#My Fic Enigma

[thatonegreyghost]

Dear Wriothesley fans,

What if Wriothesley had a little brother who had no idea he's committed two murders? Or that he even existed?

you're welcome

[weixuldo]

updated enigma sketches… imagine the reader however u want :)

also idk what else to add so theses y the corner is blank hahha

[milflewis]

1.2k sewis. The Winner’s Room. past tense

It isn’t until the main course — and seven bottles of wine in — that the conversation turns to the world champion’s pick for The Room. Sebastian, as par on course for the night and most of the weekend, is the focus of the chatter.

Everyone knows that Lewis only ever used his turns twice. He was the first ever driver to refuse to choose for The Winner’s Room ceremony. It didn’t earn him any goodwill or love but then again, Mick thinks, that has never been why Lewis does what he does. It is one of the things that Mick respects most about him.

(It is one of the things that he dislikes most about him. Mick has never done well with envy.)

"They've never shared a Room," Daniel is saying loudly, because Daniel says everything loudly.

He pauses, mouth slack at the corners.

He frowns.

There is an expression on Valtteri's face, which is enough of a concern without Mick realising that this is what he looks like when he's planning murder. He doesn't look at Lewis, who has stopped talking beside Sebastian, focused completely on Daniel.

Guanyu refills his glass to the brim and promptly swallows half of it.

"Wait," Daniel says, like a gunshot. "There was that one year, I think?"

He turns in his seat, swaying, and calls out Sebastian's name. Sebastian leans back in his chair, the ends of his hair brushing Lewis's bare forearm, half dangling off of the back of Sebastian's seat and half on his shoulders.

Lewis's fingers are curled into the side of Sebastian's collar.

"Sebastian," Daniel says again.

"Daniel," Sebastian replies.

"When did you and Lewis do The Room again? It was before '17, right?"

Sebastian hums. Valtteri's expression has grown it's own presence, seating itself at the table. Mick feels the urge to hunch in his shoulders to make himself a smaller target. He doesn't like not knowing the blast radius.

Lewis's mouth is doing the thing that he does when he would give nearly anything in the world to be wearing his sunglasses right at this moment. Mick remembers being smaller, with bonier wrists, and his dad pointing it out to him as if it was the funniest thing ever.

"2013," Sebastian says casually, eyes calm. He blinks. Daniel scrunches up his nose as he tries to remember.

Everyone goes that bit more still as the knowledge that it was Sebastian who picked Lewis, but even more importantly, it was during a time when they weren't even friends, sinks in.

Mick has known this for a long time but still, he has no idea what to do with it. He has never asked Sebastian if it had anything to do with Nico, or worse, with Mark.

Mick has known him for over ten years, and in that time, Sebastian has never given nor asked for a straight answer. It's not as endearing as he likes to say it is.

It would be cruel to ask Lewis.

Mick does not like being cruel.

"Yeah, it was 2013," Daniel agrees as if Sebastian himself hadn't just said it. "I always forget about that."

George looks like he's about to burst. Pierre isn't doing much better. Guaunyu seems to have acquired another glass and is drinking out of the two of them with several straws.

Valtteri has gone unnaturally still. Yuki eyes him from behind Pierre, fascinated.

"Was it just one of those things, you know? Like, fuck it, yeah, why not? Be a bit of a laugh."

"Something like that."

"Huh."

And then: "Well, c'mon, who gave it to who? I know Mark told me but I can't remember. Head's like a sieve." A laugh.

"Hmm." Sebastian says nothing else, only smiles placidly.

It doesn't matter. Daniel has smelt blood in the water.

He and Valtteri rowed recently, Mick knows. The best way to hit back at Valtteri is to go after Lewis, Mick also knows.

"I never got fucked," is all Lewis says, quiet. He could be saying it is raining outside. It's the same voice he used when Toto told him Mick was going to be their reserve driver, and he just said, yeah, cool, for sure, before remembering that there is protocol and social niceties to observe and properly congratulated him, smiling wide.

Sometimes, Mick can understand the urge that some of the other drivers have, especially the older ones, to shake Lewis until something, anything, falls out.

It is tiresome to remind yourself that people owe you nothing but Mick tries to do it anyway. His mother taught him well.

"No?" Daniel asks. "And what about now?"

Fernando is mimicking eating something out of his hands. An ass, maybe. Or an apple. Lewis doesn't look at him.

He opens his mouth to say something terrible and most likely going to send several people here to an early death. Mick has realised over the last few months that Lewis is, like, sort of awful and that he should be grateful that he is so busy with all his different charities and rich bitch friends who eat hummus and whale sperm and whatever to have enough time to be a cunt like he used to be.

Jenson, it turns out, has a lot of opinions.

"Why." Valtteri's eyes are bright. His hands are flat on the table. Sebastian raises an eyebrow. He's fucking amused, Mick realises. Like a fucking lunatic.

Gina doesn't like the term lunatic. She says it's inaccurate and unfair. Mick thinks it anyway.

"Are you asking," Valtteri continues. Mick wonders if the lack of inflection is a Finnish thing or a Valtteri thing. Mika is Mick's main and pretty much only frame of reference to Finland. But Mick has been told he deserves his own box and should not be compared to anyone else.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" Their waiter is tall and broad shouldered and dark haired. He has a beard. Mick fights the urge to tell him that he may have just saved Daniel Ricciardo's life right now. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thanks," Sebastian grins. "We're doing just fine."

"Actually," Fernando cuts in, and Kevin looks up at the ceiling beside Mick with the same twist to his face that he always gets around Guenther. "Do you happen to have any peaches?"

[ms-spkhd]

thinking about a Blast From the Past steddie au tonight. like, think about it for a second--steve as the sweet, well-meaning himbo raised in a fallout shelter and eddie as the cynic who shows him the world as it is:

The year was 1962, and an atomic bomb had just dropped on top of the Harrington household.

Okay, not really. It was actually a fighter jet that suffered a mechanical failure just above the little plot of land the Harringtons called their home, but Walter Harrington took it differently. Far differently.

See, the thing was that the man was living in a state of paranoid delusion over the Cold War--terrified of the possibility of an outright nuclear holocaust over the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Soviet Union. He had been carefully building a fallout shelter under his home for his wife and possible children to live in with the works--canned food, running water, and even a working television.

And one day they went in and simply never left. The explosion right when they closed the door was tangible proof that the nuclear war was happening right above them.

A few years later, around 1968, a baby boy was born in a fallout shelter with no one but his mom and dad to keep him company.

They raised Steve the best they could, even if Walter Harrington was a mad genius and Madeline Harrington was a borderline alcoholic. Even if the boy was living in a perfect little time capsule of the fifties and early sixties. Walter made sure to educate him right and teach him how to be a sociable gentleman--even if he had no idea what swear words or the concept of sex were. That was for another time. Although, twenty-four years came and went for Steve Harrington, his father still owes him 'another time'.

Steve Harrington grows twenty-four years in perfect seclusion, but that changes at the flick of a switch.

The year is 1992: supplies are dwindling Walter is growing sick, and Steve is tasked to bravely set foot in the nuclear fallout to retrieve more material. (The only reason why Walter assumes they can even get more stuff is because he observed the outside world when the shelter unlocked and mistook it as a post-apocalyptic mutant society.)

The moment Steve made it outside his little bubble, he was utterly fascinated by the world--how different the people were outside of his television and his little books, how bright the sky was outside, how the irritable man on the bus wouldn't accept the money he tried to give him, how the bus moved and didn't fling him right off his seat.

(He even saw an adult bookstore. Dad told him that those things were filled with poisonous gas. How were they even to operate if they were filled with poisonous gas? That's dangerous and totally inconsiderate of the general public's safety.)

Anyway, he tries to follow the grocery list that Mom and Dad gave him the best he can, stocking up on poultry and tissue paper and the works. But by the end of the day, he doesn't know where he came from. Not a single sign or building or person can give him a single clue where to go.

After a few hours of wandering, suitcase in hand, he comes across a store with WE BUY BASEBALL CARDS written on the window.

Golly, Steve loves baseball cards--could look at Dad's collection for hours, and with the collection he has, he could make a pretty penny selling them for supplies. Despite the little hobby store being beside an adult bookstore with poisonous gas, he scampers right in.

"I see you're looking to buy baseball cards," he says breezily to the gruff, scary-looking man behind the counter.

"That I am," he replies.

Steve pulls a few from his jacket's inner pocket. "Well, these are a bit old, you see, but I was hoping you still might be interested."

The gruff man yanks them from his hands, a spark in his eye. He looks delighted to see them, and it fills Steve with an excitement he hadn't felt at all today. Nobody has been this happy over something he's done today. "Woah," he gasps, then covers it with a cough. "Mickey Mantle rookie season...how much do you want?"

"I was hoping to sell all of my cards, actually!"

The man sputters incredulously. "All of 'em? Are you fucking with me?"

"I'm not sure what that means, but all I have are hundred-dollar bills and I need something smaller. Like, uh...ones, tens, fives..."

"Tell you what, I'll give you five hundred in small bills for all you got."

Steve smiles brightly. "Oh, that would be wonderful, sir--"

"Five hundred for a case-full of rookie season Mickey Mantles, Rick, are you fucking joking?" A deep voice cuts through Steve's thanks from the other side of the small store. He turns around to find a man leaning against a magazine rack, arms folded sternly.

The man is unlike Steve's ever seen before. Long, long limbs and big brown eyes that look traced with black and smudged around the edges. Pretty lips, too almost girl-ish, in the way they were big and plush like the women he'd see on the television. The strangest thing about him, though, was the curly hair that tumbled past his shoulders.

He looked mad, though. Madder than mad.

"Tell the poor guy you're fucking with him," long-hair-pretty-lips says to the man behind the counter, who bristles.

"Were you raised in a fucking barn, Munson? Who told you to interrupt on business?" Rick counters. Steve was really not appreciating the amount of f-words dropped in the conversation, it was uncouth.

"Sure I was!" Munson saunters towards the counter and Steve's eyes follow him like a moth to a light. "But my morals go past your business practices at this point. You remember the ninth commandment, yeah?"

"You shut your Goddamn mouth--"

"Excuse me sir, but I really don't appreciate how you're using the Lord's name in vain like that," Steve says firmly.

"See?" Munson smiles. It's like sunlight. "He gets it."

He plucks the baseball card from Rick's hand and holds it over his head when he tries to reach for it again. "See this little thing?" He says to Steve sweetly. "This guy costs six grand alone."

"Get out of town! Really?"

"Oh yeah, big guy. Selling the thing would give you a small fortune, and Rick over here is trying to con you out of it."

Steve frowns. "Is that true?" He asks Rick.

"Nothing but," Munson says in place of him. He slips the card back into Steve's hands and gives them a pat.

"The Hell is even keeping you here, Munson?" Rick sneers. "Did the gig you won't shut up about fall through like they usually do? Better to bum it out here than in your shithole apartment? Stop loitering in my damn store and make like a fucking tree. You're banned."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Munson says rolling his eyes. He looks at Steve, then the door, gesturing at it with a flick of his head. "I'll see you out, Beaver."

He walks them both out the door, stopping to gesture at Rick strangely--hands balled into fists with only his middle fingers up--before stepping outside onto the sidewalk.

"Well merci, Monsieur," Steve says appreciatively, because Dad taught him French was always to be used on such occasions.

"What, you're French?"

"Oh no, I'm"--he thinks back to what Dad told him if a mutant asks where he's from. Gosh, he thinks he's supposed to be--"out on business."

"And you don't even have a clue about the little business trick that Rick tried to pull?"

"No...no, I--"

"Yeah, doesn't matter." Munson shrugs. He smiles sympathetically at Steve before turning on his heel and walking off. Oh boy, what would he do without him?

He follows him like a lost puppy, that's what.

"...You going the same way?" Munson asks incredulously. Steve shakes his head.

"Well, I'm following you."

Munson stops in his tracks, blinking, and Steve almost runs into him in his state. "Me?"

"Well yes! Where are we going?"

"We?" Munson asserts. "I'm going back to my shithole apartment, and judging by that jacket you're wearing, you should be taking the next left and hop-skipping straight to the barber college."

"Oh, I'm lost, though."

"Aren't we all?"

"Say, did you just get banned from that hobby store because of me?" Steve says to change the subject.

Munson sighs. "Seems like I did, sailor. The place was shitty anyways, with that dickhead running the operation. Wayne could get better cards from a different joint."

...dickhead? Steve's never heard that leave the seams of anyone's lips before. "Dickhead?"

"Yeah, he's a real fucking loser. A walking talking penis capable of human speech."

Steve gets queasy at the image he's concocted in his head. He leans against the nearest brick wall, his suitcase tumbling to the ground as he drops into a contemplative squat.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?"

"Well, the mental image that I..."

Munson's eyebrows scrunch before he reaches out a hand to Steve. He takes it, letting the man haul him upward. "Look, man, where'd you park your car?"

"I came by bus."

"Aren't you full of surprises."

"I am?"

"Okay look." Eddie raises his hands, palms splayed in the air. "It's your first time in Los Angeles, right? Everyone wants a taste of it, I know, and you're out for business and fucking famished. You got the opportunity to see the great big world outside of your little bubble and you got excited--but you took a bus and got mixed up in the middle of San Fernando Valley without a clue in the world. Am I correct?"

Steve listens in wonderment. So far, Munson's been correct in a way. He's convinced he might be psychic. He nods slowly and seriously just to see Munson flash that lighting-strike smile.

"Great, great. Which brings us to here. Correct again?"

"Oh yeah."

"Where are you staying?"

Nowhere, at the moment. Steve opens his mouth to say so, but Munson interrupts quickly. "Holiday Inn?"

"Yes, the Holiday Inn!" Steve says totally truthfully.

"Okay, cool. Cool." Munson claps his hands together with finality and starts walking. "The nearest bus station is a couple of blocks away if you take a right--"

"Don't you have a car?"

Munson stops in his tracks again. He turns to face Steve once again. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Something warm pools in Steve's gut at the pet name. Something about the way those pretty lips form that word sends blood rushing to his cheeks. "Steve," he says.

"Alright, Steve." Oh boy, his name sounds even better when Munson says it. "Rule number one in Los Angeles? Never let a stranger drive you anywhere."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve says sweetly, "I don't have a gun."

Munson pales, then starts running.

"Hey!" Steve cries and makes haste to follow him. "I must've said something wrong, please forgive me!"

"Nope, nope--get the fuck away from me, man!"

He grabs Munson's wrist to pull him back, which is a bad move since the man starts writhing around in his grip. "I'm not going to hurt you, sir!"

Steve drops Munson's hand and raises his in surrender. "See?"

"...Just let me get to my car."

"I'll give you a Rogers Hornsby if you take me to my hotel," Steve reasons.

Munson stills. "...That's like four grand, don't bullshit me."

He pulls the card from his jacket and presents it as evidence. "See? I was holding it back." He wants Munson to feel safe. "I got two." He reaches for the other cards in his pockets and pulls them out. "And-and all these other ones, too!"

"Okay, okay. You'll give me four thousand dollars if I drive you to your place?"

"Uh-uh!"

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"And I don't have to give you a quickie in the backseat or anything?"

"Yes sir--wait, what?"

Munson blows past his question like it didn't even leave Steve's mouth. "Can you stop with the sir crap?"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir--"

"My name is Eddie."

Eddie...Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Wow, what a name. It's almost like something he's heard on the television.

"Why, it's nice to meet you, Eddie."

"Tolerable to meet you too, Steve."

Steve smiles shyly, then asks, "So are you a girl?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well it's just your hair...it's so long." Steve points at his as an example. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"Dude, it's 1992, every other guy looks like this--have you been living under a rock or something?"

Something like that. Steve shrugs.

"Well guys having long hair doesn't mean that they're girls, Steve, that's a given. It's not 1962 anymore." Eddie backtracks. "Well, I mean, dudes can have long hair and be chicks and chicks can be dudes too but that's not--"

"Oh, wow, my dad told me about one of those the last time he went here!"

"Oh that's fantastic, sweetheart," Eddie says, sugary-sweet. "But how about I drive you home?"

"That'd be a pleasure, Eddie."

[annoyed-at-things]

Not many people know this, but Janet Drake actually had a sister. But as a child she was always compared so much to her, that even though her sister loved her unconditionally she went to Gotham and cut contact, paying her way to forgetting her past. Her sister, though saddened, let it happen because she wanted to respect her older sister. Her daughters got curious about the sister their mother always loved but never saw, but they respected her wishes to keep seperate. After both of Tim's parents die though, that's off the table, and Tim Drake gets a call from his oldest cousin Barbara Millicent Roberts-

[oldsargasso]

ficlet: under cover of the same night

four day weekend starts tomorrow!! and I can start it early today as soon as I process these payrolls so while I wait for the info to come in, I am thinking about a particular Way & Kenta-centric idea that woke me up in the middle of the night last night and made me scramble for notes.

like. what if Kenta's alpha power was bringing people back from the dead? but he has to take a life first.

There's nothing in-between dying and coming back. Way gets shot. He says his goodbyes, lets his life slip away, willing himself to embrace the cold and unknown. Way blinks his eyes open to the harsh artificial lighting that graces the room he finds himself in. He's blinded; his eyes water and he blinks rapidly. The air is ice-cold. The metal underneath him stings at his exposed skin. His jacket's vanished along with his shoes and socks, but at least his shirt mostly remains. It's stiff and thick with dried blood. The whole room stinks of bleach.

There's someone breathing by his side. Way's eyes finally obey his mind, and he turns his focus to the figure.

"Finally," Kenta sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks bored, as much as any expression can be read on his face. "You took forever to come back."

An apology isn't really in Way's modus operandi, especially not to Tony's little lapdog (and especially not to someone with such history with Pete---it's not like Pete is Way's exactly, but he's certainly not for Kenta.) Instead he keeps his mouth shut and pushes himself up to sitting. Kenta unfolds his arms and hovers his hands but doesn't quite reach out to help. There's a deep pain in Way's shoulder when he moves; when he raises his hand to it, he finds nothing but smooth unscarred skin.

"Didn't I get shot?"

Kenta nods. "Yes."

Memory flickers back on in the back of Way's mind. He feels a little light-headed, unmoored in the steel and white expanse of the hospital morgue. "And I---Didn't I die?"

Another nod from Kenta. Like a puppet on a string. "Yes. I..." He sighs deeply, like this conversation with Way is so very tiring for him. A spark of irritation begins to warm Way's body. "I brought you back."

"Why?" Way is incredulous and unable to mask it. Of all people? There's no love lost or won between the two of them.

"I don't get a choice," Kenta says. "I take a life, I have to give a life."

How did you find that out? burns on the tip of Way's tongue, but he holds it back. Sometimes it's better not to know. "No other options laying around, I take it," Way says instead. The bitterness in his tone is for himself, but of course Kenta takes it as his own.

"I wouldn't have had to kill our father if you all had just---" Kenta cuts himself off, taking a deep unsteady breath. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Can you stand? We need to go."

Way can stand, as it turns out, but only with judicious assistance from Kenta. They shuffle their way to the exit. Way's feet are bare; the heels of Kenta's shoes click on the shiny clean linoleum.

The car parked outside in the loading zone isn't one Way's familiar with. White, compact, nondescript. Kenta eases him down into the passenger seat and slides behind the wheel. He turns the car on and the radio comes to life as well, too quiet to make out anything but the general idea of music.

"Where do you want to go?" Kenta asks, hands neat and tidy at ten and two once he's pulled onto the street.

"What," Way says more than asks, "you don't have this all planned out?"

He watches with sick amusement as Kenta's knuckles go white around the steering wheel. "No little hidey-hole all stocked up and ready to go?"

"If you don't have anywhere to go---" Kenta says in a carefully calm tone.

"Pete's," Way cuts him off sharply. "I want---Let's go see Pete."

Kenta doesn't ask for directions. They don't speak again as they navigate the night-time traffic. Way wants to know what time it is. He wants to know everything that happened from when he clocked out, how long it's been exactly, how everyone is doing, if they're all okay. Somehow, asking Kenta any of it feels like admitting defeat. So Way sits in silence and shivers a little in his short sleeves and ignores the growing ache of hunger in favour of watching the way Kenta drives out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't anticipate other drivers enough, has to hit the brakes harder than he should at times, but he's defensive when he needs to be and aggressive enough to make the lights when he should, so. Serviceable, at best.

----

and then ??? how long HAS it been. how is everyone? what is Pete's reaction? is he happy enough to have them both there that he can ignore the way they snipe at each other? (how long until he has to call in reinforcements)

[purplepeptobismol]

📝 finishing writing my fic on the clock, as all things should be

[life-despair-and-monsters-blog]

Kinktober Day 23 & 26: "Bondage/Restraints" & "Voyeurism/Exhibitionism" - For OTP: "Femme Fatale and the Apex" (Sonya x Jennifer)

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @spookyrares @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins and @florbelles + anyone else who want to join.

Prompt based on this kinktober post made by fellow mutual @starsandskies. While the main Kink of this post is "Bondage/Restraints" & some "Voyeurism/Exhibitionism", there's also some minor inclusions of "Dirty Talk", "Orgasm Control", "Praise Kink", "Knife Play" and "Dom/Sub dynamic". I would have put down "Naked-Clothed" but the "clothed" person in question is an almost 10-foot tall cyborg beastie (with a human's brain) whose only covering is metal welded into the flesh so... SHRUG!

Anyway, SimpleGenius here from my Life, Despair & Monsters Blog. Just making my first contribution to Kinktober. I'm not really an excessive smut writer, though with that being said, I have written it on occasion, just never posting it (...until now). This is a oneshot devoted to Sonya and Jennifer just being their kinky selves.

From the mature tag and the title you can probably already guess that this oneshot (which will also be uploaded onto my AO3 as well) contains explicitly sexual content meant for 18+ users only. Minors Do Not Interact!

Here's some more warnings to scare off any stowaways.

CW: Explicit BDSM, Teasing/edging, stripping, (tail???) knife play, the equivalent of thigh riding for these two (but on Sonya's tail), naked female with not kind of non-naked female (there's like barbie physiques/anatomy involved with Sonya), and minor mention of a blood kink (unsurprisingly Jennifer's kind of a freak too). Basically monster-fucking (maybe robot-fucking? Or would it be cyborg-monster fucking???). A mix between praise and degradation kinks. Sexual fantasies. Really freaky behavior coming from these two. But very enthusiastic consent! Also vulgar language. And whatever else there is.

I’ve tried my best to research the sex aspect of it all, and even if I don’t believe it’s all accurate I think I did good with what I could find.

TW: Slight mentions of referenced murder and maybe cannibalism (Sonya's got a human brain inside a very non-human body so I don't know what lines that crosses). And minor implications of a toxic dynamic. They're both possessive people who suck so bad.

With that out of the way, I hope you do enjoy what I've written below the cut. This will officially be my first smut that I've publicly published. I'll be sure to reblog this post with the link to the one that'll be posted on my AO3. Also I'll be publishing another Kinktober Oneshot shortly after this one from my @the-silver-chronicles blog, about the main couple of that series, Silva and Faith. So don't be alarmed by a random ping from an icon you may or may not recognize.

Title: The Tails That Bind

Series: Life, Despair & Monsters (Love Death + Robots)

Character/s: Sonya/Sonnie | The Apex/Khanivore (re-interpreted canon character with OC qualities), Jennifer, Dicko (referenced in passing) and Sir Enigma Malvolio (referenced OC).

Words: 5,635

She heard her before she saw her; the click-clack of heels on marble closing in to their quarters.

Sonya remained where she was though; hanging from the ceiling in the expansive space that was refurbished to specifically accommodate her massive form, the high walls adorned with deep claw marks and scrapes she entrenched her talons and tail spikes into. Certainly, better than the restrictive pod or the dirty paddocks.

In contrast to her usual straightforwardness, when it came to dealing with her "mistress" of all people, Sonya made an effort in entertaining her more dramatic flairs.

If only to piss off the shrewd woman.

The door opened with such force that when Sonya peeked through her only optic, shutters uncoiling from her lens, to witness the blonde slam the door shut with a ferocity that immediately turned her on.

Someone's already pissy today, Sonya noted as she continued to observe with growing interest.

Jennifer turned around, short blonde hair barely touching her shoulders, noticeably a little frazzled with a few more wild strands curling out than usual. Her yellow rose still managed to survive staying pinned in her hair in spite of the fact Jennifer looked on the verge of ripping her hair out.

Her brows were furrowed, her face was scrunched in anger and a lovely snarl adorned her lips. Blue eyes darted to her white laced gloves, ripping them off as she mumbled curses under her breath. Sonya's optic lingered on the curves of her body, covered only by the golden dress Jennifer preferred to wear.

Sonya preferred when she didn't wear anything. Ogling Jennifer had been the closest her human brain could get to experiencing arousal within a body that wasn't designed to feel it. She had to get creative and tamper with many of the strange machinations and codes Malvolio left in her cursed Beastie body to at least have her body acknowledge the feelings.

In spite of this, she was still so far from reaching her goal of actually feeling the satisfactory conclusion of pleasure.

"-that old fuck!" Sonya was brought back to reality by the enraged outburst from Jennifer.

"Which old fuck are you referring to this time?" Sonya spoke in a voice more mature and sophisticated than her original gruff and accented voice, the crackling of the speaker embedded in her throat alerting Jennifer to the other presence in the room.

Jennifer's alarmed blue eyes pointedly gazed up to meet her gleaming red optic. However, she relaxed once she saw it was just Sonya, who uncoiled herself to lower her body, but refrained from leaving the ceiling just yet.

"It's one of Dicko's closer business partners," Jennifer told the Apex, kneeling down to take off her heels, "And I thought you were down in your workshop."

That doesn't narrow it down to who it is at all, Sonya wanted to retort, but chose to respond with, "I was, but it's so hot down there that I decided to seek out the coolest room I knew of."

"The wonders of an air con," Jennifer remarked, moving over to her vanity desk to set down her yellow rose from her hair.

Sonya rolled her optic at the snide comment, and returned her attention back to the source of Jennifer's sour mood, "Which one of Dicko's partners had it been? Ross or Carmen?"

"Ross. Carmen took a vacation, lucky bastard," Jennifer grumbled about the latter, though the former's name was spoken with disgust, "He was countering every proposition I made. Questioning my ability as a successor to Dicko's business. And attempting to belittle me in front of every one of those weak and cowardly geezers. The absolute gall!"

Sonya lowered herself above the bed, talons underneath her jaw as she watched her mistress rage. If she could, she'd be squeezing her thighs together to add a little friction. Unfortunately, her body wasn't included with genitals, and rubbing her thighs together in this body would just be pointless, so she could only visualize the image to force herself from screaming internally.

"The fucker was also leering at me. Almost all of them were," Jennifer continued, sitting down onto the foot of her massive mattress with a huff.

"I don't blame them," Sonya replied, extending her neck so her head was close above Jennifer, "Your body is desirable. You're probably the only woman in their life they can jack off to. I know that's what I'd be doing."

Jennifer abruptly turned with a face full of red; not blushing red, but pissed off red.

"Oh, fuck you," she replied, standing up to move away from Sonya and the bed.

"You'd have to beg me for that," Sonya said in a sing-song rhythm, chortling.

Jennfier crossed her arms as she stewed in her anger more, "This is serious. I know they're conspiring against me. Honestly, I wish I could have them all dead by tomorrow morning."

Sonya piqued at that, red optic widening with optimism.

"You know, if Ross is being so bothersome," she spoke up, her next words a suggestion, "I could eat him for you."

Jennifer turned to look at the beastie, opened her mouth to chide her, but closed it as she considered the idea, a smile crossing her lips, until a frown swiftly replaced it, and she shook her head.

"While I certainly wouldn't be against the idea," she told the Apex with sincere consideration, she rebuked the idea, "I can't just make an example out of him. At least not right now. I require his cooperation to gain access to his assets, and if I killed him now, it'd harm my reputation and standing with the other partners. And without them, we won't have a chance of finding Malvolio."

The very name of that... thing made Sonya's entire nervous system shudder, the dark thoughts resurfacing. She let them fester at the edge of her mind, before dispelling them back to the pits. She'll let them re-emerge once they found the creature; let him face the result of his violation towards her body.

Jennifer huffed out a sigh, which returned Sonya's attention back to her even as she went to make her leave, "I need to let off some steam."

Sonya tilted her head as she watched Jennifer pause just a step away from the door. The woman's blue eyes glanced back to the beastie, gaze following the Apex's elongated muscled arms, thick metal-plated tails, their twitching rattles near the piercing pincers and closed sharp jaw.

She bit her bottom lip, her hands slid down to her hips as she slowly strutted back over to Sonya.

"You know," Jennifer said as she reached the bed, "I just remembered how I never thanked you for stopping that assassin. And a good beast like you deserves a fitting reward for protecting her mistress so well."

Sonya cocked her head, red optic narrowing down at Jennifer. Sonya remembered the incident clearly; there had been a scorned bidder who lost because of Dicko's fateful mistake of convincing them to bet a lot of money against Malvolio. He managed to slip past Jennifer's guards and got too close for Sonya's liking.

Luckily, the Apex was on Jennifer's patrol guard, and she had spotted the glint of the knife before it had even left its sheath. Fittingly, she gave the man the same end she gave Dicko when saving her mistress; a biting introduction to her maw.

But that had been several weeks ago.

"Is that so?" Sonya inquired, wishing she had a brow to raise.

Jennifer only nodded, wetting her petite lips. She slid two fingers on both hands underneath her dress' loose straps, letting them fall limply down her arms to expose more skin. She reached behind her back, tugging the zip down behind her dress so she could loosen her front, exposing a small amount of cleavage to the Apex.

Sonya was surprised of her own self-control when her lens zoomed in on the skin, how calm and collected she managed to breathe. She restrained herself though; she had too much pride in herself to lay down and roll over like a dog.

No, she had a better idea.

"Oh, don't bullshit me with your "reasoning" darling, you just want me to fuck your brains out until you forget your own name and can't remember your troubles in the morning," Sonya retorts, her talons touching the ground as she leans over the bed, bringing her head closer to Jennifer's face.

There was no fear in her mistress' eyes, only a waiting expectation and a carnality that involuntarily made the Apex shake in excitement. Sonya continued, "If you think you can flatter me into getting between your legs, then I encourage you to resume because it is working."

Jennifer grinned in triumph as she proceeded to pull her zipper down further, but halted when Sonya added, "However, as I said before, it'll require you to beg."

Jennifer scoffed and shook her head, "I'm not doing that. You fuck me, or you don't. Your choice."

Despite her confidence, Sonya saw through her act and huffed out a disappointed steam of air as she started retracting backwards, "Oh well, I guess I won't-"

With her bluff blown, Jennifer's eyes widened as she reached forward for the Apex's face, pleading, "Wait! Fuck, fine, please fuck me. Please plow my pussy with your long, flexible and magnificent tongue until my mind goes blank. Make me scream your name each time you make me cum. I'll do anything you want, Sonya."

Sonya wished she could grin just as badly as she wished she could get wet right now.

She decided to put an end to her mistress' misery.

"Since you begged so desperately for it, I guess I have no choice but to fuck your brains out," Sonya concurred, and hummed, "But I'm curious... you'll do anything I want?"

Jennifer paused, narrowed her eyes in challenge, and responded, "Yes. I'll... try whatever you want, as long as I get fucked in the end. Sound like a fair exchange?"

Sonya nodded and tapped a talon on her chin in thought. There weren't much things her body could be used for during sex that wouldn't be detrimental to Jennifer's health, with exception to her tongue and the rattles under her curved blades that tipped her tails.

Although, she recalled the night she and Jennifer had met and began their cooperation, specifically to the moment where the Apex had Jennifer restrained with her tails, That has been something I've wanted to do again.

Gaining an idea, she replied, "You know, I've been wanting to try some bondage on you."

Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion until Sonya's tails disconnected from the walls and awaited by the Apex's sides. There were three in total, all tipped with dagger like pincers, and two rattles that resided near the curve of the blade, which she's been allowed to use like a vibrator before.

Jennifer once again bit her bottom lip while she thought of those around her body.

"I have no complaints," she tells the beastie, though frowns at the state of the bed, "Though I'm not getting naked until the bed's cleared of your mess."

Sonya knelt up so she could get a better look at the bed. Her optic immediately spotted the dust and chips of the ceiling that managed to fall down.

Without much patience, Sonya took the solution of using her tails to tip the bed to the side and shake off all the unwanted variables, before setting it back down normally.

"That better?" she asked.

Jennifer looked at the newest state of her large bed, which now lacked the pillows and blankets that were unceremoniously tossed off. Though seeing that the silk sheets remained on, all Jennifer responded with was a calm yet exasperated, "Sure."

Sonya positioned herself closer to the wall of the bed's frame, knelt down so she wouldn't cover most of the bed's space when her head laid down, while also keeping her tails free and ready.

Jennifer crawled onto the bed, swaying her body seductively while she made her way over to the Apex's head, which allowed the straps of her golden dress to loosen further down, just above her elbows. The front of her dress barely hung close to her chest, and Sonya swore she felt her brain overheat when her optic focused on the view of more of Jennifer's cleavage barely hidden by the loose clothes.

Jennifer got close enough to the Apex's face just to lean upwards until she sat at her bare heels, one hand going behind to zip her dress down the rest of the way, while the other kept the front of her dress from falling down. Sonya slightly tilted her head up so her optic could capture everything.

"I know how excited you've been for this," Jennifer purred as she gazed into the red hue of Sonya's optic, "I know you've been craving to see these again."

She pulled one strap down all the way, and then freed her arm of the other, before grabbing her the front of her dress and pulling the golden gown down, slightly jiggling free her petite perky tits. Sonya shook with a passionate eagerness at the visual image, just about all her mind could express through the body without pouncing onto Jennifer to forgo the bondage altogether.

She wanted to restrain herself, to prolong this just long enough to enjoy the experience and ensure she actually succeeds in listening to Jennifer's only demand.

"I know you've missed them," Jennifer swayed her chest, catching the Apex full attention. She grabbed hold of her breasts, massaging and giving her tits a pleasing yet playful squeeze as Sonya observed, winding herself up while putting on a show for her beastie. She gasped as she flicked her nipples, gently twisting them between her fingers as the tingling sensations caused her thighs to rub together.

She was enjoying herself now, and from how she looked at Sonya's quivering form, she knew the Apex enjoyed this show as well.

Jennifer stood up, dragging her hands over her breasts as she brought them across the skin of her body, the ticklish senses stirring a heat to coil within her. She performed a sensual dance in view of Sonya's optic, bringing her hands down to her hips where her dress hung closely, thumbs digging under the gown's hem, teasingly dragging it below her pelvis.

She spun around in her erotic sway, much to Sonya's surprise, but leaned down as she dragged the rest of her dress over her sexy ass, nothing worn underneath. She let the golden gown fall the rest of the way and glanced back at Sonya's now widened optic. With a pleased smirk, Jennifer gave herself a resounding smack against one of the cheeks.

Sonya's talons scraped against the marble floor. She clenched her jaw as she clutched hold over her fraying self-control, deciding that Jennifer's teasing needed to end here.

Thankfully, it was just about time Jennifer finished her little striptease for Sonya, and her blonde mistress knelt on her heels, dainty hands grabbing hold one of the alien protrusions coming out the Apex's head and underneath the narrow chin of her sharp jaw respectively, intentionally pressing her petite breasts against the optic as she leaned her head down to a small slit beside Sonya's frame to sultrily whisper in her audio receptors.

"What now, Sonnie?"

The lustful softness of her nickname snapped Sonya out of her patient observations, and she lifted her head up out of Jennifer's hold so her red optic could meet her mistress' blue eyes below.

"Now, I'll require you to turn around," Sonya instructed, her tails moving closer to the bed, "Make sure your arms are crossed behind you, and legs spread apart."

Jennifer turned around as instructed; not without doing a little show of shaking her ass temptingly as she settled into the position. Sonya was fueled with even more excitement of the opportunity of returning some teasing of her own.

Jennifer crossed her arms behind her, and Sonya immediately coiled her middle tail around the smaller woman's waist which then extended to her dainty hands, earning a surprise yelp from her mistress as her arms were secured tightly.

"Do you trust me?" Sonya let the question out softly at the shell of Jennifer's ear, her middle tail's blade carefully and gently stroking its cool steel-like tip down the human's back. The bladed pincer soon curved to brush one of mistress' lower cheeks, sensing her body clench at the sensual contact on instinct while the other tails began to coil under and around her thighs, "To release your doubts? To let go of all your inhibitions?"

With me, Sonya left unsaid. She shunned the thought... the very emotion infecting it, aside to the corners of her mind. No need to mix feelings with pleasure. Especially when she was nothing more than a thing to Jennifer...

As both tails snaked up from Jennifer's thighs to her upper body, the left pincer delicately scraped along her stomach while the right began to curl around her right breast with the blade leaving a ghost of a kiss to her jaw in passing.

Jennifer gasped out a light moan when her middle tail began to rub against her wet cunt, in a back and forth motion, ensuring the blade's sharpness did not touch the soft flesh. Soon the sleek metal was glistened with her slickness.

"Fuck, yes," Jennifer answered approvingly, rocking her wet cunt in unison of the tail. She bit her bottom lip to suppress another moan as the left and right tipped tails coiled around her tits, the appendages lightly playing with her breasts with deliberate twists and squeezes, the blades lightly kissing along the sensitive flesh.

Sonya focused on the priority of not piercing the skin with her tipped blades. She teased the flesh with an expertise akin to a surgeon, with her only intent of not cutting in and letting Jennifer bleed.

God forbid Jennifer cums early to the sight of her own blood because Sonya got sloppy. The Apex wanted to prolong this for her own sense of pleasure as well.

Soon her tails lifted up Jennifer, much to the smaller woman's surprise. Sonya raised her above the beastie's head, claws brought on to the bed in case the Apex had to catch her.

Slowly, she rotated Jennifer upside-down so her optic could get a better look at her reactions. To her delight, Jennifer squirmed in her grip, like last time. Unlike last time, the cause of her squirming came from the vibrating rattles that grazed closer to her swelling clit, the tipped blade positioned to poke above her trimmed blonde pubic hair.

Jennifer whined when the rattles on the left and right tails began to move, flicking her erect nipples between the vibrating pair on both coiled tails. She tried to arch her back into the vibrating sensations, as well as attempted to widen her legs so the rattles on the middle tail would have more space, but Sonya kept her restrained in position, brushing the rattles to her wet puffy pussy but never staying for long. She was completely at Sonya's mercy.

Much to the younger woman's growing frustration. A frustration that transitioned into a filthy, primal need.

Sonya was enticed by the desperate whines that escaped Jennifer's mouth, her red optic hungrily filling it's view of her elevated bare body; held up by her, restrained by her, receiving and being denied pleasure from her.

She focused on the blonde's gaping pouts, faint blush forming across her face, her blonde hair flowing downwards. Sonya's tongue flicked within her closed maw at the sight of sweat beginning to break from her mistress' body, who uselessly rutted her hips in the air to reach the teasing rattles, how pronounced her small breasts were from their bound state and the slick juices surrounding her pussy.

Sonya's entire system felt a fluctuation of pleasure within herself from the visual stimuli. It wouldn't be enough to ever reach a satisfying conclusion, though it was fun, nonetheless. When her audio receptors picked up pleading mewls coming from Jennifer, Sonya knew it was nearly time to settle her part of this exchange.

"What was that?" Sonya playfully inquired, listening to the words being interrupted by soft gasps whenever her rattles vibrated too close to her sensitive cunt and swollen clit, "I can't hear what you’re trying to say over such lewd sounds darling. Could you perhaps speak up?”

Through shaky breaths, Jennifer swallowed her murmured pleas and choked out a strained, "Sonya... I don't know how much longer I can do this. I want to cum. Please, it's unbearable, let me cum already. Stop teasing and fuck me!"

Sonya ate up her begging cries; she could see a glimpse of forming tears at her eyes. She briefly wondered if she should just wait long enough for her mistress to start crying, so she could bring out her tongue and lap up the falling tears. She hadn't kissed the woman's face with her tongue in a while, it could be a nice change of pace to show she cared-

As quickly as that idea came, Sonya dismissed the thought with a visceral fear? rejection. If she did that, then she wouldn't stop at the tasteful tears; she'd continue stroking her tongue along Jennifer's sweaty and salty unmarked flesh, until she got down to between her thighs and fed on the fluids there.

She could make Jennifer cry from pleasure then, sure; but she didn't want to use her tongue to have the woman undone, she wanted her mistress gushing from her very touch.

Sonya refocused on Jennifer once more, her helpless form cursing underneath her breath as her breasts were continuously played with while her pussy received nothing but teasing touches that edged her on but denied her true release.

Sonya hummed, feigning pondering in thought, as she took a sweet moment to bask in the wanton whimpers that were caused by her.

"How badly do you want this?" Sonya asked her, bringing her red optic to Jennifer's pleading blue eyes, "How desperate are you to want to be undone by a terrible beast like me? Say it..."

Those two husky, imploring, eager words made Jennifer shiver, feeling hotter. Through the haze, she rasped out with a sense of urgent need she's never spoken in before, "I can think of no one else who can satisfy me like you..."

Though caught off-guard, Sonya was not unsatisfied with the answer. She absorbed those words into the very core of her mind, sparking a renewed sense of determination.

"Well then," the beastie said, Jennifer's words lingering on the precipices of her audio receptors, feeling her "heart" pump faster, "I think you've endured enough teasing. You deserve this for being such a good, patient girl."

Jennifer shrieked in surprise when the vibrating rattles were buried against her slick folds and sensitive clit. However, when the initial shock wore off, it was replaced with an alluring moan, followed by a symphony of gasps, the short bursts of pleased shouts, and the sweet curses that she managed through her panting. She closed her eyes and started to arch her back again, and this time Sonya adjusted her tails grip to accommodate Jennifer's position.

It wouldn't be long until she was finished. Though Sonya decided to speed up the process by taking advantage of one of Jennifer's weaknesses; her voice.

"You should see yourself," Sonya husked out, her voice thick with lust, "How fucking enrapturing you are right now. Above here, bound by me, fucked by me, you look like a goddess. Oh, your little noises make it so tempting to ravish your flesh and pussy so I can make you scream louder."

Jennifer failed to suppress the whiny, pathetic whimper with a tender lip bite, and Sonya snickered at the reaction.

"Oh, but it's true," Sonya responded, the quills along her back standing up, elated by such noises as she continued, "Though I never realized how restraining you like this could bring out even more beautiful noises from you. I could just have you like this whenever you're being so bratty. Rip that dress off. Bind your limbs. Tease your wet cunt, edging it as you rut like a bitch in heat chasing after that final release. But it'll never come. More accurately, you'll never cum."

The image of Jennifer on her knees in this bedroom, writhing in the restraints of Sonya's tail, desperately begging her to end the torment, brought a familiar sense of sadism into her system. However, she did feel an odd sensation of heat rise in her body.

She returned back to the assignment at hand, the heat radiating at the back of her mind as she hummed and said, "Oh can you envision it, Jennifer? How much of a writhing, filthy mess you'd be? You'd be left unsatisfied, without release. Not unless you crawled onto your knees and begged so pitifully. Maybe alone. Maybe not. But tell me, if you were to do that, should I give in and fuck you like I do now?"

A resounding and gasping "YES" was Jennifer's response as her hips jutted at the rattles faster. So close now...

"Such an enthusiastic answer. You must be so close now," Sonya noted, not noticing her own jaw gaping open as her red optic recorded Jennifer's unravelling, "You've taken me so well this far. Letting me taste you, ruin you. So strong and resilient. With the most perfect body just for me. You do these filthy activities so impressively, as a naughty girl like you should. Oh, I love the way your flesh bruises and reddens and scars from me. I love the taste of your tears, of your sweat and of your juices. And I love how loud I make you scream and cry and moan. Especially when the only word coming out of your mouth is my name. Makes me fantasize doing it all in front of everyone. What say you? Perhaps on a live hologram broadcast during a Beastie tournament? In the storage unit for all the passing guards and personnel to listen to? Or maybe in a meeting with those morons who dare to ogle you-?"

Sonya was interrupted by an abrupt and approving moan, which slipped into a pleased humming smile from Jennifer.

"Oh? You like that idea? Is that what you want?" Sonya inquired with an endeared curiosity, surprised by the quick nod that followed, "Does it turn you on? At the thought of me fucking you in front of those leering senile men? My, my. What a dirty little slut you are, wanting to be humiliated by me so desperately that you would want those old fucks to see how good I make you feel. Or perhaps it because you want to show them that you're mine. For me, and me alone. No one else. Maybe in one of your next meetings, I'll accompany you. And whenever you go to speak, I'll be behind you, my long, flexible and magnificent tongue lapping at the nape of your neck, nibbling at the flesh with teasing little bites, my claws digging at your glimmering dress. One tail snaking under your skirt. Maybe I'll leave small cuts in passing, letting that lovely crimson run down those fine legs of yours. But once that tail reaches its destination, I'll let the vibrations tease your wet cunt until your legs begin to wobble."

"I'll tear open the front of your dress, let those ravishing tits of yours breathe within a room where they've been dreamed about for so long, except the only one having any fun with them there will be me," Sonya had a tail squeeze promisingly around one of Jennifer's tits as emphasis, "I'll have another tail play with one while my tongue lavishes the other. Don't worry, I'll have my last tail free to ensure none of them stop us, and no one leaves, bound by their pathetic fear. I'll rip your dress off, exposing your body to them all, let them see how dripping fucking wet you are for me, and I'll pick you up, bring you to the table, splayed out like a feast ready to be dined. But only for one though."

She pressed her closed jaw to whisper, "None of them will touch you. We'll show them how well you take me. How beautiful you sing my name. How much you enjoy being fucked dirty by me, and how good of a naughty girl you are to me. Show them you find more pleasure whoring yourself to a beastie than being touched by any of their limp dicks. Reveal your deadliness to them, unleash your claws and mark my metal with your scratches as I leave my own marks along your beautiful body. I bet their hearts would give out at the sight. I don't think their weak pride could take it. The fact you'd cum to a- disgu- terrible monst- beast like me, wouldn't you agree, my sexy- gorgeous- beautif- fucking - goddes- belov- m-!"

Everything was so unbearably hot. Her mind seemed to be on some kind of fritz, just like her voice box. Diagnostics on the system returned with nothing of issue, nor of any errors.

And yet Sonya felt so unbelievably strained from the task at hand. As if exhaustion of all things was overcoming her body as she continued to bring Jennifer closer to her release.

And her voice box. She didn't understand what was wrong with it. It bugged out, replacing words she wanted to say with those she'd never in her life say to Jennifer. But most importantly...

Was that my voice? Not her current voice, the one she was forced to adopt, but the one that Malvolio stole from her.

It didn't matter much, focusing on it was too much of a strain while she was fucking Jennifer at the same time. She refocused her efforts in bringing her mistress over the edge.

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long.

Her words, in combination to the unrelenting rattles fucking her pussy and fondling her breasts, had culminated in Jennifer arching her back more while screaming out Sonya's name, accompanied by the gushing squirts onto the Apex's tail.

Witnessing the result, Sonya swiftly stopped the rattles and brought Jennifer down to the bed safely. She managed to lay the woman down onto her front before her usually durable limbs failed her. She caught herself from laying on top of Jennifer, and carefully positioned herself to lay down by Jennifer's left.

Both beastie and mistress heaved for air, the activity exhausting for both parties involved, much to Sonya's bafflement.

They laid beside each other, just for the moment, to catch their breath.

Jennifer opened her blue eyes to just gaze at the Apex, eyes taking in Sonya's strangely exhausted form. She brushed a strand of her now messy and sweaty blonde hair aside, let out a little laugh, and said, "That was... amazing."

Sonya grunted in agreement, unable to currently verbalize. She did use enough strength to bring the tipped middle tail to her view, the rattles and the curved blade under it glimmering in Jennifer's juices, not dissimilar to the woman's dress.

She opened her jaw to bring her tongue out, cleaning up the slick fluids. She rumbled approvingly at the sweetly sour taste.

Her audio receptors picked up on the soft sound of a slick pussy being gently stroked. Sonya looked over to see Jennifer still staring at her but with a newfound hunger. Sonya noticed that her ass was slightly bent up, with one of her hands massaging her cunt.

"You look so hot when you do that," she husked out, and Sonya felt her exhaustion dissipate when Jennifer asked, "Do you want to put that tongue to better use?"

Sonya tilted her head, her lens focusing on Jennifer's face, "Round two? Now?"

"Don't you remember what we agreed on? "Until my mind goes blank", "until I forget my own name" and "can't remember my troubles in the morning"," Jennifer recalled, and in that sultry mocking tone of hers, "Or are you tapping out after round one?"

A new edge burned within Sonya, and she leaned up, looking down at Jennifer's nude body, asking, "Is that a challenge?"

Jennifer though playfully shrugged, spreading her legs wider as she continued stroking herself with hushed breathy moans.

Sonya took the opportunity to place her right hand over on the other side of Jennifer, until she was above the woman. She retracted until she was staring at both her mistress' sexy ass and her glistened pussy.

Blue eyes glanced to Sonya's observing form, and removed her slick-covered hand, caressing it on one of her ass cheeks before giving it a smack to entice the beastie, as she returned her hand to under her chin.

Sonya let out an amused chuckle as she took out her tongue. However, she pressed it from her mistress' tail bone all the way up her spine, the heat and wetness of the elongated and rough bio-mechanical muscle causing Jennifer to gasp and shiver from its texture.

Sonya lowered herself so she was right on top of her mistress, her gaping jaw releasing a soft exhale of hot steam brush at the woman's ear.

"You're not going to make it to any meetings tomorrow," Sonya informed her mistress.

Jennifer only smirked at her words, not returning a reply as she got comfortable. The beastie retracted back to where her mistress needed her the most.

Though unnecessary, Sonya couldn't help but lick around her mouth as she prepared to satiate her hunger, as well as Jennifer's.

[A/n] And from there on, Jennifer decided bondage was an excellent excuse to get out of a meeting she didn't want to attend the next day.

I wanna say that I may have gone a bit overboard, but overboard is just in-character for them (at least in my series).

[euphreana]

Woohoo! The stars aligned and I finally got to see RRR! BIG thanks for @enigma-the-mysterious for providing the link to the original with subs! (Heads-up it's a 6GB video file so if you want it, make sure you have a good internet connection and plenty of time to download it.)

I'm probably going to need a hot minute to process all three hours of it but yeah! Awesome movie! Highly recommended if you want some fun, over-the-top action complete with dance-offs and dynamic chemistry between two guys who have a thing for each other. (And if you follow my reblog blog, brace yourselves for some RRR content. :D)

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Enigma: Chapter 2

Rogue Magic Part 1 - Astrid

Summary: In a world where magic exists, it’s of the utmost importance to know how to control your abilities. Hiccup has been plagued by his own brand of magic for as long as he’s been alive. When his powers are accidentally outed in front of Astrid, she gets him into the same school of magic she’s going. He hopes to learn how to control his magic and find answers to the enigma that is him and his powers.

Warnings: /

Rating: General

Words: 3 722

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid, Dagur, Heather

Pairing: /

Author's Notes: It took a little while, but here's the next chapter! I don't have the entire outline done, but I did get the outline done for this story arc, which is what I'm writing now. Got a little bit stuck on this one, but I got it done in the end.

Enjoy!

[ilovedthestars]

question, apropos of an ask about my OCs sitting in my inbox (waiting for me to have enough braincells left after homework to answer it)

i realized that when i talk about my murderbot OCs on here i'm kind of. assuming that people already know who they are. but only two of them are actually in a fic on ao3, and the others I mostly talk about on discord with a small handful of people.

i don't think i've ever done a "hey these are my OCs" post on tumblr. and i honestly feel kind of weird about the concept but. maybe someone is interested in the Lore that hasn't made it to ao3 yet. so, interest check:

Names you may or may not have heard me throw around: OldUnit, Niri, Aybee, Hope, Enigma (the polaris crew); Yuma and Crowbar. These are all OCs that exist within the Murderbot Diaries universe.

[thatonegreyghost]

More Angst!!!!

Chapter 9 of Enigma is now out!!!

[weixuldo]

a couple of sketches i’ve done to go along w/ my fics!!

1. anakin w short hair from the beginning of unconditionally (asshole ani)

2. really could b either enigma or unconditionally (prob more unconditionally cause ani has not gotten comfortable enough in enigma to b w/out his prosthetics)

3. either again (cause ani’s hair ets longer in unconditionally :))

also imagine the reader how ever u look!!! i just drew this one similar to how i look hehe

[kenzan-kiwami]

a humble fanart of @deathmothking's Ishin werewolf AU fanfic - i hope you like it! i'm definitely looking forward to the next chapter <3

[wellhalesbells]

the thing that fucks me up about rereading instructions for dancing is trying to pinpoint when it is that derek becomes obsessed with stiles and realizing the answer seems to be always. from the beginning. the moment they met. that poor bastard. he probably should have tried to be a little nicer about it, though, saved them both some hardship.

I think it slides so quickly from fear and annoyance that Stiles will steal Scott away to 'Oh no, oh fuck,' I'm not even sure Derek knows himself. Poor guy hamstrung himself by starting out with the 'I'm going to scare him away' mentality then wondering where the hell that went and trying to find it again through almost every subsequent interaction (while something so much bigger and so much worse - Derek's Thoughts™ - completely eclipsed it). Meanwhile Stiles also helps cultivate Derek's dickish-ness by assuming that original motivation to be his only interest in him at all, essentially until the moment Derek tells him he's in love with him.

Which is hopefully why it seemingly comes out of left field for Stiles and the reader, because that's what I wanted.

[polaroid-petals]

Nightshade fic idea #4223: Omori tries to stab himself to end his loneliness in whitespace, but since this is post good ending, he persists and just ends up seriously injured. Stranger finds him and performs surgery on him to fix him again. Stranger is not a doctor. The surgery does not go well. Don't let Stranger carry out surgery, no matter how good his intentions are.