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urfavleo777 · 11 months ago

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warnings: age gap, tattoo artist! colby x reader, alcohol

"Angel's wings!" your best friend exclaims, speaking completely seriously. Your other friend approves, clapping her hands eagerly. "Get them tattooed!"

You almost choke on your drink when you hear how seriously Katrina gives you a new idea for your first tattoo. If someone told you that friendship between three people doesn't exist, you would laugh at them. The three of you are living proof that it's not the number of people in the group that matters, but the love that exists between you. Each of you is different, but that is the most beautiful thing. There is nothing worse than boredom and monotony in friendship.

"Come on, you'll be eighteen in an hour. Do something that will make you happy, not your parents." Sophia, usually the voice of reason, tries to convince you.

You don't know if it's the alcohol you just drank, but in a split second you undergo an internal transformation. You'll be of age in an hour. No one will be able to lecture you. Even your parents who, instead of spending this birthday time with their daughter, decided to go to the mountains. At first you reacted with sadness, but over time you were glad that the situation had turned out this way because you could invite your two favorite girls over for the night.

Katrina and Sophia look at you with impatient eyes, encouraging you to make a quick decision. You take a deep breath, tilting your head back. As pathetic as it sounds, you try your hardest to get advice from the ceiling.

You look back at your waiting friends. They send drunken glances your way, which only reinforces the fact that you must probably look like one of them at this point. Sophia and Katarina's eyes widen. Something unexpected is about to happen; something that will change the course of history forever.

Katarina clenches her fists like a true boxing legend, preparing for the worst possible scenario. With each subsequent inhalation, you feel even more excitement and arousal wash over you. You open your mouth to announce the official verdict.

"If not now, never, right?"

After saying these words, you're crushed under the bodies of these two freaks. And, you swear to yourself that if your parents had been home, after all those squeals of happiness, you would have ended up under a bridge.

"The best decision you've ever made, Y/n! I'm so proud," Sophia squeals excitedly, and Katrina joins in. You realize that you still hold the glass in your hand. You hiss, knowing that you'll definitely need to change the sheets of your bed after tonight. "Don't worry about it! Let's go to the tattoo artist!"

"Now?" you keep mumbling under their bodies.

Katrina and Sophia step away from you, exchanging meaningful glances with each other. You are finally able to catch your breath, but you don't really understand what they're trying to tell you.

"Yes. Now." Sophia grins. "Katrina, are you thinking about the same person as me?"

The friend nods her head in response, also with a big grin on her face.

"Oh, yeah! The handsomest, hottest and most expensive tattoo artist in town," she starts counting and you wonder why you've never heard of him before. "Y/n, we guarantee you the best fucking fun."

"Let's fucking do this!" They both squeal, grabbing your hands and pulling you out of the bed.

***

"You guys didn't even give me a chance to change clothes!"

You are wearing a black body suit and really low rise jeans so people on the street can see a bit of skin, which makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

"You look great." Sophia assures you and Katrina nods to her. Well, they're wearing perfectly balanced sweaters compared to you. They decided to make you the main star without outshining you with clothes. You feel like standing out of the crowd, which you don't like very much.

"Do you think this tattoo artist will accept us without prior consultation?" you ask, genuinely curious. "Maybe we should call him? We'd better get back home..."

"Relax, Y/n," you turn into a street you've probably never been to. Katrina tries to convince you, but with each step you take, you become less and less sure. Even though your parents have well-paid jobs, they usually don't let you hang around the rich districts. They would be disappointed if they knew that while they were away their daughter was getting a tattoo, not really knowing where.

"You said he was an expensive tattoo artist. I don't think I want to spend money this way." You continue, feeling the alcohol drain from you. You regain consciousness and regret saying yes to your friends. "Maybe we should really turn back?"

"Y/n," you stop in front of a building emanating LED light. The girls move closer to you and one of them puts a hand on your shoulder. Sophia, the fucking voice of reason, says:

"He is my brother's friend. They have been friends since childhood. He practiced on my brother, making the first patterns. He would never take money from me or my friends. We are always out of line. Trust me, you're in good hands."

"He was the one who gave me that big tattoo you liked so much," finishes Katrina.

You sigh, trying to convince yourself first and foremost. Sophia pulls out her phone and brings it closer to your face.

The first thing that catches your eye are the huge white numbers on the screen. What's more, they don't seem blurry at all. You must be really sober. You take a deep breath, recalling the quote of your favorite teacher in your head.

12:00. Carpe diem.

"It's time to go fucking crazy, Y/n."

***

"Sophia? What's for today?" It’s a male voice. Raspy, yet soft. The sound of it makes you whip your head over to your friends, but you're trying to stay calm. He lets out a heavy sigh before humming to himself in thought. Only after a while he notices that Sophia is not alone. "And who is this?"

"Hello, Colby. Meet Y/n, your new client."

And the way he shakes your hand is firm but gentle, not as hard as you think it'd be given the size of his biceps probably are larger than your head. But then he softly grips your elbow and guides you into the chair with a hand on your back. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

"Well, I thought I would have to convince you.. longer."

You flush a little under his gaze because he's noticed how you're shaking like a leaf next to him. And the way he smiles indicates he might enjoy biting you anyways... and maybe you'd let him.

"I was just about to close, but you know perfectly well that I will always make an exception for you, Sophia." Your friend smiles at his words.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" he focuses all his attention on you. You swallow, not really knowing what to answer. Katrina decides to save your ass from total embarrassment.

"Angel's wings."

He looks like he's about to roll his eyes.

"Seriously, I can't count how many girls asked me for the exact same pattern. Try something more creative."

"I'd like to stick with the wings, please. In a place invisible to the eye."

"Getting a tattoo so you don't show it to anyone? How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen." He doesn't look convinced. With one movement of your hand, you pull your ID from your back pocket. Colby, as you can guess, surprised by the concrete, grabs the ID in his hand and looks at it carefully.

"She's so young." When he talks about you in the third person, something happens to you. "Are you sure you want those fucking wings?"

"Come on, Colby. You did this to my brother many times." Sophia interjects. "Don't ruin her birthday."

"Ah, yes. Happy birthday or something." You can tell he’s in a good mood based on the playful amusement in his voice.

"Thanks," you hang your head.

"We have to do something about her shyness." he turns to your friends.

"Maybe wings between her tits? I bet no girl has ever asked for this," suggests Katrina. You almost choke on your saliva. You want to get up from that chair and run out.

"That sounds perfect." His voice is sweet with a touch of flirtiness, and you swear you can hear the smile in it. "What do you think, Y/n?"

"There's no way I'm going to show you my tits." You take courage. Colby laughs loudly. He clearly takes pleasure in your attitude and shakes his head, leaning in to watch you.

"It's your choice." You bite at your lip instead of answering him.

"Come on, Y/n. We won't look either." Katrina says and Sophia nods.

You've already succumbed to them once in a while. Nothing will stop you from doing it again.

The girls send you their last kisses. After a while, it's just you and your tattoo artist left in the room.

***

You're honestly glad when the uncomfortable silence is drowned out by the song "Ultraviolence" by Lana Del Rey. You asked to simply turn on the radio, but you were surprised when Colby asked you for the title. What was even weirder was when he used the fucking vinyl of one of your favorite albums instead of Spotify.

He hums to himself. "Those are nice."

You got rid of your bra. No one has ever complimented your boobs, but you smile slightly, burying your face in your hands.

He gives you a little wink before stenciling what you had in mind, his fingertips tracing the lines of the ink that leaves goosebumps across your skin.

There's a lingering feeling as he pulls his hand back. You think he's toying with you. Frightful little thing, you are and here he is wanting to play with his pretty little client. Next thing you know, his hand is around your throat.

You tense and realize that he has moved some of your hair to the other side to give more access to the space between your tits. It definitely could have been done easier and better, but the twinkle in his eyes said he did it on purpose. Oh yes, he was definitely having fun with you. The way his hand barely grazed your throat and the side of your neck before he would gently scratch your arm with his blunt nails and pull away.

He let's out a huff of quiet laughter and then gets his tools ready. "So, y/n, you have a safeword?"

And you're brought out of your thoughts about his large hands because... "Huh?"

"A safeword. It's big."

W..what's big? You can't stop your eyes from flitting down to his thighs and what may lie between them. He laughs and shifts so your eyes are instantly back up and staring at his eyes that glimmer in amusement.

"The tattoo, I mean. It's a big piece. Need to know if it'll be too much, yeah?"

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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 year ago

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Hearts are wild creatures

Dad!Steve Harrington x Mom!Reader

Halloween, 1999

A simple worn-before couple’s costume and drinks with friends. Kissing like teenagers and hushed voices. You and Steve, a night to make up for lost time before Halloween-morning with your two little girls.

Takes place two years after soft slow, morning glow

Word count: 6.4k

Contents: Parent!Steve & Reader. Explicit (18+) - oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up, friends!). Breeding kink. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids, mention of a difficult pregnancy, sickeningly sweet domestic fluff.

Author’s note: This started as soft Halloween-flavoured domesticity and then I imagined Steve dressed as Johnny Castle… we couldn’t not go there.

Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being wonderful. And for watching ST from the start with me! And thank YOU, dear reader, for being here. I hope you enjoy it!

Tucked away in the Chicago suburbs, your little house matches its companions in the cosy cul de sac; the residents of Elm Crescent had transformed their homes and gardens into a Halloween Wonderland as exciting for the adults as it was for the kids. You knew you had made the right choice buying your first home here.

The garden has been prepared for a night of costumed trick-or-treaters, the path flanked by two homemade sheet-ghosts and leaves raked in vain leaving the green lawn clear for those that fell since yesterday afternoon. Four carved pumpkins guard the house from their spot on the front steps, arranged from largest to littlest - one for each of you.

Inside, tissue-paper ghosties with wobbly marker-drawn smiles made by tiny hands float on lengths of thread, seasonal art projects take pride of place in the kitchen, and paper bats guard the stairs from their hanging place on the spindles. Nothing too scary to frighten a four and nearly-two-year-old, all brightly childish orange and purple and green, smiling instead of scaring.

Halloween fell perfectly in ‘99 - a Sunday night for tricks and treats meant that you and Steve could make grown-up plans on Saturday. A simple worn-before couple’s costume, a competent and willing babysitter, and drinks with friends in a too-loud bar that you all left early to get pizza and a cab home. It was later than you had stayed up or out in months, maybe years, and you both felt almost giddy with excitement. Far from the late and boozy Halloween nights of your early years as a couple, it was exactly the night you and Steve had wanted.

Back home, your Johnny and Baby costumes were barely folded before you crawled into bed together and kissed like off-the-leash teenagers, keeping your voices and giggles low while your babies slumbered peacefully down the hall.

After paying the babysitter from across the street, making sure she got home safe, neither you nor Steve could resist a peek at the two sleeping girls when you got home, both sentimental (and a little broody again) as you held each other gazing at their little dreaming faces. Beth with her bunny-teddy pillowing her cheek (reminding you to wash it soon with lavender detergent and steaming hot water) and Ava, sweet little Ava, starfishing in her crib. Your tiny girl takes up so much space in your hearts, pulls attention in every room she enters with her big brown eyes and honey-blonde hair; she is your little cherub.

You had missed them on your night out, tried not to count the minutes since you had left or until you got home to them. Steve had felt the same, but you knew they were safe and (hopefully) sleeping. So, you tried and succeeded in letting yourselves be distracted by your brilliant little group of friends, strong drinks and each other - all of which came easily, with warm cheeks and loud laughter, stolen kisses while your friends pretended to take offence that you loved each other more than them.

Now, at home in your cosy little bedroom, Steve’s hand skates upward, feeling the dips and curves of your body as your lips lock in a needy kiss. Smiling against your mouth, he greedily swallows the soft noise pulled from your throat. His hand finds its home, cupping your breast through soft shell-pink satin, as the other holds your hand pinned to the sunshine-coloured cotton sheet.

Two kids later and he is still utterly obsessed with you, in love with all of you - especially the bumps and marks of motherhood that came with each perfect girl. You had spent most of the night tucked to his side, pretty pink contrasting his tight black shirt and jeans. Robin had tried to sit between you at one point and you had been hauled onto the warm sturdy throne of Steve’s lap, his chin on your shoulder as he argued with his best friend over whether they should do karaoke or shots next. Except for quests to the bar for more drinks and a few trips to the bathroom, you hadn’t been without his warm touch since you left the house. He would have held your hand while you peed if he could, would have accompanied you to the bar except your friends forced you to be apart ‘for five fuckin’ minutes, dude.’

His lips skate lower, abandoning your kiss-swollen lips to nibble your jaw and seek out that spot on your neck while his thumb presses firmly against your nipple. Your brow creases in pleasure when he finds it; the quiet gasp ‘Steve’ is whispered into his hair, edging toward a whimper.

“Mmhm? M’here, baby.” Tipsy from a lower alcohol tolerance and drunk on you, Steve’s voice is hot against your neck.

Your fingers wrap over his own as he presses you into the mattress, his black Calvin Klein’s straining with need, with want. Your own underwear have been damp since his hand settled on your thigh in the cab at the start of the night.

Your fingers slide into Steve’s hair, directing him back to your lips as his thigh slots snugly into the apex of your spread legs.

“Yeah? There?” he murmurs, smiling cockily.

It had been far too long since you had time alone like this; too tired after work or parenting, one or both of you needed to dry tears and check for monsters after a bad dream just as hands began to wander beneath the covers.

Your hips roll, electrified, grinding on the firm bulk of his thigh. “Please, Stevie…”

You both know you could get off like this and if he thought that was what you really wanted - what you needed - Steve would let you. He would gladly watch you come undone, guide your hips and be whatever you need him to be. But neither had forgotten your hot whisper against his ear as Eddie carried a tray of drinks and shots back to your table earlier; the way your lips grazed Steve’s neck as you so quietly asked him to fuck you into the mattress when you got home.

You had watched his eyes blow wide and pressed a rose-pink kiss to his cheek (warm and blushing) while your friends placed bets on when Baby Harrington the Third would be coming.

Steve peels himself back, kneeling on the bed as he palms himself at the sight of you. You feel saliva pool under your tongue as you rake your eyes from his thighs, over that substantial bulge, and up his furry chest. He is nothing short of breathtaking, and Steve thinks just the same of you.

Your fingers slip over the nude lace of your underwear, biting your lip when you brush over the damp spot visible even in the low light from the bedside lamp. You don’t play long, already too worked up, and push your panties down toward your thighs with a lift of your hips.

Steve takes over, like a baton-pass, and eases your legs up against his chest with your feet against his shoulder. Your underwear is slipped off and thrown carelessly behind him, somewhere on the floor. He presses kisses to your calf, a curving path up over your ankle and the top of your foot before each leg is laid down gently on either side of his spread knees.

You prop yourself up on your elbows before pushing yourself up to sit and meet Steve for another kiss; it is smiling and sweet and a little dirty. Your fingers hook into his waistband before taking a greedy handful of his unfairly pert behind, making him laugh against your mouth.

“You going to give me what I want?” you murmur, kissing his chin. Your other hand slips down the front side, fingers wrapping around to squeeze his hard length as you look up through your lashes.

“Anything. Everything.” Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he cups your cheek in one huge hand, blindly bringing you back in for another kiss.

Your voices are just loud enough for each other to hear in the golden glow of your bedroom. You miss the days when you could be loud, but wouldn’t change it - take a day trip to the past perhaps, when you didn’t have to restrain your desire to a quick fuck after dark, or during nap time while the washer and dryer run in the background like white noise,

Maybe in a few weeks, before the craziness of the holidays, you can stow away to a hotel for a night or two and cash in on the babysitting offer from Aunties Robin and Nancy.

But tonight is perfect nonetheless. It’s perfect when you shove Steve’s briefs down his thighs and when his fingers skate over your back to undo your bra (before it joins your underwear and his on the floor). You lay back, taking Steve with you, and hook your leg over his hip and bring him as close as you can all over again.

All there is right now is you and Steve. You’re well-practised enough to be quiet.

Covetous hands palm over hips, fingers thread into hair, pulling each other close and closer still. Steve finds his home between your thighs and leans over, dipping to kiss you as his fingers press and tease, push inside you with care. His fingers stretch just right and curl up to seek out the place that makes you drool.

“Lemme have a little taste?” he asks against your mouth, smiling when a whine catches in your throat. “Yeah? Can I?”

“So greedy.” Your cheeks are warm and crease when his smile sets you off.

“I am. I can’t get enough of you.” His straight white teeth nip your lower lip, a bite he soothes with his tongue. “I think you love it…”

You gasp as his fingers curl again before he withdraws them, and watch as he licks your wetness from them.

Steve winks as his lips trail lips lower, over your chest and the softness of your tummy, your hips and the places on your thighs that jiggle a little bit. Steve presses a feathery kiss to your swollen bud before licking out his tongue to part your lips

Steve’s prone to getting sidetracked down there - not that you would ever complain about your husband who loves to go down on you - but you have been thinking of being railed by him since last Wednesday.

The begged-for ‘little taste’ quickly becomes so much more.

There’s nothing ‘little’ about Steve - not his hands or his thighs, his biceps or his manhood, or his heart. His appetite for you certainly is not little or lacking either. With his hand on your thigh, the other on the cheek of your ass, he makes your thighs tremble with a few skilful licks and the soft suck of his mouth. His nose rests and nudges against the pudge of your mound, darkened eyes fixed on you as he flicks his tongue.

He watches how your jaw drops, the crease in between your brows. You feel dizzy, anchored only by the weight of his hand spreading your thigh higher, wider for him.

The burning want in your belly flames hot and bright as Steve buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses firm and flat, encouraged when your fingers slide into his hair to keep him ‘right there, oh!’

Silenced by your own hand, you feel that white-hot tight-winding feeling as his fingers slide home again. The sound of his wet mouth on you sounds so loud, the same volume as the throb of your heart, the blood rushing in your ears. A whimper of Steve’s name is stifled, a high choked-up noise in your throat as his scalp burns from tugging fingers.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, amped up and tightly wound after a night of teasing and wanting, and the long groping make-out and grind in the kitchen after the babysitter left.

Steve’s solid weight keeps your hips low to the bed, even when your back arches sharply. An expert at your pleasure now, seeking it out and making you see stars every time, he keeps up the pace and pressure, with his fingers and tongue. He knows what you need, how you like it - never stale, never disappointing.

Your body attempts to curl up on itself, feeling too good. Slowly, carefully, Steve drags his mouth to kiss your shaky thigh before making his way back to lie alongside you. His damp fingers, wrap around his diamond-hard length to give some sort of relief.

Glowing and giggly, you gaze up at him and drag Steve in for a kiss. “Knew you were a greedy boy.” Your voice is quietly breathy, shaking with that post-orgasm wobble as he laughs against your mouth.

“Got carried away. Sue me.” His voice is a low murmur.

Cupping his cheek, you skate your thumb along the bone. He’s so gorgeous, gold-toned in the nighttime light. Your fingertips brush the moles on his cheek as Steve kisses you again; beneath the musk of you on his tongue, you can still taste the lingering whiskey notes from your night out.

Pulled right up against him, you feel the hard and soft of Steve’s body, the fur of his chest and thighs. He found two grey hairs on his chest earlier in the year which almost caused an existential crisis - only solved with your tweezers and a tonne of kisses and promises that you would still adore him when every hair on his body was shiny silver.

“You wanna be on your back or front?” he asks, squeezing your side.

The question makes that inferno in your tummy begin to burn hotter again. You think of how good it feels when he’s behind you, thighs slapping against the back of your own, the way he stretches you and hits that place deep inside. And yet, you need to see him tonight - you are so dreamily in love with him that not having his lips on yours might just make you expire.

“Back. Pass me that cushion?”

As you get comfy, Steve takes himself in hand again and settles himself between your legs. His non-busy hand runs through his hair - still a glorious mane into his thirties, despite a few shorter cuts over the years - and you are reminded of the pretty-boy you fell for almost a decade ago.

Steve catches you smiling and palms your leg as you settle on either side of his hips. He matches the little grin and dips forward to kiss you, nuzzling your noses together.

“What’s got you smilin’ like that, huh?” he asks, running the head of his cock through your wetness before tapping it at the top.

He watches your lashes flutter, the way you bite your lip.

“Just thinkin’ about you, handsome,” you murmur, “You always make me smile.”

He grins and kisses you again, both feeling like young loves again despite the aches and pains and the mortgage and the two kids sleeping down the hall. “I fuckin’ love you,” Steve whispers.

“I love you,” you murmur back, running your fingers into your love’s hair as the other hand grabs his wrist. “Please? Been waiting all night, Stevie…”

His lips melt the put-on pout and together you guide him inside. The stretch of him has got easier over the years, well practised at love-making and fucking like rabbits alike. He’s gentle when he needs to be, rougher when you both want it like that.

“I’ve got you, baby. Sorry for making my girl wait,” he murmurs as he slides all the way in.

Eyes fluttering closed at the stretch-and-fill, Steve starts off with a slow grind that makes your jaw drop. He murmurs quiet swears at how warm-wet you feel around him, squeezing him tight as his hips draw halfway back before going all the way in again.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and braces one hand by your head with the other splayed wide on your side. Your hips lift with him, legs propped high to open you up wider for him.

For a scant second, you want to ask if his back hurts - he pulled something at basketball drills last week and you had massaged on Tiger Balm morning and night for a few days until the twinging stopped. The hard flick of his hips makes the question vanish from your mind, his cock dragging and hitting just right.

“Oh god,” you whisper-gasp, jaw hanging open.

“I know, baby. M’sorry it’s been so long. M’a bad husband, huh? Leaving my poor wife needy and un-fucked.” His voice is hot and rough against your cheek, breath tickling your ear as he finds his rhythm. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?”

You squeeze the back of his neck, giggling. “Make it up to me all you want.” He palms over your hip, hiking it higher before leaning over you again. “Fuck, Steve. Feels so good.”

Your eyes dip to the gold chain hanging around his neck, watching how it sways in rhythm to how he’s fucking you. You bring your hand to where it rests against his neck, guiding Steve’s mouth to yours again. His breath huffs hot against your lips, tongues sliding in a dirty kiss.

The wet click of parting lips sounds loud in Steve’s ears when you break away, moaning his name against his chin when his thrusts hit deeper, harder.

“Shhh, I know you wanna be loud, sweetheart. I know you feel good.” His voice is like lava dripping as he kisses your neck.

You pinch your lips together, the moan caught in your throat comes out as a high hum.

Steve is so hard. His pants felt too tight all night; half hard since he saw you in your little pink dress. It only got worse, harder not to ask you to meet him in the bathroom, when you sat on his lap and toyed with the back of his hair, whispered in his ear before slipping into conversation with Nancy about something totally different.

The slick-tight-hot feeling, the way you pulse around his cock, makes that tense coil of pleasure low in his gut wind tighter. His chest feels like

You can’t help but fall a little more in love with him, hypnotised by the swinging gold chain, the circles he rubs against your hip and the way his styled hair falls over his forehead.

Squeezing your thighs around him, you bring your legs up and tilt your hips higher. Steve adjusts the stance of his knees and slows his thrusts to a deep grind, the tip of him brushing your cervix. You can feel all of him pressed right up against you, inside and out.

“Oh fuck.. fuck, Steve.” Your voice is thin and strained, like a thread about to snap.

“Yeah, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, biting down on his own lower lip. “God, you’re so pretty. So sexy.”

The air in your bedroom feels humid and heavy, like a thunderstorm, waiting for lightning to crack and split the sky, waiting for a downpour.

Steve moves his hand from your hip, gliding over your pelvis to feel how he makes you bulge just a bit before his fingers begin circling your sticky-damp clit. Just quick enough, firm enough, mean enough.

Your back arches, quiet voice babbling with incoherence at how intense it feels. “I’mgonnacomeohgodstevestevefuck…”

“Come on baby, come for me. Let me feel it,” he pants, hitting deep and hard. He’s so close, barely holding on to himself.

You hold him tight to you as you come, fingers tugging in his hair as the other hand claws and digs into the meat at the top of his ass.

Overwhelmed, a sweet shock of release hits you like lightning and opens the floodgates.

Steve holds you just as close, anchored to each other. Whispering hot words of praise against your mouth, he gazes into your watery eyes sparkling with tears - he makes you feel that good.

“Oh baby, I’ve got you. You okay?” he asks, so tender. He leans over you, wrapping his arm beneath your lower back as the other braces his weight along his forearm. One huge hand cups your face and wipes your tears. There’s mascara smudged beneath your eyes, and you look beautiful.

There’s that smile he loves; wobbly and lovely. A giggle-sob bubbles from those sweet kiss-bitten lips. “Fuck, Steve..”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Want me to pull out, is it too much?”

You shake your head against the duvet, your hair a mess. “No, no. Don’t... Wanna feel you.” Your voice is slurred, love drunk.

That makes him throb. He kisses you again and runs his nose along yours. “M’close,” he whispers, beginning a slow-dragging thrust inside your soaked and still-fluttering body.

You can see it, how close he is, and feel it in how his rhythm has faltered. His brows pinch, smearing wet kisses to your shoulder as he tucks his face into your neck.

“I’ve got you, Stevie. You’re so good,” you whisper, stroking the back of his neck. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

A grunting groan is smothered against your shoulder as Steve stills and shudders on top of you. His hips pump slow and hard as he comes inside with your name on his lips, making you shiver too.

His weight settles, sinking you into the mattress in the best way. This is exactly what you had missed so much. As much as you fervently adore actually having sex with Steve Harrington, there is something so special about lying with him in the afterglow.

Sweat-sticky and breathless, you stroke through his hair and press your lips into his hair. The hairspray scent lingers, clinging to the scent of shampoo beneath the smoke from cigarettes bummed from his bad-influence-best-friend Eddie. There was something about the smoke-tinged kisses that made you feel extra feral for him on the way home.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you whisper, laughing softly when his sigh tickles your neck.

“But you’re so comfortable.”

Lifting his head, Steve smiles all pink-cheeked and dozy. “So beautiful too,” he murmurs, inching forward to kiss you.

The wet noise from below makes you both laugh like teenagers and you take your turn to hide your face.

“You take your birth control today?” he asked, easing himself up and out of you slowly, carefully. His eyes can’t look away from where he drips from you.

“Mhm. Sorry, big boy.” You grab a tissue from the bedside table, wiping yourself gently before you mess up the duvet cover. You had both agreed, after having Ava, to wait a few years before adding to your nest again - it had been Steve’s idea after your less-than-easy second pregnancy. For a man with a bit of a breeding kink and a dream of a family the size of a field hockey team, he was wonderfully considerate.

He kisses you again before standing to find his pyjama pants; he leaves out one of his sweaters and a pair of shorts for you too - sleeping naked was a dangerous game with two small kids.

Clean-faced and exhausted and happy, you curl up together in bed after a few sleepy kisses and a playful argument about who would get up with Ava in the morning. As if Steve would ever miss a chance to let you sleep and steal the morning smiles from your youngest all for himself.

“You won’t even hear me sneak. M’a ninja,” he murmurs tiredly against the back of your neck and you can feel his smile.

“If you say so, ninja boy,” you mumble back, dragging your joined hands up for one more kiss before slipping into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Sunday. Halloween. The best day of the year for your little girls - since the last best day (their Daddy’s birthday in late July).

Ever a fan of Halloween, and autumn in general, you always wanted to bring your girls up to be excited for Halloween as soon as September began. Still so little, with Play-Dough minds, they had begun to catch on to your excitement and followed soaked it up. Beth especially, four with an expansive imagination, was excited about dressing up and eating candy and watching “Hogus Pogus” with you after dinner.

Your parental body clocks ring at seven despite the late night.

You wake to Steve creeping out, blindly bumping into the dresser with a quiet ‘shit’ as Ava calls out for him. This morning his presence was required to brush fat tears from the little one’s pink cheeks and kiss the damp paths they left behind until she was smiling again.

You hear the youngest babbling as Steve carries her quietly downstairs, hoping she won’t wake you or Beth. The throb of a minor hangover and post-sex ache drags you back under the covers and into a light doze.

You have another thirty minutes and some change until Beth wakes and realises she misses you, deciding to sneak in before even letting her Dad know she was awake - she wanted to see you hear about your Halloween party with her uncle and aunties and remind you that the best day had finally arrived.

The creaky hinge on the door alerts you - a reminder to ask Steve to show you how to oil it properly this time - you peek an eye open to watch the four-year-old sneak over to stand by the bed on her Dad’s side. She would be content enough with just seeing you, comforted in the knowledge that you were home to spend the day together; her face lights up when she spies you peeking over Steve’s pillow, your hand raised in a little wave.

“Hi Mommy,” she whispers, dimples showing her delight.

“Hi Bethie,” you whisper back, beckoning her into Steve’s vacant spot next to you.

You open the covers to let your big girl in. She folds herself into you for a hug, her head against your chest.

“I missed you. I missed you sooooo much,” she says, face turned up to look at you like she is a sunflower and you’re the sun.

“I missed you too, baby.” Her little face cupped in one hand, you press kisses to her forehead and cheeks, her little nose.

You make a tent big enough for two beneath the covers, lying on your sides facing each other until your giggling makes it too warm and your tummies rumble for the special Halloween breakfast you promise. (You curse yourself a little for that last glass of wine, trying to remember what exactly you had promised until Beth reminds you about the pumpkin-shaped pancakes).

Wrapped in your soft dressing gown, you follow Beth down the stairs, hearing Ava’s happy-baby babble in the kitchen as she eats her half-banana breakfast appetizer. The decorations look a little silly and rough around the edges in the morning light, but still, your little home feels like a perfect pocket of happiness.

Beth jumps into the kitchen with an excited-but-not-very-spooky ‘BOO!’ for Steve.

When she sees him, nursing coffee and Advil with a messy bedhead and tired smile, he quickly becomes Beth’s golden light source as her beaming face turns to him.

“Woah! You scared me!” he says, clutching his heart before dipping to scoop her up.

You try not to laugh at his Dad-groan and the cracking crunch of his knees as he stands, instead shuffling in your slippers to Ava in her highchair.

Her hands bash on the tray, smushing banana with fierce excitement as you peck kisses all over her pretty cherubic face.

Beth leans her head against Steve, playing with the string of his hastily thrown-on hoodie as she tells him about the dream she had and how he has to take lots of pictures of her costume later to send to your extended family.

Spotting his bare feet on the kitchen tiles, you slip into the laundry room to find a pair of socks for him to wear. Resistant to ‘old man slippers’, you tuck them into his front pocket as you peck his lips and move him and Beth away from the counter so you can start on breakfast. You steal a sip of his coffee, wrinkling your nose at the lack of sweetness before shooing him and Beth to sit with Ava at the table.

“What was Uncle Teddy dressed as?” Beth asks, head against Steve’s chest so she looks at him upside down.

“He was a vampire. But he just wore his normal clothes and some silly teeth.” Steve rolled his eyes dramatically - he had seen vampire Eddie all the way back in high school when he was dealing instead of drinking, and again when you all used to drink and party the night away in your early twenties. Yeah you had dressed as Baby and Johnny before, but you had all boo’ed at Eddie when he showed up in the ultimate low-effort costume.

“Oh. Okay. Vampires is sca’wry though, Daddy!” Beth reminds him. “You and Mommy didn’t go as scar'wies. What about Bobin?”

You laugh quietly at the nickname Robin has had since Beth started speaking, and her simple way of humbling Steve about his own costume (and yours).

“Robin dressed up as Elton John. You know the song you like, Benny & the Jets? She dressed up as the guy who sings that song. And Can You Feel The Love Tonight. He sings that too.” Steve is a wee bit distracted, nibbling the chunk of crushed banana offered from Ava’s fist.

“Bobin was Simba?” Beth’s eyes are wide, excited. She doesn’t seem bothered about her lack of scary costume, only yours.

“No babe. Elton John, he’s a singer. She had big glasses on and a sparkly jacket. You know he sings... Um. ‘Rocketmaaan, burning up his fuel out there alone..’ you like that one. I’ll find the tape later.”

Ava squeals in delight when he sings, so Steve indulges her a little more.

As you mix up pancake batter (adding a little food colouring to make them orange like pumpkins), and take two Advil for the dull throb in your head, the soundtrack of Beth and Steve’s conversation makes you smile, interspersed with Ava’s chirpy shouts for attention, her little contributions to the conversation.

You glance back at the little tableau of Beth on Steve’s lap, his hood pulled over his messy hair (a pair of sunglasses and he would look just the same as your hungover mornings in your first apartment together). His spare hand strokes Ava’s hair, twirling the crushed baby-curls at the back of her head and tickling her chin and neck to make her giggle.

Beth joins you after a little while, standing on a chair to help mix the batter and supervise your pancake-making with little bits of commentary.

“That one looks a w’ittle bit squished, Mommy. Daddy can have that one.”

“Thanks, Beth.” Steve’s voice is muffled behind his second cup of coffee.

“Welcome Daddy! Mommy, can I has that nice stuff on?”

“On what, sweets?”

“My pancakes.” You can hear her eye roll, the implied ‘duh, mom’ (thanks Auntie Max).

“The nice stuff? Syrup?”

“Yeah! Sir-yup.”

“Yeah okay. A little bit.” You flip another pancake, turning the chocolate chip face down onto the heated pan. “Do you want bacon on the same plate or on the side?”

“Um. Can I dip it?”

“In the syrup?”

“Yeah, in that nice stuff.”

“Yeah, you can try dipping it. Who taught you that?”

“Teddy.”

You smirk, “Steve, did you hear that? Betty’s taking after her Uncle’s eating habits.”

“Which one?”

“Ed. She’s gonna dip her bacon in syrup.”

“That’s my girl.”

Beth giggles and turns carefully on the chair to look at him. “No Daddy, you does it all over! You got to dip-dip.”

“Can you show me how?” Steve asks, he smiles over at her, looking so handsome with the baby standing in his lap now.

“Magic word?”

You snort-laugh, tucking your chin to your chest as your shoulders shake; you just about slide the pancake onto a plate without incident. Beth has one hand on her hip, a mini-Steve for sure, giving as good as she gets.

“Are you practising your magic for later?”

“Nooo Daddy. You has to say p’weeeeeeze-uhhh.”

“Okay-uhhhh. Please, pretty princess Bethany, can you show me how to dip my bacon in syrup?”

Bethany considers it and looks at you with a cheeky smile. “Yep! I show you, Daddy!”

You wink at her before helping her pour more batter onto the hot buttered pan, praising her careful steady hand.

“Beth, can you grab a bib for Ava please?” You’re almost done and know you’ll get it served up quicker if your helper has a special task.

“Yes! What colour?” her hot cocoa eyes shine with delight to help as you help her down.

“Surprise me. We have a Halloweeny one for later, so any one you like for breakfast time okay? Dealer’s choice.” You dot a kiss to her head before watching her scurry to check what colour her sister's sleep-suit is.

“There’s a laundry basket in the living room, babe. The bibs are on top. Do you need help?” Steve asks her, lifting Ava back into her chair before going to get forks and plates and glasses of juice for the table.

“No tank you.”

You lean back against Steve’s warm chest and tilt your head for a kiss. “Hi. I missed you.”

“Missed you more,” he murmurs, squeezing the tender spots on your hips as he kisses you slowly and sweetly. A proper kiss for the morning, tasting of coffee and shared banana and sneaked chocolate chips.

Your fingers brush his jaw, feeling stubble beneath soft fingertips. He won’t shave today, you hope he’ll string it out a couple of days into the work week.

After another hip-squeeze, he picks out cutlery and you notice how he squints into the drawer.

“Glasses.”

“Getting them next, chef.”

“No, your glasses Stevie. You’ll get a headache.”

“I have a headache. I’m blaming Rob for it.”

“It’ll get worse if you don’t put your glasses on, babe.”

You watch him mimicking your correctness with a scrunched nose as he picks out forks and knives. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t have to like it.

Steve gathers everything for breakfast, including Beth’s syrup.

“I’ll get them in a sec,” he murmurs behind you, waiting for Beth to return with a bib first.

You smile to yourself and start plating up.

“Beth, how are we doing on the bib?”

When he looks into the living room, Steve sees Beth with every clean bib around her as she decides.

“I can’t find one to match!” Beth’s face is a scowl.

“Babe, it doesn’t need to match. Just pick. Please.” Steve tries to be patient. Ava is getting impatient without food or distractions in the kitchen and he hears you chatter to her to try and help. He’s usually good at the diffuse and distract technique, a pro after quasi-parenting more than half a dozen teenagers.

“Can we do a-a spooky one?”

“Um. Sure. This one is kinda autumny?” He holds up the orange and yellow floral one, tiny flowers and green leaves.

“But Ava’s jammies is pink Daddy! It doesn’t go! It has to be spooky and match!” Beth’s voice turns whiney, a pout on her face.

Steve pops his head back into the kitchen where Ava is entirely unimpressed with being ignored as you bring over the plates. “Beth would really like it if Ava could have a Halloween bib now, and if it matched her pjs too…”

You watch him suppressing an eye-roll, knowing it would just hurt his head. He looks exactly like Beth.

“Um, check the laundry room? I left a couple out.” You peek around Steve and see Beth with all of the bibs around her. “Sorry, I should’ve just told her to check in there.”

“No, it’s fine. Beth, pick those up please and come wash your hands.”

Steve smooches Ava’s cheek as he passes and palms your side with a squeeze. He picks up a purple bib with bats and a white one with ghosts - he is hopeful that one will suit Beth’s specifications and taste. He has this Dad thing down to a fine art.

The bigger girl has clean and almost dry hands, pyjama sleeves rolled up her arms by your gentle mom-touch. Her face splits into a grin when Steve presents the choices.

“Yes! The pur-pellll!” she squeaks, bouncing on her feet.

He dips to pick her up, barely suppressing the dad-groan - but it’s quieter than last time. “My little fashionista, huh? Everything’s gotta match?” He pecks her nose, making it scrunch like a bunny’s.

When Ava’s got her bib on, distracted by cut-up pumpkin-shaped pancakes and berries (with one slice of bacon), Beth sits in her seat at the table in awe of the jack-o-lantern faces you have created.

“Spooky enough, babe?” You sip maple-sweetened coffee and smile at her little happy face.

Her hair is spilling over from her messy bedtime ponytail, which comes more loose as she nods furiously. “So cool! Tank you Mommy!”

“Super cool,” Steve agrees, winking at you across the table. “Thanks, baby.”

You’re just as sexy to him now, as you were last night with your messy hair and the well-loved teddy-print dressing gown. He notices his glasses case by his coffee and you wink back at him over the top of your mug.

With his world more in focus, Steve watches you smile at Ava as she shows you her chunk of pancake. You kiss her cheek, nuzzle into her milk-and-honey scented neck telling her you love her.

You feel like the littlest one hasn’t had your full attention this morning and you have missed her, feeling mom-guilt to the hilt. Steve will take on dish-duty once the plates are empty and bellies are full, giving you time with your girls.

There are a few last-minute decorations and chores you want to make time for in between kid-friendly movies, dressing the girls in their costumes - Beth as a tiny cute witch and Ava as a cosy pumpkin. The girls are your number one priority today, making core memories for them and taking one hundred and one photos for the albums. Ava is still too little to really soak it in but she takes enough notice to nourish her little mind.

You and Steve will fill out the candy for trick-or-treaters, and hold little hands when the girls go door to door in your own cul de sac. When they’re tucked up in bed, you will pick through the candy leftovers and curl up to watch one scary film followed by a non-scary one as a balm before you sleep.

For now, you sit back and share a loving smile with Steve, your socked feet brushing beneath the breakfast table.

What a treat.

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem #platonic stobin #platonic steddie #steve harrington fluff #bangaveragefics

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hyewka · 1 year ago

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Omg for your game beomgyu + hybrid ! Except he’s a bear hybrid since I don’t actually see it often despite him being a bear and though I love puppy hybrid gyu I want to see some bear gyu appreciation 😭🤭🤔

⭑ warnings; hybrid!au, switch!beomgyu, wolf!reader, mean femdom, dubcon, fwb, predator x prey, creampie, use of whore and bitch in demeaning ways, not proofread

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

you don't exactly know what the dumb cub's obsession with you comes from. you've never looked at him different than any other predator, and yet he has this weird big crush on you. does he know what's good for him or do all preys really just lack critical thinking?

"you're pretty," he babbles in answer of your question as you purposefully clamp down on his itty bitty thing. all it really has is girth. as expected of a bear.

"no duh. but i'm not the prettiest wolf out there so again, why do you like me so much?"

your eyes shoot open when beomgyu unexpectantly starts bucking his hips into your cunt, without permission. who the hell does he think he is?! you're about to curse him out, but as you lose your composure the faster he humps into your heat, he starts talking again.

"but y-you're the prettiest to me."

it's embarrassing how much those words have an effect on you. the heat that rushes up your cheeks is embarrassing, all of it is embarrassing, you're the one who's supposed to have him blushing and yet the dumb cub is the one having you so flustered. you manage to recover, quickly collecting yourself. you huff, taking it upon yourself to hold his wrists together over his head then using your right hand to trail under his shirt, pinching his nipples. that ought to teach him.

"ow! fuck! that hurt!" he shrieks, tears shooting to water his eyes.

"ill do it again if you act out little grizzly, sit there pliant or ill rip your little teddy ears off." he looks angry, frowning at you with his bottom lip stuck out like the baby he is, but really who is he to act like this? you're the one riding him and exerting all the effort while he sits against a tree. he should be grateful that you aren't a bigger bitch.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he keeps it in as his frown transforms to ecstasy, mouth agape as his brows knit together and god, his facial expression really has you horny, hoping you could at least cum from this too.

then he rips it away from you. again.

"gonna cum, keep going you're sooogood at this--h-ha fuckkk"

you blink dumbfounded, does he really think you'll let his dirty litter in your belly? god what a dumbass.

almost immediately you stop and his glossy eyes fly open, he really looks like the most precious thing as he tries and fails to hump you. "no--no fuck!"

you tsk, letting go of his wrists and getting off his dick, dusting off your top. "hoped you'd last a little longer," you murmur pulling your panties up, indifferent to the fact that you just ruined an orgasm for him and he's squirming to try and get his high back with his hand. you could tell he's failing.

it's almost like a power trip leaving the bear on his ass, ruined to shreds against the tree, hiccuping and panting, legs still spread like a whore-- you're satisfied with your work if anything. so you didn't expect to be hurled with your back against the tree, everything going so fast and seemingly out of nowhere, the light switch terrifying with how dangerously close beomgyus face is to yours, with your wrists pinned.

"god you're such a bitch," he growls lowly, and you shiver, for the first time seeing his canines in a more predatory light. "want me to treat you like one? throw you around and give it to you rough like all the asshole predators?"

you don't let your weakness show, trying to bury down your fear. "let me go if you know what's good for you beomgyu." you warn trying to stare him down with the same intense look. it's not as effective as it usually is because he doesn't stop, tightening his hold.

"want me to use you as a body rag? thats what you want right? will that get you to treat me better than a fucking second class citizen? fuck your pussy and breed you with my cubs?"

with every word, it's like venom, your nose flaring, you're pissed. but yet the last bit stirs something deep in you, it's all confusing. why're you into this? you like toys you can control, not someone so unpredictable. who is he to think he could speak to you like that anyway? just because you haven't killed him the first chance you got and kept him around your circle he's acting out like he's better than you, like you've wronged him. you sneer at him.

"i could brush my knee against your dick and you'd buckle to your knees gyu, that's how weak you are. you wouldn't know a thing about fucking me like a bitch." you whisper, keeping the demeaning smile on your face, trying to ignore the feeling of his nails digging into your skin further and further, no doubt bruising.

you expect it, him attaching himself to you again. no matter how much you get a little mean, his lips still crash onto yours, rough and greedy and grossly passionate, like he's trying to convince you of something. it's different this time, he's not holding back, slipping his hand down your pants not wasting any time to rub at your clit, not waiting for any instructions and your body is reacting.

"so wet." he sighs into the feeling of your pussy, squeezing in a second, then a third. "what a whore."

he's fast, he's experienced with his fingers, he knows exactly what you like and it's all your fault for instructing him this entire time. he always had a glint to his eyes, like he'd snap and take you himself. and you guess today was his last straw.

"fuck, beomgyu, i-i'm gonna cum.." it's humiliating, but your pussy clenches around his slender fingers, and you could hear him whimpering, like this gets him off too. even when he's the one in control, he's still as desperate.

suddenly, like your warning is the call he's been waiting for, he turns you back to have your body against the tree, and you know he wants to go along his promise to breed you. suddenly you feel the emptiness of his fingers, and you're about to complain before he takes both your wrists in his hand, having them behind your back, his dick proding your entrance. "ready bitch?"

"beomgyu i swear if you cum inside of me-"

he doesn't listen, of course he doesn't. your tits bounce with each and every thrust and you just hope to the gods that nobody finds you like this. he's totally gone savage, trying to drill his cock deep into your pussy, whispering all sorts of filthy words. if everything before wasn't a big whiplash this was it.

even when you orgasm around his dick, he isn't satisfied. "beomgyu-fuck! stop please it h-hurts-"

"im not stopping until i have your tummy filled. ill make you have my babies." he says with so much conviction, his breath staggering.

"for the last time we can't breed dumb cub!" is what you wish you could say but all you're capable of with the mush state of your mind is intelligible moans. he's as fast and ruthless, playing with your tits when he can, not missing a second to kiss all over your neck.

you've lost to beomgyu of all people, how humiliating.

note; I haven't read over this but hopefully it's okay, crossing my fingers 😭

#✶ ━━ rana ; answered #txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #hybrid smut #🌷. rana thoughts

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aethertetsuya · 1 year ago

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DP x DC ❤️‍🩹

Let me put you out of you misery.

Here's the thing. Danny was already half dead for his entire existence. He was born at deaths door from the DNA of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul. His only saving grace was being dipped in the newly found pure Lazarus pit beneath St Peter's Basilica. However, it dried up immediately after he was dipped in it, making the witnesses believe he absorbed all of it into his body.

In the ironic twist of fate, Danny finds himself running TO the Fentons for protection from the GIW and Batman.

Growing up, he was found to be ordinary. Aside from his high intelligence and fast reflexes, he was found weak by League standards. So he found him once again at death's door.

On his last and rigged mission, he was expected to die, and everyone was sure he would. But he survived barely. But he also lost all his memories and was found by the Fentons.

Fast forward a few years, the portal accident awakens his dormant ghost half, and memories infront of his parents. The convention they planned on going was canceled at the last minute. They arrived home to walked in the lab filled with Danny's scream and the Portal openning on top of him. Moments later he was spat out the portal. White hair, gloves, and boots, and a Black Hazmat Suit. No one can speak about what just happened.

While checking up on Danny, he transformed back into a human. The Fentons were simply just glad that their boy is okay. Heartbeat. That means he's alive.

Fast forward again to a few months after Danny, witht he backing of his parents, cement himself as a protector of the town.

Damian finds out about his supposedly dead older brother being alive and wants to take him out because ... there can only be one blood son. He thinks.

The manipulative gremlin sides with the GIW and gets Bruce (only) to believe their shit.

Danny finds himself at the end of an ecto weapon barrel with Bruce at the other end, and Damian tells Bruce to pull the trigger.

In his moment of hesitation he was shot by the Fenton. "Get away from our Baby Boy you furry"

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #bruce wayne #jack fenton #maddie fenton #Good Fenton Parents #damian wayne #misguided Bruce and Damian Wayne

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kiiwiigii · 1 year ago

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Abandoned

Demetri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Going to Italy over spring break was not what you had in mind, but Bella said she needed you. Until she didn't anymore, leaving you in the hands of a handsome vampire, who happens to be your mate.

Warnings:

Angst

Bella and the Cullens suck. (Ha ha. I'm so funny.)

Word Count: 1500+

Requested?: Yes!

heya thanks for answering my earlier ask about requests! Could I please request a demetri x reader angsty with fluff where they meet in new moon as reader tags along with bella to help and demtri is drawn to her cause theyre mates and volturi agree to let bella go and be turned later if the reader stays and reader is hurt that edward, bella and even alice agree to it so quickly so she feels abandoned and demetri works to earn her trust and comforts her about it at a later date? (If its too much or you end up tweaking it thats okay!!) <3

A/N: What kind of Volturi fic writer would I didn't do this trope? And for once it's not Alec-centric. I love it! Also, this is gonna be a two-parter.

I hated flying with a burning passion. But Bella insisted that I go with her for emotional support. I almost snapped at her to take Jacob instead. Emotional support animals were free after all. She just needed the paperwork.

Unfortunately, I don't think a big-ass werewolf-slash-shapeshifter would go over well if they were to accidentally transform. Bella was lucky that I even had a passport. In the end, it was Alice who convinced me, definitely playing the loyalty card pretty heavily. If only I had known that loyalty was not extended to me.

Italy was beautiful, but between the sweet relief of landing, Alice stealing a car, and getting caught up in the whirlwind that was the St. Marcus festival, I had barely any time to take it all in. The city was awash with hundreds of people, their red cloaks swirling about as they danced and celebrated.

Bella was diving out the car, screaming Edward's name. I dove into the crowds to follow her, making my way through the throngs of red cloaks to find her. It didn't take long before I was hopelessly lost. What had Alice said? Edward was going to reveal himself. What exactly would happen if he did? That was one thing I had never managed to get out of Bella.

Would he just… spontaneously combust?

No. That made no sense, he never would have come to the Volturi for death if that happened.

But where was the best place to do it?

I looked around desperately before my eyes landed on the clock tower in the center of the square. There. That was the prefect place. I pushed through the crowds, yelling Bella's name at the top of my lungs.

Demetri

"BELLA!"

He turned at the sound, and his dead heart seemed to beat for just a moment. Her voice sounded like heaven. Demetri scanned the square, eyes searching, desperate with hope that maybe, just maybe, she might be who he thought she was.

"Bella!'

It was closer this time, and through a break in the crowds he saw her. Time seemed to slow down as he took in the sight of her. She was by the clock tower, her chest rising and falling with the effort to breathe, as if she had just run a long distance. And given the beads of sweat along her brow and the trickles that dripped down her tantalizing neck, she had.

She was stunning. Beautiful. And more than everything that he had ever hoped for.

The other girl in front of him, Bella, turned around in both alarm and relief.

"Bella," Edward said softly. "Relax. He won't harm her."

"Demetri?" Felix asked, voice heavy with confusion.

"Stay with our… guests, Felix."

Demetri was next to the girl in the blink of an eye, stepping into her line of sight a moment later. She jerked back in alarm before making eye contact with him. And it happened. His whole world seemed to turn upside down. He grinned. She was his.

"Hello, principessa." He lifted her warm hands to his cold lips, enjoying the subtle taste of her skin. "I am Demetri. I will escort you to your friends. If you will follow me."

She raised a disbelieving brow at him, taking him in before landing on his eyes. She gulped a little and nodded her head. He held out his arm for her to take, and after a moments hesitation, she did so.

Upon arriving at the alleyway in which the others stood, his mate let go and hugged Bella tightly.

"You're alright." She breathed, her perfect voice hushed.

"I'm alright, Y/N."

"Good to have you back." It was Jane. "Aro has been wondering what has been taking so long. Let us continue."

He put a hand on his mates back, urging her forward silently.

Demetri found that he no longer cared what would happen with Cullen and his human, not so long as his mate stayed.

I was a moron.

Despite the seriously fucked up and dangerous situation that Bella had somehow pulled me into, I couldn’t help but blush as I felt this stranger's hand on my lower back.

'Demetri. His name is Demetri, Y/N.'

The gesture felt oddly warm and comforting. He felt oddly warm and comforting.

And I liked it. But also I didn't like it. He was making me feel all funny and I honestly didn't know what to do about it.

I glanced back at him, only to find him already looking at me, something akin to wonder in his eyes. He gave me a small smile and I turned back around, blushing harder. I liked that smile. A lot. I shook my head, following behind Edward and Bella, doing my best to not trip.

I had bigger things to worry about. Such as getting out of this situation alive. Alice had neglected to tell me much of anything, and I had only caught snippets of her conversation with Bella on the plane. All I knew was that the Volturi laid down the law, and they were not to be fucked with. I suddenly wished I had paid more attention instead of worrying about the death trap that was called a plane.

I grabbed Alice's hand, my anxiety spiking. She gave my hand a small squeeze, sending me another smile. But something was off. She wouldn't look me in the eye. In fact I couldn't recall her looking me in the eye since we had boarded the plane to Italy. And outside of his initial surprise to see me, neither had Edward. I frowned at the sudden realization, slowing down a moment and pulling my hand from hers. Demetri slowed down as well, gently pressing on my back for me to continue, but I stayed rooted in the spot.

"What are you hiding?" My voice cracked. "What did you see?"

Alice looked back at me, surprised.

"Now is not the time, Y/N." Demetri's lips brushed against my ear.

I really liked the way he said my name.

"Indeed." Jane turned around, her face blank.

Demetri tensed, angling himself so that I was out of Jane's eyesight.

"Do not worry, Demetri. I have no intent to harm your mate... As long as she keeps up."

She was so blasé about the whole thing that it took a minute for me to register what she said. Mate? I had a mate? Mates were a thing?

Demetri hissed at her and everyone edged away from the two of them, looking at Demetri as if he were a dead man. Jane just smiled.

"Let us continue. Demetri, do keep your human in line."

I wondered if my brain had just stopped working at that point because I would have normally said something back, but I couldn't bring myself to do much of anything. Demetri turned back around, looking at me as one would a spooked animal. And I was pretty close to a spooked animal. I was starting to hyperventilate, and I definitely wanted to run, but I couldn't get my legs to work.

"Y/N." He reached out, clasping both of my arms lightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out this way, but we really must keep going."

I nodded, numb. Alice knew. How long had she known? And Edward hadn't bothered to say a damn thing to me either. Why? They couldn't bother to prepare me for this? I have a fucking mate. That's not something you can just shove under the rug. And Jane. Fucking Jane-

Demetri's hand slid into my own, the coolness of his skin breaking me out of my haze just enough to keep moving forward. I could feel myself beginning to shut down and disassociate, auto-pilot taking over. I could feel his thumb rubbing circles softly on the palm of my hand and decided to focus on that instead.

Jane pushed the heavy double doors in front of us open.

My brain refused to shut off, memories of the last 24 hours replaying repeatedly in my head.

Bella had been released under two conditions:

She was to be turned within the year.

I was to stay here, to be with my mate.

I didn't have a choice, not that it really mattered, because I would have given myself up in a heartbeat for Bella. But they had taken the deal with barely a thought. Even Bella. That's when I realized that she knew. She had known the whole time. And Alice. I kept thinking about how she had worked so hard to convince me to come. To be Bella's emotional support. I wasn't there to be her emotional support. I was there to be traded, like some dog. And it hurt.

I had lost everything.

My friends. My home. My family.

I would never see my mother again. My father had passed a little over a year ago to cancer, so my mother and I were already in the practice of mourning. But my mom, not only had she lost my dad, but now she would think I was dead too. How would she cope?

How was I going to cope? How could I ever trust anyone again? Bella and the Cullens had taken advantage of me. Of my love. My loyalty.

I wouldn't let it happen again. Never.

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yanderestarangel · 7 months ago

Note

Just heat me out, step!big brother Kuai Liang x ftm reader. Where Kuai Liang buys a kimono that is too small on the curves of his step!brother and they end up fucking 🥴 `'yes inspired by your J.ai bot.

- 🍓

Urghh I just love this concept lol. This was my favorite bot.

TW: ftm reader, fingering, eat out, shibari, afab anatomy, praise, stepincest, dark smut, use of powers, squirt.

The fabric of the kimono accentuated your curves beautifully, your thighs were creamy and soft while your breasts spilled out of the garment's horizontal neckline ─ you were practically naked and it was Kuai Liang's fault

But after using his voice so many times to show you the results, you decided to go out and show him how it had looked on you, even though you were practically naked in the eyes of anyone there. As you enter the room, Kuai Liang can't help but swallow hard, his gaze lingering on the sight of your skin and curves peeking out from the kimono. His breathing becomes slightly ragged, his eyes locking onto your pussy teasingly exposed beneath the fabric, the thin material barely hiding the enticing view.

"Wrong number indeed," he murmurs, trying to regain his composure. He steps closer to you, reaching out to adjust the collar of the garment, his fingers brushing against your neck briefly before he straightens it out. "Let's find a better fit," he suggests, biting his lip to hide his arousal. He guides you over to his closet, searching for another gi that might suit you better.

"Maybe something more, covered?..." His brows furrow as he rifles through the selection, his mind racing with thoughts of how seductive you look in the current outfit. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but imagine running his fingers along your exposed skin, tasting your tender flesh.

"But you still look lovely, little prince."

You lightly joked that you looked like Jessica Rabbit due to the red color of your short kimono ─ Kuai Liang on the other hand can't help but laugh softly, his laughter rumbling through his chest. He stands behind you, resting his head on your delicate shoulder, his grip gentle yet firm on your breasts. The sensation of his breath against your skin tickles slightly, his eyes never leaving the reflection of the two of you. "Jessica Rabbit reincarnated as a prince... quite the transformation," he chuckles, enjoying the feeling of your curves in his hands. His grip tightens ever so slightly, giving a gentle squeeze before releasing you.

"However..." His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, his erection pressing against your ass as he speaks. "...my prince looks rather... enticing." He whispers the last word into your ear, his breath warming your earlobe as he leans in closer, his intention clear despite his calm tone. You saw his look at you in the mirror in front of both of you, as he with his warm, warm hands traced your body and lifted the thin fabric of your robes, exposing your naked body to him ─ A smile played on your step brother's lips, as you felt him get hotter, practically the comfortable heat of his muscles engulfing you. The pyromancer took some spare strings from his closet, some new ones that were used for his future Lin Kuei training, but now he had other plans for such an object.

"For someone with an angel face like yours, my little brother know how to manipulate situations. An innocent little face that hides a mischievous little devil." he muses, his voice low and husky as he ties the ropes in various knots, preparing them for whatever comes next.

"Don't worry, little angel, I won't hurt you." With that promise, he begins tying the rope around your wrists, ensuring they're snug but comfortable. If you're nervous, he'll reassure you all the while, his focus solely on ensuring your comfort and pleasure. He finishes passing the brown lines all over your body, placing emphasis on leaving your thighs wide open and exposing your pussy for his gaze. As he brings you to the bed, he doesn't waste any time, diving straight into pleasuring you. His tongue flicks out, immediately finding your clit, sending electric shocks through your body as he lavishes attention on it. He watches your reaction, pleased to see you tremble and drip for him. This surprises him, but it only fuels his desire further.

"You're so wet... so responsive..." he mumbles against your folds, his erection throbbing painfully in his pants. He kisses your clit again, then sucks it gently into his mouth before releasing it. "Such a naughty little boy you are, opening that pretty pussy and letting your step brother use you." He chuckles, teasing your entrance with his tongue, exploring every inch of your folds. The fire ninja relishes the sight of your trembles and whimpers, your breasts swaying gracefully despite being restrained. He smirks, captivated by your reactions to his touch.

He removes his fingers from your dripping pussy, causing you to whimper in protest. But as he pulls you onto his lap and spreads your legs, your protests turn into moans of pleasure as he begins to lavish attention on your sensitive clit.

"Good boys deserve to be rewarded." he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. His fingers continue to tease and stroke your clit, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys along your neck. He revels in your squirming beneath his touch, the way your body reacts to his every move. Your step older brother's fingers continue their sweet torture ─ his other hand caressing and squeezing your breasts, his touch demanding and gentle all at once.

You feel a heat in your core, made even worse by the shibari ropes on your body ─ He knew what was coming next simply by the way you pathetically begged him to make you cum, a request to which the tattooed man gladly complied. "you're going to give me a fucking squirt aren't you little brother?" He mocked as he used his powers and slightly heated the tip of his fingers, putting perfect pressure on your sensitive spot. You felt your vision cloud as you screamed his name and threw your head back finding his chest, he saw the transparent liquid come out of your pussy and stain the floor making him giving you kisses along your sweaty neck while he still held onto the ropes that bound you.

"good boy... you were my good boy."

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freemilkshakesposts · 3 months ago

Text

Bathing In The Rain

⚠️Warning ⚠️: Sexual content (18+) MDNI

Levi x Reader (Smut)

Summary: A Marley soldier and the captain of the Survey Corps, a love deemed forbidden, a passion that you once believed to be genuine—a lie, a fabrication, an illusion. How could you not have seen it for what it was? Yet, perhaps, when you encounter Levi beneath the rain's relentless downpour, the true essence of your relationship will be unveiled. In other words...outdoor smut in the rain.

The night unfurled in a wild dance of grey and silver, the heavens erupting in a primal deluge to drench the world below. Rain descended in relentless sheets, soaking everything in its path, an unstoppable force of nature. Thunder roared in the distance, a feral, beastly echo shattering the fragile stillness. But in this world, peace is an illusion. There is no such thing. There must always be chaos to balance the order, a perpetual disruption to maintain the façade of equilibrium.

Levi stood outside bathed in the raw splendour of the nocturnal storm, surrendering himself entirely to it.

The rain was merciless, each drop a sharp lance of cold against his skin, like arrows piercing St. Sebastian. But while Sebastian’s torment was divine, Levi's was an earthly baptism by storm.

The stinging rain was his punishment, embedding into his flesh, each droplet tracing his face with a crystalline touch. It slipped down his form like ghostly caresses, drenching his uniform, transforming the fabric into a darker, richer shade, while his dark hair clung to his forehead.

Yet, amidst the sting and the chill, there was a purity to the moment—a delicate, immaculate tableau. He stood in solitary watch, consumed by the storm’s relentless embrace.

"Levi," a voice called out, shattering the serenity of the moment, its barely audible murmur struggling against the storm's fury. "We need to talk."

He pivoted towards the voice, the rain continuing its onslaught, each drop slicing into his skin with the precision of tiny, cold blades. His gaze shifted, a nearly imperceptible softening in his eyes as he took in your disheveled state.

Your hair, plastered against your face in limp, damp strands, resembled wet seaweed. The drenched fabric of your shirt adhered to your form like a second skin, highlighting the curves of your breasts. Harsh creases marred your long, black coat, revealing the frailty of your soaked clothing underneath. You were utterly drenched, the rain's relentless, unyielding assault rendering you a sodden, vulnerable figure in the storm.

As you approached him, heavy droplets cascaded down your cheeks, blending seamlessly with the tears you fought to mask.

"Why did you come out here? Shit, look at you, completely soaked." His voice was low, edged with a chilling steel. "You might as well come inside to dry off; can't have you catching a cold." His grip tightened on your wet, cold shoulder, steering you towards the entrance with an unsettling calm.

You shoved him back instantly, your hand pressing firmly against his chest, eliciting a shuddered gasp from his throat.

“N-no,” you stammer, the quiver in your voice betraying the fortress of your resolve. You gasped internally, catching a glimpse of his eyes—eyes ablaze with a malevolent inferno, scorching your skin with their crimson heat. The raw power of his gaze almost consumes you, drawing you into submission. But then the cold rain, relentless and unforgiving, lashes at your face, a brutal reminder of the grim necessity of this act. Fuck it. You've bled and suffered, lost everything on this deranged quest for him, for this twisted mirage.

Drawing a deep breath, you force the truth up from the depths of your being. "Our whole relationship was nothing but a lie."

Levi's eyes narrowed, the rain beating down on his furrowed brow. "What are you talking about?"

It all became clear. The pieces had fallen into place: his sudden interest, the probing questions—questions you’d never answer to anyone else—and the frequent absences. Your heart tightened with the realisation that the man you had come to love had seen you as nothing more than a tool.

"You know exactly what I mean," you hiss, taking a deliberate step closer. "All this time, you've been using me, haven't you? Gathering intel, manipulating events—whatever fits your agenda. I'm nothing but a pawn for the Corps, a worthless rag for you just to squeeze dry for information on Marley."

The rain fell harder, each droplet crashing against the ground with such force it felt as though the world itself was convulsing, on the verge of disintegration, crumbling into a void.

Levi's gaze wavered, a flicker of something-guilt, regret?-crossing his features.

"I did what I had to do," he replied, his voice betraying a slight tremor as he struggled to maintain a veneer of control. "For the sake of humanity. For the mission."

You shook your head, the rain blending with your tears, searing your eyes with an almost exquisite agony. "Was any of it real then?" You asked, your voice trembling. "The nights we spent talking, the moments we shared...did your ever care for me, or was it all just a part of your elaborate scheme?"

The silence that followed was a deafening void, punctuated only by the storm's unyielding wrath. Rain hit against the trees with relentless brutality, flooding their limbs in a cascade of ruin, submerging the leaves in an unforgiving torrent. The once-refined petals of fragile blooms wept in mournful surrender, their fragile beauty annihilated, petal by petal.

Levi stepped forward, his hand extending to brush against your faintly reddened cheek. The chill of the air clung to his touch, an icy whisper that sent a shudder rippling through you, urging you to instinctively draw back.

"I never meant to hurt you," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the storm, tenderly tracing the contours of your face. "But this world... it doesn't allow for love. Not for people like us."

His words sliced through your chest like a precision-honed blade, extracting the vibrant, pulsing crimson of your heart until only void remains.

He's correct.

In this world, all that is beautiful is inevitably marred, unable to endure the unforgiving verities of our existence. This brutal equilibrium.

But inside, a primal urge festers—to be selfish, one last time. Selfish enough to annihilate that equilibrium. That's what you crave, what you deem necessary: obliterate the balance, reclaim and preserve that elusive beauty once more.

Without hesitation, you surged forward, seizing his cold, wind-battered face, pressing your lips to his in a desperate, punishing kiss.

He matched your intensity, his arms ensnaring you, yanking you closer.

The rain, now a relentless deluge, crashed over you, submerging your entwined forms on the sodden earth, both of you consumed by the downpour.

Your lips clashed, battled, and devoured each other with a ferocity so violent it was as if you were each other's last meal, a sacrificial communion.

You broke the kiss, gasping for breath, your eyes searching his. "Tell me this is real," you pleaded. "Tell me it wasn't all a lie."

Levi’s eyes softened, and for the first time you saw the man behind the soldier, the vulnerable soul beneath the hardened exterior. "This," he said, his voice quivering ever so slightly as his icy hands gripped yours, "this is real."

From those words something fractured deep within you, the final vestige of restraint, utterly incinerated.

Your shaky fingers wrestled with the buttons of his shirt, the rain turning the simple act into a battle against the elements. Frustration built within you, but Levi was there, his hands guiding yours with unspoken urgency, and soon his shirt lay discarded on the slick ground. In a swift motion, Levi began to yank the long coat from your shoulders. His hands slid beneath your own shirt, tearing at the buttons and pushing the fabric away, leaving you exposed to the relentless storm. As the cold air hit your skin, he shoved you against the wall, the icy stone biting into your back—a brutal contrast to the searing heat of his form.

His fingers began to glide along the curve of your spine with a soft touch, each touch a stroke of reverent artistry, like a painter spellbound by the sublime beauty of their subject, consumed by an all-encompassing need to possess it. As your body arched into his touch, the warmth of his mouth followed, tracing a burning path down your neck towards your chest. His lips found your left nipple, sucking gently, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand moved to massage your other breast, kneading it tenderly with each rhythmic pulse of his thumb.

It was clear that all semblance of propriety was swept away in the torrent.

He tore his mouth from your left nipple, lips now seeking yours again with an almost predatory hunger. The kiss that followed was desperate, devouring-his lips demanding, yours eager. It was a collision of mouths, breath mingling in a frantic exchange.

Your hands wandered without grace, pulling him closer, as if to meld into one being. A low groan escaped you, lost in the wet heat of the kiss, as his tongue probed beneath your teeth, slipping past your lips with audacious confidence. Fingers gripped your hips, digging in with a fierce possessiveness, as if this moment were the last chance to claim you. But then, he withdrew from the kiss, leaving only a thin, glistening strand of saliva bridging the distance between you both.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me,” he implored, his voice now laden with a desperate yearning that mirrored his pleading gaze.

This time you reassured him: an immediate breathless "Yes" slipping from your lips.

Levi suddenly swept you off the wall, causing you to gasp as he effortlessly spun you around, laying you gently on the damp grass. The cold ground stole the searing heat from your body, turning it into mist as you gazed up at the dark sky, breathless and captivated.

He moved to hover above you, his presence a cocoon of warmth that drew you inescapably into his orbit. Levi's eyes were dark and enigmatic, locking onto yours with a fierce intensity, a hunger that shattered any illusion of restraint. It was almost frightening, yet you couldn't deny that he was the very essence of seduction incarnate.

Rain clung to his lashes, falling onto your face like tiny, cool kisses. You were utterly enveloped by him, the sensation of wet mud against your skin fading into insignificance. In that moment, nothing existed but Levi.

His lips resumed their journey across your skin, each kiss upon your collarbone a jolt that stirred a ravenous need within. The cool droplets of water clinging to your flesh starkly contrasted with the searing heat of Levi's kisses, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. As his mouth wandered downward across your chest, his hands gripped your hips, steadying you. He knelt before you, his lips charting a slow, torturous path to the edge of your abdomen, lingering tantalizingly close to that aching desire that you yearned for him to sate.

"You look beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

His hands found the waistband of your trousers, seizing them and stripping them away with deliberate slowness, savouring the anticipation in the air. With the same fervent urgency, he tore away your black knickers, now damp with a delicate sheen, casting them aside to join the scattered remnants of your clothing.

He seized your thighs with a firm grasp, prying them apart.

"Already so wet for me," he murmured, the words seeming to reverberate off the tender skin of your inner thighs, as his thumb traced a lazy circle around your clit, the wetness amplifying in your ears.

His lips trailed a path down to your exposed core, each touch worshipful.

As his mouth closed around your swollen clit, a delicate gasp escaped your lips, the sensation verging on the unbearable. His tongue teased and flicked, coaxing moans from deep within, as his hands pressed your thighs back, exposing you completely to him.

You didn't care if anyone caught you; the thought of exposure was as thrilling as it was irrelevant. Your own comrades witnessing you submit to Captain Levi? It didn’t matter. This felt right—inevitably, perfectly right.

Within mere seconds, another moan tore from your lips, your hips arching instinctively toward his face as he administered a pleasure so exquisite it bordered on torment. His touch was a maddening interplay of fierce and gentle, each caress sending electric jolts through your every nerve. Your hands, almost of their own volition, ensnared his dark hair, fingers tracing the starkness of his undercut.

The swiftness of your approaching climax was both disconcerting and shameful like a delicate thread stretched to its breaking point, teetering on the edge of an inevitable rupture.

Then, the sudden warmth of his mouth vanished entirely, leaving behind an emptiness, a fullness that dissolved into nothingness.

An immediate chill settled over you, the void left by his absence creating a gaping abyss. It seemed to siphon away the invisible warmth that had enveloped and protected you from the rain, intensifying the bite of the night air against your exposed skin. Cold raindrops began to pelt your body with an unforgiving rhythm.

"Levi..." you murmured, a plaintive note edging your voice.

He drew his face from your thighs, returning it to yours, and gently placed a single finger upon your lips. His expression had taken on a wholly illicit quality. His lips were smeared with the glistening evidence of your desire, the damp sheen of your arousal staining them.

"I don't want you to cum like this. I want us to be selfish together. One more time. Will you allow me that?"

To be selfish. One more time. The notion, steeped in cruelty, dances on the edge of immorality—a siren call to greed. To be so selfish as to betray Marley, to find pleasure even with the enemy. Yet, how could one deny him now? His eyes, frantic with desperation, and the rain draping his skin in a luminous veil. He appeared insatiable. And, of course, you craved your own release... that sharp, intoxicating crescendo of pleasure only he could provide, a singular, forbidden ecstasy no one else could replicate.

You quickly nodded, finding yourself unable to form words, as your body instinctively leaned towards him again. Your legs parted with a kind of silent urgency, beckoning him closer.

Levi's lips curled into a knowing smirk as he observed your needy demeanour. He began unzipping his trousers, revealing his ardent desire, pulsing with the anticipation of being freed from its confines by the allure of your blossoming beauty.

"So tight..." He grunted, his determination palpable as he fought to penetrate the walls of your defenses, striving to reach that sacred, long-abandoned sanctuary within you-a place where he once found peace but had neglected in the name of duty and humanity, as he had so conveniently excused himself.

How much he lamented his neglect; in this moment, all he wanted was to shower you with the love you deserved, a desperate attempt to redeem himself and reclaim what was lost.

When he finally entered you, it was not mere pleasure that consumed him; it was something far more profound. His eyes dilated, and the veins in his neck pulsed beneath the pale strech of skin. This act was not a simple indulgence in physical desire; it was a dark, sacramental rite, a pursuit of redemption. To the unknowing observer, it might have seemed a mere spectacle, a cunning performance crafted to ensnare your affection and pry information from your lips. But you knew Levi too well.

The pounding rain formed a cacophony in your ears, drowning out everything but the sensation of Levi-his touch, his breath, each gasp and moan. Every thrust was a fervent prayer, a plea for more,as he surged into you with an exquisite ferocity. His movements were deliberate, forceful, each one reaching deep, pressing against the tender boundary of your cervix. His hands traced a delicate path across your skin- stomach, chest, face-a whisper of tenderness against the merciless rhythm of his thrusts. It was an intoxicating equilibrium, and you relished every moment of it.

"I'm sorry..." Levi purred into your ear, a groan lacing with his words.

Those words pushed you over the edge, sending you to your peak. The rain seemed to intensify, as if it were a baptism, washing away every ounce of the past, pain and betrayal. Your cry pierced the air, your nails digging ruthlessly into the wet earth, your body responding, convulsing around him. Levi was right there with you, his grip on your hips tightening, his breath a scorching whisper against your ear. In that moment, all restraints disintegrated, and his seed flooded into you, filling your garden. The long-barren soil of your existence was finally rejuvenated, and the once-withered flowers of your soul exploded into vivid, riotous bloom.

You both collapsed onto the grass, utterly spent, each breath ragged. Levi's head rested against your chest, his breaths shallow and feverish, their warmth searing your skin.

Glancing up at the dark sky, where menacing clouds hang like an impending judgment, fear is absent. Instead, a surge of life more vibrant than ever before courses through your veins.

Levi's restless shift upon your chest caught your attention, his head lifting languidly from its repose. Then, as if the storm itself were holding its breath, the silence was ruptured by his murmur: "I'm sorry," he whispered again, his voice scarcely rising above the tempest's roar. "For everything." In response, you extended your index finger tracing the contours of his face with deliberate tenderness, guiding from the curve of his cheek to the rigid edge of his sharp jawline. You lingered there, gently massaging the tip of his chin with your thumb.

"I don't know if I can forgive you," you whispered, your gaze heavy with somber intensity. "In this world, beauty and duty must always be in balance. What we share is beauty—rare and fragile. But duty remains, unyielding. I am a Marleyan soldier, and you are the captain of the Survey Corps. To disrupt this equilibrium continually carries profound consequences."

You sighed deeply, the weight of your decision pressing heavily on the air. "Yet we are all permitted one indulgence to disrupt this fragile equilibrium, one fleeting moment of self-gratification. I have elected to be selfish with you now, to forsake duty for this transient beauty. I chose you. But forgiveness, that would mean succumbing to the chaos that inevitably follows. I want you safe... for if we transgress, we unravel the equilibrium."

Levi remained silent, his eyes steadfastly locked onto yours, yet you could discern the unspoken acceptance of these truths within his mind. He nestled his face against your chest once more sighing into it, his arms encircling your form, drawing his body ever closer, as if seeking to fuse his very body with yours.

Both of you knew this brief peace was destined to shatter, as inevitable as a raindrop meeting the earth. Yet, for now, you chose to remain entwined, savouring the warmth of your bodies pressed together. Even the rain, once a curse, now felt like a gentle caress.

As your fingers traced the sharp lines of Levi’s undercut while he slept against your chest, you understood this was the moment—the singular truth you craved, the only reality you sought to possess.

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annabelle-creart · 4 months ago

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Life of Rescue Bots x Sweet Tooth

The children:

Little reminder that my calculations are wrong and Sissi and CeCe are 2 years older than supposed when Elsie and Camille are those ages, that means they’re supposed to be: Sissi a Newborn and CeCe two years old, but, well, it’s easier to make a little children than babies :v

And yes, I was temptated before I start again with the routine (I DONT WANT TO RETURN TO NORMAL CLASSES, SAVE ME FROM THIS LIFE)

But here we are, these are Elsie Rubio the bunny, the youngest child of the Rubio’s, CeCe the ferret, Doc Greene and Prof. Baranova’s little girl, Camille the crow, the hybrid that appears with Charlie at the first part of my fanfic, and Sissi (Elizabeth) the red fox, as you read in the third part, Kade and Hayley’s first child

Due to the lot of time that passed from the great crumble and the third part, it’s normal that the kids are bigger, Elsie was the first hybrid baby to born on Griffin Rock from residents that lived there before the apocalypse, two years later after the Great crumble, then, CeCe was born a lot of time later, but still is the second to born from parents that were residents before the crumble or the sick, and then Sissi

Elsie is like a little princess but it’s also a little messy, as the first one to born as hybrid in the island, she received some hostile comments, but that was so much ago that she don’t remember, so, she dedicates her time into playing with other kids and playing the flute with her mom

CeCe is still a genius, her big hair don’t let the rest see her ears, but has a really good ear, she’s always running and is as hyperactive as a ferret, and definitely a menace to society if she wasn’t enough polite

Camille is shy, prefers to sit in silence watching the rest play, but also enjoys science and medicine, he even dreams into being a doctor some day, he can’t talk because of his voice, but can mimic lots of sounds and knows sign language, also, he can’t fly yet but is learning

Sissi is an enigma, because know you see her as little and shy, maybe untrusting, but wait for two years more and you will see the most dangerous menace for all Griffin Rock, because she likes to bite and loves to make jokes (Kade’s fault, all the karma is finally falling on him) and is also too curious and prefer mud than normal baths, nobody knows how she ended up as rescuer when she grow up, but everyone said the same of Hector (Heatwave) when he was a teen

I don’t have a lot to share about them, because what it’s not about the crumble you would probably know, so, meh, in compensation, I made these

That’s all, good night

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kiunlo · 11 months ago

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My comms have been updated! **Paypal only**

Prices have gone up to fit the amount of progress I've made with my art skill! I currently have no commissions that I'm doing at the moment so I thought now it was the perfect time to update my prices and also put some better images in the post :3

Before you ask, no, I unfortunately I do not have any other paying options as Cashapp and Venmo are not available in Australia :( Also have no idea how to set up a stripe account for Kofi (which would allow ppl to pay via credit card). I’m really sorry for the inconvenience!

There are now multiple ways for people to contact me if they want to commission me! You can DM me here on tumblr, you can send me message over on Discord @ kiunlo / Kiunlo#3756, OR if you don't have any type of social media/don't want to make an account, I also now have a google form that you can fill out as well! Also please ensure you have a reference image of the person or thing or creature you want me to draw! 💗 More details below on what I will/will not draw.

What I will draw:

OCs

Canon characters

Mecha (ex: transformers)

Furry/Anthro

Mild blood/gore

Ship art (including oc x canon, canon x canon, oc x oc)

Backgrounds

What I won't draw:

Real life people without consent (with consent is completely fine!)

Nsfw

Intense gore

Inc*st/pseudo-inc*st or p*do stuff

Anything that’s racist/homophobic/transphobic/ableist etc.

I'm allowed to deny a commission for any reason if I believe I'm not able to do it or it makes me uncomfortable, and I do not need to tell you the reason why if I don't want to.

#ash's personal tag #my art #commissions #commissions open #artists on tumblr

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sunnyrealist · 25 days ago

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Chapter 65: Irises and Yellow Roses

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Everyone has left the Three Broomsticks to give Sebastian and Ominis some privacy to catch up on their own. Ominis explained how he and Anne fell in love, what their marriage was like, and how her health greatly improved over the years. He then recounted the events preceding her sudden death. Anne had become determined to have children to continue the Sallow family line; she didn't wish for it to end in tragedy. Deliberately going against Ominis' wishes, she stopped taking her contraceptive potion on purpose, which resulted in pregnancy. Close to the twins' due date, Anne had a random bout of illness, but they considered it fairly normal and unconcerning, based on her symptoms, and she stubbornly refused to see a Healer. The next morning, Ominis woke up to find her dead beside him. In this chapter, Ominis continues the story and later, Sebastian returns home.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the assistant librarian at Hogwarts

Art Credit: the very talented @giselsann-opencommissions 💛

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+, so minors should not read or interact with this story, but this chapter really has nothing I would consider triggering.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 65: Irises and Yellow Roses

“Ominis…” Sebastian murmurs, noticing his watery eyes.

“The coroner said that Anne had… experienced a stroke. That she had likely been suffering from something called toxemia,” the blonde man continues somberly. “It supposedly happens to many pregnant women, especially to those pregnant with multiples, and is difficult to detect. We just… thought the symptoms were normal. We were so used to her having bouts of illness like that.” He pauses, wiping at his eyes. “We didn’t realize the severity.”

Sebastian works his jaw. He cannot fathom how something so… mundane could have finished her off, after all she had suffered through. Anne’s refusal to see a Healer was infuriating - and so like her, but he understands that they could never have imagined her suddenly dying overnight with those symptoms. Then, he considers Ominis’ experience.

Waking up to find the love of his life dead without warning.

Expecting to raise a family, only to end up completely alone.

All hopes and dreams dashed.

Sebastian doesn’t even know what to say. He sits quietly, lost in his own pain, as he watches his old friend, his brother-in-law, cry.

“I should have insisted she go to St. Mungo’s,” Ominis mumbles dejectedly. “I want to- to take it all back. Reverse it all. It… it hurts so badly. I’ve lost… everything.”

Carefully choosing his words, Sebastian finally replies, “I understand. My situation… was never the same as yours… but I understand the feeling.” He reaches out to place a handkerchief in Ominis’ hand. “It’s indescribably… horrific. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. For many years, I wasn’t even sure why I was alive… or that life was even worth living.”

Ominis uses the cloth to dry his cheeks.

“I know this may sound impossible to you right now,” Sebastian continues, “but… things can change. Your life isn’t over. Try to find a reason to go on. The future is… open. It doesn’t have to be miserable forever. Honor Anne…” He trails off, fearful he might only upset Ominis further. How would one even possibly provide comfort in this situation? Sebastian stares at the floor. “Ominis… I want you to know that you aren’t alone. We’re friends, and now, we’re family… I promise - I will help you in any way I can. It’s what Anne would have wanted.”

When Sebastian returns to the cottage that night, he’s exhausted.

Kate kindly left a few candles burning for him, and he stumbles towards the bedroom to find her sitting up and reading in bed by candlelight. Her eyes take him in as he wanders in wordlessly. He undresses slowly, and she waits patiently for him to join her.

Sebastian lets out a sigh as he settles, his head in Kate’s lap. She runs her fingers through his hair, silent for a long while.

Kissing the top of his head sweetly, her lips lingering, she whispers, “Would you like to talk about it?”

He shakes his head, no.

“That’s fine,” she soothingly murmurs. “Let’s go to sleep, love.”

They readjust, and for once, Kate spoons Sebastian. She can tell that he is attempting to hold back tears, but his emotions quickly consume him, and she can feel his stomach contracting as he sobs.

It breaks her heart, and she wishes she could take away whatever pain he’s experiencing. All she can do is hold him tight. This distress keeps her awake until she can hear him breathing deeply, finally asleep.

“I love you,” she whispers, even though he won’t hear.

Kate wakes early the next morning to the sound of Sebastian’s light snoring.

Wishing for him to get much more rest, Kate carefully slips away towards her side of the bed, placing a pillow where her body had been curled against him. She slowly lifts herself up, trying to keep the bed from creaking too loudly. She slips on her deep green, silken robe and gingerly pads across the room to escape into the hallway.

She decides to start breakfast, trying to determine what type of food might be best after last night’s excitement. Kate wonders if Sebastian may have a hangover; she determines that it would be best for him to have a hearty breakfast to soak up the alcohol and replenish his hunger.

When she is just about finished with cooking, she hears footsteps in the hallway. The sound disappears as he closes the bathroom door. Quickly, she plates everything and sets the table.

Sebastian finally wanders into the kitchen a few minutes later, yawning, donning only pyjama trousers. His eyes grow large when he sees that breakfast is completely ready.

“Good morning, darling,” Kate cheerily says in a sing-song voice.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he echoes in a somewhat groggy tone.

“Sit,” she offers, motioning towards the chair he usually takes. “I’ve made breakfast.”

Sebastian gladly plops down, surveying the offerings.

“I’ve made oatmeal with cinnamon, pecans, apples, and dried cranberries,” she explains. “Breakfast tea is ready. I’ve fried up some tomatoes and sausages. There’s also a bowl of fresh strawberries and blueberries - I’ve just washed them.” She smiles. “But if there is anything else you desire, just say the word. I mean to please you.”

“Gods, no. I already feel spoiled,” he answers gratefully. He lifts her hand, kissing it. “You’re… you’re bloody perfect, Kate. This is incredibly considerate. I love you so much.”

She giggles in response. “And I love you.”

As they tuck into the food, Kate is surprised to hear that Sebastian is not hungover.

He tells Kate everything about his private visit with Ominis. She listens avidly, asking several questions to which Sebastian does not yet know all of the answers.

When he reaches the part in which he and Ominis said goodbye, he hesitantly says, “I need to tell you something. I hope you aren’t angry with me that I’ve not given you much notice, but…” He looks into her blue eyes. “I invited Ominis over for dinner tonight.”

Kate slowly nods, and Sebastian immediately assumes that she is upset. He quickly adds, “You don’t have to cook. I can order a meal, cook something up myself, or just change the plans and go out to dinner in Hogsmeade. And I’ll do everything to prepare the cottage for the evening. Sorry… It’s just… When we went our separate ways, I didn’t feel like we had fully caught up.”

“It’s alright,” Kate replies. “I don’t mind hosting. I don’t mind cooking, either. But yes, you will need to help quite a lot. Perhaps you can help out a bit in the kitchen… and I’ll certainly need you to do some work around the house.” She pauses. “Next time, I would appreciate more notice, though.”

“Of course.” He kisses her cheek. “Thank you.”

Kate’s mind begins to run through the ingredients she has on hand and what might be impressive enough to make for a dinner guest. Knowing that Ominis is blind actually makes her a bit more nervous. She’s read before that when someone loses their eyesight, all other senses are heightened. This means her cooking will need to be especially flavorful. She will need to pull out all the stops.

Ultimately, Ominis will be her brother-in-law, and she aspires more than anything to win his friendship.

Nothing is more important to Kate than family, and Ominis is the only other remaining member of the Sallows. This dinner could hopefully solidify a renewed relationship between Sebastian and Ominis and encourage them to get together more frequently.

Sebastian needs that.

“Well, we’ll need to get to work right away,” Kate says decisively, standing up. “Come on, let’s get dressed.”

Sebastian pouts as he nuzzles his face between Kate’s soft breasts, barely covered by her thin robe. “Do we have to? Do you have to?”

“Sebastian.” She gives him a chastising look. “You’re the one that sprung this on me…”

“Oh, fine,” he mutters with a smirk, allowing himself to be helped up from the table.

The houseplants have all been watered, and windows are open to let in the fresh summer air. Sebastian has tidied up the living room and bathroom, and Kate has busied herself with baking a pie, using preserved apple pie filling. She places it near the window to cool.

“Sebastian!” she calls outside, “Will you be finished soon? I really need those vegetables.”

“Coming,” he shouts back.

Moments later, the front door swings open, and Sebastian enters, carrying a basket filled with freshly harvested vegetables.

“I could be wrong, but I didn’t think the peas looked ready yet,” he informs her. “But I have everything else you requested - the potatoes, carrots, and asparagus.”

“Alright.” She takes the basket from him, inspecting the garden’s yield.

Then, Sebastian reveals a bouquet of flowers he had been hiding behind his back. Kate gasps as she accepts the yellow roses and purple irises, inhaling their scent.

“Lovely,” Kate hums. “Just lovely.”

“I almost cut some of the peonies,” Sebastian mentions, “but these were also ready… and their symbolism… it’s meaningful for tonight.”

Kate nods. “Hmm… the irises… they’re…” Her nose scrunches. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten. Let me take a look in my book.”

He stops her. “They symbolize hope, faith, and trust in friendship. And the yellow roses - they’re optimism and joy in friendship.”

Kate gives him a lopsided smile. “My clever Seb.”

She turns around, strolling into the kitchen to find a vase. He follows her like a puppy.

“The pie smells fantastic,” Sebastian murmurs as she fills a vase with water. “I wish I could steal a piece right now.”

Kate smiles, carefully arranging the flowers in the vase. “You’ll just have to wait, dear.”

He pulls her hips forward, places his hands on her arms, and leans in with a mischievous grin. “You know patience is not my strong suit.” He kisses her cheek and eyes her up and down. She’s wearing a darker yellow dress, a rather simple one, under a cream-colored, frilly smock. Her hair is half-up, half-down; delicate white flowers are woven into a braid secured around the back of her head. “You look very pretty.”

She goes pink, secretly delighted by the compliment. “I know Ominis can’t see, but I still want to at least look… decent.”

They kiss, and the scent of her floral perfume envelops him in its sweetness.

“You smell like a dream,” Sebastian whispers in her ear. “Flowers and honey… vanilla and cinnamon… so sweet.”

He picks her up, placing her on the counter and going in for more kisses. She gives in, and their lips move together languidly. After a minute, the kisses begin to feel more insistent, and Kate finally pulls back, giggling. She pushes him away playfully, sliding off to stand on her own two feet.

“Alright, Romeo. We have work to do,” she teases him, a smile tugging at her lips.

Kate puts Sebastian to work, asking him to wash the freshly harvested vegetables as she greases and flours a bread pan. She takes a cloth off the top of a bowl, revealing fragrant dough that had been left to rise, which she puts in the pan and then the oven.

Eventually, the two stand side by side to cut the carrots and potatoes. Laughter fills the kitchen as they take turns feeding each other small scraps.

Sebastian stares at Kate for a long time, his eyes filled with deep affection. “Kate…”

“What is it?”

“I… I’m so lucky,” he finishes. “Sometimes I really cannot believe I’m here with you…”

Kate smiles back at him. “You are. You’re home, my love.”

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow x oc #post azkaban sebastian #hufflepuff x slytherin #aged up sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy oc #hl oc #hl sebastian #hogwarts legacy romance #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy original character #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #hl ominis #sallow family #the sallows #ominis sallow

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ofskysanddragonsandstars · 6 months ago

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Just another TFA x TFP crossover idea...

I know almost every long lasting transformers fan has done this, but here is my hot take.

So we know TFA takes place in the 2050s, and TFP fans assume TFP takes place in the 2010s when it was released. So instead of alternate dimensions, what about futuristic AU/reincarnation AU? Granted a LOT of the characters are different, so adjustments are going to have to be made, so bare with me.

Let's start with the war.

TFP ends with Optimus Prime sacrificing himself so that Cybertron can produce life with the Allspark, and with the Allspark returned, Cybertron is habitable again, and Megatron leaves, thus ending the war, which I will now refer to as the Great War. It is up to Team Prime to start rebuilding Cybertron. And naturally, they look to Ultra Magnus.

As bots return to Cybertron, both Autobot and Decepticon have a lot of animosity towards each other. Afterall, this war lasted centuries. But with one leader dead and the other AWOL, they have to figure out how to coexist. But it is easy to fall back on old habits, so a council is but back in place, and unfortunately, it is most autobots. Once the decepticons heard that Megatron is still alive but off world, some decide to leave and find him. Some decide to remain and try to fix Cybertron for the better. So the council promotes mostly Autobots to positions of power, thus leaving out bigger decepticons starting the warframe fear. As for the protoforms, the council creates molds for new sparks, thinking hey, the war is over, why do we need fighters? We need bots who can fix things (construction), laborers, teachers, and so Cybertron starts to use the frase "cogs in the machine". Oops, here comes functionalism.

But those closest to Optimus Prime? The ones who fought with him and followed him because of what he stood for? The ones who were put on a pedestal for their actions on earth with Prime even though they don't care for any recognition? They notice it immediately. And they hate what Cybertron is becoming. But it is hard to do anything since they just finished a war. Rebuilding is at the top of the list, not idealism. But wasn't that what the whole war was about? Rising above your station, having opportunities, abolish the caste system, and no bot is better than the other. Well, Primus has a plan for that. Primus is frustrated with their children. They keep making the same mistakes, forcing them to choose a Prime. And their last Prime had to sacrifice his life for Primus and all Cybertronians. Well, if the children want to redo their past mistakes, might as well send back their latest Prime. But Primus and the Allspark can only create sparklings, not full bots. So, Primus and the Allspark places the spark of Optimus Prime in a protoform sparkling. We will get to that later.

So, we have a Cybertron that is rebuilding back its bad habits, Team Prime struggling to stop it, and decepticons leaving (of course that will come back to haunt us).

Now onto the Autobots.

Ultra Magnus, the right hand man of Optimus Prime, is naturally looked at for leadership. But he never wanted to the # 1. He truly believes in the ideas of Orion Pax, before he was Optimus Prime. But his understanding of legality and chain of command make him the perfect candidate to lead Cybertron towards order. But after his time on Earth, he has learned that maybe the most strict policies are not the best solutions. However, the council insists and public pressure wants a strong leader, so how can he say no? The only thing he can do is refuse the title of Primacy. He will not take on that mantle. He knows the type of bot who deserves Primehood, and it is not him. But the council needs some title, so why not use his name? Magnus means "big, large, great" - nomitive conjugation - (Latin nerd, I know), so why not use his name as a title? Thus, the title of Magnu begins to be synonymous with "ruler". Ultra Magnus finds this to be a slap in the faceplates. But at least they stopped inisting on Prime. So, with great reluctance (please laugh at that joke) he accepts the position. As to what exactly his position means, well, the council wants to appease the public yet remain in control. The council will surely write up the specifics later. But, I mentioned it before, Ultra Magnus knows the Law, so he takes it into his own servos. He writes up his own limitations and abilities, he just needs the council to sign off. They don't hurry to sign it. This is the beginning of Ultra Magnus' problems.

Ratchet will probably be the easiest to crossover. Both TFA and TFP characterize him as an old medic that has fought in the war from the beginning. After Predacons Rising, he shuffles back and forth from Earth and Cybertron. But Earth hasn't faced decepticon attacks in years so Fowler isn't around much anymore (and the man had a long career in the Army and as a special agent - it's time for him to retire), the Earth kids eventually grow up, so they don't need him anymore. As much as it pains him (even though he will never admit it), he returns back to Cybertron for good and sets up a clinic for war vets. Probably with Knockout. Which many autobots don't like. That's a problem. But as the oldest friend of Orion Pax, he lashes out against the council and their policies, which unfortunately causes him to be blacklisted further. His reputation as a war hero plummets. He almost wants to laugh at the similarities from before the Great War.

Bumblebee is going to be the hardest. In TFP, he has a character arc of young scout to experienced warrior. Yet in TFA, he is a young Elite Guard wash out and a comedic. Well, the only answer I can currently think of is memory wipe. But let me backtrack. Bumblebee technically killed Megatron in TFP, and news of that travels across autobot channels before Predacons Rising, thus before Unicron revives Megatron. So, autobots that begin to return to Cybertron consider Bumblebee as the hero who ended the Great War. But Ultra Magnus is orderly, so he keeps the autobot channel updated with Megatron being revived but AWOL. But communication can be tricky galaxies apart, so some autobots don't get the full message. Unfortunately, the council capitalizes on that, and since Ultra Magnus won't accept Primehood, maybe the scout who served under Optimus Prime for so long will. And if Bumblebee accepts the council's wishes, perhaps he will remain under their watchful optics. But the new warrior looked up to Optimus, no way can he take his mentor/father-figure's place. And Smokescreen is Bumblebee's friend, one who turned down the Matrix of Leadership when it was freely offered. This angers the council. With functionalism getting in place yet Team Prime against it, they need someone from Team Prime to endorse functionalism. And what better bot than the scout who ended the war. With using a similar science from the cortical psychic patch, they wipe his memory of earth, his friends, and serving with Optimus Prime. How do they get that science? Well, TFA Shockwave was the spy Longarm in the council. More on that later. There is going to be a lot of repercussions for that.

Smokescreen is the new rebellious teenager in TFP. His character arc goes from hot head that is unsure of his place in the galaxy to a steady bot with a close friendship with Bumblebee. There is a foil with Alpha Trion both being a mentor to Orion Pax and Smokescreen and both working in the Archives. And Cybertron needs to remember its history. Smokescreen becomes the new Head Archivist, following after Alpha Trion. He could keep with the Elite Guard, perhaps one day truly becoming a Prime, but after Predacons Rising, he knows that there needs to be another path. And who else knows the Archives better than him? He is no Orion Pax - or an archivist - but watching over Alpha Trion makes a mech learn a thing or two. Surprising everyone but Bumblebee, he starts to rebuild the Archives. He takes reports from returning bots, both autobot and decepticon, and organizes it. Returning bots also bring recovered treasures that Alpha Trion shipped off world during the Great War. Thankfully, he remembers where they went. He gets so caught up in restoring the Archives that, like Orion Pax, he notices re-occurring problems from before the Great War, but it is too late to stop it. The best thing he can do is publish every document to a public platform, no matter which faction it came from, so that bots can resist the council. But the public is tired from the Great War, it is too soon to read documents about it. And Sparklings are shielded from those documents, caretakers claiming it is too violent. But what is violent about a critical analysis of the caste system written by a gladiator? Exactly the fact that it was written by a gladiator turned tyrant. He is threatened with removal of his position by the council. Afterall, they happen to like their elite status and have no interest in giving that up. And he knows that if he is removed, the council will fill his position with a bot that will promote council propaganda. The honorific of Prime is no longer so significant nor synonymous with Primus and the 13 due to the council trying to justify Ultra Magnus as the leader, even though he is under their thumbs, and wanting to keep authoritarian government, bestowing bots who graduate council specific requirements at an academy the title of Prime, and it frustrates Smokescreen. He considers it a disgrace to Optimus Prime. But he stays quiet, yet secretly, when he sees a young bot interested in the Great War and before, he shows them the truth. Slowly yet surely, young bots start to question what the Great War was even for.

Arcee TFP and TFA actually have a lot in common for backgrounds. In TFA, she was a teacher and an intelligence officer, and in TFP episode "Sick Minds" she makes an offhand comment about knowing how to do research. I headcanon that before the Great War, Arcee was in an analytical job, and since I'm crossing over with TFA, she could also at one point have been a teacher. Perhaps the equivalent of a grad student while teaching? With rebuilding Cybertron, she brings back those skills and starts some sort of intelligence organization. Perhaps it is in correspondence with Smokescreen and the Archive. She is also a great mentor to Smokescreen and she easily takes leadership role in the field when necessary. Arcee is the one who finds out Bee's memory gets wiped. She is quick to anger - as we see in her interactions with Starscream and Arachnid - and demands the council to return Bumblebee's memories. This does not go as planned, and the council retaliates and she goes into a comatose state, bringing us into TFA. But she has friends, and they notice her absence.

This brings in the Wreckers. With Cybertron going backwards, Bulkhead returns to construction. At first, he doesn't mind. Afterall, he has the knowledge for it, and in Predacons Rising, he currently is all they have. Unfortunately, this comes to haunt him as it allows the council to make a case for functionalism. All that fighting, wasted. Bulkhead never gets the chance to be something new. Until Wheeljack reaches out. With his knowledge in engineering, Wheeljack becomes the chief engineer on cybertron. Meaning that he is in charge of building space bridges, figuring out planetary weapons systems, communication technology, space travel, ect. Meaning, he figures out what happened to Arcee. And Project Omega. Wheeljack has learned that going solo isn't always the best move. But he keeps things Wrecker style. Since he knows the council listens in on his new communication network, he reaches out to Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus on the old Wrecker channel. It is time to bring the band back together. Or so they think. The rescue mission of Arcee fails, Bulkhead's memory is also wiped, and Ultra Magnus forced into a deeper corner of the council. They try to wipe Wheeljack's memory, but he is the chief engineer who suffered torture under a cortical psychic patch, he is able to retain his memories, but hides that fact. Even Ultra Magnus thinks his memory has been wiped. Wheeljack keeps a low radar with the council and remains the chief engineer. But he is rebellious, so he informs Ratchet.

So, to sum up our main characters: 2 have lost their memory, 1 is comatose, 2 are in political peril, 1 is undercover, 1 is disgraced, and 1 is dead.

Now we get to the plot of this AU.

Ratchet is disgraced by the council and autobots don't like that he works with a decepticon, former or not. His ability to do anything is greatly hindered. But he is still a medic with a valid practicing license and naturally, Sparklings need check ups. Enter the revival AU. Ratchet never thought his deceased friend and leader would ever return, but science is indisputable and he is very good at medicine and he patched up the Prime hundreds of times. He knows Optimus' spark signature when he sees it. How is it possible? Well, Ratchet never considered himself religious, but after battling Unicron and seeing a revived Megatron, perhaps religion has some merit. And Spark signatures are unique to individuals. There are no accounts of repeat spark signatures. The only logical explanation is this is the work of Primus. But Ratchet has no love of the council, so with the help of Knockout, they meet with Ultra Magnus secretly. So, only those 3 know Optimus has returned. But he is only a sparkling, and hasn't Optimus sacrificed enough? So, Optimus is returned to his caretaker to live a life free of his past hardship. Like Optimus Prime said before he entered the Well, it is up to them to rebuild Cybertron for the better. If only they could do some serious changes.

So, little Optimus grows up in a Cybertron rebuilding and no one talking about the Great War. All he has is the propaganda the council gives out. So why would he need to go to the Archives to learn? He has his teachers and he knows his function will be to put out fires or haul things due to his size, even though a part of him desires to be an Elite Guard. He eventually joins the academy and here we have TFA fully kick in. He befriends Elita-1 and Sentinel the same, catches the attention of Ultra Magnus the same way (or so he thinks. The mech is the leader of Cybertron, of course he has his ways to keep tabs on the former Prime) gets kicked out after losing Elita-1 (or so he thinks - Ultra Magnus wants him away from the council, so kicking him out was the best he could do), yet Ultra Magnus, with the help of Wheeljack, pulls a few strings to get Optimus' crew. Team Prime is almost back together. Afterall, it's not like the council wants Ratchet on the planet, and how would they know it is the very same Optimus?

The TFA plot mainly stays the same, except the Allspark is a little different. Here, the Allspark was supposedly returned to the Well. How it gets into space, I am still working that out. I might have to bring in TFA lore for this, intertwining it with the return of the decepticons and Megatron. But Ratchet has a fit when they find it ("Optimus sacrificed his life so that relic would return to the Well! And this is the thanks he gets?) he almost is glad when it gets shattered into pieces. But the Allspark also terrifies him after seeing his friend give his life for it. Ratchet does his best to keep Optimus away from the Allspark, even though Primus seems to find a way for Optimus to keep interacting with it.

Now this is getting long, so I'm going to end it here. But there is still a lot more to cover in this AU! Specifically the Decepticons. And how does Bumblebee and Bulkhead get their memories back? Wheeljack? Does Ultra Magnus tell Wheeljack of Optimus' true identity when he helps put his crew together on Teletran-1? How does Ultra Magnus change from being a kind SIC to the strict military leader of Cybertron? Does he get redeemed? Or is he the example of a tragic tale of political bargaining? What happens to Smokescreen? Do the TFP kids meet Sari Sumdac? Do they meet the autobots in Detroit, or does Ratchet warn them to keep their distance? What changes happen with Sentinel's and Optimus' friendship once his former life is revealed? When happens when Optimus learns the truth?

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