His current status: alive and on the run.”  “Xianle was unique in that he saw mutants as no different from us. He was the only one on this council who saw them as humans, and look what they did to him.” Jun Wu makes sure to catch everyone’s gaze as he points first at Xie Lian's and then at Crimson Rain's photo. “Crimson Rain manipulated and used him to fulfil his own plans and by the time Xianle realized what was happening, it was too late. After getting what he wanted, Crimson Rain murdered him outright and fled the area.”

“Crimson Rain? Isn’t he – ” 

“ – the one who’s been attacking government holding facilities and freeing those other mutant criminals?” “He’s killed many of our people.” “Doesn’t he have his own team of mutants?” Jun Wu holds up a hand and the room quiets immediately. “Xianle’s loss will be felt for a long time. We won’t do him the disservice of wallowing in our grief. Instead, we’ll find and eliminate Crimson Rain, and every mutant like him.” “How can we? Their abilities are as varied as they are powerful. Weather manipulation, super strength, mind-readers and shapeshifters.  How can we defeat enemies like that?” Ming Yi asks, crossing his arms.

“I think it's time we officially bring in the Sentinels,” Mu Qing says. He briefly holds up a manila folder before passing it to Shi Wudu, his fellow councilmember. “I know Xie Lian was against them, but we can’t be soft-hearted about this. If they can do this to him, think what they can do to us.” Mu Qing’s quiet words bring everyone’s worst fears to mind.  He turns back to Jun Wu. 

“It’s your program. Tell us everything about it, and exactly what we need to do to implement it as soon as possible.”

And on the inside, Jun Wu smiles. 

_________________

Ming Yi slides into the car and Yin Yu closes the door behind him. The soundproof car and tinted windows immediately do their wonders by easing his stress headache. “Sir,” Yin Yu states quietly from the front. It’s not a question, but Ming Yi hears it all the same as he leans back against the seat. “Crimson Rain really does have the devil’s luck,” Ming Yi says. He runs a hand through his hair, fluidly shifting forms from the government’s top trusted security personnel to He Xuan a.k.a. Blackwater, Crimson Rain’s second in command.  “Hope he can spare some for the rest of us with what the council’s planning to do. Otherwise, we’ll all end up dead like that Xie Lian guy.” Without warning, He Xuan lunges forward, hand swinging out in a deadly, blade tipped arc. He grunts, body crashing into what feels like a brick wall, before he’s guided gently, but firmly, back onto his seat.

“Easy there,” a familiar voice says. “What the fuck?! Xie Lian?” He fumbles on the light and immediately feels his headache return. Sitting across from him is Hua Cheng and very much alive former councilmember, Xie Lian, not quite sitting after having intercepted He Xuan's attack. He opens his palm to reveal He Xuan’s crushed weapon, blade and hilt melded together like some new modern work of art. “Sorry about that Ming Yi…ah, I mean He Xuan,” Xie Lian says, smiling sheepishly. He tries to hand it back to He Xuan, who doesn’t take it, just continues to stare, speechless, at Xie Lian. Xie Lian exchanges a look with Hua Cheng, who laughs, takes the crumpled blade and flicks it at He Xuan. It flies across the space between them, glowing red with deadly energy that explodes inches in front of He Xuan’s face who just barely manages to block it in time. “Asshole,” He Xuan mutters but it does the trick. “So let me guess? You –” He nods at Xie Lian. “ – have been working with this guy.”  He jerks his head at Hua Cheng. “The top military brass send their sentinels out to test run their new weapons and waste our fearless leader. Your powers manifest, saving him and the newly freed mutants that night. Did I miss anything?” “Just one thing,” Xie Lian says, scratching his nose. “What did I – oh.”  He Xuan stops. Everything clicks into place the moment Xie Lian sits back down.

On Hua Cheng’s lap.

He Xuan swears. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You two? Now? With everything that’s going on?!” He Xuan angles his head to look past the two lovebirds. “Yin Yu, did you know about this?” Yin Yu says nothing, but the partition rolling up quietly says it all. “Unbelievable?! Do you have any idea how stupid, how dangerous…” He Xuan trails off when both men look at him: Hua Cheng, arms curled protectively around Xie Lian. Xie Lian, holding onto Hua Cheng with a white-knuckled grip, eyes always straying back to him for reassurance that he was still present. Still alive.  “Fuck.” Unconsciously, He Xuan’s fingers rub the pearl ring on his left hand.  He remembers being in love. He remembers, too, the pain of having it snatched away by a government with too much fear and too much power. 

He viciously shoves it all back down. 

It’s not his problem and it won’t be his pain to bear. “Alright. Okay. It is what it is,” He Xuan says, and takes one last deep breath. “So tell me star-crossed lovers. You got a plan? Or are we supposed to survive on your love and hope alone?” “Probably a little of all three,” Xie Lian says with a watery laugh. The partition slowly rolls back down. He Xuan catches Yin Yu’s gaze in the rearview mirror, then glances at Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, huddled close together, looking at once too strong and too weak with their obvious love for one another. He Xuan vehemently curses himself as he adds two more people (god, even Hua Cheng) to his very small list of “people to give a fuck about.” 

[stansthemans]

Would you ever write Ford giving fem!Stan oral sex as teens? I’m just dying to see Ford be a munch

So originally my idea for this was “hey lets practice on each other for no ulterior motives lol i don’t jerk it to this nightly” but then i was like “hmmm feelings plus a light splash of ford being a creepy peeper” so enjoy!!!

She’s got the entire house to herself. It’s an almost impossible occurrence. Ma comes and goes, running the appropriate errands to keep the household going or catching lunch or card games with her girlfriends, but Pa is almost always set up down in the shop. Few things sour his mood like even the vague prospect of missing out on a sale.

But today, her parents are out of town, up in the city visiting Shermie and his wife. That alone affords Stan a world of freedom, but Ford is also out for the afternoon. Something about some nerd lecture at the civic center. Stan could go out and do something too. She could hit the beach, meet up with friends at the pier. She’s got some pocket change. She could catch a movie. She could watch tv, bake a cake, head to the gym to practice at the bag.

Or she could take advantage of an empty house and get in a few rounds of orgasms.

Yeah, orgasms sound good. Those sound really good. On a usual day, touching herself goes one of two ways. Either she has to make quick work of herself in the shower, because God help her if she’s in there too long wasting water, or she has to do the infinitely riskier move of waiting until late, late at night, when she’s sure her brother is deeply asleep in the bunk above her.

And that’s always agony, because invariably, her thoughts always turn to Ford, to imagining that her fingers are longer, thicker, one more in number than they actually are, and as she imagines that her hands running over her body are actually her brother’s—her brother who is right there, so close—as that pleasure builds and builds, it takes everything in her to stay still enough, silent enough, that she doesn’t wake him and expose her secret.

Fingering herself is usually not as fulfilling an experience as she wishes it was, but today, the house all to herself, Stan can indulge, and indulge she does. She closes the curtains against the harsh afternoon sun and leaves the bedroom door open just a crack. She has the house to herself, but it would be a good idea to leave herself the opportunity to hear any potential noises. Stan pulls the comforter of her bed completely off and arranges her pillows and sheets into a nice little nest. She wiggles out of her shorts and panties and then heads for Ford’s side of their shared closet.

This is maybe a little weird, but she just wants a little bit to get her going. After all, she’s not fooling herself in any way to think she won’t be imagining Ford the entire time. Ford’s side of the closet is, of course, neater than hers, his shirts and sweaters all hanging up perfectly and organized by sleeve length and color. Stan sticks her face directly into the red section and inhales deeply. Ford is, without question, a teenage boy, and he smells like it, sweaty and funky and never really using enough soap or deodorant to cover it. However, he also wears cologne, and unlike nearly every other boy that Stan knows, Ford actually has an idea of how much is too much, and he never crosses that line. The juxtaposition between the natural and artificial scents that make up her brother is more than enough to make Stan dizzy.

A few more deep breaths, and Stan is ready, warmth settling low in her stomach. She flops onto her bunk and pushes her shirt up and over her breasts. She gives attention to her nipples first. This is the easiest part to imagine that it’s Ford touching her. After all, six fingers aren’t required to pinch and flick and tease here. She’s very sensitive here, and it’s only a brief moment before she can feel the slickness gathering between her legs. On a normal day, she would get to it, would shove two fingers immediately into herself and get to work, but she’s got time to be slow, to explore, and when she does finally spread her legs wide, when she does finally slide her hand down her stomach, down to her core, she’s a little taken aback by just how wet she actually is.

Stan shudders as she drags two fingers slowly around her clit, down through the folds, and back up again. Take it slow, she reminds herself. She’s not in a rush. She can enjoy working the outside for a little bit before moving in. She holds her breast in her other hand, can feel her heartbeat picking up in time with her heavy breaths. She imagines that it’s Ford’s hand. His hands are so big. He would be so easily able to cup the entirety of her breast in his palm, massage into the soft, yielding skin with his strong fingers, his thumb kneading into the hard nub of her nipple.

Stan pinches herself just as she slides her fingers over her clit. She lets out a gasping whimper at the sensation, a noise that sounds deafening in the otherwise silent room. For a moment, she freezes, and then the situation catches up to her again. She’s alone. There isn’t anyone else in the house, won’t be for hours. That’s part of this entire thing. She can not only take her time, but she can actually make noise.

Stan presses down harder on her clit and lets herself indulge in a louder moan. Some part of her thinks that maybe it’s a bit ridiculous, but it also feels good. So she does it again. She does it again and again until she’s ready to do something that she knows is going to rewrite her entire brain.

Stan stuffs two fingers deep into her pussy and moans her brother’s name. She doesn’t stop this time. It feels too incredible. She hikes up a leg and pumps her fingers wildly. She whines needfully, “Ford! Oh God, Ford!” She adds another finger and then another. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. “Ford, oh, more. I want—Sixer, more, please, please!”

Stan begs a phantom for something she knows she can never have, something she isn’t supposed to want, but God, does she want. She grinds her hips up into her palm, wishing it was his. Wishing for Ford’s hand, his mouth, his cock. Wishing that he wanted her like she wants him.

She’s so close. “Sixer, fuck, oh fuck! Fuck me! Please! Ford!” And she comes hard, panting her brother’s name over and over as she strokes herself through it.

She keeps her fingers inside as she comes down, feeling her pussy clenching around them. She lets her leg drop back down to the sheets, bringing that hand back to her chest, lightly teasing at her nipples again. She imagines her brother again, his warm presence enveloping her, skin to skin. “Hmm,” she hums in contentment. “Sixer.”

“Stanley?”

Stan’s blood turns to ice in her veins, and the entire beautiful fantasy is shattered. Her eyes fly open and land on her brother—the flesh and blood of him—standing at the foot of her bed, his eyes blown wide as he gapes down at the disgusting display of perversion she presents.

Stan stares up at him, incapable of moving, of breathing, of anything other than a slowly encroaching panic. How much of that did he hear? How much did he see? All of it or even just a second. It doesn’t matter. There is no way that she can spin this into anything other than what it was, and so now he knows. He knows that she doesn’t look at him with anything close to innocent eyes, that she sees him and she wants him in this sick way. He knows, and he’s going to hate her.

“Stanley,” Ford says again, and Stan braces herself for everything that will follow. It’s going to kill her, but she deserves it. She deserves everything he says.

But Ford doesn’t say anything else. His eyes bore into her, roaming up and down, and then, suddenly, he’s in the bed too, his big hands dropping gently—so gently it makes her tremble—over her knees. Slowly, he pushes her legs apart, opening her up again. One hand stays curled over her thigh, and the other encircles the wrist of the hand she still has not taken away from her pussy.

Ford’s thumb presses down on her two middle fingers, applying pressure to the sensitive area. Stan can’t help but gasp. “Stanley,” Ford says a third time, drawing her hand away and exposing her to the intensity of his unblinking gaze. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

“I—I—“ Her throat and mouth are desert dry, and she still can’t breathe.

Ford’s hands move in a burning trail down her thighs, coming closer and closer. “You were saying my name,” he says. “Moaning it.” His thumbs rest over her labia and pull gently, opening up her hole. “Do you do that often?”

Stan whimpers, her head spinning. What is going on? Why isn’t he yelling at her?

“I asked you a question, Stanley,” Ford says. “Do you think of me when you finger yourself?” And then his thumbs move up and slide over either side of her clit.

Stan moans loudly at the jolt of pleasure that shoots up her spine. “Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, I—oh God, Sixer!”

Ford’s thumbs keep moving. “How often,” he asks.

“Every time,” Stan confesses, her hands curling into her sheets.

“You want this,” he says, his voice low and gruff. He shifts his hand, and a finger slides inside her.

Stan keens, her back arching up. She moves her hips, seeking more from him. “Need it,” she cries.

Ford pumps his finger in and out. “God, Stanley,” he says, and his voice is only full of awe. “You’re so wet.”

“For you,” Stan promises him. “Just for you. Sixer, I—please!”

“Amazing,” Ford says. “You’re so—I want to make you come again. I want you to scream again. What do I do?”

“I—what?” Stan reels. She’s too dizzy to think.

Ford leans over her, filling up her entire world with just him. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. “I want you to come, screaming my name again,” he says. “I want to make that happen. How do I make you feel good?”

Stan’s brain is complete mush, and she doesn’t really think before blurting, “You could eat me out?”

Ford’s eyes flash and narrow. “Has anyone ever done that to you before,” he asks, his jaw tight.

“N-no,” Stan stammers. “I’ve—uh—I’ve never done anything with anybody.”

“Good,” Ford says, growls. “Good. It will only ever be me.” And then he surges forward and kisses her. Stan moans, opening her mouth for his tongue. She wraps her arms around his neck and clings to him. “You’re mine,” he says against her lips, possessive and desperate. “Tell me.”

“Only yours,” Stan promises. “I’ve never wanted anything else.”

He kisses her again, and this time it’s achingly gentle, so perfect that it finally eases the last of the tension from her body, and Stan relaxes fully into her brother’s hold, surrenders completely. She’s his. He wants her to be his.

For a long moment, it’s just that, just arms around each other, lips moving gently together. Then Ford pulls back, only enough to press his forehead to hers. “I—um—I’ve obviously never done anything before either,” he says, nerves creeping into his voice. “You have to tell me. I want you to feel good.”

Stan holds his face in her hands and says, “It’s you, so it’s going to.”

“No,” Ford says insistently. “No, I want you to feel—I want this to be so good for you, Stanley. Just tell me what to do.”

And he looks so serious and earnest that Stan can’t do anything but agree. “Ok,” she says. “For starters, you should take off your shirt at least.” She tugs at the sleeve of his dorky little button up. “Maybe pants too.” While Ford does that, Stan remembers that she’s still got her t-shirt on too. She slips out of it, and Ford freezes above her. “What?”

“You’re naked,” Ford says simply.

And Stan can’t help it. The laughter bubbles up out of her in a snort, and then she’s giggling uncontrollably. For a moment, Ford puffs his cheeks at her in a ridiculous pout—made all the more ridiculous by his ruffled hair and lopsided glasses—but then he laughs too. “Really, Poindexter,” Stan asks.

“All right,” Ford says.

“It’s just—you were fingering me a minute ago,” Stan says.

“Ok,” Ford says, exasperation creeping into his voice.

“You watched me get myself off and you definitely could have darted out of the situation the second you realized what was going on,” she continues.

“I concede to the first point but disagree with the second,” Ford says. He reaches out, trailing his fingers from her cheek to her lips, down between her breasts and over her stomach. He stops just above the patch of hair between her legs. “Not a chance in hell could I turn away from this. I’ve wanted you for so long, Stanley.”

“We—we’re nuts, huh,” Stan asks, trembling a bit.

“I don’t care,” he says.

Ford finishes kicking off his pants and then settles himself between her legs, draping them over his shoulders. He rubs his hands soothingly over her shaking thighs and says, “Ok, begin lesson.”

“Nerd,” Stan says automatically. Ford doesn’t retort in the way he usually would. He just keeps staring at her, his fingers moving in the same slow, soothing trails over her skin. Stan isn’t really sure if it’s making her more or less nervous. Her stomach is definitely doing crazy flips almost like it wants to bring up everything she’s eaten today because her brother—her twin brother—is lying with his face between her legs, and she isn’t wearing any clothes, and he saw her fingering herself, heard her moaning his name and—

“Stanley,” Ford’s gentle voice cuts through her panic. His hands aren’t moving anymore. Still on her legs, his fingers are holding tighter, almost digging into her, not enough to bruise, but God, wouldn’t that be something. His eyes—they have exactly the same eyes—are locked directly onto hers, even as he turns his head slightly and places a feather light kiss on the inside of her thigh. “It’s ok,” he says. “We don’t—we don’t have to do this if you—“

“No,” Stan cries. “No, I want—“ She reaches for him, and he releases one of her legs to intertwine their fingers. She doesn’t know how to tell him just how much she wants. “I just—“ She pulls in several deep breaths, squeezing Ford’s fingers. He squeezes back, and it helps to ground her.

“I want you too,” he says. “Just tell me what to do.”

He doesn’t let go of her hand. Stan lets out her last deep breath slowly and says, “Ok. Ok, so I’m still—I’m still kind of wet.”

Ford’s eyes flicker down to her pussy, and he nods. “Yes, you are.” Stan’s stomach flips again. His voice is definitely lower than it was even a second ago, and it’s not any kind of weird act.

“That’s—um—that’s a dig deal,” she says. “Being wet. Because, like, if you just attack the thing, that’s not good.”

“Noted,” Ford says. “What’s the best way to do that?”

She has no idea because this is entirely new territory, but Ford clearly isn’t going to let her just lie here. He’s not going to stop asking until she gives him an actual answer. “Ok, so you—you know the parts, right? Like if I say clit you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yes, I’ve seen diagrams,” Ford says, and Stan lets out another semi-hysterical laugh. Oh boy. It’s going to be like that, huh.

“Ok.” She needs to stop saying ok so much. “Ok, so don’t go right for the clit. Or—or if you do, start slow and not too much pressure. But the folds—that’s—“ She needs to just make a decision, something concrete. “Use your tongue. Like—like you’re licking ice cream off a spoon.”

Stan expects Ford to turn his entire focus down to her pussy, but he doesn’t take his eyes off her face, and that, coupled with his tongue licking a slow, fat stripe up her cunt, lights every single nerve in her body on fire. She jolts, and Ford holds onto her tighter, fingers still wrapped around her, and his other hand sliding to her hip. He licks again, just as slow, and Stan whimpers.

When Ford squeezes her fingers again, she knows he’s looking for his next instruction. “You can—oh—you use the tip of your tongue too. Get—yes—get in there, kind of—kind of trace it?”

He starts with the outer lips, and when his tongue dips between the folds, Stan whines. She actually whines, and that should be embarrassing, but it just feels too good. Ford explores every inch of her, his hand wide over her lower stomach, keeping her from bucking up into his face. He traces over the opening of her hole, but he doesn’t go in, and she wants him in.

“Inside,” she gasps. “Put your tongue inside.” He immediately follows her instruction, and Stan cries, “Oh my God!” Ford’s fingers tighten around hers, and he pushes in deeper. She’s just about to tell him to try curling it when he takes the initiative on his own. “Fuck, oh fuck!” Stan grabs at the sheets, curling them tight enough in her fist that it’s a wonder they don’t rip.

“All of it,” she pants. “Sixer, Sixer, do them all!”

Ford pulls his tongue from inside her and begins to alternate between flat, slow licks to dipping between her folds. Occasionally, he dives inside her again, pulling out after she moans his name. It feels like he’s making out with her pussy. It’s torture, and it feels so fucking good. “Sixer, please, please, I want more!”

He doesn’t exactly pull off her, but he moves back just enough to say, “You’re so wet, Stanley. God, it’s—you taste amazing.” She whines again. “Are you wet enough yet? Can I—can I lick your clit now?”

“Yeah,” she pants. “But first—put your fingers in me again.” She arches as he slides one long finger into her hole. “Another.” A second joins it, and Stan moans. “One more.” For a moment, she has to just lie there, marveling at the feeling of Ford’s fingers filling her up. It’s better. It’s so much better than when she does it. She knew it would be.

“God,” Ford breathes. “Stanley, you—“

“Slow,” she says. “In and out, but go slow.” He never fully leaves her, drawing his fingers out to nearly the tips before pushing back in again. Slow but as deep as he can go. His breath comes out in hot pants against her cunt. “Ok, ok, you can—oh God—kiss it or—or lick—my clit—“

His lips close over it, her entire body feels like it’s on fire. She can’t stand it. “Ford, Ford!” She pulls her fingers away from his, and he growls against her, which—holy shit. “Wait, I just—“ She grabs for his three middle fingers, the ones that on his other hand are thrusting in and out of her. “Curl them, like this, and then—shit, shit—make them walk like—“ She uses hers over his, shows him what to do, and then he mimics the movement as he presses the flat of his tongue against her clit.

Stan screams. “Fuck, oh fuck, Sixer! That’s—more, please, more!” His tongue swirls over and around her clit, and his fingers dance inside her, and Stan pulls his hand up to grab at her breast. He finds her nipple and pinches, and Stan grinds her pussy against his face.

She can hear herself making noises that don’t sound entirely human. Amidst it all, she begs. “Stanford, please, please, I’m so close! Fuck, fuck! It’s—“

“Do it, Stanley,” Ford demands. “Come for me.”

His lips close over her clit again, and this time he sucks on it, and Stan’s entire vision whites out. Never in her life has anything felt so good. The pleasure rolls over her in waves, and Ford never stops licking her, and she can’t stop moaning his name. Her entire body is shaking, every movement of Ford’s tongue another jolt of lightning down her spine. His fingers swirl inside her, and he groans her name against her pussy, and it’s too much. Stan feels like she’s going to shake completely apart.

Somehow, her trembling hand finds his head, and she pushes weakly at him. Ford’s eyes meet hers, and his pupils are blown so wide they’re almost completely black. The sight of him there, between her shaking thighs, staring at her like that, is too overwhelming.

She doesn’t feel the tears falling down her cheeks until Ford pushes up onto his forearms, his entire expression changing as he says in alarm, “Stanley? Stanley, are you ok?”

She isn’t. She isn’t. She needs him to—

Ford starts to sit up, starts to move away, and that’s the opposite of what she needs. Stan reaches for him, and Ford immediately comes closer again. She grabs him, yanks until he crawls over her, and Stan finds his face and pulls him into a kiss.

She completely forgets that he’s just been eating her out, that his face is soaked with the mess of her arousal, that she’ll taste herself on his tongue. None of that matters. She just needs to kiss him.

She falls back onto the mattress, and Ford goes with her. His kiss pushes the air back into her lungs. The weight of his body spread over her keeps her from flying away. His hands on her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks, reminds her that she’s whole, she isn’t broken or shattered.

“Stanley,” Ford says against her lips. “Stanley, love, please, are you—“

Love.

Stan kisses him harder, kisses him until it feels like her lungs are about to explode in a good way. Then, finally, she can pull back and look at him and marvel at how beautiful he is.

“Stanley.” A quick peck of his lips to hers again. “Did I—did I hurt you?”

Stan shakes her head. Opposite. Complete and total opposite. “Brain’s oatmeal,” she says, although really it’s more of a slur.

Ford’s brows shoot up over the rim of his glasses. “I’m sorry, it’s—“

“Oatmeal. Melted.”

“Your brain is melted oatmeal,” Ford repeats, and then the worry finally washes from his expression and he starts to laugh. Stan tries to pout up at him, but soon she’s laughing too.

“You’re so mean,” she says, grinning. “This is your fault. All your fault that my neutrons aren’t firing right.”

“Neurons,” Ford corrects.

“Whatever, dork,” Stan grumbles.

“If your neutrons were firing, we would be dealing with a much more dire situation,” Ford says. Stan rolls her eyes. “So,” Ford says, settling himself over her, hands petting at her hair.

“So what?”

“So it was worth it to follow my suggestion and have you give me verbal instruction the entire time, wasn’t it,” Ford says.

“Sweet Moses, are you I-Told-You-So-ing me right now,” Stan complains.

“Yes,” Ford says plainly.

“You deserve to be Wet Willied,” Stan declares, “but I’m still working on getting feeling back in my arms, so you’re off the hook for now.”

“And your generous forgiveness has nothing to do with the apparently mind melting orgasm I just gave you,” Ford asks with an arched brow.

“You’re gonna eat those words just as soon as my bones resolidify,” Stan promises. “I will have my revenge.”

Ford leans down and kisses her, slow and deep and punctuated with a rolls of his hips. “Looking forward to it.”

[cotl-eyesofdeath]

What went wrong the first time around with the kids? What was narilamb's fatal flaw as parents?

Short answer:

Lambie’s manipulative with a need for control even when it comes to their loved ones, and while Narinder tries his best he’s still kind of a mediocre dad that let Lambie do whatever they wanted to their kids as long as it wasn’t physically traumatizing

Long answer:

After like a thousand years of being a cult leader Lambie starts thinking that they want a break from all their responsibilities, and so they decide to try having a child with Narinder to see if they can keep the cult leading in the family. On account of their… eldritch-ness, Lambie’s unable to have children the regular way, so they needed to use a ritual that would actually make it possible. Use your imagination for that part.

They didn’t expect it to work since they kinda just bullshitted it, but somehow it did work and so Narinder ends up carrying their firstborn, which they name Yarna. From her birth Lambie has groomed Yarna into becoming the perfect cult leader, just like Narinder did with them, but there were still a few doubts in their mind. They decide to have another child, Chanto(Narinder carried a him too), and raise him as a sort of back-up plan. They also decide to raise backups to the backup but with children of their followers instead of having another of their own, starting a sort of cult leader/disciple school. This along with Lambie’s selective shows of affection breed jealousy and rivalry between the two siblings- Yarna believing that being the next cult leader is her rightful place as the firstborn and afraid of losing her position, and Chanto just wanting to prove himself to Lambie and get the same treatment that Yarna gets.

Narinder notices the growing tension between the siblings and does his best to teach them to cooperate with eachother and keep a healthy relationship, but his idea of a “healthy sibling relationship” isn’t the best to begin with… still, he warns his kids of what happened with his own family with stories of the past, but that’s pretty much all he does. Aside from keeping them apart so they don’t fight, he doesn’t do anything else, and the kids have heard his stories so many times that they start to tune them out and forget- retreating into their own world of spite and jealousy. This is all made worse by Lambie deliberately stirring up trouble between them, seeing them as in competition with eachother and their schoolmates and making no effort to hide it, believing that if they’re in competition with eachother then they’ll strive to be better and pick off the weaker ones.

Jealousy runs amok between them. Yarna has always had an advantage with being the firstborn and first student, giving her more time than all the other kids to learn and hone her skills as a cult leader. This obviously makes her the biggest source of jealousy for everyone else since they’re basically playing catch-up and hoping that she’ll get behind somehow to actually give them a chance. Though this also means that there’s extremely high expectations put on her to be the most model student of the entire cult, causing her punishments to be even more extreme when she does make a mistake, and Lambie’s punishments for her are the worst of all. Since she’s the most promising student, she’s the one that Lambie pays the most attention to and that’s an extremely sharp double-edged sword- not just for her but for everyone else too. Lambie pays the most attention to Yarna, so she gets most of their affections, leaving everyone else basically in the dust. Nobody else gets as much of their attention and praise as Yarna, but this also means they’re allowed much more freedom and their punishments for mistakes aren’t as severe.

Chanto as the second born is at a disadvantage with their studies that they try their hardest to overcome, and though the hard work does pay up and they inch ever closer to Yarna, in the end they feel like they could never reach her- not only in their studies but also personally. Both of them want affection from Lambie, their parent and beloved god, but Chanto also wants Yarna’s affections too, at least at first. They believed that if they caught up to Yarna then they could both have fun as siblings while also getting Lambie’s attention. Yarna, of course, only sees him as a rival. What he gets praised for is something she’s expected to do without it, and when he does something bad he’s punished with a lot less severity than a small mistake that she would make. Not only that, but he has a freedom that she craves. Yarna is constantly on edge and acting perfect all the time, studying 24/7 and doing it all with a forced smile she’s perfected to look natural all while her own brother is allowed to play around outside in the trees and with the other kids. She believes this is an injustice, and so every chance she gets she “disciplines” Chanto herself, using his naivety and craving for affection against him, becoming his biggest bully. She would berate him, steal his food, destroy his things, and spread rumors about him all around the cult in hopes of getting his reputation so low that Lambie will finally discipline him the same way they discipline her.

Years of bitterness, jealousy, anger, hate, and routine neglect pass by and Yarna is still the first in line for cult leader status. Lambie’s attention has turned solely to Yarna after a while, practically ignoring all the other students in favor of constant monitoring of her to make sure she doesn’t mess anything up. They’ve gone from grooming her into the perfect cult leader to instead turning her into a mini version of them, feeling that they could only leave the cult in her hands if she did everything as they would. This has led to them ignoring even Chanto, their other child, who has started defecting against their leadership due to this neglect without them even noticing. Their plans of pitting their kids against each other in order to make them better leaders has failed, turning one into a constantly stressed internal mess and the other into a secret dissenter that slowly blooms a rebellion in the dark of night, growing it steadily for years. Chanto has realized that Lambie has been abusing him, his classmates, and most of all: Yarna. He tries to help her out of the situation several times but she never lets him- she’s too deeply brainwashed and still resents him for what she couldn’t have. She’s going to follow the path that’s been laid out for her like the obedient half-sheep she is or die trying- and, well… Chanto will free them both from their lifelong misery, by any means necessary.

A few more years pass and Yarna has finally taken her place as the new cult leader while Chanto and half of the original cult have dissented and split off to live somewhere else. This, in theory, should make everyone happy, but… neither Yarna nor Chanto are at ease with the other group’s existence, and so there’s still friction between the two, but a war wouldn’t benefit anybody as of now and so they’re just keeping their distances for now. At least, that is until the dissenting group settles into a place with an abundance of a specific resource, causing them to thrive more than the original cult.

I’m gonna speed this up because I’ve been writing this over the course of several weeks and I’m tired but basically:

Trade negotiations are started but eventually fail so bad that it snowballs into a war, Yarna and Chanto leading their own respective armies

Lambie leaves the two groups to fight amongst themselves believing that it’s just another one of their kids’ sibling fights while Narinder is freaking out knowing that this will kill both of his kids. He attempts to convince Lambie to join the fight only to protect the kids and make sure that they don’t fucking die even if it means killing everyone else because he doesn’t have any power in this situation. It works but way too late

Lambie goes to the war site and finds their kids. Dead. They stabbed each other in the heart and died at the same time, the consequences of Lambie’s actions being this. They kill every single cult member- old, new, dissenting and loyal, deciding that starting from complete scratch with only Narinder is the best course of action.

This isn’t the first time they’ve had to start over with only Narinder, but while the first time was accidental this one was on purpose, and it hurts a lot more. Lambie truly is devastated at the loss of their kids but it’s Narinder who took this the hardest. He will always love the lamb and how ruthless they can be, but this… this made him realize how much more evil they could be. However, what hurts the most is just how complicit he realizes he had been.

The whole situation changes them both but mostly Narinder, leaving him in a state of shock for so long before he finally starts to grieve.

5 stages of grief and all that, shit gets really weird between the two of them for a long time before they finally start to mend their relationship again because they’re bound to each other no matter what so they might as well keep their relationship amicable at least. After like a thousand years of self reflection and improvement(mainly Narinder but he has the lamb change a bit too) they decide to have another kid, but just one this time, and they name her Mary(the little lamb). Narinder is more present and active and the lamb isn’t trying to mold and manipulate her into the perfect cult leader so she grows up into a pretty decent and happy person, even though she can see the dead and is haunted by her parents’ past mistakes in the form of her dead siblings trying to steal her life. She has a bee boyfriend and likes poetry.

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part One of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock.

Word Count: 2377

Tags/Warnings: None, unless toddlers/children and parenting bother you.

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I couldn't resist--I gotta have me some Beau while writing Dean! This is a brand new story of Beau and female reader!

Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter One: Upon First Sight

All in all, it was a lousy day. Beau’s truck got a flat in the middle of nowhere and the tire proved impossible to take off. He had to pay a small fortune for a tow, additional labor for a replacement, and work was a headache and a half. He was ready for a cold beer, a nice nighttime fire, and the quiet.

But first, he had to get the beer. He’d run out the other day... which meant facing the sheer torture of the grocery store after hours. It was like all of Big Sky decided to go shopping during that time and the sheer crowd drove him insane.

Not to mention everyone and their parents suddenly had to talk to Beau, introduce him to a likely female prospect. It was as though he wore a sign over his head: ‘ATTENTION BIG SKY, SUITABLE SINGLE MALE’. Absolutely maddening. He hated it.

Ever since he and Carla split, he hadn’t been up to dating. Sure, Carla moved on, remarried—god, what a douchebag—and moved to Montana. Which meant he was coming too, because he'd be damned if he missed the last few years of Emily’s life as a teenager.

Somehow, that made him more appealing to the female population. Add to that the ‘exoticness’ of the Texan drawl, the allure of being a cop, and goddammit, he was pursued daily.

He wanted none of it.

“No, honey,” he hears some woman say, presumably to one of her offspring, judging from the harried, exhausted tones. “Now put that back.”

Yep, offspring. He heard the telltale signs of a young whine from the child and had to smile sympathetically. Then he heard something that caught his attention and raised his adrenaline: cans crashing.

He whipped around and narrowly dodged being smacked by a number of Chef Boyardee meals in a can. “Whoa!”

“Eliza!” The mother snatched up her child—maybe a little older than a year?—and popped her back into the shopping cart, buckled her up so swiftly he was impressed. “I am so sorry! You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Nope. I'm all right. The cans aren’t, though,” he said ruefully, observing the mess.

“Oh fu-fudge,” the mother said, catching herself before she could cuss in front of the kid.

“Here, I’ll help ya,” Beau offered, using his cart to detour traffic around the cans and began moving the cans away. “Wyatt,” he said, catching the eye of one of the employees. “Go get help.”

The mom raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You know everyone here?” she asked, doing her best to stack the cans against the shelf.

“Benefits of bein’ the sheriff,” he said with a smile. “Sooner or later, I meet them all.”

“You’re—“ she broke off in astonishment.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” he said by way of introduction. He shook her hand and was surprised by her firm grip. He hadn’t expected that from her. Maybe it was because she seemed so soft, motherly.

“I’m Y/N,” she said with a smile. It turned wry as she introduced her daughter. “That little hellion is Eliza.”

He chuckled. “Might need a little wranglin’, huh?”

“Either that or a wolf pack.”

Beau laughed. He couldn’t help it. Little Eliza actually grinned at hearing her mother say ‘or a wolf pack’, as if angling for that very purpose and existence. “You know, I know it don’t seem like that right now, but she'll get easier to manage.”

Y/N paused and lifted a brow. “You sound as if you speak from experience.”

“I guess I do,” he said, rising to his feet. He offered Y/N a hand to help her up as he said, “My Em wasn't really difficult, just stubborn. Had a mind of her own and goddamn she knew how to use it.”

He saw her eyes flicker for a moment, and wondered what it was that caused her react so. “Em--I'm guessing that's your daughter?”

He nodded with a fond smile. “She’s 18 now and in college.”

Y/N smiled, returning to her little hellion child. “Now you have new worries, whether she’s learning well, making the right friends, and handling peer pressure.”

“Well, thanks for the nightmares,” he said wryly.

Her smile turned amused, her eyes sparkling. “Just pointing out it never gets easier,” she said with a fond ruffle of her daughter’s hair. “Just changes in difficulties.”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Ya ain’t wrong,” he said at last.

For a moment, they regarded each other in companionable silence. Beau was reluctant to let her go, enjoying this conversation. She seemed equally hesitant to let the moment end.

“I… I, um, thank you, for your help,” she said at last. “It would’ve been kinda hard to do all that while minding my little wolf-child.”

He grinned, appreciating her humor in handling an energetic toddler. “You’re welcome.”

Just as she turned to leave, Beau stepped forward, stammering. “Ah, wait. I hope this ain’t forward of me, but…” God her eyes killed him. “Ah… can I ask you out sometime?”

She looked so surprised he wondered what she was thinking. Y/N glanced at her daughter, and he got it. She wasn’t expecting anyone to want to date a single mom.

Luckily for her, Beau wasn’t just ‘anyone’.

“I’d like that,” she said with a slight smile. She took out a little memo pad—god, she was organized, he loved it—and scrawled a number on it. She handed it to Beau.

“You know, we could’ve traded cellphone numbers,” he said teasingly. “Didn’t need to kill a tree for it.”

“Are you saying you don’t think you’re worth a tree?” she retorted with a smile.

That caught him off-guard and he laughed. “Oh, you got a sense of humor there, darlin’.”

“I try. My wolf-child forces me to very creative,” she said with a trace of wry humor.

He chuckled and approached little Eliza in the shopping cart seat. “May I?”

A look of surprise followed by an expression of gratitude. How many would ask before approaching a child? “Yes,” she said simply.

“Heya darlin’,” Beau said to Eliza. He regarded her with the solemn mien he would give a senior citizen. He held out his hand to her and added, “I’m Beau Arlen. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

Eliza stared at him with wide, wide eyes, taking him in. He had the sense she was seeing more of him than an adult would, weighing and measuring him. Damned if he didn’t feel shaken. “Bo-bo!”

Y/N let out a laugh, then clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling giggles. Beau grinned, his green eyes dancing. “As long as you ain’t adding something to that nickname, I’ll take it.”

Eliza giggled at her mother’s reaction. She peered at Beau’s hand, then wrapped her tiny fingers around his index and middle finger, her hand too small to take his whole hand. It was so damned adorable. “Bo-bo,” she said solemnly.

He cleared his throat to hold back the laugh and nodded. “That’s right, darlin’. And you’re Eliza.”

Eliza nodded, then dragged his hand over to her mother. “Mommy!”

Something shifted in Y/N’s expression, shuttered. Beau felt the warmth from her withdraw, and found himself confused. “Y/N?”

”We should go,” she said suddenly. “We’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Without giving him a chance, she gently freed her daughter’s grasp from his hand and pulled away with her shopping cart, leaving him staring after them in utter confusion.

As luck would have it, he chanced upon them in the parking lot. Little Eliza went into full-blown meltdown, wailing while her mother was desperately trying to get her to calm down enough to get buckled into the car seat.

“Eliza, please!” Yep. Sheer desperation, mother ready to hit tears.

Beau headed up to them, set his bags of groceries and pack of beer on the ground, and said, “Hey… why don’t I take her for a moment? Give you a breather?”

Y/N looked back at him, and yep, tears in her eyes, a look of overwhelming parenthood. Beau felt for her. She hesitated for a breath, then nodded, forcing herself to step back. “I just… can’t her to calm down,” she said, her voice quaking.

”Ah, it happens to the best of us,” he said gently, taking Eliza from the car seat. “First year we had Emily, I think between Carla and I we must’ve cried in the closet a dozen times.”

Y/N was startled. “The closet?”

“Yep.” He gently bounced Eliza in his arms, the little toddler still full on wailing. “We felt embarrassed, ya see. Didn’t want each other know we had no idea what the hell we were doin’. Or how hard it had been for us.”

“How did you two find out about the other?”

Eliza was beginning to sniffle and hiccup, which Beau took to mean she was starting to calm down. He kept bouncing her as he spoke to her mother. “Came upon her in the closet. Carla had been feelin’ sick, Emily was all over the place and nothin’ was workin’. I came home and found her there, tears everywhere.”

Beau shook his head. “We had a good long talk. We were lucky. We could lean on each other. Even then, it was damned hard.”

Eliza let out a big yawn and Beau smiled. He shifted her in his arms and she immediately slumped against him, evidently prepared to fall asleep then and there.

Y/N’s brows swooped up in astonishment. “I.. can’t decide if I should be offended or relieved you got her to calm down that fast.”

“Relieved, darlin’,” he said with a rumbly chuckle. “Go with relieved. Why don’t ya take her and I’ll get your groceries in the car?”

”Absolutely not. You hold her, I’ll do it. I don’t want to risk her waking up again,” she said with a chuckle. “I knew she was getting tired. I just had to finish shopping. Just my luck she got overtired and that was it, she didn’t want to cooperate anymore.”

Much to Beau’s amusement, Eliza let out a tiny snore. He patted the little toddler’s back soothingly, swayed in place. God, memories were coming back, of late nights trying to get Emily to go down so they could sleep, of trying to get her to hang on a bit longer so they could go home.

He’d do it again in a heartbeat. He loved his daughter so damned much.

”When they’re that age, all we can do is roll with it,” he said as she moved bags into her trunk. “We’re just lucky they’re cute enough to forget what it’s like as they get older.”

Y/N smiled a bit, but it faded quickly. “Beau… I owe you an apology.”

“What for?” he asked, his hand still patting Eliza’s back.

“For leaving as abruptly as I did earlier,” she said, her voice low and ashamed. “I… Eliza bringing you right over to me had me…” She hesitated, then finished with, “scared. It scared me.”

Beau paused in his swaying, caught off guard. Then he kept moving, considering that confession. “I imagine your daughter approving of a man you just met might be a bit difficult,” he said carefully. “Especially one who just asked you out.”

“Most men I meet… if they’re interested in me… tend to run when they hear ‘single mom’,” she said slowly. “No matter how well we got along.”

Ah. Beau nodded slowly. He couldn’t imagine how that felt, being constantly turned down because of certain circumstances. “Ain’t my place to judge,” he said at last. “You’re a package deal, far as I’m concerned. If I wanna see the momma, I gotta accept the kid, too.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, astonished by his level of acceptance. “That’s… thank you.”

“No need,” he said with a smile. “It’s the way it is.” He glanced at Eliza and his smile widened, took on warmth. “‘Sides, she’s hell of a kid.”

Y/N chuckled, her expression softening. “She is. Thank you… for helping out.”

“More than happy to, darlin’,” he said, rubbing Eliza’s back. “I think she’s ready to go into the car seat though.”

“Do you mind?”

He shook his head and gently set Eliza into the car seat. He adjusted her comfortably and made sure to snap her in tightly. Then he grabbed a blanket in the backseat and tucked it around the little toddler. Damn, she’s adorable.

”There ya go,” he whispered to Eliza. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

He straightened and nodded to Y/N. “Precious cargo is all secured, ma’am.”

Amused, Y/N smiled. “Thank you, Beau.”

A part of him resisted the urge to kiss her, she looked so soft and warm. It was too soon, he knew. They haven’t even been on a date yet.

“You’re welcome.” He reassured himself the paper with her phone number was still in his pocket, then asked, “Would it be desperate or premature of me to ask you out now?”

Her smile widened, and she shook her head. “No. Go for it, Beauregard.”

He quirked a smile at hearing his full name. He hadn’t given it to her; she must’ve made some educated guesses. “All right then, darlin’. I’d like to take ya out to dinner tomorrow, if you’re willin’.”

“I’d love to,” she said with a smile.

“What time works for ya?”

She glanced at the little toddler in the car. “Is 6pm too early for you?”

”Not at all. I’ll reach out to you later, if that’s all right, arrange your address and all?”

She blinked, then smiled. “You’re picking me up?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a nod. “My mother would skin me alive if she knew I wasn’t being a gentleman.”

That clearly charmed Y/N. “Okay. Yes… text me later and… we’ll get that sorted.”

He tipped his head at her, scooped up his bags and beer. “Drive safe, Y/N.”

She glanced at him as she got into her car. God, he loved her smile, a touch crooked with a sweetness that was killing him.

He never imagined a trip to the grocery store would net him a date—let alone with a single mom. Yet, here he was, asking one out and utterly charmed by her kid.

What a life.

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

[bullet-prooflove]

The Pool House: Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @caffeinatedwoman @nbtfran @toheavenwmydrms

Companion piece to:

Pillow Talk - Alden realises he's a shitty husband.

Two Points For Honesty - Alden makes a confession about his time on the run with Viv.

Wild Flowers - You confront Viv about what happened with Alden.

The Duck Pond - You try to tell Alden how you're feeling.

WIshful Thinking - You realise Alden isn't coming home tonight.

Guilt - Alden realises he needs to confront his guilt.

You aren’t in the hotel suite when Alden arrives, he says suite because you upgraded yourself upon arrival, the concierge tells him. You’ve splashed out on a space with a view of the lake and a bathtub with the jacuzzi jets. All those couples activities you’d had booked have been cancelled, the money instead going towards the most expensive spa package the hotel has to offer.

Alden doesn’t even flinch when he was told the cost. In a way he’s glad that you’re thinking of yourself for a change. One of Alden’s main concerns has always been how much of yourself you give to other people, through your work and the marriage.  

“I’m guessing she slipped you an extra fifty so she could use the pool after hours.” He asks the concierge when he comes back down from dropping his stuff off.

It’s something you do at every place the two of you have stayed in the past because you enjoy the tranquillity of swimming at night. The concierge neither confirms or denies Alden’s assumption, he simply hands him a spare towel, leaving him to find his own way to his destination.

It’s dark when he steps inside the pool house. The low lights have been switched on so there’s a dim glow along the edges of the room. The pool is illuminated by the underwater bulbs set into the base of the structure. You’ve left your towel draped over one of the lounge chairs, along with a pair of flipflops and a robe.

His chest tightens when he catches sight of you. You’re wearing that navy blue bathing suit, the one he’s become intimately familiar with from your trips away. You're floating on your back in the azure water, your hair fanning around you like a halo, your eyes closed as the water carries you.

You look relaxed and Alden realises he hasn’t seen that in you in a while, not since before the Raven.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your peace so he sits on the lounger instead, listening to the dulcet lull of the water as it echoes through the pool house. The drive down here has left him feeling fatigued, it’s a symptom of the doubles he’s been pulling on this case, trying to get Viv out of your hair. He must fall asleep because he wakes up to the sensation of water splattering across his face and the sound of splashing.

He grabs the towel, wiping the droplets from his features before he finds himself meeting your gaze. You’re still in the pool, your arms resting on the tile that lines the edges as you stare up at him.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You tell him, using your palm to push your wet hair way from your face.

“I know.” He says quietly, looking down at the silver wedding band on his left hand. “There’s no excuse for my behaviour. I just...”

The words, they lock in his throat because there’s this other secret he’s been keeping from you since his time on the run and that’s where this guilt comes from, this horrible crippling feeling he feels every time he looks at you.

“Alden.” You say softly and his gaze flickers up to meet yours. “Get in the pool.”

“What?” He rasps, his eyes stinging.

“Just take your clothes off and get in the fucking pool.”

It’s the most commanding you’ve ever been with him and fuck if it doesn’t have him taking his clothes off in record time. The garments fall away until he stands in his underwear at the edge of the pool before diving straight in. That moment of impact, the rush of the water as it hits him before he surges up for air, it’s liberating.

You’re waiting for him when he breaks the surface, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile as he bobs in front of you, trying to catch his breath.

“Better?” You ask.

“Yea.” He whispers as your hands come to rest on his shoulders. His arms wrap around your waist holding you close as you float together in the darkness.

“You should tell me now.” You say, your fingertips linking at the nape of his neck, brushing over his damp hair. “That thing you’ve been hiding, you need to tell me because it’s killing us both.”

His forehead comes to rest upon yours, his breath catching. That feeling is back, that agonising sensation in his chest but he forces his way through it because you’re right, his guilt it’s murdering the marriage, it’s the seal on the box he’s trapping you in.

“The day they took Viv, it was meant to be you.” Alden tells you. “They knew you went swimming on Thursdays, that you like to go before the pool opens because the owner gave you a key. They were waiting in the parking lot for you but when you never arrived they moved onto Plan B.”

“I went to Norfolk that day…” You recall and his grasp on you tightens because if you hadn’t made that choice, you wouldn’t be here with him. “My witness worked in a diner, she could only do before the breakfast rush so I skipped swimming that day.”

“It saved your life.” He tells you, his thumb chasing over the apple of your cheek. “Lisa, he wasn’t just going to kill you, he was going to torture you. He was going to send the video to NCIS…”

Seeing that video it would have obliterated him. You know it, he knows it. The nightmares he has, they’re the real reason he’s been avoiding coming to bed with you. He sees the horror of what could have happened in his dreams, he feels the devastation as he listens to your laboured breathes and agonised cries. He feels the loss so fucking acutely that when he wakes up he’s clawing at the air, staving for oxygen.

“I think about it everytime I look at you.” He tells you, his voice breaking. “I see what that monster could have done to you because of me and it eats me alive Lisa.”

He chokes then and there you are holding him close, sheltering him from the storm that rises up deep inside him.

“Alden, you have been carrying this all alone for so long.” You say softly as you look into his pained eyes. “If you keep holding onto this, you’ll be doing more damage to yourself, to us. It’s time to let go now.”

“I want to Lisa.” He whispers as your nose trails along his until your lips are barely parted. “Christ I do, but I don’t know how.”

“I’ll help you.” You promise him, your lips brushing over his. “I won’t let you drown Alden, I'm going to make sure we get you some help.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. part 2 to this; one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader.

You aren't sure this job is good for you, but you would be miserable doing anything else.

That is the unquestionable truth of the matter. Normal society rejects you, then chews on you and spits you out; and you may have taken a bite as well, bitter as it was. There was an attempt, fresh of finishing high school: it was so corroding to you your only other option was joining the army. When that grew unsustainable, too, KorTac. And you are determined to make it work: the unstable people that work with you mostly irritate you, besides some precious exceptions, but you know how they operate. You know how to cope with them.

But God if they don't make it hard!

“As I said before,” you seethe between your teeth, “Novik was spotted by our squad last week in Pashyk. We have reason to believe he might still be there.”

The lieutenant you’re speaking to just listens with dead eyes. He then blinks, and turns to speak to his squad member again.

“We will go ahead as planned…”

Fuck this shit! Not only you’re forced to work alongside another squad, full of people you don’t know, but you’re also going totally unheard. What even is the point of going after an arms dealer if you’re just going to miss him every time because you’re going to the wrong places?

In the ample debrief space, you turn to protest with your side of the room. Roze doesn’t look thrilled either, having her own recon being dismissed so blatantly. It’s harder to tell what the guys are thinking, with that whole mask business, but Horangi has that battle tension in his shoulder, a sign of unreleased disapproval and anger. König… doesn’t look very different. His posture is straight, he’s not hunching to hear the others better. He could be approving the other plan, for all you know. At the end though, you can’t have too much internal conflict, especially when you know the lieutenant knows the commanding general a good deal. Personal preferences and friendships are even more relevant in a PMC than in the normal army, which is saying something.

“It’s like they thrive on doing the wrong thing,” you vent to them later as you make for the mess, fists closed. The other squad had won the battle of deciding your next step, favoured by the higher ups.

“You tell me,” replies Roze, taking her gloves off as she moves to the food stand. “A full night of work dismissed because of their old info.”

“I say we let them do as they please and just sit on the side. We are still getting paid,” says Horangi as he sheds his mask away. Oh, potato salad… 

“I would rather not catch a stray bullet from them, you know how some of their aims are,” you snicker, looking around to make sure none of them are in hearing range. You grab the cutleries.

“It won’t happen,” states a voice you haven’t heard for some minutes now. König’s. He’s standing next to you, as he does often nowadays.

It’s been some weeks since you’ve slept together. You don’t know exactly how your relationship has changed. All you know is that you’ve found it increasingly hard to insult him often and he clings to you like he’s made of velcro (and you are too). And he stuck to you already before. Despite being tempted, so far you’ve managed to not fall into the trap of giving in to your impulses again– both due to your work demands, but also because you have exerted self restraint. Since you know that König has feelings for you, the poor fool, it’s good that you aren’t leading him on. It’s the kindest thing you’ve ever done for him.

Sitting down to eat, you look at König in front of you as he raises his hood to eat. A scowl tugs at your lips, but you distract yourself with food to not think about him. Great, the potato salad is fridge cold as well. And salt less. Could this day even get worse?

“You look stupid,” you say before you can reign it in, pointing at König and his mask. He gulps audibly. Horangi and Roze don’t even mind your insult, as used as they are to them, and keep having their own conversation.

“There’s no way you aren’t getting it dirty, putting it back on every time you take a bite,” you continue, frustrated. There you are again, taking it on König. He should win an award, or fire you.

“You’re right,” he says, tone cheery, “I used to eat in my room so it was cleaner.” The unspoken is so obvious it hits you in the belly, like a well placed punch that takes your breath away. You’re so uncomfortable with the eye contact he’s holding that you look away first.

Why did this have to happen to you. When taken rationally, and without the fumes of lust, what you and König have going on is neither normal nor healthy. He should have a normal companion that elevates and cherishes him, and you should go to something that starts with t and ends with herapy. But no, you’re not going: you went while you were still in the army and it was completely useless and annoying. Plus it’s not even free in KorTac like it was back then.

There’s no other way than to sit down and hope it passes. There’s many women in KorTac; König is a tall and powerful man with a particular kind of charm. Soon hormones will do their part and lead him to other, more well adjusted shores. Far away from you and your unstable moods.

The rest of the afternoon you mope around trying to do something, anything to distract you from your impending mission. You go to the gym and do more series than usual, until your arms burn; you shoot at the range; you beat some poor recruits in hand to hand training; but still it haunts you. It’s both worrying about what you will encounter and anger at being dismissed, unheard. Exacerbating your anxiety is the feeling someone is watching as you walk about the base. You feel eyes on you as you walk through corridors and as you enter rooms. 

The flesh tires before the mind, and so you retreat to your room hoping to sleep at least some hours. Like the internet recommended, you pick up a book to facilitate sleep. See? You can do mental work on your own, no shrink needed. You’re trying to read the same sentence for a minute when someone knocks at your door. You raise your voice as you ask who’s there.

Dogs come back to the place where they’re fed, and much to your chagrin, some men are all dog. And they will scratch at doors.

“It’s me…” a soft voice speaks from the other side. You recognize it immediately and don’t particularly enjoy it being there, but you’ve been trying to get better. So you tell it to enter.

König enters your room like he’s making his way through a mined zone. Not very dissimilar for him when you’re concerned. Still, he lowers his head as he passes through the door and takes some tentative steps. The sound of his boots walking on your carpet is clunky and uncertain. You slide the covers off and sit straight on your bed.

“Is there a problem?” You ask him, neither cold nor warm. You have a hunch he’s not here for any official reason, but you want to hear it from his mouth.

“No, there is no problem,” he rushes to say. You give him no reaction because you already knew that.

Looking at him, so tall and awkward, standing in your room with his hands in front of himself, moves in you something that would have been disgust a month ago. Now it’s something more akin to pity and wanting to strangle him for his way of being. You sigh, already done with his bumbling ways.

“Sit down, will you?” You tell him, and he immediately sits down at the desk chair. It takes a remarkable amount of control to not tell him good boy at that.

“Was it you creeping on me all day?” You ask him directly, like a band aid taken off by surprise. You know the answer to this already as well.

He fiddles a bit with his fingers and then nods, adding a spoken yes on his own. Your eyebrows lower in anger.

“What makes you think that’s a normal thing to do? Seriously, you disgust me at times.” He jiggles his feet, making the chair creak in strain

“I saw you were upset. But I would be making you even more upset, so I thought I would look at you from afar.” His words tumble out of him like the water of a river in flood, like he cannot control his thoughts transforming into spoken phrases.

“I’m not something for you to gawk at.” His attraction to you confuses and upsets you: you cannot understand what you did for him to like you, and maybe that’s what unsettles you. That there’s a whole world out there that sees you and chooses to perceive you in a way you cannot control. Dislike, scorn, indifference: these are reactions you can understand applied to your person, but that König would instead choose to pick like is unbearable. 

“I just wanted to see you were well,” he confesses, his voice soft. For some reason, he keeps digging his grave even deeper. You feel blood rush to your face.

“You’re unbelievable. You hide yourself all the time and I have to be seen and controlled? You’re the most hypocritical person I know.” His head snaps lower now, and you think to yourself this is it. This is the time you get to break his heart completely, that you make yourself unredeemable in his eyes. No longer a fussy creature he can please by doing what she says, but a fully blooded woman that doesn’t deserve his care. Leave her to her devices, his brain should be telling him. This woman is worthless and a constant headache.

Your blood chills in your veins when his hands raise to go to his nape. The fabric of his hood falls in front, a waterfall that stops to reveal the unknown. You find König’s eyes living on a man’s face. 

He’s scarred, that much is true. His nose might have been broken as well. You’re speechless to the fact that he chose to take off his mask, and instead of saying anything dumb, you decide it’s your turn to gawk. His hair is longer than normal in the military, this much you guessed right, and a pleasing auburn that matches his body hair, for as little as you saw them that other time. He looks nervous, and younger than you know he is. Overall, you like his face. It matches his personality: rough in exterior facade, showing that he’s been through a lot, but soft in behavior and gestures. 

“This way,” he manages to let out, “you see me as well.”

This idiot. He’s making you do it again. You’ve really tried, but it’s like he bewitches you.

You jump out of the bed and cross the room in three wide steps. König doesn’t even know what hits him when you’re already sitting on his lap. It’s quite spacious.

“This doesn’t count as an apology for stalking me,” you tell him, inflexible, your legs straddling his. But then you start holding his face in your hands. He looks like you’ve hung the moon for him, and while the sensation is heady, it’s also uncomfortable. You distract yourself from it by kissing him. You start slow, more like nibbling at his lips, uncharted territory. He tries reciprocating, thankfully not using his tongue yet, just pushing his lips against yours, chaste and innocent. You laugh against his mouth and he starts giggling too, a weirdly intimate touch that you weren’t expecting. You’re no longer laughing at him so much as you’re laughing together.

“Follow my lead,” you tell him simply, and he nods, nose brushing against yours. You begin kissing him again, this time for real, your tongue tracing first his lips and then the inside of his mouth. When it slides against his own, you urge him to reciprocate. He does, albeit shyly, but when you start really going at it he gets the hang of it. Truly, an adapting genius. You run your hands in his hair, soft and smooth, while he keeps his hand diligently on your hips, straying neither up nor down. You guess, for his patience again shown when you mistreat him in public, that he deserves a reward of sorts. When your hands move away he makes a strangled sound, but shuts up real quickly when he sees them grab the hem of your t-shirt to take it off. Already braless for bed, your tits go from being completely unknown to him to being in front of his eyes. The expression on his face, unguarded and unrestrained, is almost laughable again, but you’re feeling neglected and you don’t want to turn this into a full bullying session.

“Touch me. Don’t be shy,” you tell him, index finger in front of his lips, and again he nods, resolute. He cups your breast like it’s the holy grail, and that’s exactly what you were afraid of. That you’re an idol instead of a human being to him. Even if it’s a flattering idea.

“I won’t break, you goof,” you berate him but guide him as well, putting your hand over his, showing him how you like to be touched. The other you grab to put on your lower back. Instructed by you, his touches become more real, more vivid; he runs his hand against your side, your hip, then goes back to grope your chest. The sensation makes you move forward, grinding your body against his, and your wet pussy sends a sting of pleasure up your body from the contact against his crotch. König moves to suck your nipple then, now dedicated to covering your chest with care. His suckles are gentle but intense, a motion that is never too rough nor mild; when he is done with one breast he switches to the other without any input, and you smile, ruffling his hair a bit. He looks up at you then, face adorably red and flushed, and moves back to kiss you on the mouth again. Taken by surprise, you emit an embarrassing sound that wakes you up. You break off the kiss, drizzle of spit briefly linking you two, and rush to get off him.

His expressions are so clear now that he’s masked. And right now he’s looking at you like you just burned his house to the ground, sweaty, flushed and miserable. Unable to stand that look on his face, you clear your throat.

“Get on the bed,” you only say, and cringe a bit at the high pitched tone of your voice. König lights up again at your words, like you’ve built his house again and it’s even bigger and more splendid than it was before. He walks with his legs wide, visibly working around his erection, and the sight almost makes you facepalm. Thankfully, you can busy yourself by taking off your pants, doing it so rushedly your thumb’s nail makes a red scratch on your thigh. Watching you from the bed, König starts taking off his clothes. You didn’t tell him to do that but you will grant him this much after turning away from his kiss. He awaits, loyally, sitting on the opposite edge.

“Well? Lay down,” you tell him from the edge of the bed, bracing yourself for the next act. It’s something that you’ve thought about these past days, but to think it will happen now that he’s maskless prickles on your spine. Once you’re done, you turn to see his feet are right next to you, and he’s not quite laying down but more like sitting up with his legs stretched out. These military beds weren’t built for men like König. 

You crawl over to him; you’re not trying to be particularly seductive, but maybe you’re doing it anyway, because his mouth is slightly open, oafish look on his face and all. So irritating– you can’t wait to make it go away. You reach his midsection on all fours, and your hand locks around his cock like you’ve done it a hundred times. He’s leaking all over, the poor thing. His leg twitches: you observe his expression as you pump him a couple of times and, satisfied by it changing to something less stupid, you straddle him again. You’re unsure you can take him without any preparation, but being on top allows you to change your mind quickly. Guiding his cock inside you, you flinch a little at the start and stop midway through, taking a few breaths. You’re plenty wet, and you’ve taken it before, but it’s still a challenge. Thankfully you’re made of stern stuff.

“I’m sorry…” says König, and you could really slap him for saying something this stupid while you’re trying to put his dick in you.

“Don’t be,” you reassure him anyway, huffing. That’s on you for being greedy. Finally, after a while of praying and relaxing and moving a bit after bit, you can take him to base. You sigh as he fills you whole and more, and he moans a contented noise. One of his hands comes to hold your hips, gently, gallantly, as if to say Do what you must and I’ll be there. Readjusting your legs, you start riding him. This has been your plan all along, but the feel of his long, hard cock inside you is more overwhelming than expected, and maybe you’ve missed him just a touch. Moaning, you grasp at his chest, until one of your hands grabs his neck and you dig your nails into the pale strong meat of it. König shouts, a sudden and sharp noise– you grind against his body to give something to your neglected clit. 

“You– you can, hngh, move too you know…” you tell him, out of breath and aching sweetly as you bounce on his cock. You want him to feel involved as well… not like he’s a toy you use to get off. 

“Alright,” he says, smiling at you like he doesn’t have a worry in the world, and you feel an undercurrent of shame again. His heels point on the mattress then, and he starts matching your thrusts from the bottom, the head of his cock reaching a point so far inside you you’re almost certain has never been reached before. Your moans have become needy cries as you match König’s movements, his grunting almost quiet, concentrated on fucking the way you want. Before you know it, two strong arms have bound you by your torso, and your chest makes contact with König’s. He’s holding you, like you’re making love and not taking out frustrations on each other… You could scream, but the change in position and angle has you curling your toes even more, pleasure mounting inside of you. König is panting in your neck, a desperate noise, and you join your arms to hold him, too, his breath hot against your body. Soon enough of his touch, of this spiked beast being tamed by his kindness, you come, letting out a disjointed mewl. Feeling your pussy constrict him even more, König hurries his last strokes, coming inside you with his head in your chest. His rumbling drawl sends rippling tingles all over your body.

You lay there on top of him for a while. Maybe you’re also a bit scared to look him in the eye after kissing and holding him. You reason this is what he’s wanted all along, and maybe you’ve been wanting something along these lines too. Finally, your knees done for, you slide out of him, leaving a mess on your thighs and his, and try to stand but miserably fail, knees buckling. Humiliated, you angrily jump over to lay down next to him. Only you could ruin your post orgasm bliss… all by yourself. Unexpectedly, König speaks.

“Can I hold you?” He asks, tone dangerously sleepy. Your bed is not equipped for two grown adults of your size sleeping on it; and your odds are not good against König in your sleep. The chances of you falling off are very high. But since you can’t go anywhere for a while, you might as well oblige him.

“Yes,” you tell him, but snuggle to him before he can do it to you. His hands are greedy now, too: he brushes your hair and your neck and your ass, reverent, back to his worshipping mood. He takes his time exploring your body, blue eyes dragging over the details, your scars, your birthmarks. Embarrassed by his lavish exploration, you hide your head in his neck. You want him to lay down more comfortably, but maybe he prefers this to having his feet hang off.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, but I’m on birth control,” you mutter against his muscles. It’s very stupid to tell him this after he already came in you twice, but considering you’ve sprung it on him very suddenly both times, you cannot blame a guy for not asking.

“I know!” He exclaims instead, joyful. “I heard you saying so to Roze three months and five days ago, in the helicopter!” He taps his long fingers against your back, maybe to the beat of a song or a lullaby, and you shudder. Again, his obsession for you is simply inexplicable. The mean streak returns as your lungs fill, like a cat ready to scratch.

“You’re freaking me out,” you grimace and take your face off from his neck, trying to lay down on your back as much as you can in the limited space, back arched. His laugh is light and airy, reverberating through your simple room. It tugs a smile off you too and it makes you feel like everything will be alright, at work… and maybe with König, too.

[thegingerwrites]

Wip snippet

suddenly a sith wip

“Is there something I can help you with, General?” asks a Clone mech, Loose Screw.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Not at all, soldier. I’m just admiring the view.”

Anakin can feel his face flush even buried in the guts of the starfighter. There’s not even much of a view, just his legs sticking out from beneath the ship but this Obi-Wan needs to fluster him.

“If you can pardon my saying so, sir, is there any truth rumor that you aren’t feeling well? I only wonder if its safe for you to be up there like that. I would tell off any of my techs that I caught up there.”

“I feel fine, darling, rest assured. Besides, I have Anakin to catch me if I fall.”

Anakin hits his head on the compressor valve and curses under his breath.

“I’ve never had much interest in mechanics,” Obi-Wan muses. “But I’ve always wondered, is a certain level of mess necessary to getting any work done? The spare parts, the sweat, the grease. I can only speak to what I’ve seen, of course, but your men seem to keep a much tidier workshop than other mechanics I could mention.”

With his confusion and nerves feeding off of each other in a loop, Loose Screw begins talking about standard safety procedures on Republic vessels and how he goes about implementing regulation. Obi-Wan hums and nods along in all the right places but when Anakin finally emerges from beneath the starship—without hitting his head this time and yes, sweaty and greasy and shirtless, because his robes were just going to get caught anyway and surely risking a few burns is safer than being caught in the machinery—by the time he manages all of that, Obi-Wan is watching him.

“Did you finish, dear one?”

Anakin is going to bite through his tongue before they manage to fix Obi-Wan.

“All done, let’s go.”

“Certainly.” Obi-Wan leaps down from the starship with easy grace, landing at Anakin’s side with hardly a sound. “Shall we get you cleaned up? Loose Screw says that <i>this</i>—” The tips of Obi-Wan’s fingers graze the swell of Anakin’s chest, light but enough to make him shiver. “—is a safety hazard, by the way, but he’s hardly going to criticize a master mechanic like you.”

“I appreciate Loose Screw’s diligence in keeping his mouth shut.”