#First in command Bon

[rinhaler]

hey hey, ik ur requests are closed so im gonna leave this till u open them back up,

imagine Yakuza Boss!Toji bucking his hips into you, bored out of his mind at his meeting, you’re cute whimpers and whines for him to slow down slightly amusing him as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, all this happening while his most trusted subordinates watch as he fucks into you at this meeting, while you just sit on his lap babbling about how good he feels until he finally makes you squirt, causing him to stop the meeting and kick everybody out so he can abuse your little hole some more, wanting to see you squirt for him more. :3

I feel like I went a little off script and I threw some Shiu in there too bc we're all sluts for Shiu right?? Bon apetit!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap, possessiveness, slight jealousy, slightly mean toji, dom!toji, exhibitionism, public sex, oral fixation, squirting, daddy!kink, DDLG esque?, pussy spanks.

words: 1.6k

“She shouldn’t be in here.” Shiu comments, his boss gives him a passive stare before looking in your direction. You sit politely with your hands in your lap and a shy smile, looking awkwardly around the room full of terrifying men. “She shouldn’t be listening to the shit we’re discussing.”

“I shouldn’t be listening to this shit, either. What the fuck do I pay you all for?” Toji responds, putting his arm around the back of your seat as he scoffs. “She’s needy, she needs constant attention and I know all you filthy fucks have got your eye on her so I don’t want her out of my sight.”

Shiu groans, but stands to his feet. You feel bad, really, you know what an inconvenience you are but you do try your best to remain demure and out of the way. But he’s right, you’re needy. And to be honest you’re a little afraid. Since you’ve become Toji’s plaything you’ve got a target on your back. You know with all of the security and loyal men at his disposal the odds of anything happening to you are slim. But still, you know it isn’t impossible.

Toji’s second in command leads the meeting in the board room, and you are engaged and silent as he speaks. It’s something about a territory dispute. You don’t fully understand but you know it’s illegal and dangerous. And you begin to whimper as they discuss resorting to violence.

The sound catches Toji’s attention. It seems you’ve been paying more attention than he has. He’s got more money than sense, and that is why he keeps Shiu around. But he can read you like a book. He knows when you’re happy or sad, angry or scared. And now, he sees how hard you’re trying to hold in the fear you feel. He knows what always makes you feel better, though. And he’s bored out of his fucking skull.

He shows no care or consideration for his audience as he lifts you from your seat and into his lap. Shiu stutters a little as he watches Toji manhandle you, your legs spread apart over his own before he touches under your little miniskirt. He smirks, kissing your shoulder when he feels your naked flesh.

“Good girl, no panties, jus’ like I told you.”

He doesn’t see a point to you wearing panties, he told you that after your first encounter. He told you he’d be keeping you around and you were his perfect little girl. And perfect little girls don’t need panties.

“Perfect little girls just need to keep their cunts wet for their daddy’s.” that is what he told you.

Your face flushes with heat when you realise if anyone in the room is brave enough to look they’ll see your dripping little slit. You aren’t sure how brave Toji’s men really are, though. But Toji is bold and uncaring and he knows what he wants. Always.

You gasp, softly, stealing a few gazes from the men in the room. Shiu is busy trying to keep the meeting on track and keep everyone focused. And it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He knows your pussy like the back of his hand, too. Because Toji loves to show you off. But he’ll never share. But his second in command knows better than most what your cute cunt is capable of. It’s a novelty to him, now. Why would he steal glances when he knows his generous boss will brag about you in private to him?

You fall forwards, little hands slamming against the table top as Toji rams his cock into you without remorse. He holds your hips, pulling you down until the back of your thighs smack against his. His fingers squeeze into your doughy skin, sure to leave bruises as he’s often one to do. Any fear that you’d felt at the thought of the men surrounding you committing acts of violence are a distant memory, now. You’re too busy trying to steady yourself through daddy’s onslaught.

“P-Please, fuck, please… daddy! S-Slow down!” you beg, a smirk sprawls like wildfire across his face as he listens to your desperate pleas.

“No no no, you don’t tell me what to do,” he reminds you. A light slap coming down on your clit as he continues fucking up into you. “Stop thinking, just take it, princess.”

Shiu sighs, his focus wavering as you continue to moan and yelp through Toji’s never ending fucking. He lights a cigarette for himself and then hands one to Toji. He takes a hand away from your hip to bring it to his lips, and Shiu proceeds to light his and then his own.

He continues to speak as if nothing is happening. He’s so calm and collected, but it’s no wonder. Toji is a man he’s known for as long as he can remember and he knows all of the complexities that come with him. Not to say that you are complex. You’re probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him, truthfully. But it isn’t as much of a distraction as it seems to be for the rest of his subordinates.

Toji chortles when he watches Shiu slot his thumb into your mouth, his other hand still holding his cigarette with no care to where the ash lands. The lackeys are even more confused, now, do they share you? Toji isn’t the type to share, no, but he isn’t going to chastise Shiu for doing what he needs to do to get through his meeting.

Besides, you look quite cute sucking on his thumb. He always thinks you look cute when you’re sucking on something, though. You hold onto Shiu’s wrist as you suckle on his thumb. And you hate that he won’t give you any attention, especially when you’re blinking up at him with pretty, wet eyes. Doesn’t he want to admire how cute you’re being for him?

You begin to act up, mewling loudly around his fingers as you try to get him to look at you. But it only ends in another wet slap on your pussy from Toji and a particularly rough cantering of his hips. He pulls you back towards him, your shoulder blades cushioned by his pecs as you’re pulled into him.

Shiu wipes your saliva from his thumb onto his blazer and gives you a passive glance before focusing on the men in the room again. He snaps his fingers in a bid to command their attention.

Toji, however, is fixated on you. His sharp canines ghost over your jugular. Your heart rate quickens and so do the shallow breaths escaping your throat. He silences you, his hand smothers your lips as he continues to nip and bite softly with ease. It’s exciting, and terrifying, because you know he could tear out your throat if he really wanted to.

“Did I just hear you beggin’ for another man’s attention, princess?” he whispers, his large palm pushing your legs further apart before repeatedly slapping down against your firm clit. “Is daddy’s cock ruinin’ you not enough, hah? Because I’ll stop, right now, and you can forget about cumming for a while. A long fucking while, darlin’.”

You muffle your protests through his smothering palm. Of course he’s enough! You got carried away, that’s all. He’s more than enough. You don’t need anyone else’s attention. Just him. Only him.

“Heh, that’s what I thought.” he laughs, harshly, licking a fat stripe up your neck with his wide tongue. Tears spill from your eyes as he continues to pound into you, gritting his teeth with each squeeze and stifled moan he’s suffocating with his hand. He wraps his free hand around your torso and drills upwards into your slippery heat.

Your moans become louder as you reach your peak. He repeatedly nudges your sensitive insides in the most beautiful way and forces you to clench and wince and fucking scream through your nostrils as he drags your orgasm out of you.

And eyes begin to turn white as they roll into the back of your head. Your body turns limp as his touch forces an orgasm from your body. Your body is wracked as you violently shake through it, your cunt squirting all over his lap and onto the floor below. He moans, boisterously at your display.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by the men in the room, either, as the sound of gushing water hits the ground below.

Toji bends you over the desk, carnal desire flooding all sense that he has. He pushes your head down so your cheek is squished against the table. You look up at Shiu, blinking pathetically. And now, you do have his attention. Toji hisses, flipping your skirt up to reveal your plump ass. He has no doubt his men will find it difficult not to look.

“Everyone out, now.” he commands, his men readily jump to their feet and begin to filter out of the room. Shiu stubs his cigarette out on the table top, not even an inch away from your nose and he prepares to leave. “Not you. Stay.” Toji orders. Shiu chuckles, weakly, and takes a seat.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, tucking your hair behind your ear as he watches your fucked out face continue to swallow Toji’s cock again and again. “Sorry I couldn’t give you any attention, angel. That meeting was a disaster, huh?” he smiles.

“This isn’t your pleasure, Shiu.” Toji informs him. “She jus’ likes it when you watch.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[novemberheart]

{overview} John and you take another leap in your relationship, Kyle makes an unsettling discovery

{warnings} Fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, P in V sex, heat cycles, oral & fingering (fem receiving), loss of virginity, cursing, mirror sex, MDNI

Chapter 21 <- Chapter 22 -> Chapter 23

The next few days had gone by without a hitch. It was nice, being domestic with your pack. You spend most of your days going to museums, restaurants, and outdoor activities that are way above your athletic ability. Still, you would be lying if you said you weren't happier than you have ever been- well at least happier than you've been in a while. You and Simon have gotten much closer. He had been making a real effort with you, not that he hadn't before but there was something different about him. His gestures felt more affectionate than out of duty.

That was until you came down with a fever.

“It’s not saying she has a fever, yet she's burning up,” Kyle huffed, pulling a thermometer out of your mouth. You and John eyed each other.

“This a symptom of your heat?” He questioned. Everyone stiffened.

“Yes. But I usually get them after my heat, not before. Before my heat, I’ll get extra sensitive, and my body will start to feel….less stiff. I'll also get this sort of buzz in my stomach,” you explained.

“And I take it you haven't been feeling any of that?” Simon added. You shook your head.

“You don't smell any different,” Johnny added too.

“Well, this may be the start of it, pretty girl. Let's just keep an eye on it, yeah?” John spoke. Everyone nodded.

“I don't want this to happen on vacation,” you started to whine, you quickly caught yourself, your eyes going wide.

“Sensitive, eh?” John chuckled, placing a kiss against your heated head.

“This is the best place for it to happen,” Kyle assured. “Where you're safe with all of us,” Kyle reminded. You breathed out slowly, nodding your head in agreement.

“You're right,” you affirmed.

“The plan is,” John began and you immediately felt a sudden shift in the air. You wondered how many times they have heard John say that. It had an immediate impact on them, their shoulders straightening, eyes narrowing in focus. How many times had their lives depended on those words? Johnny's crow's feet appeared and you ran your thumb over them breaking him out of his trance. He grinned at you, pressing a kiss against your hand before turning back to John. “Me and her will stay in our room,” he spoke looking at Simon. You held your breath, waiting for him to be mad at you. Instead, he nodded his head seemingly unaffected by the words, besides a light blush across his cheeks. “You’re in charge of food and drinks,” he commanded, looking at Johnny who quickly nodded. You winced. Looks like you'll be eating cereal and granola bars for a week. “You’ll be on puppy duty,” he spoke to Kyle, nodding to the lazy ball of fur at your feet.

“How long do your heats last, Bon?”

“Usually a week,” you responded, causing Simon to chuckle.

“Old mans gonna disloca”-

“Fuck off,” John interjected, his own smirk across his face. “I’m two years older than you you twat,”

“I'll sleep on the pull-out in the living room,” Simon spoke. Being in the betas room felt too close to you. “Don't worry about me barging in or anything, yeah?” he soothed.

You felt horrendous for believing he would be upset at you. You offered him a small smile, nodding your head graciously.

“Alright, that's it,” John finished.

Simon grabbed a washcloth, running it under cool water and plopping it on your forehead.

“Remember when you were doing this to me?” he mused, a small smile on his face. That seemed so long ago. That was your first interaction with him. You remember how scared and unsure of yourself you were. Hell, most of that hadn't changed.

“Simon,” you sobbed, your arms wrapping around his waist, making him chuckle.

“Sensitive, pup,” he teased, patting you on the back. “Should get you to bed. A nap might help,” he spoke, mostly to himself. He hoisted you up carrying you to the bedroom, Johnny following close behind. He tossed you on the bed, Johnny quickly hopping in and getting comfortable with you. You watched with tired eyes as Simon began moving his clothes into the beta’s room. He didn't have too many.

“Simon?” you asked softly.

“Pup?”

“Could I have one of your sweatshirts?” you nearly pleaded. He grabbed one off the hanger, rubbing it against the scent glands on his neck before tossing it to you. You bunched it up, using it as a pillow. Leather with an undertone of black licorice making the back of your neck tingle. “Thank you,” you purred lowly.

Your symptoms had progressed. A familiar lax in your body making it a bit hard to move. You had started nesting, stealing things from every member of your pack to make the bed as comfortable as you could. There were slight changes in your scent making their mouths water. John stayed close, wanting you to ease him into a rut instead of it just hitting him.

“How do you feel, lovie?” Kyle hummed.

“My face is hot but my body is cold,” you whined. “And I'm tired,” you huffed.

“Sleep, princess. You'll be needing it,” John chuckled from next to you. Your head peaked up from the pillows.

“You’re the one who’ll need it,” you shot back, a playful glint in your hazy eyes. John’s brows raised, sitting up on one of his elbows.

“You flirtin’ with me now? I'm the one that's supposed to be courting you,” he reminded, tucking you in.

“I’m waiting,” you smirked, causing Kyle to laugh.

“I'll be back,” John insisted, dodging back down the hall.

“I like this feisty you,” Kyle murmured. You chuckled, inching closer to him. When John returned he had a bowl of cut-up fruit and a few snack packs of your favorite snacks.

“Thank you alpha,” you purred, popping a strawberry in your mouth. John purred back, tucking you back in.

“Let me,” he urged, opening a pack of cookies and hand-feeding you.

“I could get used to this,” you smiled between bites.

He woke up before you with a sharp exhale. Your scent hitting him like a bolt of lightning. You were tucked in his side, your hands gripping onto his damp shirt like it would keep you from floating away. You were whimpering quietly, his body reacting to you before he had even opened both his eyes. You needed him.

“I know, pretty,” he soothed quietly, biting back a snarl. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, slowly detaching himself from you. Your nail caught the fabric of his shirt, the sound of the fabric tearing finally waking you up. You watched with bleary eyes as John made his way to the bathroom, tossing his half ripped shirt on the floor. He splashed cold water on his face, even through your tears you could his body shaking.

He was holding himself back.

You could smell it in the air. His blazing scent overshadowing your melted vanilla. Your scent alone would be too much for him, him projecting being his only defense to keep from sinking his teeth into your neck.

You were uncomfortable. Your body too hot and sweaty to even focus on the ache between your thighs. You sat up sluggishly, your feet sinking into the plush carpet. You pulled yourself to stand, making your way to the bathroom. John quickly turned on the shower meeting you halfway. You rested more than half your weight against him, mumbling a small ‘thank you’ as he guided you along.

“May I?” He checked, his fingers curled in the hem of your shirt. You nodded trying your best to hold your arms up to make it easy for him. You already felt a bit cooler as the fabric hit the floor. A pleased rumble echoed in his chest.

“Such a pretty girl I have,” he mumbled more to himself than you. He pulled your sleep shorts and panties down in one motion, his arm resting around your waist to keep you steady. He checked the water temperature, making sure it was cool enough to chill your heated skin but not enough to shock you. “Want me in with you?” he asked softly.

“Please,” you mumbled against his bare chest. He erupted in goosebumps as your hands traveled around his abdomen. He pulled his sweats down, along with his boxers. You swallowed thickly. The sight of him making the sheen of sweat return to your skin. Partly from want- no need, and partly from nerves. He was about half the size of your forearm in length, but the width was really what made you whimper.

“Don’t worry about that right now, pretty,” he soothed, turning you away from him. He apologized as the action caused him to run across your lower back. You shivered, your bottom instinctually arching in the air to meet him. “Good girl,” he praised softly. You were running on instinct, you couldn't help it. Besides, you presented too perfectly for him to not compliment you. He guided you into the shower by your hips.

You purred as the cool water hit your heated skin. He kept his distance, despite the sight before him, his hands keeping a firm grasp on you to keep you steady. You turned under the waterfall, your hands pulling him closer by his arm.

“I want to feel you,” you mumbled. The little self-control he had snapping. He gripped the back of your thighs, hoisting you up, pressing you against the tile of the shower. Your arms quickly found his neck, your mouths desperately connecting.

“You don't know how long I've wanted you,” he growled back. He was all-consuming. You're hardly able to keep up with his words. His lips leave yours for just a moment to bite at whatever skin he can before returning to them. You could feel the tip of his cock brush against your bottom, the little action having your eyes rolling back.

“Then take me,” you gasped. “I’m yours.”

His groan was toe curling, his hand reaching below you to switch the water off. He kept you close, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you back to bed. He tossed you down, his hands finding your ankles. You watched, waiting for what his next move would be. You expected him to spread your legs apart, and begin to work himself inside of you, yet all he did was stare. He raised your legs up, pressing a soft kiss to the heel of each foot. He worked his way to your core slowly. A kiss against your ankle, then up your calves, then up your thighs, stopping just before your dripping entrance. His beard felt just how you had imagined it, your hand grabbing his hair and pulling him towards you.

“What, pretty girl? Tell me what you need,” he said softly, his breath against you causing you to jolt.

“You,” you sniffed softly, hoping a small buck of your hips would drive the point home. He rubbed his cheek against the inside of your thigh, pressing a teasing kiss against your heat. He wanted more. You could tell by the way his dark eyes stared at you expectantly.

“I want your mouth, Alpha. Please,” you pleaded. His eyes grew heavy at the request. Your body nearly lifted off the mattress as he licked across your aching heat.

“Thank you,” you hissed, your nails digging into his shoulders. He groaned against you, making you jolt.

“The boys weren't lying when they said you asked nicely,” he smiled against you, not giving you any time to relax before his mouth enveloped your cunt. It was a completely new feeling, one that had you choking on a moan. You didn't bother to hide it, not that you could with his hand wrapped around your wrist. It was hardly a minute before a (now) familiar tightness filled your abdomen, your hands fighting to break free just so you could grab onto something to steady yourself. You were chanting his name, which only seemed to spur him on. You came with a moan that made even him flush. Your legs pressed against his head but he didn't care.

The hardest part was pulling his mouth away from you. Your sweetness already becoming another vice to him. Your teary eyes stared down at him like he had done something wrong- made you cum too hard for your own good. He tried to take it slow, ease you off the cliff gently, but once he got you in his jaws he couldn't let go. He’ll make it up to you.

He kissed up past your belly button, trying not to smirk at the way your chest heaved up and down. His tongue darted out, dragging through the valley of your breasts and up to your collarbone. He shushed you gently, his thumbs wiping the fat crocodile tears that rolled down your cheek. You were so sensitive, both physically and emotionally. Your shaky legs found his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. You weren't too deep into your heat, the attention he was giving you making you more aware.

“You okay for more, sweetheart?” he questioned softly, his thumbs still brushing against your heated cheeks. You nodded instantly, your hand cupping his face pulling him down. You could taste yourself against him. Johnny was right, you were sweet. He held himself above you, one of his hands traveling down the curves of your body- slowly like he was trying to memorize each dip. The back of his hand brushed against your thigh- red from the friction of his beard- his fingertips running over your slick gently. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, your eyes trained on the ceiling. He hummed softly, grabbing your attention, his forehead resting against yours.

His normal blue eyes were dark like a shark's, but he still held enough softness in them to ease your worries. You doubted your eyes looked any different. His fingers brushed up and down you for a moment before leaving to wrap around his cock. Your eyes naturally followed his movement. He was flushed and angry-looking, his hand providing little relief. His lips connected with yours unexpectedly, your nails finding their way to his back. His chest rumbled at the sensation.

You broke the kiss when he ran his tip across your folds. You gasped against him, your eyes immediately traveling down his strong torso to between your thighs. “John,” you gasped softly, your legs spreading a little wider for him. He was teasing you. Applying just enough pressure to make you whine but not enough to really cause any pleasure. He shushed you, his lips dancing across your cheek like he was apologizing for not giving you what you needed.

He sat up suddenly, grabbing you by your thighs so you were sitting with your back against his chest, his cock heavy against your bottom. His hands held your thighs apart, rubbing up and down them soothingly. His thumb skimmed against your clit, before pressing down, giving you the sensation you were so desperately chasing. You pressed your hand against your lips, but it was quickly pulled away.

“Don’t shy away now,” he hummed, as your hips began to move away from his hand. “Need you to relax for this part, pretty girl,” he directed. The feeling of his thumb against you was enough to distract you from the finger prodding at your entrance. He sunk in slowly, your copious amount of slick making it less of a challenge. He cursed under his breath at the tightness around his finger. “Gotta work you open, pretty,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

You removed your head from under his chin, your eyes slowly opening, connecting with his through the mirror on the closet door. You moaned at the contact, your eyes scanning lower to his hand between your thighs.

“Like watching yourself?” he chuckled, keeping his gaze steady. He began working another finger in creating a slight burning sensation. He went slow feeling the way your walls adjusted to him. He growled against your neck, practically able to feel you wrapped around his cock. The burn faded as he curled his fingers, brushing against a spot that made your head fall back against his shoulder. “That's it hmmm?” he smiled against your shoulder. The tightness in your stomach was returning. Your hand gripped his wrist between your thighs, your hips grinding against him. “Look at yourself, pretty,” he commanded, his hazy eyes watching your reaction as he pumped his fingers. You complied, watching yourself unravel. “Little more, princess. Can feel you shaking around me.”

A tidal wave crashed over you, your hand nearly ripping him away. He was stronger than you, keeping his thumb against you as you shook in his arms. He growled praises against your ear, watching carefully as you worked through your high.

He was a lucky man.

You rolled over, and he accommodated by laying on his back. You panted against his stomach, the fire in your belly still hardly fading. You were getting thrown more and more into your heat. John could smell it on you. Your teeth scraped against his chest, pressing a few ‘thank you’ kisses against him. You sat up, your thighs on either side of him. He guided you so you were propped up and you watched with murky eyes as his cock immediately sprung to rest against his stomach. You suddenly felt guilty. He had given you two earth-shattering orgasms and you had hardly given him any attention.

He guided your hips back down so he was nestled perfectly between your folds. You got the hint and began rocking your hips back and forth, earning a groan from both of you.

“That's it, pretty girl, just like that,” he groaned. You were so warm, your drooling cunt making it so easy for him to slide back and forth. He cursed, his hands running up your sides. His thumbs brushed over your nipples making you lose your rhythm. He growled, flipping the two of you over so he was on top resting between your thighs. “Can’t take much more, love,” he breathed.

“I’m ready,” you panted, your hands pressed against his abdomen.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” he requested, causing you to nod your head. He paused for a moment, shifting you so you could watch yourself in the mirror. Just the sight of him on top of you, your legs spread wide for him made you pulse. “Not fair I get this beautiful sight to myself,” he whispered against your cheek. You whined, your back arching off the bed. He angled himself against you, the tip of his cock already spreading you as much as his fingers had.

“John,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept you close, his hold on you assuring and unwavering, despite the way his body trembled. You groaned, the stretch seemingly never-ending. You could feel every twitch as he rolled his way in.

“So bloody tight,” he cursed, his mouth hanging open in bliss. “Doing so good for me,” he praised. It wasn't a sharp pain like you were expecting, but it burned. Your face pressed against his shoulder, his back marked with crimson ropes. He had finally worked his way inside you, your walls desperately trying to adjust. He imagined it would hurt more if he stayed stationary inside you. He moved his hips back slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you. He moved his shoulder away, pressing his forehead against yours. You were uncomfortable, the sight making his alpha restless.

He pushed back in, the friction making you squirm.

“John,” you whined. He rolled his hips back and forth slowly, adding more distance with each thrust. He was halfway buried inside you, rolling his hips forward in one swift motion. Your eyes fell shut, your mouth parting with a moan of his name.

“That's it, pretty,” he groaned, repeating the action. The stretch that had made it almost unbearable was causing pleasure to scorch through your veins with every thrust. “Fuckin’ made for me weren’t ya,’” he groaned. It wasn't even a question at this point, it was a fact. Your cunt molding to fit him. Your heels pressed against his back, hoping to lessen the time he wasn't buried inside you.

You opened your mouth, the words you were wanting to say being ruined by a sloppy moan.

“What, pretty,” he pressed. “Talk to me.”

“Feels so good,” you whined pitifully.

“Yeah?” he growled, his strong hips snapping against you. His pace had picked up, his thrusts becoming more and more purposeful. His thumb skimmed across the corner of your lip, swiping away your drool. “What feels good?” he questioned. You could hardly think, let alone voice those thoughts.

“Your cock,” you managed, your whole body flushed from pleasure and embarrassment. He held your chin gently, moving your head so you had the perfect view of him rolling in and out of you in the mirror. His pace had slowed down again, not wanting to rush this moment in the slightest. “Alpha,” you whined, your hands gripping the wrist that was still holding your chin.

“Look so good with my cock in you, don't you?” his voice was tender, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear.

His hand left your face, his thumb finding a familiar rhythm between your legs.

“Too much,” you gasped, but made no move to stop him, your body becoming more and more addicted to this new euphoric high. “Cum in me,” you pleaded, causing his hips to stutter against you. “Please,” you begged, looking up at him through wet lashes. He wasn't deep enough in a rut to give you a knot, but that doesn't mean he couldn't fill you to the hilt.

“Whatever you need, love,” he soothed. You were shaking. Your claws had already shredded the sheets. “Gonna be a good girl and come on my cock?” he asked. The only thing you could do was nod. You were focusing on it too much, your brows furrowed waiting for the tension in your stomach to release. He smacked your bottom, catching you off guard for the wave of your orgasm to finally wash over you. You gushed around him, a shriek leaving you as your walls spasmed around him eliciting his own release. He came with a booming groan, his vision spotting from the intensity.

His arms giving out from under him sinking both of you into the mattress.

It took ten minutes for both of you to calm down.

“You alright?” he checked, his fingers running over your heated cheek.

“Yeah,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his still-twitching form. “You?”

“Gonna be honest, sweetheart. Never had anything like that,” he panted, placing kisses against any skin he could reach. You believed him. While this was your first time, you knew this wasn't the standard. He had softened out of you, his cum leaving you in a puddle. “Let's get you cleaned up,” he soothed, hoisting you up.

He decided on a bath this time. His hands working against your skin to clean away the mess he had made. You had fallen asleep against him in the tub, happy omega filtering through the air, making him purr. He stayed there till your skin began to prune. It has been a long time since he's been this content. Not that his boys didn't make him happy. You were different, you were his omega. The missing piece of the puzzle. The piece that held peace, safety, and comfort. Kate was right when she said she could smell it on them- their need for an omega. He had been a fool for going this long without one. But if he had done it too soon he wouldn't have ended up with you.

He tucked the two of you in, curling himself around you hoping to get some purrs out of you. Even in your sleep, you could recognize the safety of his arms, a purr of appreciation rumbling through your lax body.

“I love you,” he murmured against the crown of your head, slowly slipping off into his own hibernation.

“Something I need to talk to the two of you about,” Kyle sighed. The three of them had moved outside just after the first few muffled moans vibrated against the door.

Johnny opened his eyes, looking up at Kyle whilst his head was resting in his lap. Simon grunted in acknowledgment.

“You looked at her tracking app lately?” Kyle questioned, causing both of them to shake their heads. Of course not, you had been with them for the past two weeks. “I thought it was a glitch at first, or maybe the app had accidentally connected to someone else's chip, but it was labeled under her name,” Kyle explained. Johnny sat up.

“What was labeled?” he urged, his heart falling into his stomach. He and Simon shared a look.

“Another chip,” Kyle clarified. Simon's jaw clenched.

“What does that mean?” he snipped. “She has another chip?”

“She said she never had one,” Johnny reminded, his stomach growing uneasy. He had always been the quickest to jump to emotions.

“Or she has one she doesn't know about.”

Hi everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you in two days for chapter 23!!!! 🧡

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Black Streaks - A Dom!Vessel/Fem!Reader Smut Short.

Had a dominant Vessel on my brain. Wrote it. Bon appétit. Oh, this is a completely random, smutty one-off, not part of the Sunstroke series I'm currently writing for him, FYI ;)

Words - 640

Warnings - Dom!Vessel, pure smut, little plot. Minors DNI!

“Come here.” 

He hooks his finger, curling it, watching you intently from beneath his mask. He’s due on stage in less than half an hour, but from the aura that surrounds him, there is another performance he first must give. 

You arrive in front of him, lifting your chin, the slide of his fingertip down your throat a scintillating path, awaiting his command. You love it when he’s in this mood, where the usually gentle, softer lover you adore is knocked aside by the other side of his nature.  

The side where he commands, and you obey. Without question. 

“Do you know what happens to little girls who look at their master like he’s a piece of meat?” You shake your head. “Yes, you do. They get treated like one.” Nodding over to the corner of his dressing room, he lifts his chin, his eyes but a fragment of a sparkle through the slits in his mask. “Go to that table, pull up your dress, and bend.” 

Licking your lip, you step closer to him. “I was going to sink to my knees for you,” you purr, reaching to cup at his cock through his trousers. You love the fact he doesn’t bother with underwear beneath his stage clothes. Easy access is a very erotic plus.  

He knocks your hand away, reprimanding you with a little slap to your cheek, marking your skin black. “You still will, but not yet. Now, get over there, and bend.” 

Biting your lip, you can feel the heat of his words running like flames through your blood, your underwear already becoming soaked with the promise of him. “Yes, master.” 

Turning, you saunter to where he’s commanded you to be, lifting your dress and folding neatly across the table. The feel of him behind you, the sound of him unbuckling his belt, it sends glimmers skittering over your nerves. He grasps your undies, yanking them aside, and you gasp to feel his thick cock head snag at your opening, feeling his hand land upon your bum in a hard smack. 

“You’ll be quiet.” 

The heat of him splits you wide, and it feels like you’re being remoulded around him, his hands clutching at your hips as he stills, enjoying the appreciative hug of you soaking walls around his shaft. He keeps you teetering on the cusp of it, anticipation prickling your skin, his hand laying a hard spank to your bum.  

“Not a single sound.” He commands, beginning to slide back and forth, the friction of his cock delicious as it strokes your sweet spot. You bite your lip to prevent your moans, knowing he won’t make it easy for you, hands gripping the edge of the table. You hold it tight, the burning force of each thrust soon having you opening your mouth in silent exclamation, a little squeak sounding the air.  

Immediately, you’re reprimanded for it.  

His hand fists in the roots of your hair, tugging tight. “I said quiet.”  

Pulling, he has you arching like the bend in a river, driving into you like a piston, pleasure trickling down your spine like honey. Your ascension to the heavens is sharp toothed and sudden, your cunt gripping, fluttering around him as you crest on the wave, the complete undoing he fucks into you brutally.  

“You came silently,” he praises, “and for that, I’ll reward you. Kneel.” 

Pulling from you with a slippery pop, he steps back, giving you room to kneel before him, his hand moving to grasp your hair as he pushes his cock between your lips. It takes a mere few thrusts until he’s spilling hot and thick into your throat, a groan of pure sin rumbling deep in his chest, pulling back and smiling down at you while stroking the corner of your mouth with his thumb. 

“Mm. Good girl.” 

Did you enjoy what you just read? If so, please help your author out by commenting/reblogging. If you want to be added to my Vessel taglist, please do let me know, too!

[blue-disco-lights]

Galladrabbles: In These Arms

Thank you @starry-nights-17 for our @galladrabbles prompt this week! Another Bon Jovi song for their playlist.

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

Months of seeing the gorgeous ER nurse strutting around, commanding total authority, navy blue scrubs fitted in all the right places. 

Months of dropping off patients, staring longingly at him – and knocked dumbstruck at every, “Got it from here, Red.” 

Until… the night of the epic snowstorm. Chaos in the ER, snow-slush coating the floor. Panic as his favorite nurse takes a wrong step.

EMT instincts kick in, and he catches him right before he hits the ground.  

“This wasn’t the way I pictured it,” Ian says, cradling his head.

“Huh?”

“Having you in my arms for the first time.”

[whoopsyeahokay]

Simp.

summary: prompt fill. a silly little subby Wally drabble because our clingy boo is fun to write. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x masc!reader

warnings: smut. sub!Wally Clark. flashfic. crying after climax. Wally Clark has undisclosed mommy issues. same 'verse as Boy Noise.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🖇️

Simp.

"So good, baby," You praise, "Keep going. You wanna make me come, don't you?" Fuck, yes, Wally does. It's all he wants in the whole world. "Just like that. Such a good boy for me."

And the words go straight to his cock. Flush through him like the heat of the sun, burning in his belly.

You're at his house, dragged there after school because today was a shitty day and he was vibrating with restless energy. He needed you so badly and you never made him suffer.

You lounge in his dad's armchair like a king, one leg hooked over Wally's shoulder, the foot of the other propped on the seat of the armchair, spread wide to accommodate him as he whimpers and whines and probes his tongue as deep as he can get it, kissing your pussy in a filthy wet rhythm.

He hears the clink of your glass on the side table, gives a little moan when you plant the heel of your foot on his shoulder and push, dislodging him. Wally makes an unhappy sound, pouts up at you with big, pleading puppy eyes, but you only smirk in return.

"Stand up," You command. And he does. No resistance, just obedience.

He gets to his feet and takes in the image you make, sitting there mostly naked, your button-down open to reveal your naked body, tie loose and still around your collar. You lick your teeth, grinning like a lion that's about to eat its first meal.

"Strip." You say, tone making Wally's belly squirm.

Again, he does as bidden without question. Tries to do it slow, give you a sultry performance how you sometimes want him to, but apparently not today.

"I don't want a show, baby," You tell him, husky and rich, eyes dark with fever, "Get naked. I want you to make me come on your cock."

Wally's out of his jeans and t-shirt faster than lightning. You stand in a single, sultry motion, lead him by his cock to the armchair and push him down. He spreads his legs wide, arms clasped around you as you as you crawl into his lap.

You take another long sip of his dad's whiskey, the ice tinkling when you place the glass down again, and then, quick and hard, you drop down on him. Take him as easy as a breath after the long minutes he spent pleasuring you with lips and gentle teeth and sloppy tongue.

He's fucking needy now.

You don't move. Not right away. Giving him a chance to adjust, to breathe, to center himself before, "You're gonna be a good boy for me, aren't you?"

Jesus, he will, he promises. He'll do anything for you, he just wants so badly to make you happy. Tell him how to make you happy, please, fuck, please.

Wally whines, hands loose on your hips, desperate for you to let him show you how good he can be as you take control. It's slow at first, driving him crazy, the heat inside him fogging up his brain, his body tense with desire and need.

"Please," He begs when you begin to ride him a little faster, just enough to get him to the edge before you stop. Shit. No, please, no, he needs to come so bad. Has needed to come since you got him on his knees and grabbed the back of his head, brought his face to your pussy and told him to eat up, sweet boy.

It's intense, everything he feels for you, with you, from you. His body shakes as you start again. Slow. Too slow. And then harder, sharper rolls of your hips until, yes yes yes like that, you start moving in earnest, taking him over and over, deep and tight and hot.

"Please," He gasps, whimpers, eyes clenched shut, hands squeezing your hips, "Please, I need to come."

"Not yet, baby boy." You say, somehow stern despite how you're panting. "Let me come first and then you can have your turn. I know you can wait." He can hear the feline grin on your face, can feel your heavy eyes on him, "You're my good boy, aren't you?"

"Yes!" He sobs, the pleasure and frustration making him that much more sensitive, "I'll be good for you, so good, I promise!"

You lean over, still bouncing on him, his cock throbbing inside you as he tries so hard to keep himself in check. "So perfect for me, baby," You reassure him, "Such a perfect boy for me."

Wally spent years trying to be everything his mama wanted him to be. The man, the myth, the legend. In control always. Perfect son. Perfect player. Perfect student, friend, partner, upcoming pilar of the community.

And he did it. Everything she asked, Wally did, getting him nowhere and nothing except more pressure and expectation and criticism.

Maybe that's why he's like this. He's not a psychologist, but it makes sense. How much he fucking needs you to take control and tell him what to do so he doesn't have to think. At least you give him the chance to be good, instructing him from point A to Z, no judgment, just praise. Your sweet, perfect boy; all yours, only yours—

"Please," He whimpers, every touch electric. "Please, Mommy, I need to come," He begs and the title is new, coming from deep within him, ushered from some part of his soul he's kept tightly sealed until now, but he couldn't give less of a shit. Especially with how you moan and squeeze around his cock like a vise.

"Yeah?" You purr, still so together. So in charge.

He gasps, shivers, head falling back.

"Look at me, baby," You order, and Wally listens. Mouth parted as he pants, eyes half-lidded and soft, "Are you close?"

"Yes, yes, please," He can't take much more, not even if you ask him to. And he doesn't want to disappoint you, doesn't want to come before you do. Desperate to be everything you say he is.

You move faster, harder, more frenzied, back arching, tits in his face, moaning when you come. Jesus, fuck, the feeling of you coming around him makes him dizzy, he can't hold back, begging over and over because it's too much stimulation, too good, too right, oh God.

"Please," He practically sobs, "Oh, oh, please!"

You lean in, nip his ear and then command, "Come for me, baby boy. Be good and let go."

Just like that, Wally submits to it and comes harder than he can remember doing before. His whole body tenses and then releases, shuddering as he sobs in relief, fucking up into you as he spills inside you with the force of a fucking train.

"That's it, baby, give me everything," You groan, and it just prolongs his climax.

You're so good to him. So understanding and kind and generous and Wally can't help it. He doesn't mean to, hates himself a little for it, but his eyes sting and his breath catches and he clamps his arms around you as he body shakes.

He's crying. He's never cried during or after sex before now. It's just...there's so much inside him, emotion and feeling, and he has to let it out or he'll burst. Small whimpers and needy whines, tiny little sounds of love and pleasure and thankfulness. He feels so fucking clingy, desperate to hold onto you so you won't slip away and leave him alone to fend off the world by himself.

With fingers in his hair, you draw his head into the crook of your neck, other hand stroking his back as you shush him sweetly.

"I've got you, my good, good boy. You did so well. You made me feel so good."

And he sniffles, nods, holds you as close to himself as he can until the moment passes and he's calm. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. Cheeks bright pink and lower lip between his teeth because you force him to look at you.

"How do you feel?" You ask in such a kind, affectionate tone that Wally feels—

"Better." He admits. And then, quieter, "Safe." In a way he's never felt until you came into his life like a beacon of hope.

A slow smile forms on your lips and you kiss his forehead, "Good. That's all I want, baby."

Wally sniffles again, clears his throat, asks timidly, "Did you like it?"

And you pet his hair, hold his jaw, and say with certainty, "I loved it, baby boy. I always love it."

Warmth blossoms in Wally's chest. He grins up at you, proud of himself.

🖇️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Boyfriend Wally Clark (NSFW).

a smutty flashfic Wally Clark headcanon outlining who he is as a boyfriend.

[resart]

The Inconspicuous Writing Gem: Daeran’s Look-alike Contest Breakdown

The Dance of Masks brought the long-anticipated last hurrah to the Knight Commander’s story. Although it was announced that the DLC would focus on the companions, I wasn’t holding my breath for substantial content that would actually enrich the characters’ plots. The game is already massive and has a ton of variables, so expecting the writers to continue storylines that can have multiple outcomes would be unreasonable. But one scene far exceeded my expectations and set the bar high for the rest of the expansion, rendering me more critical about some of its elements than I would normally be. The event in question may not appear as much, but the true artistry in writing stories driven by the player’s choice fully reveals itself in what we don’t see on the surface. Daeran’s look-alike contest varies greatly, depending on how his personal quest was resolved, and, therefore, serves as a semi-epilogue to his arc. I wanted to post an analysis of his character’s progression for quite some time, and this send-off is a fitting opportunity to delve into this matter. I’ll break down the differences in the new scene as well as in a few others and share my overall thoughts on what this addition brings to the table. Brace yourself because it’s going to be long.

I'll start with a quick reminder of what Daeran’s questline outcomes are, because I'm going to reference them a lot:

Good, in which he’s openly grateful to the Knight Commander despite having to face the tribunal, and Liotr, noticing their bond, intervenes so the Inquisition doesn't lock him up;

Lobotomy, in which Daeran reluctantly accepts his predicament of having to face the trial, Liotr doesn't support him and after the crusade, the Count is sent to the asylum and lobotomized;

HappyEvil, in which the Commander kills Liotr to secure Daeran’s freedom;

ArchEvil, in which Daeran doesn't have any trust in the Commander, feels deserted and murders Liotr to avoid the trial.

At first glance, there's nothing profound about Daeran’s festival quest — it fits his image to indulge in the vain act of self-celebration by choosing the most accurate imitation of himself. However, this simple setup proves itself clever when we realize that, by observing the contestants, he sees himself in a distorting mirror. Coincidentally, each participant appears to represent a different facet of the Count’s character. Therefore, his reactions to them speak volumes of the self-image and mindset he developed during the crusade in each scenario.

Among the doubles, we have an aasimar who mimics Daeran's arrogance and cruelty, and constantly interrupts other participants' speeches with mocking remarks.

A woman who recreates Daeran's sophisticated bon vivant persona.

A drunkard who paints Daeran as a worthless and utterly unapologetic rake.

And finally, an innocent boy who keeps staring at Daeran with admiration and portrays him as a virtuous hero of the crusade.

After the presentation of the contestants is over, Daeran asks the Commander’s opinion. Again, his responses to their verdict vary in each case (unless they choose the cat), but the difference in how he reacts to being compared to the little boy is the most telling.

No matter what the protagonist suggests, the winner of the contest is fixed for each of the outcomes. If the Commander failed to earn Daeran's trust and he murdered Liotr himself, the conceited aasimar is declared the winner.

If the Commander killed Liotr, the Count awards the lady.

If the quest was resolved peacefully (either Good or Lobotomy), Daeran chooses the boy and has a heartwarming exchange with him.

This variety of possible scenarios and the way they are handled encapsulate why I consider Daeran's story so intricately woven and enjoyable to analyze. He's an incredibly flexible and dynamic character whose potential endings range from becoming a saint to a homicidal maniac. But what makes this duality and everything that comes in between so engaging is that all these vastly contradictory conclusions are equally organic and convincing, given his rich characterization and the player’s choices. The subtle yet significant divergences in the narrative paths maintain the integrity of his personality and prevent his evolution from seeming far-fetched while efficiently showcasing his growth or regression.

Regretfully, this attention to detail is missing from the other new scenes, which don't convey a similar sense of progression and can come off as somewhat disconnected from the rest of the playthrough. The rendezvous, for example, avoids references to how the player concluded Daeran's romance and quest. Given these plotlines' non-linearity, it's an understandable approach, but it prevents the scene from exploring deeper themes and hitting more emotional notes. What's particularly detrimental to the its overall intensity is the absence of exclusive dialogue for the True Love outcome. Ironically, it's the two worst endings that get unique and surprisingly heartfelt lines.

The difference is insignificant, however, because the conversation always plays out the same. All in all, the segment is nice and leaves a lot to the imagination, but only partially exploits its potential. Meanwhile, the festival mini-quest embraces the aforementioned strengths of the storyline's writing, giving every iteration of Daeran distinct dialogues that clearly demonstrate the impact the crusade and acquaintance with the Commander had on him.

I won't examine every dialogue branch in detail but will mainly focus on the Good scenario. As someone who likes this ending the best and even advocates the controversial writing in the final confrontation with Liotr, I always thought the narrative failed to properly sell its implied benefits. Apart from the closing conversation in the quest itself, late-game provides little reactivity to differentiate the outcomes, making it hard for the players to fully grasp the internal shift that Daeran undergoes. Comparison of said dialogue in various scenarios reveals his perspective in Good route as the least egocentric and overall most mature. Unfortunately, in an individual playthrough, these qualities can get overshadowed by the Count's dissatisfaction with the inconveniences he will eventually have to endure.

Aside from that, the effects of each resolution manifest only in Daeran's responses to one question in the romantic route and how he expressed his feelings regarding Galfrey’s death.

Even though they show evident contrast and serve as a much-needed emotional pay-off for the moral dilemma the player faced in the storyline finale, both are relatively minor, with the Queen one completely missable in most playthroughs. When combined with the similar omission of negative repercussions for Daeran’s moral condition and emotional maturity in other outcomes, it's not surprising many players believe he doesn’t ever change or that becoming better fundamentally clashes with his nature.

The discussed competition scene remedies the narrative’s deficiencies, ultimately proving this statement untrue. In the Good outcome, Daeran presents a reasonable dose of self-distance. When confronted with the drunk’s insults, he replies with humor and courtesy, which is a stark contrast to his reactions in the Evil outcomes and his past responses to criticism. Despite being hurt by the harsh judgment, he understands such a low opinion of himself is somewhat justified. The Count's mild response and his sensitivity to the suggestion that he's nothing more than an unfeeling scoundrel may even indicate that he has developed some remorse for his past actions. He also dismisses unwarranted flattery and distances himself from the brash egotism. All without falling into a spiral of gloom and self-deprecation that occurs in the Lobotomy scenario. Introspectiveness and vulnerability showcased here are a seamless continuation of the self-evaluation Daeran does in the High Trust version of his quest upon being supposedly betrayed by the Commander.

It's all the more unfortunate that the other interactions in the DLC don’t acknowledge these differences and instead return to the common denominator of all endings. As a result, the player will go from Daeran, who self-reflects and claims the aasimar presents an unfunny caricature of him, to Daeran in the tavern, who puffs himself up exactly like the guy (using even the same words) and seeks more sycophantic praise. While it's expected for him to put on an airy act and tease others, the absolute lack of self-awareness he previously exhibits in the Good route is quite jarring. Considering the complexity of the storyline as well as all sorts of limitations, such inconsistencies are inevitable (the base game already has a fair share of them) and in the end, one can easily reconcile them through their own interpretations. However, after being spoiled by a reactivity treat like the festival mini-quest, it's disappointing that the remaining dialogues lack similar nuance.

In the Good scenario, Daeran's behavior reinforces what we learn in the epilogue — that in this version, he has the most difficulty navigating through his newfound freedom and redefining himself in it. Choosing the winner of a silly contest shouldn't be hard for him, and it isn't in the Evil outcomes. There, the self-satisfied Count (who in both cases already has the blood of at least one innocent man on his hands) picks what he perceives as an idealized version of himself — be it the aestheticized depiction of his self-centredness or the unbridled and unyielding haughtiness. Noteworthily, in the Happy variant, Daeran openly flirts with the lady and, in both Evil paths, if not romanced, attempts to seduce his favored contestant. It’s peak narcissism, given the implications of the scene. In the peaceful outcomes, especially the Good one, the ordeal is a series of unpleasant self-reflections that even causes him to become overwhelmed by sorrow at one point. In the end, Daeran’s choice stems not from an ulterior motive or a desire to boost his ego but from genuine fondness for the boy. The youngster's belief in the Count’s kindness and heroism reminds him of his own innocence that was prematurely and brutally snatched from him. At his core, Daeran is not a self-sufficient master of his own fate but a helpless child thrown by unfortunate circumstances into otherworldly oppression and a vicious cycle of selfishness. In the Evil routes, he successfully deludes himself into believing he’s the former, but here, he realizes he’s the latter.

We're used to seeing Daeran scoffing at saccharine narratives and lofty ideals, and in the Evil versions, he's indeed annoyed with the boy’s portrayal of him. In one of them, he even anticipates him to be disenchanted, finding the prospect amusing. In the campaign's early stages, the Count voices his dissatisfaction with being enrolled in the crusade and laments the tarnishing of his ill reputation. Any suggestions that he may be secretly vulnerable are met with biting retorts. But now, Daeran doesn't disabuse the child and isn’t even bothered by being seen as a heroic figure. There also isn’t any objection when the Commander points out the similarity between him and the boy. He’s shocked they can see through him but decides to be honest and agrees with their assessment. Daeran’s sensitivity and his tendency to be more emotionally transparent with the protagonist is, at this point, a recurring theme in the peaceful outcomes, so it’s a shame that when they later choose to compliment his vulnerable soul, he's always equally dismissive.

Daeran is perfectly aware of how damaging cruel disillusionment can be to one’s psyche. As a child, he witnessed firsthand the powerlessness of good in the face of evil, the suffering adhering to moral principles can bring, and how those who claim to be righteous can turn out to be as callous and uncaring as hardened villains. These experiences left the young Count with a pessimistic view of the world and human nature, making him adopt coping mechanisms that only deepened his melancholy and loneliness. Knowing this, he wishes to spare the boy a similar fate and plays along to preserve his innocence.

In the non-peaceful outcomes, Daeran gives the signet away as if it was an insignificant bauble. But even though we barely ever see this side of him, some dialogues indicate he’s proud of his heritage and his ancestors' role in Mendev’s history. They were valiant defenders of the kingdom, who, for generations, protected its borders from any threat. This is who the Count, as a scion of the Arendae house, was originally destined to be and who, it so happens, the boy sees in him. Perhaps his take on him makes Daeran reflect on how differently things could have turned out had it not been for his family's demise and the Other’s interference. It undoubtedly revokes memories of his roots and deceased kin, since he not only rewards the child with the ring but also educates him on its meaning and sentimental value, expressing unexpected sincerity and kindness. In the Lobotomy scenario, this gesture is particularly bittersweet — with his impeding childless death, Daeran’s lineage is going to expire, making the memento the only way to keep its memory alive.

Finally, the Good version of the scene carries a deep symbolic significance. Daeran rewards one person who doesn't focus on his superficial traits or recreates the mask he hides behind. The image the boy paints of him may not be accurate, but while the other portrayals embody what the Count turned into under the Other's influence, this one shows what he could have been if he hadn’t lost the childish naivety he now longs for. And who he, despite his own skepticism, still can or perhaps even already started to become, thanks to the good protagonist's compassion and support. Just like the Commander, the boy views him as someone better than what his predicament forced him to be. And Daeran, confronted with sincere faith in him, cannot help but answer the call.

[ghrgrsfdesfrfg]

I had a lot of trouble writing her story but i hope you'll like it, i'm not satisfied with some part of the story so it will maybe change in the future.

As always, i'm open to critics and tips, if you want to request anything in particular, be my guest !

Credits to @gaziter on twitter for the image, i do not own it.

Massive change n°1, i asked some people and got advice on what to change, i'm making changes to eudora's role and personnality

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

Archived information about  ‘‘Eudora’’, the Train Driver

-Experiment 1448 alias ‘‘Eudora’’ was created in 1993 to serve as the train driver of the Game Station to put groups of children and adults on it to drive them around the factory and be the commander of a unit dedicated to logistics in order to deliver equipments to the needed department of the factory.

-She measure 1m60 or 5,2ft in height, her body is almost entirely made of wood while small amount of porcelain were used for her eyes while her hair is a hybrid of yarn and silk giving it a solid yet soft texture.

-Like Baron Bon-Bon she is reluctant to inflict violence but this is due to her traumatic past rather than a side effect of the procedure (although this comes into play as well) however she managed to work through her guilt and fears and is now dedicated to protecting other toys.

Early life:

-Clara cindram grew up in a loving family in a calm neighborhood, her family was known for being the cliché perfect family, this shaped her into an adorable yet slightly timid girl who enjoyed the company of plushies and toys rather than other children. She was doing good at school, her friends liked her and her family loved her with all theirs heart yet this all changed one day.

-One night a robber broke into the house and was taken by surprise by her father who fought with the robber until he was shot which woke up her mother and Clara, both of them were horrified by the scene and were taken hostage by the robber.

-The police was quick to arrive on the scene, and panicking, the robber took Clara’s mother as a prisoner and shot her in an attempt to dissuade the police from advancing on the house instead the robber was taken out by a sniper and Clara was quickly taken by the police and the ambulance.

-Shocked and traumatized after the long and grueling ordeal she was sent to the orphanage of Playcare due to having no known relatives to take care of her, this new environment was difficult to adapt to and the other children made it tough for her.

-She was seen as a crybaby and an easy target for bullies who wanted to take her money, toys or even lunch for themselves. Her only true friend was Thomas Freuer, an older child at Playcare who took care of her and was the only one to calm her down during her numerous breakdown, nightmare or other PTSD induced traumatic episode.

-While at Playcare she would often visit the Game Station with Thomas and would even befriend the Baron who took the girl under his “protection” by often looking after her or offering one of the best reward in the “Treasure Hunt” which was a brass compass.

-She was also in need of extensive psychological treatment due to the memory of the robbery giving her frequent and intense night terrors, psychological breakdowns and severe PTSD, while none of the psychiatrists managed to cure her, she did manage to have less-frequent nightmare and played with other children more often thanks to the encouragement of the counselors.

PROCEDURE:

-She was supposed to be taken for the procedure but Thomas stopped the scientists and offered himself to the utter shock and puzzlement of the staff who was stunned as this was the first time someone volunteered for the procedure.

-His noble sacrifice ended up being for nothing because 3 month later Clara was taken because the scientist wanted to use her to make a Train Driver (because the higher-ups needed a dedicated team to be used as logistics expert) while the counselors were sad to see such a smart child leave the orphanage (some were glad to not have to deal with her mental issues anymore) .

-Her intelligence was a trait of hers which was highly sought after and hoped to be amplified in order to make her a skilled Driver and commander to run the train like a well-oiled machine.

-Her procedure was a success due to the simple materials and her body structure, she could use a mix of meat consumption and rewind mechanism to keep functioning however it took a long time for her to get used to her new body as she kept screaming for her parents or crying for hours at a time, sometime complaining about her lack of lungs to breath or the intense phantom pain she was experiencing.

-After two weeks of constant breakdowns she was forced out of her state by Harley Sawyer and his threats of violence on her if she didn’t start to work.

-Despite the threats she took her training as a Train Driver while being constantly threatened to work better or face the consequences with remarkable speed and serious.

-Harley noted that electric shocks were the best to pull her out of her fragile state and force her to obey the scientists, starvation was also used while rumors of limbs removal also appeared (rumors claimed a random limbs would be chosen and taken then replaced if she didn’t obey although said rumors were denied by Harley Sawyer).

Work for Playtime.Co:

-Her training was rather easy thanks to her understanding instructions rather quickly and efficiently, she was also given some combat training as her rewind key was sharp enough to act as an estoc, she was a very precise and quick fighter with a lot of dexterity.

-She was assigned to the train of the Game Station and used her whistle to tell people when a train was about to leave, she was also in charge of delivering adults, children and sometimes the scientists to their chosen station which included the Lobby, the Game Station and Playcare.

-Driving people was only half of her job, the other half was delivering various goods and equipment to the part of the factory who needed them like the labs or the prison with her team whom she commanded with the precision and efficiency of a general.

-While strict when organizing the train and it’s passenger she had a soft spot for children and would often play with them or let them try her hat whom she was really attached to.

-She would avoid the various scientists but would try to help other toys such as Mommy Long-Legs or the mini-critters by giving them food or toys stolen from the train to try and lift theirs spirits.

-She could start the train via the numerous command in the cabin or her rewind key who was tailored to jump-start the train.

Hour of Joy:

-Heavy involvement as she was horrified by the Hour of Joy but spent a lot of time helping various children and adults escape, she hid them in the shipping compartments while fighting off waves of mini-critters and mini-huggys to distract them and give time for people to get on the train.

-She teamed up with the Baron to escort them to safety and was then hunted down by Huggy Wuggy and Mommy Long-Legs because they perceived her help towards the adults as a betrayal, she hid with the Baron for a while then moved toward Playcare and was later saved by the Rat King who took her with his pack and gave her a home in “the depths”.

-She took down numerous Mini-huggies and mini-critters thanks to her rewind key that she used as an estoc, said massacre of mini-toys earned her the ire of Catnap who tormented her relentlessly with the Red Smoke in Playcare before being saved by the Rat King.

-The Rat King took her to “the depths” an area near the Prison and the Labs in a series of unfinished rooms who served as the Rat King’s small kingdom, she was put there as it was far away from any toys seeking revenge on her.

-The King also took care of her mentally thanks to various music boxes and tape recording voices of children who spoke of her and how amazed they were of her, she was in a much better place mentally than her orphan days but the weight of all the toys she killed despite saving numerous people brought back her strong survivor guilt.

-Her survivor guilt first appeared after surviving the robbery and was amplified after the Hour of Joy, despite saving lots of people she felt guilty about killing the toys who tried to harm the people on the train.

Design and abilities:

-Her body is made of wood, using wooden balls as joint for her legs and elbow which made it possible to turn any of her limbs at 360° at will, her hair was a delicate mix of yarn and silk making it solid yet majestic and soft.

-Curiously, her legs were pointy and presented no feet or ankles to speak of, just two pointy ends which to inexperienced people made it difficult to use but but gave incredible mobility and balance to whoever knew how to use them.

-Her insides were divided between a simple digestive system and a rewind mechanism to function in case no meat was available, if she wasn’t re-winded she would be in a state between shutdown and sleep.

-Her outfit is reminiscent of old-school train employees while her colors weren’t as flashy or childlike as other toys like Mommy or the Baron, giving her a somber red and dark-brown color who marked her as more important and experienced than an entertainment toy.

Trivia:

-Before becoming the Train Driver, her only friends were Thomas Freuer, Baron Bon-Bon and a teddybear she took from her home, children at Playcare often stole it from her or damaged it much to her sadness.

-Her mouth as the Train Driver cannot move like a normal human and instead only go up and down, forcing her to use her eyebrows to make any meaningful expression like joy, anger, sadness and many more.

-When she wasn’t working or needed to drive people around, she was often seen holding her hat in a mourning position, she would also be seen playing with other toys or talking with the Baron and Mommy.

-The Baron took an immediate liking to her due to her fragile state, she was gifted a Brass Compass from him and took care of it ever since, she was also a huge fan of his game and would often come to the Station only to play his game.

-Thomas Freuer was often seen reading to her or playing games like Hide and Seek or watching puppets show with her.

-While she was afraid of the scientists she often opposed parents who were too harsh with other toys or children.

-The Star insignia on her hat and chest were made by the Rat King at an unknown date while the 3 others were earned after significant milestones in her logistics career such as having delivered 100 cargos in the factory or handled difficult equipment numerous time without needing a special team.

-Eudora harbored a deep fear of electricity because of the treatment used by Harley Sawyer to force her to work, whenever the train malfunctioned or something broke due to electricity she would hide in the cabin of the train and wait until it worked again.

-When it came to food she was a fan of burgers and various junk food, however her favorite drink was orange juice, she would also ask to eat chicken and vegetables when junk food wasn’t possible.

-Somehow contact between her and the Rat King was made and his fury was such when he found out that Clara was indeed Eudora that he killed 4 employees in front of her and went on a rampage in the prison before being subdued, imprisoned for 2 days and asking to see her.

-During the Hour of Joy she fought against Huggy Wuggy when she was escorting adults and children to safety, while she couldn’t do any real damage she managed to delay him enough for a lot people to escape to safety.

-The scientist were intrigued by her drastic change of personnality from a cry-baby to a serious and dedicated commander, she would only say she wanted "to do good and help whenever she could".

-Despite her strictness regarding the train, her team came to love her thanks to the caring side she would show to a child or toy in need of comfort.

-Amazingly, she didn't sustain many injuries despite fighting Huggy-Wuggy for a prolonged period of time.

-After being saved by the Rat King she was placed in charge of half of his pack for the protection of his kingdom, organising patrols and supply runs.

-A picture of her damaged state after her fight with Huggy-Wuggy

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

[cera-writes]

Ehehehe Gambit! Yes hi you’ve probably already written something like this but can I have some Gambit smut with him being all like gentle and stuff? Like, a lot of praise and a lot of gentle whispering during it? And if you wouldn’t mind I’d like it to be gender neutral (afab reader is fine I don’t mind but just the pronouns and stuff)

I absolutely love your work!

A/N: Thank you! We love a soft dom Remy <3 Pairing: Remy LeBeau x gn!Reader Tags: sweet sensual sex, Dom-Remy, praise, mutual consent, adoration, body worship

"Be Gentle."

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains of the X-Mansion, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. You were sipping a glass of wine, its contents doing little to ease your anxiety about tonight. You and Remy had already been intimate with one another a couple of times before this, but tonight would be different. You had asked him to show his softer side. You took another shaky swig of the cabernet sauvignon and set the glass down on the coffee table when you heard footsteps approaching.

Remy LeBeau, his usual swagger softened by a tender smile, approached you where you stood in the living room, seemingly waiting for him. You turned, feeling his presence as he swaggered over to you. Your eyes met his, and without a word, he extended his hand.

"Mm, don' you look like a sweet slice o' cherry pie..." he smirked, taking you in as his eyes slid over your form. Between missions and putting the sake of humanity first, there'd been little time to really give in to the sexual part of your relationship with him in quite a while. But you knew one thing, and that one thing was that you absolutely needed to be swept up in the Cajun man before you lost your own sanity.

As if sensing your anxiety, he gently beckoned you. "Come wit' Remy," his voice a low, soothing whisper that seemed to caress the air between you both. You hesitated for a moment, your nerves evident despite the established intimacy of your relationship. Remy's eyes reflected understanding and a promise of gentleness as he stepped closer, closing the distance between your bodies.

"Gambit know you asked for gentle tonight, cher," he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Let Remy show you how gentle he can be."

His words were a balm to your anxiety, and you nodded, allowing Remy to lead you up the stairs and down the quiet corridor to his bedroom. The door clicked softly shut behind you, sealing the two of you into a world of your own.

Remy turned to face you, his hands resting gently on both sides of your face. He leaned in, his lips barely touching your ear as he spoke, "You are beautiful, y'know dat? Gods, chere... every part of you is perfect." His praise was sincere, each word carefully chosen to soothe and arouse you. And Gods, was it already working. Your breath hitched in your throat, heart beating wildly as he spoke sweet words of affirmation to you.

As he pulled back slightly, his hands began a slow, deliberate journey down the your already goosebumped arms, stopping to intertwine your fingers. "Remy wanna touch every inch of you," he murmured, guiding your hands to rest upon his chest. You could feel the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm, a tangible sign of his desire.

"Take your time chere," Remy encouraged, his voice still a whisper, yet filled with command. "Explore me."

Nodding, you allowed your hands to roam over Remy's body, guided by his gentle but firm direction. Each touch was met with a soft groan or a whispered compliment, heightening the intimacy of the moment. You bit your lip. "Remy..."

"Dat's it, cher," Remy breathed as your delicate fingertips deliberately traced the strong contours of his abdomen. "Si bon."

The room was charged with tension, thick and palpable. Remy's gaze never left the your blushed face, his eyes dark with passion yet clear with intent. He brought one of your shaking hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle with deliberate tenderness before stepping back slightly.

"Now, let Gambit see you," he requested softly, his hands reaching for the hem of the your shirt. With careful movements, he lifted it over your head, his eyes conveying nothing but reverence. "You takin' Remy's breath away," he admitted, his voice rough with emotion.

You bit your lip once more in shy reverence, too timid to meet his gaze while exposed but still, you felt safe even under Remy's intense scrutiny. He moved closer again, his hands ghosting over your skin with a featherlight touch that sent shivers down your spine. "Look at me, chere," his voice a low murmur, tilting your chin up to meet his lustful eyes. "Every part of you... jus' fascinant, "he repeated, his voice a reverential hush.

He led you slowly towards the bed, his movements unhurried and deliberate. As you sat side by side, Remy continued his gentle exploration, his hands and lips leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. "You feel so incredible," he murmured, his lips brushing against the your neck.

You gasped at the sensation, your body responding instinctively to Remy's skilled seduction as you let a soft moan escape your lips. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Relax, cher," he whispered, his hands moving to cup your flushed face. "Lemme take care of you."

With that, he eased you back onto the bed, following you down with a lithe grace that belied his strength. His body covered yours, not exactly pinning you down but offering a protective warmth. "Look at Remy," he demanded softly, his eyes locking with yours. "Only me."

You obeyed silently, your breathing quickening as Remy's hands and lips worked their magic. Each touch was calculated, each kiss placed with precision, building a slow, simmering heat between you both. "You're doin' so well," Remy praised, punctuating his words with gentle nips along the reader's jawline.

"Ah, Remy!..." you'd managed to breathe out, your voice a mix of need and utter surrender. This wasn't your first time with him, but Gods did he make it feel like a whole new experience when he worshipped every inch of you.

"Shh, cher," he soothed, his lips finding the yours once more. "Jus' feel."

And so you did, lost in the dance of his touch, guided by Remy's hands as he worked you into a frenzied, dazed mess.

Remy's hands roamed over your aching nether regions, his touch becoming more assertive as your passion was quickly nearing its zenith. His breath was hot against your neck as he nipped and bit the skin there, his own hardness pressed firmly and achingly against your thigh with need.

"Mon ange," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Tu es si belle, si parfaitement délicieuse." His fingers traced patterns on your skin, one hand playing with your chest and the other still between your legs, igniting sparks of pleasure with each stroke.

Your eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you. Remy continued, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Je veux te posséder, te sentir à moi tout entière." He dragged his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Fireworks ignited behind your eyelids as you threw your head back, mouth forming the words, "Oh fuck, Remy!"

He grinned, eyes half lidded with pure lust as he reached for a condom and quickly slid it over his rock hard length. "Ready for me, chere?"

You bit your lip hard enough to nearly draw blood as he hiked one of your legs up, lining himself up with you. Once he entered you, his pace was slow at first before he settled into a comfortable rhythm between you both. You hissed in pleasure as you braced yourself on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Laisse-moi te baiser si bien..." he smirked, a flicker that same manner of cockiness in his voice that he usually spoke to you with, evident in his voice for a sheer second.

Remy's words became more fervent as he picked up his pace, needing to feel every bit of you. "Ouvre-toi à moi, laisse-moi t'aimer comme tu le mérites." He took one of your hands, bringing it to his lips before peppering kisses against your knuckles, his eyes boring into yours with half lust and half adoration at the sight of you under him. You were no longer trying to bite back moans as he thrusted over and over, ever so deliciously inside of you.

His hands then gripped your hips, guiding them into the rhythm that promised sweet release.

You arched into him, your body trembling with anticipation. He soothingly rubbed circles against the dip of your hip with one hand, the other still gripping your waist as he held you in that ecstacy shattering rhythm. "Dat's it, chere..." Remy's voice was a soothing balm amidst the storm of sensation. "C'est bon, mon cher. Laisse-toi aller à moi." You were flush against his skin, taking him the deepest you've ever felt him inside of you as you moaned deliciously, eyes rolling back.

With a final, urgent whisper of "Viens avec moi," Remy brought you both over the edge, your bodies entwined in a dance of pure pleasure and finally, sweet release. Your breaths mingled, heavy and ragged, as you floated back to earth, wrapped in the afterglow of passion fulfilled.

He kissed your temple before rubbing soothing circles on your back, cuddling into you as his breathing evened back out from fucking you so earth shatteringly good. "That was..." you trailed off blissfully as a yawn escaped your lips.

"Everythin' and more chere. Je vous aime."

And with that, you both eased into a blissfully pleased and fulfilled sleep.

[libellule-ao3]

Blood will out 🐍

Rating : T | Ominis Gaunt x Unnamed MC (or F!reader) | angst | Established relationship | DAD!Ominis

Summary: Ominis Gaunt wrestles with the growing fear that his son might succumb to the family legacy he has spent his life trying to escape.

A/N: I believe that, as a father, one of Ominis’s greatest fears would be his child following a dark path, tied to the toxic legacy of the Gaunts. This idea led me to imagine his stress and doubts as he begins to notice possible signs in his son.

When I wrote this, I had in mind the French saying "Bon sang ne saurait mentir," which means that everyone is the product of their heritage, their lineage. Instinctively, I wanted to translate the expression as "Blood tells no lies," but I later discovered that "Blood will out" could convey a similar meaning.

I hope you will like it🤞

The silence of the night, heavy as a lead blanket, seemed to want to crush him. Ominis Gaunt sat in the darkness of his study, his fingers nervously stroking the ebony wand in front of him. In that touch, a man whose inner struggles kept him awake long after his son had fallen asleep sought comfort in vain.  

His eyes were open to the darkness he could not see, but his mind was haunted by a ghost of memory: his child.

Twelve years old.

Too young to understand everything.

Too young, and yet…

Through the familiar pulsations of his wand, he could perceive the delicate hands of his son, fragile yet disturbingly assured, caressing the yellowed pages of a grimoire on the dark arts. It was no ordinary book. The child had stolen it from Sebastian’s dusty library, a deliberate choice, too precise to be dismissed as mere happenstance. Each turn of the pages felt like a whisper of their family’s cursed legacy — a legacy Ominis had fought so hard to bury.

A cold blade twisted in his chest as the question, implacable and cruel, formed in his mind: was this simply curiosity? The fruit of a keen and insatiable intelligence, too mature for its age?

Or… Was it the first venomous stirrings of an inheritance that refused to die, seeping into his son’s veins like an ancestral and irreversible poison? 

He swallowed hard, his thoughts veering towards darker corners. There had been other fleeting moments, unsettling in their familiarity, where his son’s voice carried an authority that chilled him to the core. Too similar to the sharp commands of his father or the merciless judgements of Marvolo to ignore. In those moments, Ominis did not hear the innocence of a child. He heard the distorted echoes of spectres he had thought long buried. Even the most banal words seemed to bear the weight of a lineage clawing to reclaim its place.

Damn, Ominis was no longer certain of anything. Each moment spent near his son felt like a cruel wager, a precarious balance between the boy he knew and the shadow he dreaded. Ominis gritted his teeth.

Was it still possible to resist this fatal legacy? Or had he already lost the battle, despite all his struggles, prayers, and sacrifices? 

A hoarse sigh escaped his lips. He closed his eyes, but this only amplified the chaos in his head. The cruel laughter of the spectres of his past flayed his thoughts behind his closed eyelids.

Manigoldo Gaunt, or the brutal authority of a father who crushed his childhood.

Atropa Gaunt, embodying the poisonous charm of the deadly flower that gave her her name.

His brothers and sisters, led by Marvolo, cold and implacable, perfect instruments for perpetuating the abominations of their lineage.

Ominis had thought he was different. For years, he had clung to the fragile hope that his wife’s love and blood would be enough to shape a different future for their son. But now... now that hope seemed distant, as fragile as the lingering scent of a wilted flower. 

His breathing became jerky. The spiral of his thoughts accelerated, tearing him apart. His grip on the wand tightened, as if the polished ebony could anchor him against the storm within.

A creak.

The door.

The sound, discreet as it was, was enough to break the oppressive cycle of his mind. His muscles tensed instinctively —a reflex honed by years of fear— but the faint scent of wildflowers and freshly cut grass reached him first.

She was there.

Silent as ever, she slipped into the room, rounded his desk and settled astride his lap. Her arms went round him, a gesture without expectations or demands, betraying an affection that no words could express.

No promises.

No useless words.

Ominis lifted a trembling hand, his fingertips tracing the curve of her shoulder and down to her elbow, grounding himself in her presence. His head rested against her chest, and in the silence broken only by his breath, he could hear her heart beating.

Slow.

Regular.

A rhythm that whispered a truth he too often forgot: he was not alone.

His arms closed around her like a castaway clinging to a piece of wood. Her smell calmed his anxiety, but didn’t make it go away.

She couldn’t do it.

And she knew it.

They shared the same brutal lucidity: certain burdens cannot be lightened. They could only be carried together.

A furtive, gentle kiss touched his hair. The warmth that enveloped him contrasted with the coldness of his thoughts. But even in that fragile moment, the acidic threat of his father crept into his mind, shattering the precarious balance. His arms tightened around her, a dull fear gripping his throat.

“Blood will out.”

Masterlist

[wrestlezaynia]

The Silent Treatment.

"Hey, Kev." Sami greets Kevin, maintaining a respectful distance.

Kevin tries to ignore his heart skipping a beat, ignores the fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach, ignores the soft gentle tone Sami uses when he says his name. "I'm not talking to you." Kevin counters.

"That's okay, I didn't come here to talk." Sami replies softly as he inches toward Kevin, a gleam emerging in his warm honey eyes.

Warning: Must be 18+ to read under cut.

Kevin watches Sami intently, his heart pounding with anticipation. His breath hitching when Sami's lips brush tenderly against his own. Kevin eagerly returns the kiss, wrapping his arms around Sami's waist to guide him closer. Their tongues swirl hungrily in each other's mouths as Sami presses Kevin against the wall, a gasp escaping The Prizefighter as his back connects with the cold surface. "Sami." He breathes, clutching Sami's arm as he proceeds to kiss Kevin's neck.

"I thought you weren't talking to me?" Sami asks with a sly smirk, continuing his descent as he removes both he and Kevin's shirts. The feeling of their bare chests rubbing together sending a shiver up Sami's spine as he delicately brushes soft kisses on Kevin's stomach.

Kevin tilts his head back, relishing in Sami's hot mouth on his skin, the sensation giving him goosebumps. "Just keep going." He mutters.

Sami nods silently, he has no intention of stopping, hoping a good dicking would help calm Kevin down. He has been so moody lately. Sami reaches Kevin's happy trail and, slipping his fingers into the waistband, tugs off Kevin's shorts revealing his thick meaty cock. Sami can see the pre-cum glistening at the tip as he slowly licks it off.

Kevin shudders, hands slipping into Sami's soft ginger curls to urge him on. "C'est bon! Tu m'excites." He praises, stroking Sami's hair.

Sami can always tell he's doing a good job when Kevin breaks out the French. He swirls his tongue around the tip of Kevin's penis, granting a moan of approval from The Prizefighter who is now cupping the back of Sami's head while he sucks his throbbing cock. "Criss, Sami!" He curses, gripping Sami's tresses roughly as he starts to fuck his face, making Sami gag on his length but manages to relax his throat.

"I'm going to cum." Kevin warns, but Sami already knows, he can feel Kevin's swollen cock pulsating in his mouth as he bobs up and down Kevin's length vigorously, deep throating him until the heavenly sound of Kevin crying out in ecstasy echoes off the paper thin walls. It's the most beautiful sound Sami has ever heard. He swallows every last drop of Kevin's warm cum as it spurts down his throat, licking him clean before pulling Kevin into a steamy kiss so he can taste himself. "Get on the bed." Sami whispers seductively into Kevin's ear.

A shiver runs down Kevin's spine as he adheres to Sami's command, crawling onto the bed and spreading his legs giving Sami a nice view.

Sami bites his lip at the titillating sight before him: Kevin sprawled out on the bed waiting for Sami to fuck him. "Si beau." Sami murmurs, brushing a hand over his clothed erection before pulling his pants down to reveal his rock-hard cock. After sifting through the drawer for some lube, Sami joins Kevin on the bed. He applies a liberal amount to his finger and eases inside Kevin's tight hole. He pumps in and out at a steady pace, feeling the tightness begin to loosen before adding a second finger. "Sami...si vous plaît." Kevin pleads, pushing back against his fingers. "I need you." He adds breathlessly, pulling Sami on top as their lips collide in fiery passion.

Sami gasps into the kiss, holding Kevin close as he proceeds to enter, stretching Kevin open. His walls clenching around Sami's penis as he starts to move. Their eyes lock and the earth stands still, just like the first time and every other time that followed, hearts beating as one. "Je t'aime, Kevin." Sami whispers softly, holding his gaze.

"Je t'aime aussi." Kevin whispers back, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as he presses their foreheads together, meeting Sami's thrusts.

Their shared moans pierce the silence as they cum at the same time, shaking and drenched in sweat. "Are you going to behave yourself?" Sami asks, breathless, his crimson locks wet and clinging to his face.

Kevin scoffs, brushing the hair from Sami's eyes. "That depends, are you going to fuck me every time I misbehave?" He inquires, a gleam emerging in his blue eyes. "And you wonder why I act up all the time."

An amused chuckle emerges from Sami's lips as he cuddles up next to Kevin. "Just try not to cause too much trouble, okay?"

"For you, I'll try." Kevin replies, wrapping an arm around Sami's waist while he rests his head on Kevin's chest to listen to his heartbeat.

Sami smiles, kissing Kevin's heart tenderly. "That's my boy!"

Tagging: @loki69zowens, @wrestlingdespairings, @unintentionaloracle, @who-do-you-want-to-be, @fraxiomisfine, @himbos-hotline, @expert-texpert, @wrestlingprincess80, @instantreplaytime, @crxssjae, @heel-samizayn, @jeysbvck, @surdelcielo, @thesamoanqueen, @fantasyismyonlyrealescape, @caktusjuice-draws and @eleanor24. Thank you for reading, as always! 😊💖

[melodrangea]

MORE KILIK HCS PLEASEE😭!! I am in NEED.

when one does not want to write, one does it anyways and picks a favorite character!!

i'm not sure if you meant as a person or as a significant other so the voices are telling me both!!

(and again I'm a faker that hasn't read the manga so if I contradict something I apologize)

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

Kilik Rung Headcannons

As a person

-southern boy!!! nobody can convince me that Kilik isn't from Tennessee or Louisiana

-probably has a lot of fighting experience, always throwing himself into martial arts, jujitsu and even boxing!

-he has a commanding yet calming presence, making him impossible to ignore and a shoe in for being a meister

-if he wasn't a meister he would most likely be a police officer

-odd one but I feel like he doesn't like fruit, don't know why but do not go near this man with a fruit

-i love him and I'm sure he eats his veggies but with all the candy he consumes natural sugar just doesn't taste as good

-is the total opposite of only child syndrome! he definitely has older siblings

-also is a total family man, loves his mom, loves his grandmom, is always home for sunday dinners etc...

-doesn't have a favorite music genre, listens to a little bit of everything but prefers music with a more upbeat vibe. will go from Bon Jovi to Sia to the my little pony theme song, he does not care

-early riser!! sorry to night people but Kilik is up with the sun and in bed before 10 pm

-will not admit it to anyone but Kilik is the biggest pokemon fan you will ever meet. knows all of the different shows, regions, regional variants, gym leaders etc...

-ironically can't stand pokemon go since he let the twins play once and they almost walked into the middle of the street for a shiny lotad...

-speaking of twins i also believe that he legally adopted them when he turned 18 since they don't have parents ( i think lol )

-you best believe the first time they made him fathers day cards he cried

-will obvs let the twins decide if they want to keep being weapons or not. like if one day thunder says she wants to quit Kilik would be totally fine with it

-he is unfortunately a gym rat, you want to find this guy just look for the barbells, he doesn't work out for looks, more that he wants to better himself and become stronger

-is a canonic tired parent cause I said so

-listen he loves fire and thunder like his own children but mans is TIRED

(went on a lil rant there so onto romantic headcannons)

As a significant other

-bro is seriously SLEPT ON

-honestly one of the best partners for people of all different personalities

-if you're more shy and introverted he is very encouraging and ngl appreciates the peace and quiet

-if you're loud and rowdy so is he!

-if you wanna be a bit of both even better for the guy!

-also does not have much of a preference appearance wise

-if you want to date Kilik Rung you do have to prepare to be around the twins a lot

-he will never ask or try to shove you into a parenting role with them but the twins are just always around unless Kim and Jackie or Harvard are watching them (Ox cannot be trusted to nurture children...)

-he can cook a little bit, its nothing like mama's sunday dinner but he can get by

-he is very reliable, you need help with homework? he'll try his best or find someone else to help you. you need help picking out an outfit? not quite his thing but will give you an honest opinion (with lots an lots of compliments)

-it's hard to have a bad day with Kilik around, he's just so calming and uplifting that it's hard to feel bad for yourself around him! but on the offchance of a rough day he will do whatever you need to make you feel better. he can go on for hours about how he finds you absolutely perfect or he could sit and listen to you rant with a hot beverage

-cuddlebug!!!! you can't escape him! he has a spidey sense for you being in a 200 foot radius! you're always either holding hands or he has his arm on you somehow

-will also not let you carry anything! he knows you can carry your bag but why should you when he's right there??

-you and Kilik would be one of those couples that genuinely seems to always just coexist in perfect harmony

-you're not apart that often because he doesn't do much that would make you want to be apart anyways

-one of Kilik's flaws is unfortunately his adherence to logic, to him there is nothing that can't be solved, there isn't any emotion or insecurity that doesn't have a reason

-so he might accidently mansplain your feelings to you a bit (he's too used to gentle parenting I'm afraid)

-would so be a sucker for matching anything (though i think he'd prefer rings or earrings)

-most dates would either be things like hiking or study dates! with the occasional spontaneous dance class ;)

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

and that's all folks!

god i love Kilik sm

[fanfictionstuff]

Amaimon x Student Reader 9

*for the Bon x reader x Amaimon request. I love the idea, and I'm trying to write it, but then I think Amaimon might just get annoyed and off Bon. Also it'd have to end with Amaimon because- I'm obsessed with him lmao*

I might've written the last paragraph first, then wrote the rest to fill in until I got there smh. I'm also writing chapter 3 for Amaimon x Exorcist. This chapter is not smut-heavy, but there is a tad bit.

You fidget awkwardly while sitting across from Amaimon in the restaurant. Upon your arrival, the owner greets you warmly and excitedly, informing you that Sir Faust has reserved your table. It’s a stunning restaurant, one you’d usually only visit for special occasions due to the menu prices. Even though the owner reassures you that everything is already covered and encourages you to order whatever you desire, you can’t help but gravitate toward the least expensive items. While all the options are pricey, there is a significant cost difference among some dishes.

As the waitress approaches, she glances over both you and Amaimon. When her gaze settles on you, a wave of embarrassment washes over you, making you want to shrink down. You can’t shake the feeling that her eyes are fixated on a particular spot on your neck. Just before you left the cinema, Amaimon had bitten you. Hard. Before leaving the theater, you checked it in the bathroom; the wound was still open and bleeding freely. The bleeding has stopped, but you know that bruising is beginning to appear.

During dinner, you sit awkwardly, unsure what to do or say. Amaimon doesn’t care to start a conversation, finding just watching you squirm entertaining enough. 

After dinner, Amaimon takes you home. “Kiss me.” He orders, pinning you between himself and the door. Nervously, you nod and softly press your lips against him. Izumo was correct. Amaimon doesn’t hesitate to slide his hand up your thigh, slipping beneath your dress. Amaimon's lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your neck as he whispers, his voice low and commanding, "You're my pet." His grip on you tightens, possessive. His lips press against the bruising skin on your neck. “This better not be covered Monday,” he warns before sucking hard and making sure there will be a visible mark for at least a few days.

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

Shiemi stares at you, her jaw dropped, as you recount what happened on the date. It’s the day after, and you’ve invited Shiemi to your apartment since Izumo and Paku are unavailable today. Shyly, you tug at the scarf covering the mark he left on your skin. “I don’t know what to do. It’s so noticeable. On Monday at school, not only will our group tease me, but everyone else will be staring if I don’t cover it! Oh God, the teachers! I hadn’t thought about them yet; they’ll definitely tell my parents.” You know your mom and dad would move you out of Japan if they discovered you had any kind of relationship with Amaimon. “What do I do?!” Poor, sweet Shiemi looks completely lost and has no idea what to suggest. “Maybe you should just wear a scarf tomorrow anyway? You wore one all last week, so it won’t seem like you’re trying to hide it, right?”  

“R-right. Right. Yes, you’re right. I’ll just tell Amaimon I forgot, and yeah- that’ll work.” You nod confidently. 

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

Everything is fine. You go to class, and weirdly, Amaimon doesn’t mention it. You think at first maybe he had also forgotten, or he’s gotten used to seeing you in a scarf, so it went over his head. 

Everything is working out; it’s fine. 

Perfect. 

Except it’s not perfect because Amaimon is pissed. 

You can’t tell because of the stoic expression. If you could read his mind, you would’ve realized how angry he was and probably thrown the scarf in the trash to appease him. But alas, you’re not a mind reader. 

He doesn’t show it until lunchtime. 

Amaimon watches with a snarl. Not only are you covering proof that you belong to him, but you’re also getting too close to Rin Okumura, the one human he despises more than the rest. His first instinct is to kill Rin, but Mephisto has already warned him that if he kills anyone, he’ll end up locked away again. His eyes scan your face; you’re too happy. Why are you so happy with Okumura? How long will he be separated from his pet if he's imprisoned again? He observes Bon throwing an arm over your shoulder, saying something that makes your face turn red while you bashfully look away.  His thoughts of torture and murder instantly vanish when you make eye contact with him. 

You watch as Amaimon’s expression turns from rage to eerily blank. Oh fuck, oh fuck, he’s angry at me. Where is Shiemi when I need her? If Shiemi were here, you’d cling to her, needing something to ground you, hell, even Izumo. But the girls aren’t here, so you’re sitting stiffly between Rin and Bon. 

Amaimon approaches you silently, his eyes locked on yours. “Why are you wearing that?” I don’t like when my pets disobey. His words ring through your mind. 

“It’s cold. I wasn’t trying to hide it.” As you undo the scarf, you lie through your teeth, tossing it towards the deadly grumpy demon. Rin is to your right, where the mark is. Shima is also to your right, and thankfully, he reacts quickly, harshly shoving his elbow into Rin’s ribs to keep the half-demon quiet. “You didn’t say anything this morning, and I forgot.” Another lie. You can’t forget it when a tinge of pain shoots through you if you move a certain way. You just don’t want someone to tell your parents. 

“Kiss me.” 

Your mind goes blank, and you can barely hear your friends’ dramatic reaction to Amaimon’s order. Just like before, you stare in disbelief, like maybe you might have misheard him. But your face flushes crimson as you realize you heard him correctly. You’re at school, and this goes against the rules. You could get suspended. He removes the lollipop from his mouth and gazes at you expectantly.

Peach. It’s the first flavor you experience after hesitantly pressing your lips against Amaimon’s. He quickly deepens the kiss, running his tongue along yours. The artificial scent and taste of peach candy flood your senses, blended with a hint of the earthy forest scent that always clings to Amaimon.

As you pull away, gasping for air, Amaimon smirks at you, pleased. You're left feeling both embarrassed and aroused, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

Your friends are still watching, their expressions a mix of shock and concern. Rin looks like he wants to say something, but Shima's arm is still wrapped tightly around him, holding him back. Bon seems to be trying to process what just happened. 

“Amaimon, we’re at school, " you whisper as he leans in again. He pulls back slightly, running his fingers lightly down your cheek. "You're my pet," he growls. “And I will claim you whenever and wherever I please. Is that a problem?” 

You quickly shake your head. “No. No problem at all.” 

Shima releases Rin while scratching the back of his head. “She’s melting in his arms.” 

Rin growls, stepping forward. “What the hell is that?” He points at your neck while snatching the scarf from Amaimon. “You idiot. She can’t walk around with that; she’ll get in trouble with the school. She could be expelled!” 

“It’s Big Brother’s school.”

“So? You said he told you to follow the rules, right?” Rin points at the bite/hickey. “That is against the rules!” He shoves the scarf back into your hands. “And so is kissing!”  Rin snaps, but Shima steps in between them, his hands raised placatingly. “Guys, let’s calm down; like you said, we’re at school.” He attempts to help. 

Bon speaks up for the first time since Amaimon’s arrival. “What the hell is that? Did he force you?”

Your eyes widen at the thought, and you shake your head quickly. “No! Of course not.”

“Please, we all know it was her choice,” Shima interjects with a smirk.

“Yeah, right,” Rin scoffs.

Amaimon glares at Rin, his voice low and dangerous. “Stay away from her.”

Rin bristles at the threat, “What do you mean to stay away from her?  She’s been friends with us for months. She’s known you for a week. Who the hell do you think you are to her?” 

Amaimon stares blankly, and for a moment, Rin thinks maybe he won, maybe Amaimon will back off and leave them, and ______ alone finally. But then the demon king smirks, using Rin’s words from the other day. “I’m long term- marriage, kids, and all that.” 

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

Shiemi, Izumo, and Paku stare at you with wide eyes as you share what they had missed earlier in the day. Izumo recovers first; she stares at you long and hard, looking for something in your expression. “You do realize he wasn’t serious, right?” 

“Of course.” 

Izumo sighs. “But?” 

Slowly, you shake your head. “No, no buts. I know he wasn’t serious. Of course, I know he wasn’t serious.” 

She sighs again. “But?” 

“I said no buts.” 

“_____.” 

“I know he wasn’t serious…but hearing him say it- I just want it more now, and it’s so stupid. I know it’s stupid. I’ll be lucky if this lasts longer than a month, won’t I?” 

The three girls just give you looks of pity. 

Izumo glares at the floor. “Okumura needs to learn to shut up. None of us are happy about it. I understand how he feels:” Her fists clench in her lap, “but you’re so stupidly blinded by lust and love. He just needs to sit back and shut up until it plays out.” 

Rin doesn’t shut up; it’s almost as if he actively seeks out you and Amaimon whenever you’re together. You can tell Rin is nearby when Amaimon unexpectedly pulls you in for kisses. It’s not just to annoy Rin, though; Amaimon genuinely seems to relish having his hands or lips on you whenever he gets the chance.

Amaimon has specific preferences; he likes to make you take the initiative. He rarely kisses you first unless Rin is present. Though there have been multiple times when Rin was present, he’d order you to kiss him.

“I’m surprised you don’t have another date with Amaimon tonight,” Rin grumbles, flipping some meat on the grill. Amaimon has been intersecting you and your friends after school all week. You think he might only be asking and taking you on all these dates to piss Rin off. The half-demon is almost always there when Amaimon cuts in. 

You shrug, “You can’t complain about him. You’re the one who caused him to have an interest in me. Thanks, by the way.” You grin, flipping the meat, Rin hadn’t gotten to yet. 

“No!” 

“You told him I liked him, so it’s your fault that Amaimon decided to take an interest in me.” But that’s not entirely accurate; Amaimon had already mentioned you intrigued him for a different reason, although he’s yet to reveal what it is. You suspect it has something to do with what he overheard the first night you met him. He still claims he doesn’t remember.

Bon glares at Rin. “Can we go one night without talking about him? Why did you even have to bring him up?” 

You glance at your phone as it lights up with a notification. 

Perfection: Come here. 

“Oh, I have to go.” You stand, tossing some cash on the table. Shiemi grabs onto your arm. “______, you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’m not that hungry.” 

Amaimon stares down at his pet with a stoic expression. He enjoys getting under Rin’s skin, sharing details about the dates, kisses, and everything else with him, knowing it will anger the son of Satan. He kisses you in front of him, unabashedly moving his hand up your skirt when he knows Rin is watching. He knows this will infuriate Rin much more than all the previous incidents. But seeing you like this—shy, nervous, and excited—is a sight that makes him feel possessive. Rin doesn’t deserve to know just how amazing you are, and Amaimon will ensure that no other man does either. He tangles his hand in your hair. “Swallow, pet.” He demands, shoving your head lower on his cock. 

[elysiadjarin]

Sword and Shield 13

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Part 12: Mission

Warnings: Mentions of severe injuries.

Note: So umm, I am once again sorry for dropping off into nothingness. Unemployment in this economy is a different type of depressing. Anyway, I hope this chapter is okay and I’ll try my best once again to upload what I have of this fic in a more timely manner.

13: The Bad Batch

"See, the blast clipped the edge of this formation, which is why it crumbled the way it did. The gravity there slants a few degrees thanks to the axis, so it fell in that direction instead of the other."

You nodded, walking next to Tech as you listened and watched the footage on the datapad he held out for you to see. Both of you had been assessing a mission you'd had before Yalbec Prime, and had gotten caught up in it when you'd finally landed at the rendezvous point.

"Which means that I'll need to take that into account next time so that I don't inadvertently cause extra damage or create a danger for anyone else..." You sighed. "Not to mention, especially with Wrecker's gloves."

"Sergeant, good to see you again," a familiar voice said.

"You too, sir," Hunter greeted calmly.

Rex turned to General Skywalker. "This is Hunter," he introduced.

Hunter nodded at the General, then turned back to Rex. "Sorry we're late, Commander," he apologized gravely. "We were putting down an insurrection on Yalbec Prime when your comm came in. Had a few unforeseen... complications."

You stifled a giggle, biting your lip as you stared down at your feet. That was one way to put it.

"Ever fought a male Yalbec?"

General Skywalker blinked. "Um, no. Can't say I have."

"You're lucky," Hunter opined tiredly. "Only way to kill 'em is with one of these."

You stared up at the sky, desperately trying to keep your projected laughter at the bare minimum. You knew General Skywalker would pick up on it.

"That's right," Tech piped up. "Wrecker here cut off the Queen's stinger while she was still alive."

By mistake, you mentally groaned. 

"That's why all those Yalbec males tried to eat us," Wrecker said sagely, nodding.

"Uh, technically, they were trying to mate with us," Tech corrected as you feared, adjusting his glasses. "And, for your information, the stinger of a Yalbec Queen is a delicacy on some planets," he added.

At this point, you were about to start having a meltdown in front of everyone from holding in your hysterics.

Hunter closed his eyes in resignation, knowing that first impressions would never really get better. "They call him Tech," he said resignedly.

"Yeah, he can fill your head with useless info for hours."

Hunter turned to Cross. "Crosshair, on the other hand, he's not much of a conversationalist; but when you have to hit a precise target from ten klicks, he's your man."

You started to slightly shuffle over towards Captain Rex, needing to scrape yourself together. And Rex always was a welcome beacon of stability that you admittedly tended to abuse whenever you got the chance.

"Ha! Yeah, but he can't punch things apart!" Wrecker slammed his fists together.

"That's Wrecker, he's the heavyweight and... explosives handler." Hunter's eyebrow twitched.

You made it behind Rex, taking in deep breaths and calming yourself.

"A pleasure," General Skywalker said with a nod to the others. Then he cleared his throat. "And uh— is there someone else who would like to add something?"

You froze, then peered around Rex with wide eyes, clinging to his arm. "Hi General," you squeaked, giving him a sheepish smile.

He chuckled, turning to you. "It's good to see you again, Shiv. I've heard from Rex that you've done very well with the Bad Batch."

You cracked. Your face crumpled, and you had to plonk your head onto Rex's arm and shake with silent, wheezing laughter. And despite yourself, you knew that your thoughts would be projecting out towards General Skywalker in your attempt to keep it away from your Bonds.

Done well, I— Maker, Commander, I'm so sorry— he said I did well—

"Yes sir," you finally gasped out, lifting your head and wiping away your tears. "My integration has been a... success," you choked out.

Hunter choked on his own breath, turning his face away for a second.

Rex turned his head to you, raising his eyebrow, and you quickly shook your head.

"It's fine, Commander!" you said, probably too quickly. "I just— this last mission was really..." You bit your lip, "hard."

Rex just looked resigned. "I don't want to know," he said tiredly. "Fives has been enough to deal with since you left."

You ducked your head. "Sorry, Commander. Should I talk to him?" you asked meekly.

"If you can talk some sense into him, I'll thank you, Shiv," he sighed.

"So, Commander, what kind of 'suicide mission' do you have for us this time?" Hunter tried to recover the conversation.

"Let's get going, we'll brief you on the way," General Skywalker said, turning. "Shiv, if I could talk to you."

You started to head over to him when Hunter grabbed your hand, giving the General's back a questioning glance. You blinked, then tapped at the Bond.

What does he want?

"Oh!" You shook your head at him. It's okay, he was my former General when I was with the 501st, he probably just wants to ask me some questions. He's been very kind to me. You reassured.

His brow eased, and he nodded and let go of your hand.

You quickly scurried after the General, Rex following close behind. They were already halfway up the ramp of the gunship. The General turned to you, arms crossed once he was on board “First things first, business," he said crisply. "Rex tells me that he has a theory that you corroborated."

You swallowed thickly. "Um— well, only sort of," you explained, giving Rex a betrayed glance that he pointedly avoided. "I was looking into the recent losses on Anaxes when I began to notice a pattern and managed to trace it back to what I knew about Commander Rex from working with him so closely. I commed to ask him about the algorithm I guessed that he had, but I'd never actually heard anything about it. It was just a guess. He confirmed that it existed, and that's all I really said. I knew that he wouldn't be the leak, and Fives can't be either. He's... smart, but— well, not... that smart," you winced, mentally apologizing to your Vod.

General Skywalker snorted. "I won't deny that." He nodded. "So that makes sense. But Rex says that the only other one who knew about it was Echo. Who, apparently, might still be alive, according to him."

You looked down at your feet. "Commander Rex knows what happened during that Battle, General," you said, voice thin. "I... I tried to shield him, but... he basically ordered me back. I—I didn't have a choice at the time because he forcefully Dissolved the Transfer and practically threw me out." You took in a shaky breath. "It's true that we never received a solid confirmation of his death, but... I just— I didn't really..."

He sighed. "Understood, Shiv. It's a natural conclusion. I'm still not convinced about Rex's theory, and technically the Council hasn't sanctioned me on this mission. But again." He shrugged almost flippantly. "If there's a chance, this could be a breakthrough."

You nodded. "Of course, General." You hesitated, then swallowed and glanced over at Rex. "Will you—should I— should—"

General Skywalker chuckled. "No, Shiv, I don't expect you to make yourself available to me as a weapon. Thank you for the consideration, though."

You nodded with a sheepish smile. "Yes, sir."

He relaxed a little, giving you a fond smile. "It's good to see you doing well, Shiv. Commander Rex has kept me updated on your integration with Clone Force 99. It seems like you've found a good place here."

You ducked your head, scuffing your foot against the floor. "Thank you, General. I... I'm honored that you remember me."

He snorted. "Your story is hard to forget, Shiv. Besides, you were a part of the 501st for a while."

You nodded, smiling.

Just then, another trooper walked into the room. He saluted crisply. "Here, General Skywalker."

A little startled, you skittered behind Rex again, grabbing his hand. It had always been a way to comfort yourself, holding onto his steady presence. It was also habit, you admitted, to be ready to Transfer at a moment's notice. Especially from the early days when you called him your Master.

"There you are, Cody." General Skywalker nodded, then turned to the holoscreen that Rex had pulled up. The ship shuddered as it started to take off.

Cody nodded to Rex and Hunter, pulling his helmet off to tuck it under his arm.

"Here's the mission." General Skywalker pointed at the screen. "Our target is this Cyber Center. It's the 'brains' of the entire Separatist campaign here on Anaxes."

"I could demolish that with one hand! Yeah!" Wrecker roared, clearly excited to be on the mission.

Also partially your fault, you mentally sighed. He'd been so excited to test out the gloves.

"This isn't a demo job, Wrecker," Hunter chided. "It's strictly a retrieval operation."

"Well, there is an added element," Rex spoke up, not commenting on your presence just behind him. He'd gotten used to it, you knew. "We do know something about the leader."

"Admiral Trench?" Cody frowned.

"He's the one who had Shiv before the 501st rescued her," Rex said bluntly.

You shuffled closer to him almost unconsciously, gnawing at your lower lip.

"And we will take that into consideration," General Skywalker agreed, a hint of grim satisfaction in his voice. "Still, it gives us a slight edge in judging his character and what he might do."

"So our plan is essentially to go in, get as much information as possible, then regroup to figure out what we have," Hunter summarized.

"That's the plan." The General nodded. "I know that you're a special operations group, so all I ask is that you do what you do best."

The ship abruptly lurched and shuddered, and Tech's voice came over the comms. "Incoming fire!" Another groaning stagger from the ship. "We're going down!"

Everyone scattered to find a good place to strap in and hang on.

"Shiv," Hunter barked, reaching out his hand.

You instantly touched his fingertips and Transferred, Shifting into a vibroshiv that he sheathed. He strapped into a chair, buckling in next to Crosshair.

"We always get shot down when we travel with regs," Cross grumbled, lip curling.

Hunter didn't answer. Everyone knew Crosshair's distaste for regs, though no one was entirely sure why. Still.

The ship shuddered one more time before beginning to clearly spiral down. You materialized over Hunter's shoulder, glancing around the ship to make sure that everyone had found something to hold onto. To your horror, you saw Cody staggering, taken completely off guard and unable to grab onto anything, constantly tossed around. You whipped your head to Hunter. Throw me!

Hunter didn't even question you, whipping your vibroshiv out and unerringly throwing you in Cody's direction. You guided the vibroshiv towards the other Commander, Shifting into a shield.

Cody's hand instinctively grabbed onto you as you smacked against his shoulder, and you took enough control to significantly increase the weight on the shield. Using every scrap of energy you could muster, you wrapped the shield completely around his body and dragged him down to the floor, bolstering the strength of the energy shield. Cody grunted as he tucked and rolled once he hit the floor, bracing himself.

"Everyone evacuate immediately!" Tech's voice barked over the comms.

Everyone moved. All you had the time to do was move toward the open door before the ship completely tilted, spilling everyone out. For a moment, all you could feel was the sensation of everything spinning uncontrollably.

You slammed against something, the breath instantly knocked out of you from how hard the shield bounced off of the ground. A second later, you let out a muffled cry over the Bond as the entire ship crashed onto the ground, falling over right onto your shield. You managed to hold up, but you barely managed to keep the Transfer as you felt the shockwaves run through you.

Cody let out a groan, shaking his head as he took stock. He hissed out a curse as soon as he realized what had happened.

"They're trapped!" Hunter's voice barked from somewhere nearby. "Shiv can't keep that up for much longer."

"We have to do something—"

"Whoa, whoa, easy, Captain. Wrecker can do this," Hunter said.

You were close to wheezing at that point, barely holding the shield together.

"This is ridiculous! He's going to need help getting them out of there—"

"He's gonna get the gunship out of there, not Cody," Hunter soothed.

The ship groaned, starting to creak.

"General, sir—"

"I'll get them out once Wrecker lifts it enough," General Skywalker agreed.

You felt yourself being slowly lifted by an invisible force, moving a few centimeters above the ground and out from under the wrecked gunship. As soon as you heard the gunship thud back down against the ground and felt yourself hit the dirt, you lost the Transfer, Dissolving.

You collapsed against the ground, letting out a weak cry of pain. Wet, ragged coughs wracked your body, and you felt your lips splatter with something thick and warm. Instantly, you knew that you'd once again punctured a lung. Taking stock, you managed to ascertain the damage: two cracked ribs, one completely broken rib which was responsible for the lung, a shattered leg, and—

The moment someone touched your back, you let out a choked scream. The hand whipped away, and you gasped shallowly as your eyes rolled. You'd somehow managed to crack one of your vertebrae almost clean in half, probably when the ship had fallen on top of you.

"Shiv—"

But you ground your teeth together as you reached inside yourself for the energy you'd been stockpiling. This was no time for being weak. If you could just push through the pain, you could move on. You could do this.

"She has internal damage. She needs help fast," General Skywalker said grimly. "Shiv."

"But we don't—"

You forced yourself to move. Pushing your arm up, you shoved your palm against the ground. With a whimper, you poured energy into your snapped disc, fusing it together. You could feel a sheen of sweat from the heat form on your back, and you sucked in through your teeth as you squeezed your eyes shut and jacked your body up forcefully.

"She's going to hurt herself more!"

"No. Wait." It was Tech that spoke from somewhere ahead of you. "Hunter, we need to lend her energy."

A pause. "Right. Bad Batch, focus," Hunter barked.

You hissed as you felt the Bonds light up one by one, starting to pour energy into you. "Ribs," you gasped out.

The energy focused, and you made it up on your good knee as the cracked ribs started to mend. You held one hand up to your stomach, feeling the sweat bead on your face as you concentrated on trying not to scream out loud in rending pain as your broken rib moved, snapping back into place. You almost doubled back over when you felt the wet pop in your chest as your lung patched itself back out.

Ruthlessly shoving away the dizziness, you slowly, painfully pushed yourself up. "Leg," you rasped, hands starting to shake. You knew your leg would need a moment of help on this one. It was twisted gruesomely in an awkward position from the shattered bone. Gulping, you reached down and braced yourself.

"Wait—"

Before you had time to think too much about it, you grabbed your calf with one hand, your knee with the other, and savagely twisted. The crunch sounded almost like someone had stepped on broken glass, bone grating even as it started to fuse back together, torn muscle tissue regenerating at a dizzying rate as your teammates poured concentrated energy into you.

You staggered back up to your feet, gasping for breath as you reached up and dragged the back of your hand against your bloodied chin. Pressing your hand against your chest, you winced.

"Shiv." Rex instantly had a hand on your arm, eyebrows furrowed.

You swallowed thickly, shuddering. "I'm fine, Commander," you coughed, shaking your head. "It's- it's fixed."

"But—"

"We don't have time," you rasped, shaking yourself off. You looked toward Hunter.

"Wrecker," Hunter said crisply. "Take Shiv."

Wrecker instantly bounded forward and scooped you up. "Gotcha, Shiv." He gave you an encouraging grin, and you nodded back with a weak smile before Transferring. You decided to give him an IWS for the time being, wanting to make sure you were stabilized before trying to focus on the gloves.

The Bonds were still focused on you, giving you healing energy.

"She's right," General Skywalker said grimly. "That blast gave away our position."

"I thought getting shot down gave away our position," Cross sniped, lip curling.

"Everyone find cover," Commander Rex ordered. "We'll hold this position and let them come to us."

Shiv, report. Hunter ordered, grim.

You took stock. Healed, just shaken. You quickly answered.

"I don't think so, Captain," Hunter said, shaking his head at Rex. "That's not our style. We prefer going to them." Turning back to the team, he jerked his head at the approaching horde of droids. "Bad Batch! Plan 82, Shockwave!"

"Let's get to work," Crosshair said, hefting his rifle and heading off to a good vantage point.

"Blast them!" Wrecker cheered, leaping forward. He practically barreled toward a clump of droids marching forward in formation, whooping as he brandished you.

You basically held on for dear life, scrabbling to focus, get your head fully in the fight. Shaking yourself, you let Wrecker let off a few shots before tapping at your Bond.

Is there something else you'd like? You asked softly, smiling faintly despite the dregs of pain that still echoed through you.

Wrecker straight up paused, lifting up the IWS and letting out a deafening roar of laughter. "Let me at it!" He hollered.

You rolled your eyes indulgently and Shifted, giving him the battle gloves. At that point, Wrecker was so enraged at your injuries and simultaneously excited about the gloves that all you had to do was make sure he wasn't getting targeted by any long-range weapons as he tore through an entire battalion of droids.

"Spider droids," Hunter called out a warning. "Fan out!"

Crosshair kept picking off the spider droids as they rolled up, while Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker scattered in order to leave wide spaces for Cross to have a clear shot. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that General Skywalker had joined the fray as well, a flash of blue whirling in the haze. Wrecker kept kicking up more dirt and dust as he all but barreled through the oncoming lines of droids, hardly slowed.

It only took another few moments before the skirmish was almost over. You carefully added one more extra burst of energy to the gloves, letting Wrecker jump off of a nearby rock and slam his fists into the ground, sending a shockwave through the surrounding droids and shorting them out as they all collapsed to the ground.

All the energy you’d poured into healing had sapped your strength, but you knew that you’d have enough as long as you could keep Transference. Sucking in a breath, you tapped at the Bonds.

Wrecker nodded and turned, throwing you clear across the field. You Transferred as soon as Cross caught your rifle form, curling up in the back of his mind and beginning to gather as much energy as you could. Cross grunted, then stood and slung his other rifle across his back, holding you against his shoulder.

“Any more? Come on!” Wrecker hefted the last droid he’d punched out, disappointed at not being able to expend more of his energy.

Rex walked up. “That was some show you put on just now,” he approved.

Hunter turned with a nod. “Just doing our job, Captain.”

Wrecker bounded up to Cross, laughing. “Hey look, Crosshair, this little clanker likes you,” he teased, bobbing the droid head in front of Cross.

Cross scoffed. “Grow up, Wrecker.”

You hummed softly in the back of Crosshair’s mind, letting the remnants of pain slowly but surely fade. You knew you’d be aching from the aftereffects of the rapid and desperate healing, but it was a price you considered worth paying. After all, you were built to heal like this... clones, not so much.

“We should move out before reinforcements arrive. Our position has been compromised,” Hunter said, glancing around.

General Skywalker nodded. “Yes, let’s move.”

Cody walked up to Crosshair. “Can I speak with Shiv?”

Cross grunted, shrugging his shoulder.

You let your astral form shimmer into view, clipping through Crosshair’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about Cross, Commander Cody,” You said quietly, giving him a reproachful pulse across the Bond. “He just... doesn’t talk much.” Though it wouldn’t kill him to be polite, you thought.

“That’s fine, Shiv. I wanted to thank you for shielding me. You took some major damage covering me. I owe you,” Cody said, shaking his head.

You blinked, a little startled, and found yourself drifting behind Crosshair’s shoulder again as though to find shelter. “Oh... you’re— you’re welcome, Commander,” you said uncertainly. “It’s— it’s my job.”

Cody frowned but nodded. “Still, thank you.” With a nod, he walked back to General Skywalker and Captain Rex.

Cross fell into step by Tech and Hunter. You don’t need to apologize for me. I don’t need to talk with Regs.

You sighed, your astral form disappearing. And you don’t have to like them, but can’t we at least be polite? We’re working for the same goal, aren’t we?

We don’t have time for this conversation, Hunter broke in sharply. Focus on the mission.

Yes, Sergeant. You subsided, knowing he was right.

Cross grumbled but didn’t say anything more for the time being.

Hunter led the way, tracking the electromagnetic waves across the planet surface. General Skywalker and Rex talked quietly, but otherwise for the moment trusted Hunter’s senses.

You spent the time trying to muster as much energy as you could as well as making sure you were properly healed and didn’t overlook something in your hurry. You’d learned the hard way that thinking you’d done something right the first time, especially with healing, could lead to dire consequences if you didn’t double check. Luckily, it seemed this time that the extra help you’d gotten from your Wielders had successfully patched you up.

By the time Hunter had led the group to an outpost, you felt a bit more ready to face whatever would come next. Cross hadn’t seemed to hold a grudge against you, letting you stay Transferred to him.

“Not our primary target,” Hunter noted quietly from where everyone hunched behind an outcrop. “It’s an outpost. Should we take it?”

“Easier than going around,” General Skywalker noted.

“All right, what are your orders? We pick them off from the tree line one by one?”

“Actually,” General Skywalker said slowly, “I was thinking we’d take a page from your book.” His eyes narrowed as he stared down at the outpost. “Rush them head on.”

Hunter chuckled. “I like your style.” He turned to the others. “Let’s go. Wrecker, cover our backs. Shiv, go with Tech this time.”

Cross flipped the rifle over, and you Shifted midair so that by the time you landed in Tech’s hand and Transferred, he was already holding a blaster. You split into two, your mind shifting gears and already plunging into Tech’s never-ending stream of consciousness.

Everyone started picking off droids, heading straight toward the main doors. You were content to simply focus on keeping your firing steady and malleable to whatever Tech might ask of you. Of all the Bad Batch, he was the one most versatile in what he would ask you to Shift into. Most of the time, you’d found that it was a pleasant workout to keep up with his demands, even trying out new things.

“Clones! Get them!” A droid deadpanned, instantly getting shot down.

General Skywalker led the way into the main elevator shaft down the hallway, carving a path as everyone else watched each other’s backs. Wrecker fired a few final blasts at the rear before letting the doors close behind him.

“Everyone in a circle,” General Skywalker warned, poised with his lightsaber.

As soon as the platform lifted into the main control tower, droids turned to look.

“Hey! You’re not authorized—“

Everyone flew into a wordless flurry of action, dispatching droids without a hitch. The clankers may have been dumb, but their obvious advantage had always been sheer number.

“Is it over already?” Wrecker asked, spinning around. “Aw, man!”

“Not bad, for a Reg,” Hunter said, nodding to Cody.

“All right, there it is,” Commander Rex said, pointing down out the transparisteel. “The Cyber Center.”

Tech had holstered you, wordlessly asking you for a second pair of eyes as he accessed the computer systems. You hovered over his shoulder, head tilted.

“Looks like the Cyber Center itself has minimal guards, about thirty droids,” he started, scrolling through the database. “Oh— Wait, wait,” he said quickly, tapping away as a new screen popped up. “I’ve got a massive signal coming in. A whole platoon of droids is headed this way,” he informed tightly.

“Someone’s noticed our handiwork back at the crash site,” Hunter concluded darkly, frowning.

“Yeah.” Commander Rex turned to Tech, who had connected his own receiver to the computers. “Make sure you keep an eye on those incoming Separatist forces. I want to know when they reach this outpost,” he said grimly.

“You got it, Captain,” Tech affirmed, looking up.

“We’ve gotta move swiftly,” General Skywalker said, turning.

“We’ll grab some speeder bikes and flank them from the back,” Hunter said, jerking his head toward the transparisteel. On the ground, a few bikes lined up, patiently waiting.

General Skywalker nodded. “Let’s go.”

Once everyone had grabbed a bike, they sped off toward the main base. You stayed quiet, content to linger in the background and simply keep an extra eye out for other distractions that might fly unnoticed as the others focused on the bigger picture. Missions like this usually always went quickly, and you’d learned with the 501st that staying open to commands and keeping an eye out on the easily-missed, smaller things was a place that you fit in well.

Tech crouched in his spot as everyone moved into position, getting rid of a few droids in the way.

“Is everyone in position?” The comm crackled.

“Affirmative,” Crosshair’s voice sounded.

“Affirmative,” Hunter chimed in.

“Cap, you wanted to know when those Separatist forces breached the outpost,” Tech said into the comm, eyeing his device. “Well, they’re getting there just about now,” he warned.

A droid near the front door flicked on a comm, the blue lighting up the air. Tech waited until it had been cleared before sprinting to the door, instantly peering at the security pad.

“Hmm. This is a delicate operation,” he murmured.

Wrecker abruptly slammed into the heavy blast doors. “Boom! Ha! You take too long,” he said, impatience flooding across the Bonds.

Hunter shrugged and the led the way in, resigned. Tech unholstered you again, though he still kept his splicer in one hand as he followed Hunter down the hall. He ducked into an alcove and spliced into a security pad, cracking it open quickly.

“We’re in!”

Shiv.

You Transferred to Hunter instantly, Shifting into a vibroshiv at his mental request.

Someone tossed a stun grenade into the room, and everyone waited for it to go off before bursting in, clearing the room out. Hunter used you to quickly dispatch the last two, then turned and nodded.

“Tech, get to work on these computers. We’ll go get the Regs,” he said, striding back out toward the main doors. The blast doors slid open to reveal a platoon of droids trying to hold off Cross, Rex, Cody, and the General. It didn’t take long to demolish them.

“What took you so long, Wrecker?” The General chuckled, disengaging his saber.

“Hey, this is a ‘delicate operation,’” Wrecker returned with a cheerful shrug, taking it in stride. Then he pushed forward as reinforcements arrived. “Better get in there, Cap.” He hefted his blaster.

“Captain, here.” Hunter turned, flipping you hilt-first toward him. “Take Shiv to Tech, she might be able to help this go faster.”

Rex hesitated, then grasped the handle. “Permission to Transfer.”

“Transfer Granted,” you answered, Transferring to him for the first in a long while. He was a bit rusty, you admitted a bit amusedly to yourself as soon as you settled into the Bond. The remnants of the Bond you’d had for a while were still there to build back on, but his thoughts were blasting everywhere as he tried to rein them in.

Don’t worry, Commander, you tried to soothe him. You can just hand me over to Tech.

He nodded, turning to sprint into the base and down the hallways. He rushed into the room where Tech stood by the holodeck, waiting.

“Okay, I’m in,” Tech said, turning to Captain Rex. “What am I looking for?”

The Captain reached into his belt and pulled out a chip, handing it over. “Here’s the algorithm. And here’s Shiv,” he added, flipping you toward Tech.

Tech took both, popping the chip in and seamlessly taking you at the same time. You Shifted per his request into an external targeting system, attaching to his gauntlet and beginning to power up. You materialized over his shoulder, gazing down at the screen. The both of you had been working in some spare time between missions to try to get your mental presences so aligned that you could keep up with each other’s train of thought as though you shared brains. That way, you both could easily keep up with the speed of each other’s thoughts and have conversations at speeds that could easily determine the success of an entire mission.

“You’re looking for a program using this sequence,” Captain Rex added.

Probably stored in the databanks used for strategy, right? Tech mused.

Cast the nets a little wider. Trench is sometimes harder to read. He doesn’t play by the book. You opined.

Barely a few ticks went by before Tech let out a noise of surprise. “Found it. This is strange,” he remarked, flipping through the screen as it popped up on the holodeck. “It’s not a program. It’s a live signal from another planet.”

What? You wondered, baffled. How is it not a program?

“Skako Minor,” Tech said, tracing it back.

“A live signal?” Rex asked, clearly just as bewildered.

Tech continued to trace it back, splicing through security. “Here it is,” he said, pulling up an audio loop. “This is audible.”

“Patch me in,” Rex said immediately. “I want to hear it.”

How could it be a live signal? The algorithm is just that— an algorithm. Not something live in real time. You pointed out dubiously.

The sound bars appeared on the holodeck, sounding oddly distorted. “What is that?” Tech asked, turning to Rex. A transcoder? Something prerecorded? Holodisc? “That sounds almost... almost human.”

“It can’t be,” Rex said quietly, staring at the holodeck.

Your heart bumped into your throat.

“Tech, find out who’s sending that signal,” Rex said tightly. “Ask who that is.”

A sense of horrified premonition settled in you. No. Please, Commander Rex. No, no, please don’t tell me that’s what we thought it was—

The audio slowly cleared. “CT-1409. CT-1409.”

“I... I don’t believe it.”

No, no, no no no—

Tech whirled around as Hunter burst into the room. “We’re gone. Rex, let’s go.”

Behind you as Tech sprinted forward, the audio kept repeating the horrifying refrain. “CT-1409.”

“Rex, now!”

You barely paid attention as everyone scrambled onto the transporter, piloted by Crosshair. You almost instantly Dissolved the Bond, crumpling to your knees and clapping your hands over your ears.

Rex bent next to you, gripping your arms as you shook. “Shiv. Shiv.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. It’s my fault. My fault. I should have done something more, back then. I should have killed the Admiral with my own bare hands. What did they do to him? Maker—

“What happened?” Cody barked.

“CT-1409,” Rex spoke up shakily. He looked up at the General. “General Skywalker... Echo’s alive.”

The General sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “I’ll believe you, Rex, if that’s what it was. But that means our regrouping is going to have to take a different turn than we expected. This is going to have to become a rescue mission, too.” He turned to you. “Shiv.”

You scraped yourself together, staggering to your feet. “G-General,” you said weakly, hand pressing to your side where your ribs ached in protest.

He observed you, then reached out and placed a careful hand on your shoulder. “You’re in pain,” he said quietly.

You looked up at him, not afraid to show your misery. “I should have done better, General,” you sniffled, tears welling in your eyes. “I... I failed.”

“War always comes with risk, Shiv,” Skywalker said, shaking his head. From his hand on your shoulder, something cool began to trickle from his hand down into your bones, soothing the uncomfortably hot ache inside your body. “You did the best you could. He made his own choice.”

You sniffled, reaching up to wipe at your eyes. “But sir, I’m the weapon!” you cried, frustrated. Why did everyone always forget? “That’s the point, I’m not a clone, or even a soldier! I’m a weapon, meant to be used!” You flung your hand to the side vehemently. “I know that I’m not a slave anymore, I know that— but then what good am I if I can’t even be who I’m supposed to be? I’m meant to break and get back up, meant to take damage for others because I can, because I’m literally made to take it, to recover. If I can’t even protect the people I care about, the ones who Wield me, then what’s the point?”

You looked up at the General, eyes awash with frustrated tears. “I know that I’m not responsible for the things Admiral Trench has done to me and Echo,” you said miserably. “But what makes me any better if I can’t even take the hard lessons I learned under his control and use them for things that I choose myself?” You wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking your head. “How am I supposed to pay forward everything you and the 501st have done for me if I can’t even do this much?”

The General let out a quiet sigh. After a moment, he spoke gently, pulling you to sit down beside him. “Shiv, you’ve already come so far,” he said, staring out across the landscape as the transporter skimmed over the land. “I look at you now and I can hardly see the terrified, hurting kid that I first met. You’ve grown, and learned, and become a great weapon. On this mission, I’ve been able to see what Master Plo Koon mentioned in his report: a great asset that makes carefully calculated risks and puts her team in front of herself— a powerful member whose team puts their full trust in, no matter the situation. And that’s what Rex and I wanted for you. It’s what we hoped for when he put you with Clone Force 99. I think you’ve proven to everyone who cares about you that you’ve healed, grown, become a better person than the one who mistreated you. You didn’t even hesitate to take unbelievable injuries for someone you barely know.”

Shaking his head, the General turned back to look at you. “It’s time to give yourself a bit more credit, Shiv,” he said patiently. “You’ve worked hard to become who you are now, and you should be proud of that. I know Echo will be, once we get him back. Because we will. And I know he’ll want to see how far you’ve come since he last saw you.” He patted your shoulder, then stood. “You don’t have to force yourself to be useful just to deserve kindness, Shiv.” With the parting remark, he turned to talk to Rex.

Hunter came up, holding out his hand. Gratefully, you Transferred, feeling the need for a safe place. The Bonds instantly lit up with comfort, and you let yourself rest in it for a moment.

He’s right, Shiv. Hunter murmured. And we promise. We’ll get him back.

Thank you, you whispered across the Bonds. I trust you.

Maybe, you allowed yourself to admit, maybe they were right. Maybe... you needed to stop trying to prove yourself worthy of care and kindness by always being useful.

And maybe, you thought gratefully, staying with the Bad Batch would give you the confidence to one day fully believe it.

Part 14: upcoming

Taglist:

@subbing-for-clones

@darkangel4121

@mo-i-ra

@dolphincommander

@alis-gore

@tech-aficionado

@spp2011

@mavendeb

@cagrame

@makeup-n-turtles

@darkphoenix2332

@sunipostsstuff

@lady-aries

@gabile18

@sugarrush-blush

[the-most-humble-blog]

Sausage Party: The Hive City Sector Meat Circus 💀

"Meat is Meat. Don’t Ask Questions." - Management

Welcome to the Underhive’s premier sausage fest, where the phrase “no waste” isn’t a commitment—it’s a commandment.

Every day, thousands of pounds of mystery protein are repurposed into something a little more… digestible. Well, at least until it crawls its way out of your asshole.

🚨 Tonight’s Special: Hive City Slamdogs 🚨

Meat? Yes.

What kind? The fuck you asking questions for?

Cheese? That’s a strong word for whatever this yellow paste is.

"Sourced ethically?" Bitch, if you’re eating this, you already lost the moral high ground.

No one in Hive City asks where their food comes from. If you’re smart, neither will you.

"You Thought You Had a Choice?"

Listen up, you malnourished, microplastic-riddled waste of calories.

You think meat just appears on a plate?

You think someone’s farming cattle in this shithole?

You think the protein in that "Prime Cut Dog" was actually born an animal?

Grow the fuck up.

Meat’s gotta come from somewhere, and in the Hive, the definition of ‘livestock’ is flexible.

📢 OFFICIAL POLICY: ✔ If it has muscle, it’s meat. ✔ If it has fat, it’s seasoning. ✔ If it has bones, it’s broth. ✔ If it had a family? Not anymore.

🚨 "DID YOU KNOW?" 🚨

60% of all Hive City sausages contain trace amounts of former workers.

20% contain whatever the fuck “bio-product paste” is.

The remaining 20%? A blend of "unverified protein."

Translation? ✔ If it bled in this city, it got turned into a meal. ✔ If it screamed, it added flavor. ✔ If it disappeared, it’s because someone needed a late-night snack.

"The Digestive Lottery: Eat First, Regret Later."

Every bite is a gamble.

Maybe it’s something that was once farm-raised.

Maybe it’s last shift’s cleanup crew.

Maybe it’s something they won’t even name.

No refunds. No complaints. No one lives long enough to sue.

💀 "What’s In The Next Batch?"

Depends on how many people pissed off the wrong ganglord.

Depends on what crawled out of the sump pits last night.

Depends on how fast you can run.

One thing’s for sure—some of you are gonna find out firsthand.

You’ll be in the next sausage, or you’ll be eating it.

Either way, your ass is getting processed.

Bon Fucking Appétit.

🔥 REBLOG If Patrons Should Shut Up and Eat It Anyway.

💬 COMMENT If You’d Rather Starve. 🚀 FOLLOW If You Want More Grimdark Culinary Nightmares.

[hallospaceboyy]

Easy Living

Carol Aird x Femme Reader

Content warning: Smut

Carol rises gracefully from the carpeted floor, hips swaying as she approaches the gramophone. The dulcet sound of Billie Holiday's ‘Easy Living’ caressing your ears as her slender fingers place the needle delicately onto the record. While you imagine caressing Carol.

You know it’s wrong, know that it could cost Carol everything, but you can’t seem to stay away from her – and her you. As far as Harge knew, you’d gone your separate ways months ago, when Carol assured him so; and the joint custody of Rindy had remained steadfast. You’d never expected Harge to be a man of his word.

Carol turns and smirks at you, her neat curls bouncing.

“Do you remember the first time we danced to this?” Her voice is sonorous, teasing, as her hands clasp your waist and pulls your body flush against hers. You feel your cheeks warm as you feel every soft curve, every angle of her.

“How could I forget?” Your voice comes out a whisper as her hands travel lower, as she begins to sway you in time to the music.

She kisses you then, lips velvety soft and full against yours, and your head spins, fogs with only thoughts of Carol – how she tastes, how she feels, her warmth, her scent, sweet and spicy all at once. Carol has that effect – complete euphoria, invading all of your senses in the best ways possible. She consumes you, burns you up, until it feels like only the two of you are left on the entire planet, until you forget the existence of everyone else.

Carol’s kisses become more desperate, her teeth nipping at your lip, her chest heaving with want as her hands paw at your ass, red nails digging into soft flesh – kneading there as you deepen the kiss, tongue meeting tongue.

All of a sudden, Carol pulls away, and her blue eyes are hardly blue at all – pupils dilated, dark with lust and longing. She bites her lip and nimbly kneels before you. Her hands glide up your thighs, squeezing firmly and she pushes you gently to lean against the wingback chair, conveniently behind you.

“Y/N...” Your name leaves her lips as a breathy sigh, and you shiver, brushing her hair from her forehead as she begins bunching up your figure-hugging dress you’d deliberately worn around your hips.

“Yes, Carol?” You part your legs.

“I want to taste you. Now.” The blonde nips at your inner thigh and you gasp, letting out a breathy laugh. She grins up at you as you snap the waistband of your lace underwear against your hip, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Then what are you waiting for? Bon appetit.”

Carol chuckles as she tugs the garment down your legs, flinging them to one side. You feel her warm breath between your legs as her eyes gaze upward to meet your own.

“Don’t make me regret taking you to Paris. Cheeky.”

Then her tongue flicks out over your clit, quickly at first, followed by a long, firm stroke. Your breath catches in your throat, head falling back as you fist a hand in her blonde curls. She laughs deeply against you, relishes watching you come apart so easily for her.

“My good girl.” She murmurs against you, then resumes the rapid movements of her tongue. You can feel the warmth flood between your thighs, and just as you tense, sparks dancing behind your eyelids, she slows, reverting to long, teasing strokes with the very tip of her tongue.

You whine in frustration, one hand clutching her hair, the other clawing at the chair behind you as your legs shake.

“Carol, please,” You breathe, voice tremoring in your throat.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Her voice is soft, yet commanding, and you roll your head forwards on your shoulders to gaze down at her with clouded eyes – taking in the haze of her own, her mussed hair, her always perfectly red stained lips smudged. She smirks and winks at you. “Now keep looking. For as long as you can.”

You nod meekly, unable to think of anything but how desperately you need her to carry on, to grant you release – and so she does. Peering up at you, she resumes her ministrations ravenously, her lips closing around your clit and sucking, then flicking again, hard and fast, right on the sweet spot that makes you feel like your legs are going to collapse beneath you.

Your climax crashes through you like a tidal wave, bursts of pleasure jolting through you like lightning, and you moan and whimper loudly, hips bucking against Carol’s eager mouth. You maintain eye contact, and she hums, gripping your hips and anchoring you to the armchair as your legs threaten to give way at the vibrations.

As you come down, you let your eyes drift shut and she smirks up at you, pressing a single kiss to your still sensitive nub before licking her lips and rising to stand on her knees. Carol presses the side of her face to your stomach, and you cradle her head with trembling arms, fingers raking through her blonde tresses.

“I love you,” She murmurs, arms snaking around your waist.

You smile, taking her arms and tugging gently, gesturing for her to stand. She does, coming face to face with your hooded eyes; and as you gaze at her, taking in the soft crows feet at the corners of her eyes, the smile lines alongside her mouth, the pinkness of her cheeks, the sky blue of her eyes, she looks almost unsure – pale blue searching your face, but her smile never wavers.

“I love you too, Carol. And I have for a long time.”

Her whole face softens as you cup her cheek, and she kisses you, with no urgency this time. Soft and slow, with the faint hiss of the finished record still spinning in the background, Carol knows you have all the time in the world.

[rovbookshelf]

Oscar fan club newsletter Q&A

Hello Everyone, I am Emily editor of the OFC Headquarters

I'm going to talk to my beloved Oscar-sama.

I really enjoy listening to your story.

I can't help but feel numb when I hear Oscar's voice.

First off, good afternoon...

Q: You are dressed casually today in only a blouse. Why are you dressed casually like Andre without a jacket?

O: I am a soldier. In case of emergency, I always make sure I can wear my military uniform.

Q: About that blouse, it's really stylish. Who designed it?

O: Hmm… I have about 20 outfits. I leave most of them up to my grandmother, but when I feel like it, I think about it myself… It's quite fun. Ah, the one I'm wearing now is Andre's, he designed it. He's not just good looking, he also has good taste.

Q: Oh, I see. We always thought that it was something that Ikeda decided. And then, you say that you like music, what music do you like?

O: I like the works of Mozart. In particular, I like the final movement of Sonata No. 331, or lately Symphony No. 40. Oh and Bach's Brandenburg Concertos. I think they're wonderful.

Q: Um, I'm going to change the topic, what's your favorite food?

O: As you know I can handle my alcohol. My father trained me and now I am bottomless! Don't worry though, I wont let myself go. I also like ice cream and whiskey bon-bons. I really like candies and rose jellies.

Q: Do you have any collections? What sort of things do you collect?

O: Yes. Naturally I collect swords because of my job, I like Italian swords. Miniature alcohol bottles (I know I'm being repetitive …) and matchbooks.

Suddenly, Andre's voice is heard

"Oscar also collects flower-patterned handkerchiefs!"

Well that's about it

Q: What is your favorite flower?

O: Roses. Especially pure white roses. In the flower language they mean "purity". Red roses are nice too, they mean "burning love". Violets as well, they mean "Elegance", that's about it. Also freesia and horse chestnut.

Q: What's your favorite color?

O: I like pure white. It makes me feel like my body and mind are being strengthened. I like deep blue, and also purple.

Q: Has Grandma been taking care of you since you were born?

O: Yes. She is very attentive and affectionate, as you can see she is a little stubborn. She is sweet and strict to Andre, and kind to me. I love her like a grandmother. However, just the other day, she collapsed. Thinking about how Andre must be feeling, I hope she will be better soon.

Q: When the Queen came to France to marry, Lord Oscar was already a lieutenant at the age of 14. When did you start honing your sword skills?

O: You bring up an old story… I followed my father's educational guidance plan and started school at 10 years old. I entered the military school and went diligently with lunch prepared by my grandmother everyday. Later, I joined the Royal Guard at the King's command.

*Thank you. Hey, everyone, she was playing with her hair… it was wonderful!

OFC, Oscar fan club was active during The Rose of Versailles' original run in Margaret magazine, 1972-1973